OK. Let’s focus on the here and now. The simple act of texting a reply makes me feel more relaxed.
Just arrived.
An instant later she replies:
Argh! Going as quick as we can. Anyway, you’re supposed to be late. It’s good luck. Have you still got your blue garter on?
Annalise was so obsessed by me wearing a blue garter that she brought along three different choices this morning. I’m sorry, what are garters all about? To be frank, I could really do without a length of tight elastic cutting off my leg circulation right now—but I promised her faithfully I’d keep it on.
Of course! Even though my leg will probably fall off. Nice surprise for Magnus on the wedding night.
I smile as I send the text. It’s cheering me up, having this stupid conversation. I put my phone down, have a drink of water, and take a deep breath. OK. I’m feeling better. The phone dings with a new text, and I pick it up to see what Annalise has replied—
But it’s from Sam Mobile.
For a few instants I can’t move. My stomach is moiling around as though I’m a teenager. Oh God. This is pathetic. It’s mortifying. I see the word Sam and I go to pieces.
Half of me wants to ignore it. What do I care what he’s got to say? Why should I give one iota of head space or time to him, when it’s my wedding day and I have other things to focus on?
But I know I’ll never get through the wedding with an unopened text burning a hole in my phone. I open it as calmly as I can, bearing in mind that my fingers can hardly function—and it’s a one-word Sam special.
Hi.
Hi? What’s that supposed to mean, for God’s sake?
Well, I’m not going to be rude. I’ll text back a similarly effusive response.
Hi.
A moment later there’s another ding:
This a good time?
What?
Is he for real? Or is he being sarcastic? Or—
Then I realize. Of course. He thinks I canceled the wedding. He doesn’t know. He has no idea.
And suddenly I see his text in a new light. He’s not making a point. He’s just saying hi.
I swallow hard, trying to work out what to put. Somehow I can’t bear to tell him what I’m doing. Not straight out.
Not really.
I’ll be brief, then. You were right and I was wrong.
I stare at his words, perplexed. Right about what? Slowly, I type:
What do you mean?
Almost immediately, his reply dings into the phone.
About Willow. You were right and I was wrong. I’m sorry I reacted badly. I didn’t want you to be right, but you were. I spoke to her.
What did you say?
Told her it was over, finito. Stop the emails or I’ll take out a stalking injunction.
He didn’t. I can’t believe it.
How did she react?
She was pretty shocked.
I bet.
There’s silence for a while. A fresh text from Annalise has arrived on my phone, but I don’t open it. I can’t bear to break the thread between Sam and me. I’m gripping my phone tightly, peering at the screen, waiting to see if he’ll text again. He has to text again….
And then there’s a beep.
Can’t be an easy day for you. Today was supposed to be the wedding day, right?
My insides seem to plunge. What do I answer? What?
Yes.
Well, here’s something to cheer you up.
Cheer me up? I’m peering at the screen, puzzled, when a photo text suddenly arrives, which makes me laugh in surprise. It’s a picture of Sam sitting in a dentist’s chair. He’s smiling widely and wearing a cartoon sticker on his lapel that says, I was a good dental patient!!
He did that for me, flashes through my head before I can stop it. He went to the dentist for me.
No. Don’t be stupid. He went for his teeth. I hesitate, then type:
You’re right, that did cheer me up. Well done. About time!
An instant later he replies:
Are you free for a cup of coffee?
And to my horror, with no warning, tears start pressing at my eyes. How can he call now and ask me for a cup of coffee? How can he not realize that things have moved on? What did he think I would do? As I type, my thumbs are jerky and agitated.
You brushed me off.
What?
You sent me the brush-off email.
I never send emails, you know that. Must have been my PA. She’s too efficient.
He didn’t send it?
OK, now I can’t cope. I’m going to cry, or laugh hysterically, or something. I had it all sorted in my mind. I knew where everything was and where everything stood. Now my head’s a maelstrom again.
The phone beeps with a follow-up text from Sam:
You’re not offended, are you?
I close my eyes. I have to explain. But what do I—How do I—
At last, without even opening my eyes, I text:
You don’t understand.
What don’t I understand?
I can’t bear to type the words. Somehow I just can’t do it. Instead, I stretch out my arm as far as it will go, take a photo of myself, then examine the result.
Yes. It’s all there in the shot: my veil, my headdress, a glimpse of my wedding dress, the corner of my lily bouquet. There’s absolutely no doubt as to what’s going on.
I press Sam Mobile and then send. There. It’s gone through the ether. Now he knows. I’ll probably never hear from him again after this. That’s it. It was a strange little encounter between two people, and this is the end. With a sigh, I sink down into the chair. The bells above have stopped pealing, and there’s a strange, still quietness in the room.
Until suddenly the beeps start. Frantic and continuous, like an emergency siren. I pick up my phone in shock, and they’re stacking up in my in-box: text after text after text, all from Sam.
No.
No no no no no.
Stop.
You can’t.
Are you serious?
Poppy, why?
My breaths are short and ragged as I read his words. I wasn’t intending to get into a conversation, but at last I can’t stand it anymore, I have to reply.
What do you expect, I just walk away? 200 people are sitting here waiting.
Immediately, Sam’s reply comes firing back:
You think he loves you?
I twist the ring of gold strands round and round my right-hand finger, trying desperately to find a path through all the contradictory thoughts thrusting their way into my head. Does Magnus love me? I mean … what is love? No one knows what love is, exactly. No one can define it. No one can prove it. But if someone chooses a ring especially for you in Bruges, that’s got to be a good start, hasn’t it?
Yes.
I think Sam must have been poised for my answer, his replies come shooting back so quickly, three in a row.
No.
You’re wrong.
Stop. Stop. Stop. No. No.
I want to scream at him. It’s not fair. He can’t say all this now. He can’t shake me up now.
Well, what I am supposed to do???
I send it just as the door opens. It’s the Reverend Fox, followed by Toby, Tom, Annalise, and Ruby, all talking at once in an excited babble.
“Oh my God! The traffic! I thought we wouldn’t make it.”
“Yes, but they couldn’t start without you, could they? It’s like planes.”
“They can, you know. They once took my luggage off the plane I was on, just because I was trying these jeans on and I didn’t hear the announcement.”
“Is there a mirror? I’ve got to do my lip gloss again.”
“Poppy, we got you some biscuits—”
“She doesn’t want biscuits! She’s got to be slim for her big moment!” Annalise swoops down on me. “What’s happened to your veil? It’s all bunched up. And your dress is crooked! Let me …”
“All right, missus?
” Ruby gives me a hug as Annalise tugs at my train. “Ready?”
“I …” I feel dazed. “I guess so.”
“You look great.” Toby is crunching a digestive. “Much better. Hey, Felix wanted to say a quick hello. Is that OK?”
“Oh, of course.”
I feel powerless, standing here with everyone milling around me. I can’t even physically move, because Annalise is still adjusting my train. My phone beeps, and Reverend Fox gives me a frosty smile.
“Better turn that off, don’t you think?”
“Can you imagine if it went off during the service?” Annalise giggles. “Do you want me to hold it for you?”
She holds out her hand and I stare back at her, paralyzed. There’s a new text from Sam in my in-box. His reply. Part of me is so desperate to read it, I almost can’t contain my hands.
But another part is telling me to stop. Don’t go there. How can I read it now, as I’m about to walk up the aisle? It’ll mess me up. I’m here at my wedding day, surrounded by friends and family. This is my real life. Not some guy I’m connected to through the ether. It’s time to say goodbye. It’s time to cut this thread.
“Thanks, Annalise.” I turn the phone off and gaze at it for a moment as the light dies away. There’s no one in there anymore. It’s just a dead, blank metal box.
I hand it to Annalise and she thrusts it into her bra.
“You’re holding your flowers too high.” She frowns at me. “You look really tense.”
“I’m fine.” I avoid her gaze.
“Hey, guess what?” Ruby comes rustling up in her dress. “I forgot to tell you: We’re getting a celebrity patient! That businessman who’s been all over the news. Sir Nicholas something?”
“You mean Sir Nicholas Murray?” I say incredulously.
“That’s the one.” She beams. “His assistant phoned up and booked a session with me! Said I’d been recommended by someone whose opinion he regards very highly. Who on earth d’you think that was?”
“I’ve … I’ve no idea,” I manage.
I’m so touched. And a bit freaked. Never in a million years did I think that Sir Nicholas would take me up on my recommendation. How can I face him again? What if he mentions Sam? What if—
No. Stop it, Poppy. By the time I see Sir Nicholas again, I’ll be a married woman. The whole bizarre little episode will be long forgotten. It’ll be fine.
“I’ll alert the organist that we’re ready to go,” says Reverend Fox. “Take your places for the procession, everyone.”
Annalise and Ruby make their way to their places behind me. Tom and Toby are flanking me, each with an arm loosely crooked in mine. There’s a knock at the door, and Felix’s owlish face peers round.
“Poppy, you look amazing.”
“Thanks! Come in!”
“Just thought I’d wish you luck.” He heads toward me, skirting my dress hem carefully with his feet. “And say I’m so chuffed you’re joining the family. We all are. My parents think you’re brilliant.”
“Really?” I say, trying to hide my dubious tone. “Both your parents?”
“Oh yes.” He nods fervently. “They love you. They were so gutted when they heard it was all off.”
“Off?” echo four astonished voices, all at once.
“Was the wedding off?” says Tom.
“When was it off?” demands Annalise. “You never told us, Poppy! Why didn’t you tell us?”
Great. This is all I need, the third degree from my entire wedding party.
“It was only temporary.” I try to downplay it. “You know. One of those last-minute wedding-jitter things. Everyone has them.”
“Mum gave Magnus such a hard time.” Felix’s eyes gleam behind his glasses. “She said he was a fool and he’d never find anyone better than you.”
“Really?” I can’t help feeling a glow.
“Oh, she was livid.” Felix looks highly entertained. “She practically threw the ring at him.”
“She threw the emerald ring?” I say in astonishment. That ring is worth thousands. Surely even Wanda wouldn’t start chucking it around the room.
“No, the gold twisty ring. That ring.” He nods at my hand. “When she was getting it out of her dressing table for Magnus. She threw it at him and cut his forehead.” He chuckles. “Not badly, of course.”
I stare at him, frozen. What did he just say? Wanda got the gold twisty ring out of her dressing table?
“I thought …” I try to sound relaxed. “I thought Magnus bought it in Bruges.”
Felix looks blank. “Oh no. It’s Mum’s. Was Mum’s.”
“Right.” I lick my dry lips. “So, Felix, what happened exactly? Why did she give it to him? I wish I’d been there!” I try to sound lighthearted. “Tell me the whole story.”
“Well.” Felix screws up his eyes, as though trying to recall. “Mum told Magnus not to bother trying to give you that emerald ring again. And she got out the gold ring and said she couldn’t wait to have you as a daughter-in-law. Then Dad said, ‘Why are you bothering? It’s obvious Magnus doesn’t have the sticking power for a marriage,’ and Magnus got in a fury with him and said, yes, he does, and Dad said, ‘Look at the Birmingham job,’ and they had this massive argument like they always do and then … we got a takeaway supper.” He blinks. “That was pretty much it.”
Behind me, Annalise is leaning forward to listen. “So that’s why you switched rings. I knew you weren’t allergic to emeralds.”
This is Wanda’s ring. Magnus didn’t buy it especially for me at all. As I stare at my hand, I feel a bit sick. Then something else occurs to me.
“What Birmingham job?”
“You know. The one he quit. Dad always gives Magnus a hard time for being a quitter. Sorry, I thought you knew.” Felix is eyeing me curiously as loud organ chords from above make us all jump. “Oh, we’re starting. I’d better beetle off. See you in there!”
“Yes, OK.” Somehow I manage to nod. But I feel as though I’m on another planet. I need to digest all this.
“Ready?” Reverend Fox is at the door, beckoning us out. As we arrive at the back of the church, I can’t help gasping. It’s filled with spectacular flower arrangements, and rows of people in hats, and a crackling air of expectation. I can just glimpse the back of Magnus’s head, right at the front.
Magnus. The thought makes my stomach turn over. I can’t—I need time to think—
But I don’t have any time. The organ piece is gathering momentum. The choir suddenly crashes in with a triumphant chord. The Reverend Fox has already disappeared up the aisle. The fairground ride has begun, and I’m on it.
“All right?” Toby grins across at Tom. “Don’t trip her up, Bigfoot.”
And we’re off. We’re moving up the aisle, and people are smiling at me, and I’m aiming for a serene, happy gaze, but, inside, my thoughts are about as serene as the particles whizzing about in CERN.
It doesn’t matter…. It’s only a ring…. I’m overreacting…. But he lied to me….
Oh, wow, look at Wanda’s hat….
God, this music is amazing, Lucinda was right to get the choir….
What job in Birmingham? Why did he never tell me about that?
Am I gliding? Shit. OK, that’s better….
Come on, Poppy. Let’s get some perspective. You have a great relationship with Magnus. Whether he bought you the ring himself or not is irrelevant. Some ancient job in Birmingham is irrelevant. And as for Sam—
No. Forget Sam. This is reality. This is my wedding. It’s my wedding, and I can’t even focus on it properly. What’s wrong with me?
I’m going to do it. I can do it. Yes. Yes. Bring it on….
Why the hell does Magnus look so sweaty?
As I arrive at the altar, all other thoughts are temporarily overcome by this last one. I can’t help gaping at him in dismay. He looks terrible. If I look like I’m sick, then he looks like he’s got malaria.
“Hi.” He gives me a weedy smile. “Y
ou look lovely.”
“Are you OK?” I whisper as I hand my bouquet to Ruby.
“Why wouldn’t I be OK?” he retorts defensively.
That doesn’t seem quite the right answer, but I can’t exactly challenge him on it.
The music has stopped, and Reverend Fox is addressing the congregation with an ebullient beam. He looks as though he absolutely loves taking weddings.
“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here in the sight of God….”
As I hear the familiar words echoing around the church, I start to relax. OK. Here we go. This is what it’s all about. This is what I’ve been looking forward to. The pledges. The vows. The ancient, magical words which have been repeated under this roof so many times, for generations and generations.
So maybe we’ve had some blips and jitters in the run-up to our wedding. What couple doesn’t? But if we can just focus on our vows, if we can just make them special …
“Magnus.” Reverend Fox turns to Magnus, and there’s a rustle of anticipation in the congregation. “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Magnus has a slightly glazed look in his eye, and he’s breathing heavily. He looks as though he’s psyching himself up for the hundred-meter Olympic final.
“Magnus?” prompts Reverend Fox.
“OK,” he says, almost to himself. “OK. Here goes. I can do this.” He takes an almighty deep breath and, in a loud, dramatic voice which rises to the ceiling, announces proudly: “I do.”
I do?
I do?
Wasn’t he listening?
“Magnus,” I whisper with a meaningful edge. “It’s not ‘I do.’ “
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