‘It’s too late. I’m gone. Save yourself.’
I move my head to the right and spy Peter standing at the altar. He’s dressed in grey and purple and he looks understandably nervous. He sees me and gives me a quick wave, gesturing to his suit for my approval. I’m unexpectedly touched, but before I can give him a thumbs-up the doors behind me open, everyone stands and the music starts.
I turn to look at Helen, who winks at me. She leans in and whispers, ‘Here we go.’ I take a deep breath.
Here we fucking go indeed.
*
‘Congratulations, I’m so happy for you both.’
I unhinge my smile and sigh. No. That sounds forced. It has to be more natural. I shake it off and grin at myself in the ladies’ room mirror again.
‘Congratulations! Let’s hope you don’t fuck this one up, eh, Peter?’
Nope. Jesus, the lighting in here makes me look about seventy. I try it without a grin – sombre yet meaningful, lowering my head like Princess Di used to do. ‘I hope you’ll have a wonderful life together . . . IN HELL.’
Oh for fuck’s sake. Why is this so difficult? Throughout the wedding ceremony I was fine. No crying when they said, ‘I do,’ minimal laughter when Emma, her three bridesmaids and Grace walked down the aisle to ‘Somewhere Over the (fucking) Rainbow’, and I smiled winningly when Grace waved at me twice during the ceremony. I really do hope they have a wonderful life together . . . yet I’m struggling to say it with any sort of sincerity because although I hope they’re happy, I’m more concerned about what’s waiting for me, not for the rest of my life but when I meet Dylan later.
The bathroom door swings open, momentarily letting the sound of laughter and music from the wedding reception float in before it closes again.
‘MUM!’
Grace, in her purple swishy dress, runs towards me at full speed, throwing her arms around my waist, her head colliding with my chest. ‘I’ve been dancing with Dad for ages. What’s taking you so long?’
‘Oh, you look so pretty, Gracey! Let me see you properly.’
She steps back and twirls around excitedly. I can tell that, despite it being Peter’s wedding, she’s been the centre of attention all day.
‘Mum, I need to go to the toilet. Wait for me?’
She disappears into a cubicle and I finish reapplying my lipstick. As Grace emerges with her skirt tucked into her pants, I adjust the straps on my maroon dress and sneak one final look, feeling ready to take on whatever awaits me at the reception.
Grace washes her hands while I pull her dress down, hiding her tiny white pants. She leads me out of the bathroom and we walk hand in hand through the small lobby and into the main hall. I immediately spot Emma, still in her wedding dress and dancing with a tiny boy in a kilt. Peter is a little harder to locate, but Grace soon spots him talking to his mate Ryan towards the back of the hall. I feel awkward, as if I have no right to be here.
Grace skips over to Peter and he waves to me as I follow slowly behind. ‘Hi, Grace! Listen, your grandpa was looking for you for a dance. Why don’t you find him while I talk to your mum?’
We both watch her speed off towards Peter’s dad.
‘Has today been grim for you?’
I laugh. ‘No. Not at all! The ceremony was beautiful. I appreciate the invite. I really am happy for you both.’
Nailed it.
He places his hand on my arm. ‘Only, I’m not sure I’d have been able to watch you marry someone else. I know it must have been tough.’
‘Oh, well, surprisingly it wasn’t,’ I reply, wondering where this is going. ‘We were a lifetime ago, Peter.’
‘I regret a lot,’ he continues. ‘And I’ve behaved badly at times. I want you to know that, despite everything, I think Grace has a fantastic mum and that you’re a wonderful person.’
‘But . . .?’
‘No buts. That’s all I wanted to say.’
As he hugs me, I’m dumbfounded. It seems that marrying Emma has turned Peter into a reflective, decent – albeit slightly tipsy – human being. This might turn out to be the best wedding yet and finally, finally, I really do feel happy for them.
As the evening goes on, Peter’s elderly parents approach me with a mixture of caution and contempt – they still view me as the heartless witch who chose not to stay in a doomed relationship – but I just smile sweetly and give zero fucks. Emma is gracious and brings me a glass of champagne, thanking me for attending and being so cool about the whole thing. Ha, if only she knew.
