‘I know she doesn’t speak a lot, but it’s all in the eyes,’ Adam muttered darkly.
Guests surged forward. ‘Congratulations.’ ‘How did he propose?’ ‘The ring is gorgeous.’ ‘Hawthorne Manor, isn’t it? So stunning.’
Maddy smiled and answered. ‘Thank you.’ ‘At a party.’ ‘Thanks.’ ‘Yeah, it’s nice.’
But somewhere in the back of her mind, glass and greenery and golden light sat.
She’d get over it. She almost had.
She drifted from cluster to cluster. Adam’s university friends. A neighbour who smelled strongly of Werther’s Originals.
Finally, she arrived at her work friends.
‘Have you found the dress?’ Mary asked.
Maddy supposed she was her closest work friend. Everyone else they worked with was over sixty, so it simply followed.
Maddy hesitated. ‘Nearly,’ she said.
‘Have you chosen a maid of honour?’ asked Aria, her boss.
‘Hadn’t gotten to that yet,’ Maddy said. Her mother kept telling her to choose someone. But she wasn’t sure who was right. She didn’t have a best friend, as such. If only she had a sister. It would have been a no-brainer.
‘Hey, you know I’ve done it twice, right?’ said Adam’s sister Hannah, appearing, it seemed, out of nowhere. ‘I could sort you a hen in my sleep.’
Shewantedto do it? ‘Oh. Umm. OK?’
Hannah grinned ear-to-ear. This was fine. It was a choice made, an item struck off the to-do list. Hannah was a chatterbox, but that was probably good for this situation. She could fill the gaps when Maddy’s mouth shut up shop, as it was apt to do.
‘Guys!’ Hannah said to the room. ‘I’m maid of honour!’
The room received the news with mixed interest. But Mary looked crestfallen. Was this really a prized role? Maddy wouldhave sooner swum with piranhas armed with guns before she’d be anyone’s maid of honour.
‘Hey, would you like to be a bridesmaid?’ Maddy asked Mary.
‘Oh, yes. Lovely,’ Mary said, perking up.
Why did it seem like everyone was more excited about being in this wedding than she was?
As Hannah began to talk about hen dos in a way that suggested she’d long been researching while she lay in wait for her appointment, Maddy’s mind flickered to the changing room curtain and her buzzing phone. She smiled and nodded and waited for Hannah to exhaust herself.
‘It’s such a magical time,’ Hannah said, looping an arm through hers. ‘All the decisions. I loved being engaged. It’s like the world revolves around you for a year.’
That was simultaneously completely horrifying to Maddy and utterly incorrect. Maddy’s opinion mattered as much as it ever had. Which was to say, not very much.
Harry clinked a fork against his glass. Maddy shook her head without meaning to at yet another cliché.
Was this just how it was? Someone got down on one knee, and then your boyfriend’s dad started making speeches while your mum tried to dress you like you were four again. How embarrassingly archaic. She was in her thirties. The twenty-first century was almost in its own thirties. Why was she doing this? Why were any of them doing this? What was the point?
She could just say it now. She could say, ‘I’m a grown woman. What the hell are we doing here?’ and walk out.
Ha. Yeah. Imagine.
They gathered near the fireplace. Maddy positioned herself beside Adam because she knew she was supposed to, and she simply didn’t have what it took to break from all this. She was Bride Barbie. She was posable and came with accessories. A ring. A dress. A sense of existential horror.
‘When Adam told us he’d met someone special,’ Harry began, ‘we knew it wouldn’t be long before this day came. Well, we got that wrong!’
Polite laughter.
