CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX LEXIE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Lexie
Six months later: September
‘Here we go again,’ I say. ‘Another wedding. Lexie and Scarlet. Scarlet and Lexie. Until one of us dies.’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ she replies, as she hares through the country lanes. ‘Though I really thought these days were over.’
‘I’m pleased they’re not. It’s like the good old days.’
‘The good old days were only two and a half years ago, when we last did this at Grey’s wedding in Edinburgh. The one where I met Rory,’ Scarlet sighs with happiness.
I’ve driven the first half of the journey and she’s on the final leg. I’ve only just passed my test and I’m far too nervous to negotiate tight lanes. The motorway was frightening enough and, because I refused to go above seventy miles per hour, we’re even later than we normally are for these occasions. Scarlet’s a pro, though, whizzing through the tight spaces. She’s been driving since she was eighteen, unlike me. We’re dressed in our wedding finery, although we really should have checked in with each other first, because we are both in pale pink.
‘Now we really look like a couple,’ Scarlet noted when I picked her up half an hour late in our little rental car. ‘It’s going to be just like before.’ This wedding is for Scarlet’s friends. And as this year’s wedding season is in full swing, Rory is on a stag-do, so I’m Scarlet’s plus-one.
‘All my friends are married now,’ I tell her. ‘And all your lot must be close to being married too? Surely next year we’ll get our summer weekends back.’
‘Probably,’ she agrees. ‘Although just when you think everyone’s finished, it’ll be divorces followed by second marriages, and the weddings will kick-start again. We really could be each other’s plus-ones until we die,’ she says.
‘Dear God, I hope not.’ I cough pointedly, as I would like her to put both hands on the wheel in the ten-to-two position, and not check her make-up in the rear-view mirror.
The GPS tells us we’ve got about ten minutes left on the journey, and Scarlet asks me to get the card out of her bag and write it.
‘What are their names?’ I ask as I rest the card on my knee.
‘Victoria and …’
‘And …?’ I query.
‘Bugger, can’t remember.’
‘Try and remember.’
‘Just put To the Happy Couple .’
‘That’s such a shitty cop-out. And I’ve already written the word “Victoria”. I can’t cross it out and write something else now. Where’s the invite – it’ll be on there?’
‘I left it on the mantel, but I’ve written the time and the church address in my diary.’
I stare at her, but as Scarlet’s driving, she has to glance quickly at me to see my face.
‘What?’ she asks as her eyes dart back to the road.
‘That’s no help,’ I mutter as something awful strikes me, like a lightning bolt of recognition that brings with it a sense of fear and horror. ‘Scarlet, how many Victorias do you know?’
‘Er … two.’
‘Is this one your graphic-design friend?’ I ask carefully.
‘Yeah … friend is a bit of a stretch, though. She gives me work every now and again, so it’s good to keep her sweet. I sort of felt obliged to RSVP with a yes—’
I cut her off suddenly. ‘Is the groom’s name Chris?’
‘I can’t remember,’ she says again, dismissively.
I’m quiet, the cogs in my mind turning.
‘You OK?’ she asks.
‘Yeah,’ I reply slowly. No. No, I’m not OK. This cannot be what I think it is. We cannot be going to Victoria and Chris’s wedding. That level of awfulness cannot find its way towards me. But it wasn’t that long ago that Chris and Victoria were dating. So—
‘When you say “Chris”.’ Scarlet interrupts my thoughts. Her face frowns. ‘You don’t mean Chris ?’
‘Um …’ I don’t know what to reply. The whole idea that I might be on my way to Victoria’s wedding, and the groom is Chris – no. Just … no.
‘Do you know something I don’t?’ Scarlet asks, simultaneously trying to keep her attention on the road and on me.
I’m frowning so much I can see my own eyebrows.
‘Tell me,’ she urges. ‘Is Chris – your Chris – the groom? Why would you even think that?’
‘He was never my Chris,’ I say, although I really wanted him to be.
‘He sort of was, though,’ Scarlet replies, somewhat unhelpfully.
‘He and Victoria were dating,’ I say. ‘He told me.’
‘What? When?’
‘They started messaging after our house-cooling party.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that?’ Scarlet asks.
‘I didn’t want to look deranged and obsessed.’
‘Are you? Are you obsessed with Chris? Is that why you asked me ages ago if Victoria was still single? Were you grilling me as to whether the two of them were together, in case I knew anything?’
‘I just … I don’t know. I really liked him – more than that. And then,’ I shrug. ‘It wasn’t to be. There was Josh and … now Chris has Victoria. I think.’
‘ No ,’ she aims to placate me. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t his name on the invite.’
‘Are you?’ I ask desperately.
‘I don’t know,’ Scarlet wails. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘I don’t want to go now.’
‘Let’s get there and see,’ she tells me.
I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. I know what’s going to happen. I can feel it deep in my bones.
Scarlet’s quiet as she drives, pulling up on the grass verge outside the church in front of a No Parking sign. A sense of dread has settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I feel a wave of nausea.
All the guests are inside, and the wedding car with the bride and her father is pulling up behind us.
‘We have to be quick,’ Scarlet says, and I follow her across the grassy churchyard, past some thirsty-looking hydrangeas.
The door is open and we slide into the back of the church silently, and it’s only now that I realise I didn’t have to do this to myself – I could just have sat in the car, knowing Chris and Victoria were getting married. I look over the heads of people as we work our way towards a pew. I can’t see him.
Suddenly it hits me. I’m in love with Chris. I think I was always in love with him. Since that first meeting. We let it slip away – that instant connection. And now … it’s too late.
As we squeeze ourselves onto the end of the row, I see him at the front of the church and all my worst fears are confirmed. It is him. Chris. My stomach knots. There’s so much pain. Oh my God, my heart. I let him go before and now I’m about to lose him for ever. He’s smiling, talking to one of his groomsmen. He looks like this is the happiest day of his life. And I’m the most miserable I’ve been in a long time.
I thought Josh had broken my heart, but this is on another level. With Josh I was angry, hurt, embarrassed. With Chris I’m devastated. Why? And why didn’t I do anything about it sooner? Now it’s too late.
Scarlet sees my pain and reaches down to hold my hand. Her jaw is tense and she looks at me. She knows. I can feel tears forming in the back of my eyes and I give her a sad smile, resigning myself to what’s about to play out. I don’t think I can do this. I think I might be physically sick when he says I do. I might be physically sick now.
And then Chris is halfway through saying something to his best man and turns, his gaze connecting directly with mine, and the smile falls from his face, to be replaced with confusion and then … a look I can’t place. His mouth closes and he stares at me.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as his mouth opens again and makes the shape of my name.