Page 7 of The Wife
‘Okay, but don’t expect me to pick you up off the floor when you faint from hunger at four o’clock.’ She shoves the last piece of sandwich in her mouth and pops open a can of Fanta.
I wonder how I’m going to break the news to the kids. They’ve both been looking forward to having their cousins to stay. I decide that whatever’s happened, it’s obviously some misunderstanding that Madeline and I will be able to sort out. It’s annoying that I can’t fix it right now, because I know I’m going to brood about it all afternoon. But Becky’s right – I’ll speak to Madeline after work, sort it out and everything will go back to normal. At least, I hope it will.
I check my watch and see that Becky wasn’t wrong. I’ve only got five minutes until my next appointment. I head to the fridge and take out the Ziploc bag with my cream cheese bagel. Becky nods approvingly as I take a bite and chew without tasting, my mind still on my sister-in-law.
Four
THEN
The seventeenth-century stone chapel is full to bursting with all our friends and family. It’s mainly Toby’s large extended family, but that’s okay. They’re about to becomemyfamily too. My normally straight dark hair has been curled and swept off my face, held back with the pearl comb that belonged to my mother. My ivory lace dress is fitted at the bodice, and flares out slightly at the hem, the whole ensemble studded through with seed pearls. I’m standing at the back of the chapel as though in a dream.
‘You sure you’re okay, Zo?’ Becky gives me a worried glance as Lou straightens out my tulle wedding train.
It takes a few seconds to realise she’s talking to me. It’s sweltering in here. Forget the fact that it’s December, and that outside it’s threatening to snow. Here in the little chapel the walls are lined with piping-hot radiators, and the air is thick with body heat and CO2. I can barely breathe. I should have considered the temperature of the venue beforehand. Should have made sure it was a little cooler inside. It’s clear the congregation are finding it uncomfortable too, with top layers already discarded over laps and seat backs, and the order-of-service cards being used as makeshift fans.
I wipe the sweat from my top lip and forehead, wishing this dress weren’t quite as tightly fitted. The bump on the back of my head is throbbing, my brain is fuzzy and there’s the distinct possibility that I may throw up. ‘I’m fine,’ I whisper back. I decided not to tell anyone else about my fainting episode as I didn’t want my big day to be overshadowed by everyone talking about it. Toby and his family agreed to keep quiet about it too.
‘It’s just’ – Becky’s forehead creases – ‘you’re quite pale. I mean, you look stunning, of course, but… you don’t seem yourself.’
‘She’s getting married,’ Lou hisses, smoothing her dark hair. ‘It’s a big day, of course she’s not going to be herself. It’s nerve-wracking. And you talking about it isn’t likely to help.’
Becky glares at her. ‘It doesn’t hurt to ask. I’m just worried about my friend, that’s all.’
‘Um, she’s my friend too.’
‘Well, if she’s such a good friend, you’d have noticed that she’s paler than normal, don’t you think?’
I probably should have considered the fact that despite being my two best friends, my bridesmaids aren’t exactly the best of friends with one another, which is one of the main reasons I didn’t ask them to stay over at the hotel with me last night. All they’ve done since they arrived this morning is bicker. I’m not sure why they’re so antagonistic. They don’t even know each other that well. I went to school with Lou Schiavone and I get the feeling she’s a little jealous of my newer friendship with my work friend Becky Webb. But I shouldn’t even be thinking about that right now. This is my wedding day. Not the time to be dealing with friend issues.
My sister Dina should have been here with me as well, but she said she left it too late to get a flight back from Thailand. So here I am with Becky and Lou as my bridesmaids.
Maybe it’s just as well Dina couldn’t make it. Especially as things were so shaky the last time I spoke to her. Although that’s an understatement. My sister and I have a complicated relationship. One that I really don’t want to dwell on right now.
My stomach flips as the wedding march starts up. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for months. I give a start as my dad takes my arm. My bridesmaids set aside their differences for the time being and pick up my train between them. I fight the urge to turn around and check if they’re okay. But there’s no need; I can sense the hostility bubbling away back there. I’ll leave them to it.
Instead, I turn to my father. To my astonishment, his eyes are bright with unshed tears. ‘You look beautiful, Zoe. Just like your mother.’
My breath catches and I exhale, feeling instantly tearful myself. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ He isn’t given to fits of sentimentality, so his words and emotion mean a lot. I just wish I felt well enough to appreciate it. His face suddenly swims before mine and I have to take a deep breath to fight back a wave of dizziness and nausea. Please let me get through the next few hours without passing out again. Maybe I’m coming down with flu. Talk about bad timing.
I’m ready to walk down the aisle, but Dad holds me back a few seconds longer. ‘I just have to ask, Zoe… are you absolutely sure you’re ready? This is a big decision.’ His words are blunt. A shock. His eyes search mine.
‘What?’ My brain clears for a moment and I glare at him, annoyed by the question. He’s never expressed any doubts about my impending marriage before – never shown that much of an interest in my life at all, if I’m brutally honest, so why would he ask me this now, right when I’m about to say my vows? ‘What do you mean, “am I sure”?’
‘Never mind. It’s nothing.’ He flushes, clears his throat and stares ahead down the aisle.
If I felt stronger I’d challenge him further. But Dad and I don’t talk much and I’m not about to start now, not with close to two hundred people staring our way. One of Dad’s favourite sayings is, ‘the best shortage is a shortage of words.’
‘If you’re happy, then so am I,’ he continues, unconvincingly. ‘You know, your mother would have been proud of you,’ he adds.
I give an angry nod in response, not trusting myself to speak. Annoyed with him for invoking my mother. As if that makes his previous question okay.
Everyone keeps glancing back at us, waiting for us to make our walk down the aisle. The music is still playing, but we’re not moving. I think Dad realises he’s holding up the proceedings, so he takes the first step and I walk in time with him along the worn flagstones and past the wooden pews. Slowing my breathing. Swallowing down the nausea that keeps advancing in waves. I’m certain everyone can tell I’m not myself. I’m sure there are a few whispers going around. Or maybe I’m imagining it. I hope I look as beautiful as Dad says I do, and not as ill as I feel. This isn’t how I imagined my walk down the aisle would be. I thought I would feel incredible, excited, blissful. At least I should be thankful that I fainted before the wedding and not during it. Although I don’t want to jinx things. I grip my dad a little tighter and he pats my arm reassuringly.
White winter light seeps through the huge stained-glass window up above the altar, where four colourful saints watch our slow procession, as they’ve no doubt watched countless other brides before me. Most of the guests’ faces are blurry, seeming to merge into one another as I pass by. But I manage to pick out a few familiar faces. I spot my glamorous colleagues from the salon where I work. I also see Cassie Barrington, with her boyfriend and parents. But Cassie isn’t really my friend anymore – not since I realised that the only person Cassie cares about is Cassie. Unfortunately, I had to invite her and her family to the wedding as my dad is Cassie’s godfather – not that this really means anything. It was just a role he and Mum were asked to fill, back when they were younger and friends with her parents.
I turn my thoughts thankfully away from Cassie as I spot Celia and Malcolm seated at the front, both of them looking as proud as anything. Toby’s brother Nick gives me an encouraging smile from his place as best man next to the groom. And then of course there’s Toby himself. The love of my life.
Dad hands me over to my husband-to-be and, for a moment, I feel like some kind of possession being traded away. Although I guess that’s what brides used to be. I blink several times and give myself a little shake, attempting to banish these strange thoughts. I need to try to enjoy this. To soak up every second, rather than wishing it were all over and wanting to lie down in a darkened room.
