_
They call another cab even though the venue is only a short walk away, Robin saying he’s shattered, and anyway, he wore the wrong shoes. So they pay the obscene fare for a ten-minute journey and the driver drops them at the edge of the woods next to a gold-stencilled sign and Devonshire all around them, clouds above, trees ahead, the ocean somewhere they can’t see.
This way, then? Nora says, and Robin nods down the treeline. Everything smells of pine and sea salt, like one of the soy candles she sells at the café. And then the long pathopens out into a clearing and there’s the building she’d seen in pictures, made of wood and recycled glass, sleek but also self-important, somehow. Like it belongs in the grounds of a sculpture park.
What d’you think, Robin asks.
It’s, Nora says, and doesn’t finish, but then the manager meets them at the entrance – something they would not have been able to locate themselves as the handle is non-existent, the door blending with the grain of the wood. Jed claps Robin on the back, clasps Nora’s hands in his own and bows, slightly. He is wearing white linens and Birkenstocks. Enunciates slowly.
My friends, he says. Come, look around. Familiarise yourself with the space.
And what a space it is, Robin says, and he sounds sincere, even though Nora thought he might look at her in jest, a raised eyebrow, please, earthlings, charge your chakras before crossing the threshold. He does take Nora’s hand, though. Leads her inside, where the early evening drenches the circular, empty room. Wooden beams, exposed brick; a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that overlooks more of the forest. A young woman dressed all in black appears, offers them iced water, prosecco? then flutes appear on a silver tray. Nora takes one, wanting to feel relaxed, giddy, something other than the leaching of oxygen from her brain as she trails behind Jed in his white linens and Robin with his prosecco glass, because this is where they are getting married and this is not how it should feel, being here, feeling none of the things she is supposed to.
We usually have the ceremony in here, Jed is saying, opening his arms as if welcoming an aura into the room. We line the chairs all along the back there, so you can say your vows in front of the trees.
Incredible, says Robin.
It is, Jed says, it really is. If it’s a nice day we can open out the doors, of course – they slide back, let me show you. Or you could even have the ceremony on the veranda itself, though we don’t have acoustics out there. You remember we’re not formally licensed?
Yes, Robin says, we’ve booked a registry office, haven’t we, and he looks at Nora and she nods, because she did do that, as promised. Sips the prosecco she does not like, lets it effervesce on her tongue. More staff pass around them like sprites, one of them raking leaves, another carrying a yoga mat across the veranda and out of sight.
And, Jed says, as he slides back the glass doors in one smooth motion, the harpist can go here, in this corner. Great for photos, see where the light casts through the silver birch, and while Robin nods, Nora says sorry, what harpist?
If you decide to use her, Jed says. She’s part of the Gold Package we spoke about, on the phone.
Gold Package? Nora says, and Robin says he showed her on the train, and she says she doesn’t want a harpist. No offence, she says to Jed, then to Robin, we don’t like harpists, do we?
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. Aesop 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.
