‘Just compartmentalising,’ I explain. But that reminds me of that plush toy penguin I saw the day Audrey and I first emailed.
And somehow the memory of that almost undoes me.
27
AUDREY
It’s my wedding day, and I’m standing in my ivory dress, the peonies Fraser sent me crushed at my feet. At some point, probably around two in the morning or about eight glasses in—whichever way you want to measure it—I thought it would help the creative process if I tried it on.
The satin felt so sleek and cool against my skin. I tied the ribbon belt around my waist and watched the crystals sparkle in the mirror under the halogen lights. Then I sat at that piano, took the piece I’d been writing for his fortieth, and finished it. My best work, because he was in every single note. Lyrical, because we were together through it all.
I pass the card to Rach, flopping beside her.See you at the church.
She reads it and almost dissolves.
‘Oh, God!’ I say, palm shooting straight to my forehead in distress. I reach for my phone and check the messages I sent last night.
Yes! Here it is. Sent at four thirty a.m.
This is for the service. Keep your fucking hands off it. But tell me what you think.
Attached to the message was a voice recording of me playing the piece, punctuated by my sobs and sniffs, which Rach and I listen to now.
‘Maybe they’re onto something when they say to “write drunk” …’ I say in the silence after it’s finished. ‘I can’t believe I sent this to Josh.’
‘If you had to drunk text him anything, at least it was a masterpiece,’ she argues, wiping her eyes, my music having finally broken through her tightly wound emotional defences. ‘I think it’s a perfect tribute to the love of my best friend’s life.’
The words catch on her breath, and in the air, and we stare at each other, as if we’re absorbed in a mental flashback of this love story from beginning to end. From those first emails in the office, and that moment in Zoe’s back garden at the party. The way Fraser had stepped forward, facing Connor—a fight he would have comprehensively lost, which made it all the more attractive that he tried—moments before I intervened with that bucket of ice and caught his eye.
‘Told you a hard reset from Fraser Miller would be utterly delectable,’ she says, nudging my leg with hers, summarising our entire relationship in one line, confirming that she’d been right all along. Shealwaysknows what’s best for me, and she’d called this, right from the start.
Fraser Miller was perfect.
28
FRASER
Parker sits between Maggie and me, swinging her legs under the pew in her flower girl dress, holding our hands, bringing them so close that our knuckles brush, as if she’s trying to stitch us back together as a family. So now, in addition to grieving Audrey, I’m swallowing guilt that Maggie and I weren’t able to keepthistogether. Not even for our child. She has ten years and two traumas in her life, and I’m worried there’llalwaysbe something missing from her music.
‘Dad?’ she said at the unexpected sight of me in her mother’s kitchen yesterday. Broad smile. Arms flung around my neck. Hopeful expression, as if we were about to spring a surprise trip to Disneyland and that’s why we swapped custody on Thursday night.
‘I’m so sorry, my darling,’ Maggie said after we broke the news. She was stroking Parker’s head, cradling her to her chest, but looking over her, directly at me, addressing us both. ‘I know how much you loved her.’
Now, as Sara and I are called up to speak, I untangle my hand from Parker’s, pull out the folded paper from my suit jacket, and glance at Rachael, ashen-faced and sitting with the Bookies across the aisle. Everyone is dressed colourfully, as requested. There are flowers up the aisle, preordered and paid for weeks ago.It feels as though somewhere across time, in this very church, there is an alternate version of reality where we’re all deep in celebration right now, and I’m kissing the bride.
I stand beside Sara at the lectern. Sara, whose military parents are disintegrating in the front row.You should not have to bury a child.Sara, who warned her sister that bad things happen and was always advocating restraint and caution and keeping hope in check to avoid exactly the kind of mass devastation on show here today, and who has been unexpectedly proven right.
‘I hope I didn’t hold her back,’ she says, moments later. ‘Audrey always dreamed big. If she tripped, I thought,Slow down. If she fell, I thought,I told you so.
‘If my sister’s wings were clipped … if my reluctance ever caused her to pause or wait or retreat, then I deeply regret that now that she’s lost the opportunity to fall or fail and the chance to rise. And, Fraser—’
She turns to face me.
‘I’m glad she didn’t listen to me when she was running like gangbusters towards you, because you were the best thing that ever happened to her. You and Parker. Loving her was worth losing her.’
Was it?From where I’m standing, this pain is impossible.
When it’s my turn, it occurs to me I’ve delivered plenty of conference papers in my career. Hundreds of lectures. I’m completely confident and comfortable before an audience. Of course, standing at the lectern at your fiancée’s funeral is another matter, as is staring out and seeing Parker’s frozen gaze, instead of students or scientists—though there are plenty of those here today as well.
