Thirteen Weddings (42 page)

‘
Was
he kind?’ I find myself asking. ‘Because I don’t really remember that.’ My eyes fill up with tears. ‘All I remember is how miserable he always
seemed, how he never seemed to like Mum and me, let alone love us, love
me
.’

‘Of course he loved you,’ William says quickly, reaching forward as though to take my hand but thinking better of it. I wouldn’t have minded. ‘He was a very confused
man.’

I don’t doubt it. ‘He was obviously gay—’

‘Not gay,’ William interrupts. ‘Bisexual.’ His flush spreads to his neck.

‘I don’t know how he ended up with my mother. They didn’t seem at all well suited.’

He remains respectfully silent. I doubt he disagrees with me. ‘That night... The night when I saw you...’

He draws a sharp breath and nods quickly. ‘I’ll never forget it,’ he says in a tight voice. ‘I never stopped thinking about you,’ he adds to my surprise. He never
stopped thinking about me? ‘I am so, so sorry about what happened, what you saw, how your father reacted, and how I handled things afterwards. I have asked for God’s forgiveness time
and again. You shouldn’t have had to lie for us and I am so sorry.’ His eyes well up and tears spill down his cheeks. ‘I loved him,’ he says. ‘A part of me loves him
still. He’s in my prayers every night – him and you and your mother.’

‘My mum is seeing someone else,’ I tell him. ‘And Dad is in a nursing home and he doesn’t know who I am.’ A thought comes to me. ‘I don’t think
he’ll know you either, but if you’d like to see him...’

He regards me for a long moment and then nods, tearfully. ‘Thank you.’

I give him the address before making to leave.

‘Please come back any time,’ he says. ‘Any time. If you ever have any more questions about him, I’ll help in any way I can.’

‘Thank you.’ I get to my feet. ‘One question. Why did you come back here? To South Australia? I thought you moved to Queensland.’

‘Sometimes you have to go back to be able to move on,’ he says.

I smile sadly and nod. I know exactly how he feels.

Lily and Ben say I can stay with them for as long as I like, but I have other plans, and now that the idea of seeing Lachie has come to me, I can’t stop smiling. But
before I can tell my mum I won’t be joining her and David for Christmas this year, I have to speak to my gorgeous guitar guy. His phone goes straight through to his voicemail so I leave a
message, asking him to call me back. I need to check that his parents will be okay with me gatecrashing his family gathering. The thought of being in his arms again fills me with happiness.

Happiness which is snuffed out when I answer the phone to an unknown number and hear Alex’s voice at the other end of the line.

‘Bronte?’

I freeze all over.

‘Bronte?’ he asks again. ‘It’s Alex.’

I find my voice, and when I reply it sounds as icy and cold as my insides feel. ‘What do you want?’

I’m in the living room with Ben and Lily. We were hanging out and watching telly while Lily feeds Elizabeth. They both glance at me with concern. I get up and go to my bedroom and close
the door.

I hear him sniff. His voice sounds strained and quiet and utterly desolate. ‘I’ve broken up with Zara.’

I inhale sharply and sink onto the bed.

‘I told her everything,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry. I never should have gone through with it.’ He breaks down.

Goosebumps appear all over my body and I choke back a sob. I can’t speak so it’s just as well he has more to say.

‘I’m so sorry I put you through that at the wedding. When you walked out of the church... I knew how much you were hurting and I couldn’t do anything about it. I just felt
numb,’ he says.

I’m distraught listening to him speak.

‘It was all so surreal. I was sure I’d made the right decision about marrying her. It was actually a relief, after Spain, when I went to work in the other office,’ he reveals.
‘Even when I saw you again, I felt like it was all going to be okay, that I was doing the right thing. And then I hit a brick wall on the morning of the wedding. Suddenly I was there at the
church. The thought of calling it off,
then
, with all of our friends and family sitting there waiting, it was just too much. But I hated myself.’

My chest tightens as he continues.

‘Things haven’t been good between Zara and me this year. It felt like the right time when we decided to get engaged, but then you came back into my life and threw things. Bronte.
Please say something.’

So I say something. ‘I’m in love with Lachie.’

‘Oh God, please don’t say that.’

‘I’m sorry but it’s true!’ I cry. ‘It’s too late.’

‘No. It’s not too late,’ he says fervently. ‘You’re coming back to London; he’s staying there.’

‘I’ve just told you I’m in love with him!’

‘But you love me, too. Don’t you?’ He sounds panicked. ‘Please tell me that you still love me.’

‘Part of me does, but oh, Alex, that part is poisoned! You poisoned it when you chose to get married to Zara. Even if I didn’t love Lachie, I don’t think we could ever start
afresh.’

‘Don’t say that,’ he pleads. ‘When are you back? Can we talk? Face to face? I know this is too much to land on you like this, but I just miss you so much.’

‘I don’t know,’ I say in a small voice. ‘The thought of seeing you again has been agony. I haven’t known how I’ll ever cope with it, but Lachie has been
helping me.’

It’s a while before he speaks and when he does he’s contemplative. ‘Maybe I should have waited until you got back to tell you in person, but I didn’t want you to go
through another day without knowing how much I love you. Sometimes it scares me how much. But we can’t deny it.
You
can’t deny it. When you see me again, you’ll know.
We’re meant for each other.’

I squeeze my eyes shut and then ping them open again. Suddenly everything is clear.

‘I’m coming! Sorry, I got held up at work,’ I say in a rush to Bridget, who’s calling me to find out why I’m so late for our lunch together.

‘People are eyeing this table like they’re vultures and I’m road kill, so get your butt here ASAP.’

‘I’ll be there in five,’ I promise, ending the call and waving to the receptionist in the lobby, who has her head buried in a bridal magazine. I hear her boyfriend has just
proposed.

I look out of the floor-to-ceiling glass and sigh when I see it’s pouring with rain outside. I shouldn’t be too surprised: it’s typical weather for March. Luckily I have my
lightweight umbrella in my bag, so I get it ready and push out through the revolving doors onto the pavement. My phone rings as I’m putting it up. With the rain pelting down around me, I dig
out my phone from my bag and smile when I see who’s calling me.

‘Hey,’ I say.

‘Hey yourself,’ he replies warmly. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Off to meet Bridget for lunch.’ I set off at a quick pace, struggling to hold my bag, the umbrella and my phone to my ear. ‘I’m late so I’ve got to
rush.’

‘Busy morning at
Hebe
?’ he asks over the sound of drumming rain on my umbrella.

‘Crazy.’

‘Does that mean you’ll be late tonight?’ His voice is tinged with disappointment.

‘I’ll be home before they arrive, I promise,’ I reply with a smile. I haven’t forgotten that we’ve got his new boss coming for dinner.

‘Good. Love you.’

‘Love you, too.’

I end the call and hurry across the road. A few minutes later I arrive at the restaurant, smiling at the sight of Bridget sitting there in prime position at the window. Trust her to get some of
the best seats in the house.

‘Hello!’ I call. ‘I’m so sorry!’

‘Don’t worry.’ She brushes me off, leaning over the table to give me a hug. ‘Just been sitting here admiring the view.’ She looks pointedly across the room at two
gorgeous guys sitting at the bar.

‘And there’s me thinking you might be talking about the Sydney Opera House,’ I say sweetly, glancing out of the window to indicate the white sails of the famous landmark just a
few hundred metres away.

‘Yeah, yeah, bit bored of it now,’ she jokes, waving me away. ‘And what the hell is with this weather? I thought Sydney was supposed to be hot!’

‘It’s autumn, you idiot.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Come back in summer.’

‘Don’t joke about it,’ she says, quite seriously.

I’m in Sydney and Bridget is visiting. I didn’t go back to the UK. I didn’t go back at all. I spent Christmas with Lachie in Perth and as soon as I saw him my world spun just a
little more steadily on its axis. He centres me. So in between Christmas and New Year, I called Simon,
Hebe’s
editor, and came clean to him about everything. It was a horrendous,
difficult conversation, but I needed his understanding before I could ask for his support. Even if Alex weren’t a factor, I wanted to be closer to home to help Mum and look out for Dad. I
don’t know how much time he’ll have left.

Although naturally disappointed, Simon agreed to let me stay in Australia instead of insisting I return to London to work out my notice.

Bridget was devastated to hear I wasn’t coming back. She’s been the best flatmate, but more importantly, the best friend I’ve ever had. I knew I’d miss her terribly, but
she said she understood – and vowed to wangle a press trip to Australia as soon as she could. She stayed true to her word. She arrived a week ago, laden down with excess baggage, including an
extra suitcase with the rest of my things. She’s enjoying herself so much, she’s contemplating staying for a bit. As a freelancer, she could certainly eke out her fair share of
Australian-based articles.

After New Year, Lachie and I packed up and said goodbye to his funny, friendly, warm and slightly wacky family and set off to Sydney on an adventure of our own. We found a one-bedroom apartment
in Manly near the beach and I spoke to all my old contacts to try and line up work on various picture desks. To my amazement, I found that my
old,
old evil boss at
Hebe
Australia had
handed in her notice. So I applied for the position of Picture Editor – and got it. Lachie, meanwhile, landed a job on a building site to bring in some cash, which he plans to supplement with
busking and gigging.

We’ve been in Sydney for just over two months now and life is good.

But I still think about Alex. It’s hard not to when he emails me every day. One morning, I’m certain I will arrive at work to find my inbox empty, and I’m not yet sure how I
will feel about that. For now, when I see his name, I freeze, wondering what he will say to me next. This morning it was: ‘I love you. I’m not giving up.’

Father William came back to South Australia because he said that he had to go back to be able to move on. Maybe there’s something in that. Maybe I have to go back to London to see Alex
before I can truly move on. But I’m not ready to do that yet. If I see him again, I may cave. The chemistry between us is overwhelming and I don’t think it’s healthy: sometimes
chemistry can be toxic.

When I’m thinking clearly, I don’t think we could have ever had a fresh start. Our relationship would have always been built on shaky ground. He needs time to adjust without Zara in
his life, and for now, I need to be with someone who makes me feel happy and loved and secure. But that’s when I’m thinking clearly.

When I’m not thinking clearly, I still love him. Even despite the pain he has caused.

‘You’re going to be around tonight, aren’t you?’ I say to Bridget.

‘Yeah, why?’

‘We’ve got Lachie’s boss and his wife coming over for dinner. I’d love you to meet them.’

‘Cool, okay. Are they nice?’

‘Very. I’ve got a good feeling about them. I think they could be friends.’

‘I can’t believe you’re not coming back,’ she says suddenly, sullenly.

‘I miss you, too,’ I reply quietly. I miss all of my friends and colleagues. Russ and Maria had a baby boy in January and are still going strong. Polly and Grant are tighter than
ever and she remains off the booze. Rachel’s assistant Sally split up with her boyfriend, which is sad for her, but at least increases her levels of reliability for my friend. Rachel was
upset to lose me, even after I let her down so badly during that disastrous thirteenth wedding. She kindly told me that I got the shots she required of the church and the groom for the portfolio
– but in the end, none of our shots were needed because the bride and groom split up before Rachel had even put together the final package. She wasn’t surprised. She could sense both in
the church and at the reception that Alex was there in body, but not in spirit, although she didn’t understand why he seemed so detached until I finally told her the truth about us. She was
stunned that I agreed to do his wedding in the first place. I have to keep reminding myself that I did it for the right reasons – that he was a friend and I didn’t want to let him or
Rachel down – but Lachie still wonders if I have sadomasochistic tendencies.

Rachel sent all of Alex and Zara’s photographs to them anyway – including the shot I took of him looking at her when she reached his side. But I never gave Rachel the ones of Alex
looking at me. I’ve filed them away. I know I should delete them. But for now, I can’t bring myself to.

Maybe Lachie’s right. Maybe I do have sadomasochistic tendencies. But for now, those tendencies are pretty much suppressed.

My mum is still seeing David, and my dad is declining steadily. I speak to the nurse occasionally to get medical updates, and she tells me that Dad is occasionally visited by a priest, who
I’m assuming is Father William. Even he doesn’t seem to spark off any memories, as far as the nurses can tell, but apparently the priest seems to find it comforting to just sit there
and listen to Dad playing the piano, which apparently, he does often.

‘Have you thought any more about doing some part-time wedding photography?’ Bridget asks me after the waitress has come to take our order.

She suggested the idea to me, wanting to put me in touch with the Australian version of the bridal magazine where she worked in London, just in case they had any advice.