Chapter 3
Wedding Day (that wasn’t)
We arrive back at the cottage I share with Rox.
Miles and I haven’t officially moved in together yet – he still shares a bachelor pad with Leo – but I usually sleep there most evenings, even though I rent a room in Rox’s cottage.
The plan is (was?) to find our own house after the honeymoon.
Now I’m thankful I have this private space in which to fall apart.
Freya wrings her hands while I question every little thing before collapsing on the sofa in a messy, sobbing heap. Were my own doubts earlier a sign that things weren’t right between us, or were they simply the doubts of a nervous bride?
Truth be told, settling in one place always felt like a huge sacrifice, but I’d been prepared to do it because of my love for Miles. What changed for him? What made him baulk at the idea of matrimony?
Our phones simultaneously beep with a text. Freya swipes her screen. ‘Your parents have told everyone at the venue,’ she says. ‘They want to know if they should invite guests to enjoy the reception, or not?’
The reception. All that catering going to waste, a decadent Christmas feast with all the trimmings.
And all those staff hired for the day. Not to mention the effort our guests have made to be here, a few even coming from abroad.
‘Yes, yes, they should have lunch. We’ve paid for it.
I’m sure there’s no refunds on the day of.
’ I clench my jaw as I call Miles again. Nothing.
The front door opens with a blustery bang, making me jump in fright. Rox appears as the wind whips her black locks around her face. With her mussed hair and wild eyes, she looks like something out of a horror movie.
‘Ah… is everything OK, Rox?’ I ask. ‘You didn’t catch up with Miles, did you?’
I surreptitiously survey her for blood spatter and am relieved when I find none.
Rox gives me an evil grin that can only mean a form of retribution has been meted out.
‘What have you done?’ Freya whispers, holding a protective hand over her belly. Let’s hope her unborn baby isn’t about to hear its first murder confession.
Rox shuts the door and throws herself next to me on the sofa. ‘Nothing drastic. But let’s just say, Miles won’t be enjoying his wedding night safely tucked up in bed.’
My stomach flips as I debate whether to pry any further. If I don’t know, I can’t tell, right? But dammit, I care about the man. ‘Erm, where will he be enjoying it?’
The bottom of the river? Six-foot underground? In a vat of chemicals that will dissolve…
‘He’ll be praying to the porcelain gods.’
I exhale a thankful breath. He’s still alive. While I’m mad at him too, I don’t want the guy dead and I especially don’t want to spend my aborted wedding day at the police station protesting Rox’s innocence, an innocence, I might add, that precisely no police officer around here will believe.
‘Praying to the porcelain gods – what on earth does that mean?’ Freya carefully asks, her face pinched, probably because even hearing these admissions makes her an accessory.
And no eight-month pregnant woman wants to be pulled into a drama like this, not when she’s already battling swollen ankles and the constant need to pee.
But this is Rox’s love language, balancing the scales.
And she only does these acts of love for the ones she holds dear, so really, I should be grateful.
It’s just I’m not really the revenge type, but that’s subject to change.
‘It means I snuck in and filled up his beloved protein drinks with horse laxatives. It’s the least he deserves.
More fool him for leaving his back door unlocked – he was asking for trouble.
He didn’t commit to the “’til death do you part” bit, so this will help excise the demons from his system. ’ She flashes me a triumphant smile.
I’m no pharmacist but a quick mental calculation about potential outcomes equals trouble.
Big trouble. ‘Rox, wouldn’t horse laxatives be way too strong for a human?
His – his insides might become his outsides!
’ I pale as I imagine him suffering a violent digestive upset with medication meant for an animal that weighs four times what he does.
‘One can only hope!’
I’m struck by a sudden onset of giggles. Could this day get any crazier? When I compose myself, I ask, ‘Where did you get such a thing?’
‘I took a slight detour on the way to his place and got them from… actually, never you mind. The less you know, the better, Aubrey. That goes for you too, Freya.’
There’s no question that he won’t ingest the drinks.
Miles is obsessed with his protein intake and consuming exactly 130 grams per day.
He does this by mainlining pre-mixed protein drinks 365 days of the year, no exceptions, and records it all on an app.
His body is his temple, and why oh why didn’t I see that as problematic?
I need to warn Miles, but then I run the risk of getting Rox in trouble. This will have to be handled delicately…
Freya turns to me, rubbing my arm, trying to mask the alarm on her features. ‘Shall I make those calls and tell the guests to make their way to the reception?’
‘Can you call my parents? Ask them to sort all of it?’ I send her a pleading look that I hope translates to: Tell them to fix this! Today, the disaster of all days, a bit of delegation is acceptable.
Freya picks up her handbag, suddenly all business.
I’m so glad she’s here to help with the practicalities and Rox’s revenge plot.
My mind is scattered, like all my hopes and dreams. ‘I’ll go back to the church and chat with them,’ she says, giving me a look that implies she understands the assignment.
‘Oh, and the London hotel? The honeymoon? Is there any chance you can defer? I know how excited you are about the Winter Wonderland Express but I can call them, explain the situation?’
We were supposed to stay in a ritzy hotel in London this evening and catch the Eurostar tomorrow to Calais for our… Scratch that – my dream honeymoon.
‘Can you please cancel the hotel for this evening? I’m not keen to stay in London alone on what would have been my wedding night.’
‘Of course.’
‘But… the honeymoon.’ I hold in another sob.
‘They won’t accept a last-minute cancellation and the tickets were so expensive, a splurge, even with my travel agent discount.
’ A Christmas train ride to remember, full of festive activities at every stop.
My lip quivers at the thought of missing out.
It’s the first time they’ve offered this particular festive-themed journey.
Usually they run shorter snow trips, without all the Christmas activities on and off board.
‘You’ll go and you’ll enjoy every damn minute,’ Rox pipes up, eyes blazing.
‘I could go with you?’ Freya says, then glances at her belly.
‘At eight months pregnant? And who’ll look after the brood you already have?
’ Rox scoffs. ‘And I can’t go, because I’ve got brides galore marrying in Christmas wedd— Sorry.
Half of those marriages will end in divorce, so don’t feel bad, Aubs.
Really, you’ve dodged a bullet. There’s a lot to be said for being free. Untethered. Single. Alone. Unmoored.’
I hold up a hand. ‘I get it, Rox. Thanks.’
Whatever chemical – adrenaline maybe – that was keeping me present evaporates and fatigue hits me like a brick. It doesn’t matter that it’s just after lunchtime, all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep, forget today ever happened.
Their voices drone on as they try to bolster me and come up with a plan, but I tune out, closing my eyes and flopping back on the sofa.
Honeymoon for one? For a travel agent who specialises in romantic holidays for couples, it’s upsetting but it could also be the perfect solution.
A faraway place to cool my heels and avoid the worst of the gossip.
Avoid the truth. I am alone again. At Christmas, my favourite time of year, no less.
Sod it. I’ll find my Christmas spirit, even if that spirit is at the bottom of a bottle of spiced rum. ‘I’ll go on my honeymoon for one and I will be merry and bright even if it kills me.’
‘That’s the way.’ Rox fist-bumps me. ‘Do you want me to sort another train ticket so you can go direct from Kent to Calais now that you’re not staying in London this evening? Save the extra running around?’
I consider it. ‘No, I’ll head into London tomorrow and then catch the Eurostar to Calais like I planned. No point throwing good money away.’
‘Good plan,’ Rox says with a nod.
The satin of my dress strangles me the more I sink down the sofa. ‘Thank you both for everything, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to throw myself in the shower and pretend today was all a bad dream. Freya, if you could help my parents and?—’
‘Leave it to me,’ Freya says. ‘If you need me, just phone anytime. I’m sure there’s a perfect explanation for all of this. Miles loves you and he’s a good guy.’
Rox boos. ‘Hardly, even my cat can’t stand him.’
‘To be fair, your cat hates everyone.’ Freya gives Rox a long look.
‘You’ve got me there,’ Rox concedes. ‘But she hisses at Miles like he’s the devil incarnate. A very clear sign he’s no good.’
To defuse any argument for or against Miles I jump in and say, ‘Thank you for your help today, Freya.’ I pull myself up from the sofa and give her a hug.
‘Should I come back?’
I’m mindful of her pregnancy and go to reassure her I’m OK when Rox says, ‘I’ll stay here. I swiped a bottle of champagne from Miles’s place, so it’s only fitting I toast to the misfortune coming his way.’
‘Thanks, Rox.’ Knowing she’s not out committing further crimes does ease my mind.
After a lengthy shower trying to remove make-up that has formed its own dermal layer, I fall into bed and swipe open my phone. There are a lot of texts and social media notifications, but nothing from Miles. No apology, no explanation. I call him again; his phone is still switched off.
I send him one single word:
Why?
Clearly Miles is not Mr Right. As of today, he’s won the honour of being Mr So Very Wrong.
What excuse can he give me that will make sense?
None. But is it for the best? I wilt when I stay in one place; the urge to explore this earth runs deep.
It also makes me a better travel agent having first-hand experience of the places I recommend.
Only love made me pause, stop to catch my breath. But that love must’ve been one sided.
My honeymoon for one can’t come quick enough.
The desire to get out of town is strong.
I’ll buy a festive mug at every Christmas market and drink mulled wine until the world around me softens.
I have a thing with finding festive mugs that I usually send home to Rox for her ugly mugs collection.
I’ll visit Paris, Bruges, Amsterdam, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Stockholm and Lapland, and finish at the swanky igloo stay to catch the Northern Lights.
I’m used to travelling solo, and even though this trip is marketed as a romantic journey for couples, I’m sure I won’t be the only singleton…