Chapter 13 #2
All harpists? he says, but she does not laugh. Feels hot. Asks if there’s a bathroom she can use, and Jed points her to another near-invisible door at the back.
Once alone, she leaves her prosecco glass on the quartz sink, locks herself in the pine-wood cubicle and tries to breathe herself back. This really is a greenhouse moment, and out of habit, she pulls out her phone to call Freya; hits another number instead, at the last second.
Again, with work on a Saturday! Shay blasts. I’m totally capable of running this café without you, for a day, pal.
Nora looks at herself in the huge mirror. Aēsop hand soap, rolled towels in a basket. Floor tiles that cost more, she reckons, than what she’d hoped to spend on this wedding.
Nora? Shay says.
Yes.
Why are you calling? If it’s to check on the invoicing, I already –
It’s not that, she says. I just. I’m at the venue, and it’s.
Shay says hang on, and Nora hears a shuffling, the din of the café quieting as she presumably steps behind the curtain into the back room.
It’s? Shay prompts.
Beautiful, Nora says.
Sweet!
But not in the right way, Nora says, a little panicked now. It’s kind of – too beautiful?
How is that even possible?
I don’t know! Nora says. But Robin’s so excited, Shay, and I’ve gone along with this, and it’s so soon, and it all just feels so … soon, she says, again.
She keeps looking in the mirror, as she talks.
Needing her friend to hear her.
Needing her to say, Nora, if this isn’t right, then you need to listen to that.
But instead Shay says that nine years with Robin is the opposite of soon, isn’t it?
It’s about time, in fact. And if the venue’s a bit fancy, so what?
It’s what weddings are. You can’t fight it.
No matter what your mum might say, or how much shit I’ve been giving you for it. Playful, loving shit, mind you.
Yeah, Nora says, and the word is uncertain in her mouth, like a question.
Like Shay still has to convince her this is right.
Like she’s convinced her of so many things in the past; to open their café, for one thing, to increase the price of her embroidery prints, to try the softshell crab at their favourite sushi spot even though she loves the sea and all its creatures and felt like it was wrong to eat such a – holy hell this is good, how have I not ordered this before.
Because Shay knows her.
Really knows her.
But what she doesn’t know is what Bren said to her, last week.
Walk away. That he’d wanted her with him, then, that she could join him abroad, now, and in this kaleidoscope of confusion Nora also keeps seeing the unwanted image of Jon kissing Freya’s neck in an unlocked bathroom, not unlike the one she’s standing in, right now.
It keeps coming to her, unwanted, like when you’re told not to think of a pink elephant and all you can think of is pink elephants, don’t think about marriage when you’re about to get married because he was married, to Josie, and look what married people do to each other, look what almost-married people are already doing because there’s another elephant here, too, Bren with his red hair and green eyes, why are there no windows in this stupidly chic bathroom, if there’s a part of you that feels like this is not what you want, then you can walk away.
It’s going to be great, Shay says, as Nora keeps staring in the mirror.
I’m still not speaking to Freya, she says.
So that’s what this is about?
No, Nora thinks. Maybe, she says.
Then just show up at her door tomorrow! Shay says. Freya’ll just make you embroider your row on a piece of rawhide and burn it in some ceremony of forgiveness, or whatever, and all will be right with the world.
Exhalation, through Nora’s nose, because she can’t quite bring herself to laugh.
Sorry, Shay says, on a piece of paper. Forgot she’s vegan.
Apparently, Nora says.
That doesn’t mean it’s going to be vegan food, does it, at the wedding? I’m expecting some kind of hog roast, please. Or a pizza van. Wait, it’s you guys. Of course it’s a pizza van. As long as it’s not too fancy for that?
I’m sure it’s in Robin’s notebook, Nora says, and Shay says well then! Get back out there, lock in all the details and be done with it. Married, fancily or non-fancily, and full of pizza by the end of the night.
Yeah.
It’s going to be great, Nora. Squeeze Robin for me, won’t you.
I will.
Just a hug, obviously. Not his arse or anything. Although he does have a very nice one, to be fair.
Bye, Shay.
Send pictures! Shay says, before she ends the call, then follows up with a text: of the venue, obvs, not his arse.
Nora breathes out. Turns on the tap, splashes her face. Dries her hands with one of the gorgeously soft towels – it’d get Josie’s approval, for sure – and collects herself for one more moment before she re-enters the main room.
All okay? Robin says, once she’s crossed the floor.
He and Jed are standing on the veranda just beyond the open glass doors.
Nora herself stays inside, but nods in reply.
Tries hard, for the rest of the visit. Listens about the videographer and photographer package that Jed highly recommends, the brass band, actually, we thought we’d just make a playlist – but with such weak Wi-Fi, here, that’s a risk – and we could have a band, Nora, if you wanted, we’ve saved enough money with the cancellation, and as numbers might be small, last minute, it might fill the space a bit better.
Speaking of which, have they got their final guest list yet?
Soon, they’ll confirm soon.
And will they be needing hotel recommendations?
Best that they block-book rooms, to save disappointment, especially as you’re not local and everyone will be travelling, any elderly relatives, to think about?
Wheelchair users? And onto the fun parts, now, taking seats at a table with a thick book of laminated pages listing added costs and suggestions, though none of it is compulsory, there’s this stone staircase out the back, here, do you see, we have a lot of brides entering the ceremony from that angle because it’s quite an entrance, and then you, Robin, you could stand here if you wanted a first look, very popular with couples nowadays, for the photos, have a moment together before you stand up in front of everyone.
Everyone, Nora thinks.
The word echoing, in her head.
And I think it lends a kind of gravitas, as well, Jed says, especially if you adjust your ceremony to later in the day. Golden hour, maybe. Or dusk? We even had a midnight wedding, once. By candlelight. Everyone stood around the fire pit, the best man was Irish, he sang this hauntingly beautif –
And her best man comes to Nora’s mind, being in front of everyone comes to mind, parades through her head like the pink elephants she is not thinking about and she says, out loud, without meaning to: no.
Robin and Jed both look at her. Jed’s smile is salesman vague. Robin himself looks distracted, almost dazed – floating on a cloud, Nora thinks, when she has both feet hard on the ground.
You don’t have to have a midnight ceremony, Jed says, waving his hand. Nor do you have to use the staircase, if you’d rather just enter through the door, there? Robin mentioned you’re having your own best man, Nora, he could even walk you down the –
No, Nora says again, as Robin keeps looking at her. I’m never going to walk down an aisle, she’d told Bren once as they sat in the oak tree, legs swinging, and he’d said me neither and she thought she’d changed her mind but now Bren has said walk away with me and –
I don’t think this feels right, Nora says. There is a silence then, broken only by the soft sound of bubbles in Robin’s glass.
That’s … fine, Jed says, as Robin turns to face Nora fully from his chair. That’s what this planning day is for! To find your version of what does feel right.
Could you give us a moment, Jed, Robin asks, without looking at him, though his voice is calm. Jed’s smile falters, just slightly. He stands and bows again, says he’ll scout out more bubbly, even though Nora’s glass is still standing atop the bathroom sink, golden and expensive and undrunk.
Robin doesn’t speak, once they’re left alone. He’s holding himself strangely, like he’s in pain. Cradling his elbow.
Can we please go, Nora whispers. Afraid the staff will hear her. Afraid, too, that her voice might crack, if she says it any louder.
She doesn’t need to say anything more. Robin does not get angry, or make her feel bad, or ungrateful or dramatic. He dips his chin, says nothing for a few stretched seconds, then he says okay. That he’ll talk to Jed, and join her out front.
And she takes his hand and squeezes it, just like Shay had asked her to, but he doesn’t squeeze hers back.
Instead he pulls away and walks through the circular room, Nora skirting the building so she doesn’t need to face Jed, or the staff, or Robin’s deep disappointment.
She can hear all of it, though, from where she stands by the invisible front door.
Snatches drifting through the gaps in the wood.
The deposit, non-refundable, but he’s here until seven, they need to pay in full to secure the date they’d reserved, policy, and yes, he understands, thank you, we truly hope, yes, him too.
_
They walk back through the birch trees in silence. Nora could brush his shoulder with her own if she angled just half an inch to the left, could lean into him, thread her hand through his. She doesn’t dare.
The road is deserted. Their taxi, gone. There are no other cars, no cyclists, nobody else to distract them from what has just happened. And what has happened, Nora wonders, as they stand side by side, with no clear path or next steps.
Shall we talk here, Robin asks, or do you want to go back to the …
He gestures in the direction of their cabin with its seascape paintings and quilted double bed, their suitcases left unpacked.