Chapter 28
The rain continued in intermittent bursts throughout the rest of the evening, light enough that, between them, they managed to get the marquee’s white canopy up so they could at least organise the dining space inside.
Rae thought she’d handled the stress well until she stepped out into the dark and realised her entire face throbbed from clenching her jaw all day.
She leaned against the fence, the solar mason jars illuminating the entire acre of land in buttery gold.
She could see all the way out to the orchard, where the lights twinkled like fireflies.
She was okay, she told herself. The rain couldn’t ruin this. The only problem would be the ceremony itself, and she was sure she’d be able to gather enough umbrellas.
She’d just been so desperate to bring Harper’s vision to life.
Maybe Dad was right. Maybe she’d been delusional in thinking they could host a wedding with no experience and little time to prepare.
Rae had just imagined that so many opportunities would come from this.
She hadn’t stopped to consider what might happen if they did a terrible job, because failing had never been an option for her before.
Now, it felt more and more likely every day.
She pulled out her phone, feeling as though her chest was wedged between two stones when she found no reply to her last text to Struan.
She’d checked the local news earlier and found the cave collapse had been covered, the footage of Struan’s team pacing behind a grave news reporter, hard hats making it impossible to distinguish him from the others.
She had no idea what might happen if he was the one sent into those caves, forced into a claustrophobic, unstable space.
What if he was hurt?
‘It looks like every bit the fairy tale Harper hoped for,’ Martha announced behind her.
Rae turned to find her cradling Roderick as she stepped down the wooden porch steps.
She stopped at the fence beside Rae to admire the barrels of sunflowers and foliage-covered fences.
She was right: minus the rain, they’d managed to make this exactly the magical white wedding Harper had longed for.
Harper had rented a wall of wisteria for a gorgeous photograph backdrop, which stood against the side of the house, and the underneath of the marquee’s canopy was decorated with billowing chiffon that, if it didn’t blow down in the wind or get mucky overnight, would complement Harper’s long, shimmering dress perfectly.
With less hands available tomorrow morning, Rae hadn’t wanted to risk waiting.
‘Maybe you should ask Harper to plan your wedding, too,’ Rae remarked. Rae and the other local businesses might have brought the venue together, but it was Harper who had known exactly what she wanted – which made the prospect of disappointing her all the more terrifying.
‘If I weren’t a bit of a control freak, I’d consider it.’
Roderick meowed to be let down, so Martha set him on the fence. ‘Don’t poop on the decorations, though.’
‘Let’s just keep him contained for now,’ Rae decided, whistling for Roderick with her hand outstretched. He brushed against her lovingly, a light purr vibrating from him.
‘All this wedding planning made me realise that I actually have something to ask you.’ Martha rubbed Roderick’s whiskered chin as he basked in the shared attention.
‘Well, I’m flattered, but I think Vik would have something to say,’ Rae joked.
Martha shoved her playfully so that she had to hold on to the fence to remain steady. ‘Not that, but I’ll keep you as my backup. Just in case.’
Rae’s laugh came out stiff. With her thoughts still on Struan, it felt like she was living a double life.
Hannah Montana-ing her best friend by lying to her about what – who – she wanted.
Even if she and Struan weren’t seeing each other anymore, the feelings were there, roiling relentlessly just beneath her surface.
‘I wanted to ask you,’ Martha said, ‘if you’d be my maid of honour.’
Rae froze, prompting Roderick to nudge her for more scratchies. She was incapable of giving them, chest flooding with warmth at the way Martha’s eyes glittered. ‘Really? Me?’
‘Obviously. Who else?’
Maybe she was Martha’s oldest friend, but she wasn’t sure she’d done anything to earn this of late.
She trembled to think that Martha might regret asking at all if she found out about Struan. She couldn’t keep doing this, hiding. She needed to focus on making this friendship better, going back to who they used to be.
‘This is the part where you cry happy tears and say, “Yes, Martha, it would be an honour to be your maid of honour.”’
‘Of course,’ Rae stammered out, pulling Martha into a tight hug. Like Struan, she was taller than Rae, her chin resting in Rae’s hair as she squealed. ‘It would be an honour.’
‘I know things have been weird between us recently, but you’ll always be my best friend, Rae.
’ Martha tugged away to look at her properly.
Her cheeks were damp and round with the force of her unbridled smile.
‘You were the one who taught me how to really love someone at all. You were there for me through all of it. You were the first person I came out to, and the only person who didn’t try to cheer me up with meaningless words when my dad died.
I wouldn’t have found my soulmate if I hadn’t found you, first.’
Rae’s lower lip wobbled. They weren’t the type to talk about how much they meant to one another; they had always just known.
To hear it reminded Rae of just how much she truly loved Martha – and how terrible she was for keeping something from her.
Now wasn’t the right time to say it, but she would tell her. Tomorrow, after the wedding, she’d be honest with her. It would be uncomfortable and awkward and maybe Martha would get angry, but Rae would do anything to make it right. Even if it meant she never got a chance to be with Struan.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty friend recently.’ Rae’s voice cracked.
Martha shook her head, taking her hand. ‘We were just out of sync, that’s all. We’ll figure it out, like we always do.’
Rae hoped that was true. She took a deep breath, leaning her head against Martha’s shoulder. It had been a long time since they’d last been in the same place, let alone so close, and Rae made a silent vow that she wouldn’t let them ever go this long without each other again.
‘I’m nervous about telling Mum. I just really, really want her to be happy for us.’
‘I know.’ Rae wiped a tear from Martha’s cheek. ‘Maybe if we get her drunk, she’ll forget about her obsession with reproduction?’
‘It’s a solid plan. Could work.’ Martha crossed her arms over the fence to cushion her chin. In the silence, there was no way for Rae to delay the question she desperately wanted an answer to.
‘Have you heard from Struan?’ She tried to sound as neutral as possible, a sort-of-friend enquiring because she sort-of-cared, like her world wouldn’t end if the answer was no.
But the answer was ‘No’, and Rae had to lock her knees to keep upright. She thought of him out there in the mountains, taking care of an injured family while trapped in the dark. Damp, sore, exhausted, and only getting more so with every passing hour.
‘I just checked the news on my phone and they said they were still trying to clear an entrance into the cave. It might be an all-nighter.’ The fact Martha didn’t seem at all worried was reassuring, at least. ‘Hope he doesn’t miss the wedding.’
‘Me too.’ As much as Rae craved his comfort in the midst of all this stress, it wasn’t the wedding she was really worried about; it was him. She thought of his lips on the back of her hand and fought a shiver, pulling Roderick closer in an effort to distract herself.
It didn’t work. She spent the rest of the night wide awake, waiting for her phone to light up the darkness.
It never did.
Rae hadn’t left the kitchen in over ten hours.
From five a.m. the following morning, she paced the off-white tiles, chopping, stirring, marinating, roasting, sautéing, plating until the air was thick with stiflingly hot, spice-laden steam.
The work at least kept her mind off Struan, who still had yet to respond to her texts, but she’d massively overestimated her ability to feed a three-course meal to sixty-eight guests from her humble home kitchen.
After putting the first two trays of cheese soufflés in the oven, she checked the clock, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
Five p.m. The guests would be drinking cocktails now, hopefully keeping dry in the marquee.
Rain spattered the kitchen windows, smearing her view of the fields until everything she knew was watery green and foggy yellow.
She went back to mashing the potatoes for the main course, the familiar scent of garlic and rosemary dragging her back into her body.
She’d made these dishes a thousand times in kitchens far more stressful than this, for patrons far fussier and more critical than Harper’s wedding party. Everything would be fine.
Doug appeared at her shoulder, damp from his trip outside. He wore his kilt of grass-green Docharty tartan and a blazer that was practically bursting open at the seams around his broad shoulders, likely having last been worn when he was in his thirties.
‘One of the guests is asking if there’s a gluten-free option,’ he said, tugging the blazer off to roll up his shirt sleeves. When he placed it on the only clear section of the countertop, she moved it swiftly, folding it over a chair instead.
‘Harper didn’t tell me there were any extra dietary requirements.’ Rae mashed more aggressively, fluffy, buttery potatoes beginning to flatten against the spoon. She stepped away to catch her breath, the sound of the oven door making her whirl.
‘Gran, what are you doing?’ She dashed over to close the door quickly, sweat dripping down her neck.
‘They’re burning,’ Gran said, taking off her fogged glasses to wipe them on her cream cardigan.
‘They’re not burning. They’ve only just gone in!’ Rae crouched to make double, triple sure, only to find they hadn’t yet risen at all.
‘Apparently it’s a new thing,’ Dad was saying.
Rae couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about as she poured red wine onto the lean steaks searing in the frying pan.
‘They also wanted to know if the truffles are ethically sourced. Oh, and they asked something about whether the cheese would be gloopy.’
‘Yes, they are ethically sourced. No, I don’t plan to use gloopy cheese.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t that. Might have been a type of cheese she was asking after. Sounded French. Goulash… Grunch… Gertrude…’
Gritting her teeth, Rae returned to the mash as her heart began to knock against her ribs like heavy, rapping knuckles. She couldn’t do this, didn’t know where to put her focus – and now Vik was drying her hands on the towel set aside for cleaning the pots.
A crawling sensation began across Rae’s spine as she rushed to the cupboard, weaving between Gran’s hovering frame and the counters.
‘Gushy,’ Dad was still listing off.
‘Now you’re just making up words!’ she complained sharply. ‘Could you quadruple check that nobody else eats GF?’
‘What’s GF?’
‘Gluten-free, Dad!’ Rae couldn’t keep her voice from rising, a lump sticking in her throat when Vik and Gran began having their own conversation, adding to the overwhelming cacophony.
Right on time, Martha appeared with a tray of empty glasses. ‘They’re loving the wine, Audrey! Rae, Harper’s ready when you are.’
‘I think it might have been guava.’ Dad scratched his head.
Ignoring him, Rae glanced at the clock, though it had barely moved a few minutes since last time. ‘It’s only five. They said six!’
‘Aye,’ Martha replied, ‘but the kiddies are complaining they’re hungry.’
The kids. Rae had almost forgotten about them, so wrapped up in the intricate details of her main courses. She pulled out the pizza dough she’d prepared last night, slathering tomato paste all over.
Dad snapped his fingers. ‘Gouda!’
‘That’s Dutch.’
‘Yeah, that wasn’t it. It sounded a bit like gooey…’
‘These potatoes have gone mushy,’ Gran pointed out, sticking her nose over the pan.
Rae was beginning to understand why so many of her colleagues shouted foul insults across the kitchen.
‘Is any of this ringing any bells?’ Dad asked.
‘No, Dad, I don’t know a French cheese called gooey!’
‘All right, no need to shout.’ He paused. ‘So, what should I tell them about the gluten-free cheese?’
Rae balled her fists and tried very, very hard not to scream.