‘So now he’s graduated to your imaginary fiancé. Loving that for you.’ She smirks before adding a reluctant, ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply before turning back to Paul. ‘Seth’s been offered a job at Southampton Hospital, so he’ll be moving down here. He’s been wanting to get out of London for a while.’
‘You’ll probably want to leave to start a family soon.’ He says it as a joke, but I can tell he’s partly serious.
I ignore his inappropriate comment and head into the kitchen to make coffee. I need it. Why is my engagement provoking such selfish reactions? Laurence and Miriam are the only ones who seem genuinely happy for me.
This prompts me to wonder how my family are going to take the news ...
Chapter Six
NOW
I follow the vicar and the woman who says she’s Seth’s mother into a room off the back of the church. My parents come too, but I’ve asked if ‘Seth’ and the man who says he’s his father can wait outside.
Seth’s parents, Christine and Geoff Evans, are both doctors – GPs. We’ve only met a handful of times, but neither of these people are them. Perhaps they’re in on this ruse as well.
‘Please, take your time,’ the vicar says with a sympathetic smile.
‘Thank you,’ my father says, shaking his hand like they’re concluding a business meeting.
The vicar leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
‘I need my phone,’ I cry.
‘Here.’ Mum passes me my white silk clutch and I open it with trembling fingers. I pull out my mobile and call Seth. My head starts to throb when the automated voicemail kicks in. I walk over to the corner of the room, my back to everyone, and hiss into the phone:
‘Seth, where are you? I’m at the church ... everyone’s here. Have you changed your mind? Are you okay? There’s a man who says he’s you. I ... I don’t understand what’s happening.’ My voicebreaks and I try to swallow down the rising hysteria. ‘Please call me back and get here as soon as you can.’
I end the call and turn around to see my parents and the fake Christine looking at me. She appears calm, but my mum and dad are wearing expressions of shock and horror.
‘Why don’t you sit down, Alice,’ the fake Christine says gently. She’s a good-looking woman in her early sixties with dark wavy hair held back by a jade comb that matches her fitted green dress.
I hitch up my wedding gown and sit on one of the red leatherette chairs that faces a large mahogany desk. She sits next to me and opens a traditional brown leather doctor’s bag that she must have fetched from her car. My parents hover awkwardly beside us.
‘Would you prefer if it was just the two of us?’ the woman asks.
My distress surges at the thought of being alone with her. ‘No, I want them to stay.’
‘Okay.’ She nods and takes an iPad from her bag.
My hands twist in my lap. I don’t want to be examined by this stranger, but I also don’t want to cause any more of a scene than I already have, and perhaps there really is something wrong with me. Although, how do I know I can trust anything she says? If it weren’t for Dad insisting, I wouldn’t have come in here to talk to her.
‘How do you feel?’ she asks.
I pause and try to think. ‘Terrible!’ I finally blurt out. ‘My head feels strange, I don’t know what on earth’s going on. I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare. This was supposed to be my wedding day, and now everything is ruined. I don’t know who that man is, but he’s not my fiancé. And I don’t think you’re his parents either!’ I’m panting after my outburst. I know I sound hysterical.
The woman hardly reacts, other than to give me a sympathetic smile. I try to discern if it’s genuine or not, but now she’s typing something into her tablet. She looks up after a moment. ‘Are you currently taking any medications of any kind?’
‘No,’ I reply.
‘You’re sure? Whatever you tell me is confidential. I think it might be an idea if we had some privacy.’ She gives my parents a pointed look.
My mum touches Dad’s arm to lead him from the room.
‘No. I want them to stay,’ I insist. ‘And I’m absolutely not on any medication.’ I pull at the bodice of my wedding gown. It’s so tight I can barely breathe. If I thought the main church was overheated with all our guests crammed into it, this small room is like a sauna. None of the windows are open, for goodness’ sake. Should I ask Dad to open a couple?
‘Have you had any episodes like this before?’ the doctor asks, interrupting my thoughts.
