Page 60 of The Woman Who Said Yes

‘I still think you did the right thing.’ She pulls a pained expression, and there’s so much I want to say to her – that I’m sorry, too, if it’s been awkward for her tonight. That I’ve proved to be a rotten example of how to handle a difficult situation. But all I can think of to say is, ‘Oh, darling. I don’t know if we did.’

She squeezes my hand and waves over to Sam and Eva, and for a moment I wish I had my daughter’s life: sorted, together, uncomplicated. Then she’s gone, and I find Sam and Eva deep in conversation at the bar.

‘Hi,’ I say weakly.

‘Hi.’ Eva fixes me with a steady look. I glance at Sam who looks stricken, as if in those few moments something else has been said. Something terrible.

‘What is it?’ My heart is pounding hard.

Eva exhales, already moving away from us, signalling that for her the night is over. At the other side of the room, a young man is spraying tables, wiping them down. A harsher overhead light has been switched on. ‘I don’t think you should be witnesses at my wedding,’ she states firmly.

‘What?’ I exclaim.

‘I mean it. I don’t think it’s right.’ Her jaw is set firm, her voice steady now. ‘Not if you think it’s such a shitty idea for me to marry him⁠—’

‘We don’t think that!’ Sam starts, but she cuts him off with a defiant shake of her head.

‘Well, you obviously do.’ Eva seems to straighten up then – tall and proud and determined. ‘In fact, I think it’s best if you don’t come to the wedding at all.’

‘Eva, please!’ I cry, but she is already marching away from us, out of the bar and into the cold, wet night. And at that moment my heart seems to crack, and I wonder if it will ever be fully mended again.

34

WEDDING COUNTDOWN: 7 DAYS

Phil was in the area, he said. He never ‘just happens’ to be in my neighbourhood but when he called, I didn’t quiz him about it.

Because I know – of course I do. Marnie was there when it happened, and she has a hotline to her brother. She and Jake talk all the time, about knitting and gardening and recipes, like old people. They were concerned enough to grass me up to their dad, and so here he is with a big bunch of cheery yellow tulips wrapped in brown paper, and a sheepish smile.

‘Do tell me if you want to get on with stuff,’ he says, leaning casually against my fridge. It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon – the first Saturday in May – and I tell him truthfully that I have nothing planned. So we opt for a walk across the park with takeaway coffees, where I tell him the whole sorry tale.

‘God, Andie. You must be so upset,’ he says, with what seems like genuine feeling.

‘It’s pretty bad,’ I admit. ‘Sam seems to have gone to ground and Eva hasn’t been in touch since it happened. I’ve messaged her a couple of times, trying to explain everything about what we did – but no reply. I don’t know what else to do,’ I add helplessly.

‘I know they mean a lot to you,’ Phil says. As we skirt the lake he seems to catch my possibly stern expression. ‘What is it?’ he asks lightly.

‘Nothing.’

‘C’mon. Tell me. I haven’t upset you now, have I?’

‘’Course not.’

‘So why are you looking at me that way?’

I glance at him, the words fizzling up in me: Because before now, you’ve never shown the slightest jot of interest in my friends. That’s what I’d have said, if I were still mad at him. Because when I told you, ‘Bibi’s left! She’s gone to Thailand!’ you looked at me in bewilderment and said, ‘Who’s Bibi?’ This wasn’t our window cleaner or the elderly lady two doors down who carried her Pekinese in a front-facing carrier. She was the partner of one of my closest friends – and mother to their son – who’d come to dinner at our place countless times. How could her name not have lodged in his head?

‘I’m not looking at you in any way, Phil.’ I try for a glare but it dissolves instantly and tears flood my eyes. ‘Sorry,’ I add, quickly blinking them away.

‘Hey, don’t be.’ We stop, and he touches my arm as if not sure what to do next. He takes my empty coffee cup and drops it into a bin. ‘Anyway,’ he adds as we start to make our way back towards my flat, ‘for what it’s worth, I think you and Sam did the right thing.’

‘By trying to find out more about Dom?’ I ask in surprise.

‘Yeah! Of course.’

‘But we were rubbish at it! We never found out anything to change her mind about him.’ Another thought occurs to me. ‘We should’ve got you onto it.’

‘You know that wasn’t really my area.’ I do realise that. After many years in gruelling street policing and organised crime, Phil had been relieved to sidestep into the calmer waters of training and mentoring.