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Five Hours Before I Do
Audrey woke up alone, sweating, her hair matted and damp against her forehead. It took her a moment to realise where she was. Picking up her phone, she saw it was nine thirty on the twenty-fifth of June. The date written on her marriage plate, on the invitations and on the laminated wedding day schedule. The date she would celebrate as her anniversary for years and decades to come.
Her mind felt like stewed soup, claggy with a cocktail of emotions and vodka. Vivien had been right about one thing: spirits were a bad idea. She could still taste the fuzz of alcohol on her tongue. She’d gone to sleep in a bad mood and the feeling hadn’t dissipated. The shock of seeing Fred at the rehearsal dinner had passed, and now she just felt annoyed that he was here, saying all these things to her that she didn’t need to know. It might have seemed charming in the moonlight and the rain, but in the sharp light of day it felt selfish and confusing for him to say anything – especially about posting a note for her in every astronomy department in London. There was something in this detail, that he had listened and remembered, that he had made such an effort to look for her... If she had only passed that exam, got onto that course, would she have found one of his notes? What if, what if, what if.
There was a knock at the door, then Clara’s voice.
‘Hey, you awake, Auds? Breakfast stops serving at ten, but I can bring us up a tray if you don’t want to go down?’
Audrey got out of bed and opened the door. She didn’t want to stay in her sweaty sheets; she needed to get up, throw open the windows, slay the day. She’d never slayed a day before, but it sounded like the kind of thing she should be doing on her wedding day.
‘You. I blame you for the vodka,’ she said, pointing a finger at Clara.
‘Sorry. I’m a bad friend. What happened to your hair?’ Clara asked. ‘It looks like you slept with it wet and now it’s dried all weird.’
‘I’ll wash it after breakfast, it’s fine, you’ll fix it with your magic tongs.’
‘You’re lucky you have a maid of honour who’s a professional image consultant, because this image’ – she waved a hand in front of Audrey’s face – ‘currently needs a lot of consulting. By the way, Jay called this morning – he had a terrible night with the Screamatrons. Is it bad that I’m a tiny bit glad? Now he knows what it’s like doing a night alone with them.’
‘Completely understandable. You want him to manage without you, but not too well.’
‘Exactly. I hope he remembers to pack their dummies for the wedding.’ Clara paused, catching herself, then clapped her hands briskly. ‘Not my responsibility today. You are my responsibility. Forget the girls, forget Jay, where you’d like to have breakfast is the only important question.’
‘You don’t have to pretend you’re not a mum this weekend just because I’m getting married,’ Audrey said, as she pulled out a blue wrap dress from her case.
‘I know, I know, but you were such a great maid of honour to me and I— oh God, my boobs are killing me. I might have to pump after breakfast, do you mind? I’ll be super quick.’
‘Of course I don’t mind! I don’t want you to explode. You can pump in the church for all I care. Come on, let’s go down for breakfast; it smells of vodka and sweaty bedclothes in here.’
‘So you did sleep? No insomnia or anxiety?’ Clara asked, observing her with wary concern.
‘Like a baby,’ she lied. She’d decided not to tell Clara about her nocturnal meeting with Fred; it might make her worry.
‘I don’t know where that expression comes from, babies don’t sleep. Hey, guess what? You’re getting married today!’ Clara said in a sing-song voice, punching the air above her head.
‘Yay me,’ Audrey said cheerfully. She waved her hands in the air, grabbed her phone and followed her friend out into the hall.
The breakfast room had a peaceful elegance to it, with two colossal bay windows looking out over the lawn and a back wall lined with bookcases. There was a long oak table at one side, laden with a beautiful spread of fruit salad, cereals, coffee and pastries. As Audrey stepped into the room, heading straight towards the delicious breakfast options, she felt a snagging sensation, like a fly that had just been caught in a web. She sensed a breeze on her skin and a tug on her dress and she looked down to see the front of her blue wrap dress hanging open. The tie of the dress had caught on the door handle and unravelled her like a badly made jumper.
‘Here she is!’ said Debbie with a wave, hand freezing in mid-air as she saw Audrey’s predicament. Josh’s parents were sitting with Vivien, Lawrence and Brian at the table nearest the door, and all their eyes were upon her. Audrey quickly spun back towards the door to try and wind herself back into her dress. Clara noticed what was happening and stepped smoothly in front of her to preserve her modesty.
‘It’s fine, nobody noticed,’ Clara assured her, as Audrey grappled to unhook the dress from the door handle.
‘I think people noticed,’ Audrey said through gritted teeth. Michael’s face had turned a shade of beetroot at seeing Audrey’s sheer pink bra.
‘Well, you’re just going to have to style it out then, babes,’ Clara whispered. So Audrey did. She re-tied her dress, held her head high, then walked across the room as though she had not just flashed her breasts to her future father-in-law.
When she’d decided to come downstairs for breakfast, she’d been focused on seeing what pastries were on offer, whether they had any yummy home-made granola. She had not considered that everyone else staying at the venue would be having breakfast there too.
‘The beautiful bride!’ Debbie exclaimed, trying to cover everyone’s blushes with conversation. Her face crumpled in concern when she saw Audrey’s neck. ‘How are you feeling, dear? How’s that abrasion?’
‘Audrey, I hope we can expect a little more elegance in the church,’ Vivien said softly, rapidly blinking her eyes and giving her daughter a sympathetic head tilt.
Lawrence swung around in his chair. ‘So sorry again about the “el lazo”, Audrey, really bad luck that was. I’ve never seen that happen before. Quite, quite unfortunate.’
Debbie was now by Audrey’s side, inspecting the rope burn at close quarters. ‘No one will notice, dear. Everyone will be too busy looking at your gorgeous figure. I mean your dress, not your figure. Your figure in your dress. Hopefully your veil will cover the worst of it.’ Debbie squeezed Audrey’s arm, but Audrey could see from the look on her face that Debbie did think people would notice. ‘You can always airbrush it out in the photos; they can airbrush anything these days, can’t they?’
Audrey wished she could airbrush herself out of this conversation.
