Maddy blinked. ‘That’s not very on brand for you.’
‘No,’ Eva said, a rueful edge to her voice. ‘It’s really not. Whatison brand for me is getting you back down there. Making that third attempt happen.’ Her brow knitted. ‘But I can’t tell you whether you should go through with it,’ she finished.
‘Is there anything I need to know?’ Maddy asked, quite forceful suddenly.
‘What?’ Eva asked, abruptly scared.
‘Concerning this decision? Is there any moreinformationthat I should be working with?’
Eva thought it over. There were things she could say. Of course there were. But she shouldn’t. She wasn’t to be trusted anymore. She had accidentally uncaged a selfish animal who wanted to take what she wanted to take. Eva had to battle that animal back. It needed to be locked away.
‘Not at the present juncture,’ Eva said weakly.
Maddy looked deeply, existentially disappointed.
And then footsteps were coming. Coming at them, actually, at speed. Both of them turned as a figure appeared at the far end of the corridor. Ralph.
‘There you are!’ he said, relief flooding his face as he spotted them. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere.’
Eva stepped back from Maddy without realising it. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I’ve sorted it,’ he said, words tumbling over each other. ‘We’re good to go. We can start again whenever you’re ready.’
Maddy didn’t move, didn’t speak. She just stood there, caught between everything she’d just said and everything waiting downstairs.
Forty-Five
By the time Maddy was shepherded into the banquet hall, it already felt less like a wedding than the aftermath of one. Empty bottles and half-finished glasses littered the tables, clothes had come untucked and rumpled, and everyone’s eyes looked heavy with drink and exhaustion.
The long tables hadn’t been moved—couldn’t be moved, apparently, because of some issue involving weight and liability—so the next attempt at a wedding had been arranged around them instead. Guests sat wherever they pleased, ignoring the seating chart, their chairs turned toward the end of the room. There sat a narrow, raised platform that looked as though it had been dragged from storage and hastily dusted off.
‘This is it?’ Maddy asked.
Ralph nodded. ‘Yes. It’s a small space, but the height of the platformette should lend you some dignity.’
‘Platformette?’ Maddy repeated.
‘Yes. Lovely old piece. Served as the karaoke stage here in the seventies. Before that, I believe, a hypnotist used it to make businessmen cluck like chickens at Christmas parties.’
Maddy sighed. But what did it really matter?
‘We have to start serving,’ Ralph explained as servers passed them with plates. ‘The caterers were keeping it warm, but it was all going to start going a bit dry if they waited much longer.’
My wedding is now dinner theatre, Maddy thought.
People hadn’t totally lost sight of the day’s point. Some people clapped when Maddy walked towards the platformette. Others raised their glasses. One man (Adam’s uncle?), already visibly unsteady, attempted to stand. ‘Three cheers to the happy—’ He broke off as the chair he was using as ballast slid from his grasp, breaking his flow.
‘Here she is!’ Aria called.
‘Third time lucky!’ Hannah added.
‘Third time lucky,’ Kelly repeated.
Maddy smiled, or at least arranged her face into something that passed for one. She became very aware of the dress again. The weight of it. The way it marked her out, unmistakable and unavoidable. She was, after all, still somehow the bride.
Adam was already on the stage. He looked a bit… Was he shit-faced?
Maddy pulled down the sodding veil again. It was torn. She didn’t care.
