Page 100 of Under Your Spell

The ceremony itself is short but sweet. Hannah stomps down the aisle in rainbow tulle and fairy wings, stopping halfway to greet her next-door neighbour and ask why they haven’t brought their dog. Then Cara and Sophie in sleek navy slip dresses dipping low in the back, looking, as promised, classy as fuck. Finally, Lisa floats down on Hugh’s arm in flowing white silk.

The drama of the morning melts away for a brief moment. Alice, Theo and I all cry, but not as much as Rob, who blubbers like a baby. Oliver, the actual baby, is strapped to the best man’s chest and wearing a tiny tuxedo onesie. He appears largely uninterested in anything except Rob’s buttonhole which he is desperate to get hold of for the sole purpose of putting it in his mouth.

‘See,’ Hannah shout-whispers in my ear from our position in the front pew. ‘Babies are so silly. Can we get a hamster instead?’

After the vicar pronounces Rob and Lisa husband and wife, we all head back out into the sunshine and shower them with sweet-smelling confetti made of dried rose petals. Lisa hugs me like we’ve known each other for years, and I squeeze her back, my eyes stinging.

‘Are you crying again?’ Hannah asks me suspiciously.

‘No,’ I say.

‘Yes, you are! All the grown-ups keep crying.’

‘I’m not crying, Hannah-banana,’ Theo says.

‘Funny how quickly those sunglasses went back on,’ I mutter, dabbing carefully at my eye make-up. A waitress appears with a silver tray and I gratefully grab a glass of ice-cold champagne. Honestly, I can’t believe I’ve made it this far into the day without a stiff drink.

‘Is it time for ice cream yet?’ Hannah demands, making a decision on her priorities; clearly, worrying about weeping grown-ups is not high on the list.

‘When we’ve had our pictures taken,’ Rob says, scooping her up into his arms. ‘Before you spill ice cream all over your pretty dress.’

‘Daddy! I’m not a baby!’ Hannah screeches as he carries her away through the guests milling and drinking.

‘There’s going to be a bad-tempered fairy in all their photos,’ Alice says fondly.

‘I wonder if they make those wings in my size?’ I say. ‘I think it’s a look.’

Theo is tense, scanning the crowd, but as the afternoon wears on it becomes clear that the security outside have done their jobs. No one is here who isn’t supposed to be here. The sidelong looks and the whispers continue, but as Theo and I barely touch for the rest of the day, at least they don’t have any further ammunition. I flinch at every flash of a camera, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about weddings, but there are cameras everywhere.

We make it through lunch and the speeches, which pass in a blur, and my cheeks hurt from the effort of constantly smiling as though nothing is wrong.

The first dance rolls around and Lisa and Rob sway across the dance floor looking delighted with all their life choices, and when Alice and Hugh join them, Theo slips his fingers through mine and we dance too. His hand is tight at my waist, warm through the fabric of my dress, and I find myself gripping the lapel on his suit so hard my knuckles turn white. We don’t talk, just sway gently to the music. I want to press my face into his chest and cry.

There’s more dancing – a raucous, twirling ‘Come on Eileen’, a painfully earnest and very slightly off-the-beat attempt at ‘All the Single Ladies’, and they even play an old song by The Daze, which Theo suffers through good-naturedly while Lisa cackles and points at him.

Finally, Theo appears beside me and says the words I’ve been waiting to hear.

‘We can leave now.’

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Alice cries when she hugs Theo goodbye and I know just how she feels.

Theo is quiet when we drive away from the hotel. The photographers have finally cleared off, presumably scared away by security or expecting us to be hunkering down in the hotel for another night. Theo and I haven’t talked about why we’re leaving early, about what will happen when we arrive at Mum’s house.

Instead of talking, Theo lets an audiobook play, but the charming romance being read by a dashing actor does nothing to distract me. As the miles increase so does the heavy feeling in the car, but I can’t work out what to do to dispel it. I feel exhausted. My thoughts are scattered like shrapnel. I can’t hold on to anything long enough to make sense of it, can’t really process anything that’s happened in the past twelve hours.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised, but I’m genuinely not prepared for the photographers waiting for us outside Mum’s gates.

‘Oh, shit,’ Theo says succinctly, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

Four or five of them surround the car as we wait for the gate to open at the bottom of the drive. There are flashes going off outside the window, and I hold my hand up to my eyes, a sound of distress coming out of my mouth. They’re shouting, but I can’t make out the words. Panic. Hands tingling, my breath catches, and I’m seventeen again.

‘It’s okay,’ Theo says tightly. ‘It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.’ He says the words, over and over, like a chant, but I can’t answer him, can’t seem to speak as the gate finally swings open.

We shoot up the drive, away from them, and I close my eyes, tears leaking out the corners.

The car comes to a stop. Theo turns off the engine. The sudden silence is a blade hanging over us.