Page 38 of For One Moment With You
She held my gaze. ‘You are sure, aren’t you? Because if not, if you want to call it off, it isn’t too late. Everyone will get over it.’
As I looked at her, I knew I wasn’t sure. But just the thought of calling it off triggered a wave of nausea. Instead, I told myself yet again, that on the eve of committing the rest of their life to someone, it was natural to be having a wobble about things. ‘I’m fine. I’m really looking forward to it.’ Saying what anyone would expect a bride to say the day before her wedding.
Frowning slightly, Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, closing it again as our mother came walking towards us.
‘Tilly.’ She kissed me on the cheek. ‘You’re just in time to eat. Shall we take your things inside?’ She went around to the back of the car, then opened it. ‘It’s going to be the most wonderful day tomorrow. I went to the church earlier. It looks divine! The flowers are just perfect… And the weather forecast is clear skies and sunshine… I’ve also checked in with the caterers, so you’ve no need to worry. Everything’s going to be just as you wanted it,’ she said happily, barely pausing for breath.
I caught Lizzie’s eye briefly, before smiling at my mum. ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘You’ve done so much.’
‘It’s your wedding day.’ For a moment, she looked surprised. ‘I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Now, hurry along. Your father’s about to open a bottle of rather nice champagne.’ She picked up one of my bags and started walking towards the house.
After grabbing another of my bags, Lizzie linked her arm through mine. ‘We haven’t finished talking,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘It can wait.’ But it didn’t matter what anyone said any more. I could feel time slipping through my fingers like grains of the finest sand. The decision was made. Here, in the bosom of my family, there was nothing more to talk about.
* * *
Now, it seems incredible. Every part of it, not least that I was marrying someone who was more like a best friend rather than a man who made me want to be my best self; who would inspire me to embrace every precious second of my life, to follow my dreams. Adam, Lizzie, they’d both had been right. I should have been buzzing with happiness, boring everyone half to death about Gareth’s and my wedding plans.
And I wasn’t. A wave of sadness washes over me for the younger me, that I felt so trapped, so obligated. So misguidedly loyal to a man who proved over time that my instincts had been right; that I’d been so unable to do what was right for me. That I couldn’t see I was committing to spending my life with a man with whom I was so unaligned in almost every sense.
But I’ve gone through most of my life adhering to the same philosophy. What the heck’s that about? Talk about Tilly-with-her-head-in-the-sand. More than twenty years on, I’ve been too busy being what other people expect; that hub, as I’ve always described it, instead of chasing my dreams. The realisation makes me really sad.
* * *
And then it was here. I remember everything about that morning, but watching it all over again, I see what I didn’t the first time around. The sun streaming through the window of what had been my childhood bedroom, the beautiful dress I was wearing, which had been altered to fit me perfectly but was now loose because of the weight I’d lost in the last week; my carefully made-up face wrinkling into a frown as I’d thought about the afternoon I’d spent with Adam, the memory of his lips on mine. The realisation that I’d found someone special, the heartbreaking reality that the timing was out, that he was someone I had to let go of.
With just hours to go, I’d been trying to rationalise my feelings again; telling myself that Gareth and I were the real deal, instead of listening to my heart, paying more attention to my doubts.
I watch myself stand in front of the mirror, my eyes wandering disbelievingly over the beautiful dress again – I’d forgotten how slim I was. It was closely fitted and off-white – pure white has always made me looktranslucent, for want of a better word. My long hair was falling in loose curls, some of which were invisibly pinned up, and I was wearing the familiar white gold necklace my mum had worn on her own wedding day.
There was a light knock on the door before it was pushed open and Mum came in. In her floaty mother-of-the-bride dress in shades of green and blue, she looked so proud.
Suddenly I miss her,so much. I feel a rush of emotion as I watch her walk towards the old me and stand next to me, her reflection in the mirror smiling at me in one of those precious mother-daughter moments that nothing else came near.
‘You look so beautiful,’ she said quietly.
‘Thank you, Mum.’ There had been a lump in my throat. ‘So do you.’
She looked surprised. ‘Thank you. Lizzie helped me choose it. I’m glad you like it.’ But from the way she looked at me, I knew she’d picked up on something. ‘Are you feeling all right?’
I remember, as I stood there, wishing I could tell her how I was really feeling. But so late in the day, how could I? ‘Just a little overwhelmed,’ I said honestly. ‘I just want to say…’ I paused. ‘I’m so grateful to you – to you and Dad.’ I turned to her. ‘For everything you’ve done to make today so special.’
‘We’re your parents. It’s our pleasure.’ As she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkled the way I remember. ‘All we’ve ever wanted is for you and Lizzie to be happy. Your wedding day…’ She looked wistful. ‘I know it’s only one day, but it’s one of the most memorable days of your life – at least, I hope it will be.’
‘It already is, Mum.’ The old me turned to her. ‘How did you feel? The morning you and Dad got married?’
‘So happy.’ For a moment, her eyes misted over. ‘Of course, I was glad I had that conversation with him. It cleared the air. By the time the big day was here, I knew that it was right.’ She took one of my hands. ‘What I told you about me and your father…’ She hesitated. ‘You do know, don’t you? It has no bearing on what you and Gareth make of your life together. That’s up to you and no one else. Tilly?’ It was as though she wanted to say something. ‘Never mind.’
Frowning, I touched her arm. ‘What were you going to say, Mum?’
‘Just some middle-aged musings about marriage that you really don’t need to hear – I promise you!’ Smiling, she glanced at her watch. ‘Heavens. I need to make sure your father is ready.’ She looked at me. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you at the church.’
‘Don’t go, Mum…’ I rested a hand on her arm. ‘Tell me your middle-aged musings. I want to hear them.’
‘Oh. They’re nothing really. Just some trite nonsense about weathering life’s storms, but I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that.’ Her smile faded, in its place a frown wrinkling her brow. ‘It’s a little late to say this, but I’ve been worried since we talked the other day. And forgive me – I should have asked. But you are sure, aren’t you?’
I stared at her, shocked. ‘Of course.’ Saying anything else would have been tantamount to admitting I was making a mistake. ‘Why, Mum? What’s brought this on?’
