Thirteen Weddings (23 page)

I leave him a note:

I take a chance on turning right as I come out of the B&B and set off down the country lane. It’s a beautiful, crisp sunny morning and soon the lane goes through open fields. Sunlight
spills across the hills, highlighting the plough lines created by farmers’ tractors.

What a strange day yesterday was. I met Alex’s fiancée and I feel slightly sick about it. I’ve felt quite close to him recently, but now I just want to put a whole lot of
distance between us. Zara’s not a faceless name any more, and I don’t like that, but it had to happen.

Then there was that whole thing with the organ – I still can’t believe I did that. I never thought I’d play an organ, ever again, let alone in a church with an audience. That
could have gone so horribly wrong.

And then there was Lachie. I sigh heavily. What was I thinking? I was drunk. My throbbing head is proof of that. But that’s no excuse. He’s flirted with me for ages –
he’s a flirt, that’s what he does. I don’t think I expected him to take it further, and I certainly didn’t think I’d let him. Did we almost have sex? It was
him
who kissed
me
, right? Or did I kiss him?

Embarrassment floods me and my face burns. Suddenly I want to run. I break into a jog down a wide dirt track cut right through a wheat field. The hill slopes downwards and I lift up my long
dress and gather momentum as I go. It’s liberating. If anyone saw me they’d think I looked like a loony, running along through a field in a long dress like something out of a Jane
Austen novel. The thought makes me laugh out loud, which makes me look even more crazy.

Eventually, I come to a stop and hunch over on the path, out of breath and completely unfit. There are cracks in the soil that are so wide and deep it’s almost like the whole world is
splitting apart. I stare into the depths of the darkest cracks and imagine seeing right through to Australia. I’m suddenly overcome with homesickness and out of the blue, I burst into tears.
I’m completely alone, no one will see me, no one will hear me cry. And as far as I can tell, that’s a good thing. I force myself to keep walking, even though I’m a blubbering
mess. I should call my mum. I’ve been avoiding her for so long, ringing only on Saturday evenings when I know she’ll be out. I always leave a message, telling her I’m really busy
and that I’ll try her again another time. I never, ever do.

I sniff and wipe away my snot, the thought making me feel morose rather than sad. I wish Maria were here. She’d have a tissue.

I haven’t seen her for ages. I know she’s still seeing Russ, but he tends to go and stay with her in Golders Green, rather than her coming into town. I have a wedding next weekend
which she’s doing too, so we’ll catch up soon enough. I assume things are still going well between her and my
Hebe
colleague.

I take a left when I come to another field, figuring I’ll walk a triangle back to the B&B. I set off uphill. Spider webs shine in the light, and the long, silky threads twist and
shimmer in the breeze as they drift across overgrown blades of dew-crystallised grass. I stomp along the path, wrecking tiny homes and habitats as I go. I’ve calmed down by the time
I’ve reached the top of the hill. I pause for a moment and breathe in the fresh air while staring at the view, and then I set off on the last leg of my triangle, back to the B&B.
I’m walking along, humming to myself, when I see a dark figure on the other side of the hedge. I nearly jump out of my skin. The figure stops walking in the other direction and turns to look
at me through the foliage.

‘You scared the shit out of me!’ I exclaim, seeing Lachie’s eyes staring at me.

He grins. ‘Sorry.’

‘What are you doing?’ I ask him.

‘Felt like a walk myself.’

‘Oh. Did you?’

‘Yeah. How do I get to you?’ He indicates the hedge.

I smile and point back to where I’ve just come. I passed a gap a moment ago. I wait for him to join me.

‘All good?’ he asks with a grin, his light blue eyes twinkling as he catches up to me.

I’m relieved. This is not going to be weird.

‘So I finally got into your bed but not into your knickers,’ he says.

I spoke too soon.

I hit his chest and he laughs and wraps his arm around me. ‘Just kidding, Bronnie. You alright?’ He peers down at me with amusement.

‘Yeah.’ I shrug. We set off along the path, but my thoughts are jumbled. Eventually I can’t keep them to myself. ‘What were you planning on doing, anyway? Were you just
going to shag me without any thought of protection?’

‘No, I carry a condom in my wallet.’ He frowns as if to say, ‘Duh!’

‘Of course you do,’ I mutter, slipping out of his embrace.

‘What? Are you having a go at me now?’ he asks incredulously. ‘For practising safe sex?’

‘Not at all,’ I say smoothly. ‘I’m sure you practise safe sex
a lot.’

‘So now you’re accusing me of being easy.’ He grins down at me.

‘Aren’t you?’ I don’t smile back.

‘Depends on your definition,’ he says cheekily.

I tut. ‘I can’t believe I let you kiss me,’ I mutter.

He steps in front of me on the path, catching my hips at the same time to bring me to a stop. ‘Do you want to do it again?’ he asks sexily, staring down at me.

The bastard’s question makes my face heat up.

‘Would you cut it out?’ I snap, shoving him to one side and storming off.

‘I’m just teasing,’ he calls as he hurries after me.

‘Well, don’t. I’m not in the mood.’

He puts his hands in his pockets.

‘So... Yesterday was bizarre,’ he says.

I half laugh. ‘You’re telling me.’

‘Do you really have a church phobia?’

I’d completely forgotten I’d told him that. I try to appear unbothered. ‘I don’t like them, no.’

‘I thought you were having me on, but you knew the name for it and everything.’

‘Ecclesiophobia.’ Pause. ‘I might have been exaggerating about having a full-on phobia, but I definitely don’t like churches.’

He studies me thoughtfully as we walk.

‘How did you learn to play the organ?’ I know he’s confused. Will it really hurt to tell him?

‘My dad taught me.’

‘Your dad?’

‘He was a church organist.’

‘Was he? Wow.’ He falls silent, but not for long. ‘I thought you were freaked out about meeting Alex’s chick.’

I snort, relaxing slightly. ‘It wasn’t the most fun thing I’ve ever done,’ I admit, even though I totally brought it on myself.

His expression softens as he glances at me, and then he pulls me in for another hug. I let him.

Breakfast is being served when we reach the B&B, so we go straight into the small dining room. Alex and Zara are sitting at a table by the window and the sight makes my
heart hurt a little.

‘Morning,’ Alex says with a smile, looking over at us.

‘G’day,’ Lachie replies.

‘Hi,’ Zara and I say at the same time. She’s wearing skinny blue jeans and a pristine white jumper and her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. She takes a sip of
her tea from a china teacup and gently places it back on the saucer. The room is filled with the gentle clatter of cutlery and crockery.

Lachie pulls out a chair for me at a spare table and sits down opposite me. I’m surprised by his chivalry, but I fight the impulse to tease him.

‘Good night?’ Alex asks us.

I can’t help glancing at Lachie. ‘Yeah,’ I reply with a shrug, willing my face to stay the same colour. ‘You?’

‘Pretty good, yeah,’ he replies.

‘Are you feeling better?’ I ask Zara, trying to be friendly.

‘Hmm?’ She looks confused. Alex gives her a look. ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she brushes me off.

Esther and her boyfriend join us. ‘Good morning,’ Esther says brightly, taking a seat at the table next to us. ‘How’s everyone feeling?’

‘Well, I have a headache,’ I reply ruefully.

‘Oh dear,’ she says sympathetically. ‘Have you got any ibuprofen?’

‘No.’

‘I have. I’ll get them for you after breakfast.’

‘Thanks.’ I smile at her.

The B&B owner comes over to take our order and then goes back to the kitchen.

‘What time are we setting off today?’ Esther asks Alex.

‘Soon, if that’s alright?’ he replies.

‘Sure. How are you guys getting back to London?’ she asks Lachie and me.

‘Taxi to the station, then train.’

‘What happened to you last night?’ she asks with a frown. ‘Mike was looking for you. He wanted to see if you needed a lift back here.’

‘Oh, did he? That was nice of him,’ I say innocently, trying to ignore the smirk on Lachie’s lips. I purposefully press my foot onto his toes under the table. He sniggers,
which doesn’t help.

Later, on the train, he and I sit side by side facing the direction of travel. He has his arm around me in his usual laid-back, comfortable manner and I’m leaning into
him, feeling incredibly content.

‘Thank you for coming with me,’ I say, staring out of the window in a slight daze.

‘Anytime,’ he murmurs, brushing a few loose strands of hair back from my face. His touch is soothing, but it belatedly strikes me that I shouldn’t be encouraging him.
Reluctantly, I pull away.

‘I’m sorry about last night.’ I find myself saying.

He doesn’t comment so I turn to look up at him.

‘Forget about it,’ he says seriously, staring down at me. ‘No harm done, right?’

I look back out the window. ‘No,’ I say quietly. ‘No harm done.’

Maybe something is going around, or maybe the events of the weekend have caught up with me, but on Monday morning, I just can’t get out of bed. Whatever I’m
feeling, it goes way beyond exhaustion. I feel weary to my bones.

I call in sick and spend the morning in bed, trying not to over-think everything that happened at the wedding. I miss Australia and the simplicity of my life in Sydney – back when I was a
deputy picture editor and not much else. Calling my mum would cure my homesickness. Bridget told me she rang again on Saturday. I know I’ll probably be quite content to stay on the other side
of the world if I speak to her, so with a sigh, I pick up the phone and dial her number.

It’s weird returning to the hustle and bustle of work the next day after three weeks in a different office. Yesterday, Simon presented our redesign ideas to the rest of
the team, and from what I hear, they went down well. We’ll start implementing the new look magazine immediately with the longer lead time Features and Style pages this week, and then next
week will be our first live News week. We’re using the Nelly Lott shoot as our first Celebrity Houses feature, and I’m already working on setting up the next. I’m back to earth
with a bump because Nicky literally throws work at me, so I have no choice but to hit the ground running. It’s probably a good thing. After meeting Zara, I now find myself naturally steering
clear of Alex. I catch him giving me odd looks a couple of times, and he even comes over to my desk on Thursday to ask if I want a cup of tea. I lie and tell him I’m detoxing, flashing him a
quick smile before getting on with my work. The week is a struggle, and on Friday night I make my excuses and head straight home. I have a wedding the next day, and it’s a big one. From the
way Rachel talks about it, the groom’s family own half the county.

Rachel calls me early the next morning. I’ve never heard her sound so panicked. ‘I can’t. I just can’t. I’ve been throwing up all night. I
can’t risk it. Imagine if I passed this on to them? I could throw up all over the bride! Oh, Bronte, you’re going to have to do this on your own!’

‘But...’ Oh shit! ‘What about Sally?’ I ask helplessly.

‘She’s on holiday.’

‘Lina and Tom?’

‘No, they passed this wedding on to me because they couldn’t do it. You’ll be fine!’ she insists. ‘Maria will be there for moral support. She’s insured on my
car so she’ll drive you both there. Maybe she can get the groom shots. We’ll have to give them a discount, but I don’t know what else to do.’

‘Okay. Okay. It’s going to be fine,’ I say with a voice that I hope doesn’t give away my underlying hysteria.

‘Where’s Rachel?’ Binky, the bride, asks in an incredibly posh accent, when the man – butler? – announces our arrival.

‘Didn’t she call?’ I ask nervously, going into the opulent sitting room where the white-silk-robe-clad bride is sitting at a small wooden table by the window and sipping tea
from a china teacup.

‘The phone’s been ringing off the hook all morning. Mummy probably pulled the plug out of the socket.’

‘Oh. I see. Well, I’m afraid Rachel is not very well.’ I try to sound sympathetic. ‘But it’s okay. I can handle the photographs, and Maria will assist me once
she’s finished with your hair and make-up.’

A second door to the room opens and a woman whooshes in. She’s middle-aged and handsome, and carries herself with an air of entitlement. ‘Who are you?’ she asks haughtily.

‘I’m Bronte,’ I say warmly, extending my hand. ‘I’m Rachel’s... colleague,’ I decide to say at the last moment. I’m not sure meagre
‘assistant’ will go down too well in this situation.

‘Where’s Rachel?’ the woman asks, giving me an unpleasant look as she waggles my fingertips. I guess my whole hand is not worth bothering with.

‘I’m afraid she has a sick bug.’ I come right out and say it.

‘Urgh.’ The woman snatches her hand away as though I might be a carrier.

‘Oh, Mummy, what are we going to do?’ Binky erupts melodramatically, clattering her teacup onto her saucer and standing up.

‘Mummy’ rushes to her side. ‘It will be fine, darling. We’ll get through it.’

‘Bronte really is an excellent photographer,’ Maria chips in helpfully. ‘Rachel sings her praises to me on a daily basis.’

I smile at her.

‘How many weddings have you done?’ Binky asks me, anxiously pressing her fingers to her face.

‘Oh...’ I screw up my nose.

‘Too many to count,’ Maria answers for me.

I think this might be my seventh, although I have been to eight weddings so far this year, including Pete and Sylvie’s. Still, even eight really doesn’t sound like a lot.