Standing at the altar, Toby and I lock eyes and I can tell he’s worried about me by the gentle concern there. He takes my hands and brings them to his lips. Kisses my fingers. This calms me and for a moment I try to imagine that it’s just the two of us. That we’re at home in our little terraced cottage at the foot of the hill with no one around to disturb us.
The vicar begins and I let myself sink into his words. Words that I’ve heard so many times before on TV shows and movies. Words that I’ve seen other friends recite. Words that my parents must have said to one another many years ago. That I’m now repeating and reciting myself. This is a defining moment in my life. Something I’ll remember forever. Toby’s hand trembles as he slides the ring onto my finger.
And just like that, the vicar pronounces us husband and wife.
From that moment on, the atmosphere changes to one of celebratory excitement. Of relief almost. Everyone claps and the small choir sings ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’.
‘Hello, Mrs Johnson!’ Toby’s expression is one of pure relief.
‘Hello, Mr Johnson. I can’t believe we’re married!’
‘I know. I thought you were going to faint again. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ Although the truth is I feel far from fine. I’m nauseous, and everything is still fuzzy, as though my ears need to pop. Even though I’m so happy that we’re finally married I feel as if I missed it. As though I was elsewhere while it was all going on. I want to cry with the unfairness of it all. Why am I feeling like this today of all days? Why did I have to faint on my wedding day?
Toby and I sign the register as everyone else heads outside, no doubt eager to gulp down some cool air. Eventually, we follow them out too, but not before Celia drapes a white faux-fur shawl around my shoulders.
‘It’s freezing out there. Don’t want you to catch a chill. Congratulations, you two. You make a beautiful couple.’
I’m grateful she doesn’t ask how I’m feeling. Because then I’d have to lie and say I feel amazing. Like I’m walking on air. Instead of the strange unsettling disappointment that clouds my mind.
Our guests clap and cheer and throw silver and gold confetti as Toby and I step outside into the icy air. Celia wasn’t wrong – it’s bitterly cold out here. We don’t linger. Instead, we all make our way along the paved pathway which leads to the hotel entrance. From the outside, it must look like a scene from a movie. Our route is wreathed with fairy lights and winter flowers – poinsettia, hellebores, holly berries and ivy. It should be a magical moment, but I don’t appreciate any of it. My body is hot and cold, shivering and clammy. My mind is hazy, as though there’s something I’m missing. I smile and laugh, and I hug and kiss my husband. But it all feels like an act. As if I’m going through the motions. What on earth is wrong with me?
Five
NOW
It’s dark as I leave work bundled up in my hat and scarf, my breath making silver plumes in the cold night air. I walk quickly through the familiar streets until I reach the blue metal gates of my children’s school. Alice and Jamie go to the after-school club three times a week, but thankfully they don’t mind as they either get to socialise with their friends or catch up on their homework. The latter is great for me, because then I don’t have the chore of supervising it at home, especially maths, which in Alice’s year has already passed beyond my capabilities.
‘Hi, Mrs Johnson.’ Cheryl, the supervisor, greets me at the door after buzzing me in.
‘Hello. Hope they’ve behaved themselves today.’ I sign them out on the register and wave across the hall to each of my kids in turn. Jamie zooms over holding a still-wet painting, his brown hair and pale face splattered with green paint.
‘Let’s save this to take home tomorrow.’ Cheryl takes the dripping artwork from my son as I help him out of his apron. ‘Give it time to dry.’
I throw her a grateful look. ‘Looks amazing, Jamie.’
‘It’s a Christmas tree. Like the one we’re going to get.’
‘I love it. What’s your sister doing?’
‘Talking.’ He rolls his eyes and Cheryl and I laugh.
I look over and notice that Alice is indeed still chatting. Hope is among her gaggle of friends, and that reminds me that her mother Kim will be looking after my nieces this weekend instead of me. It also reminds me that I’ve yet to find out what’s up with Madeline.
‘Everything all right?’ Cheryl asks.
I realise that my expression must have fallen. ‘What? Oh, yeah, I just spaced out for a minute – long day. Jamie, fetch your sister, will you?’
He does as I ask, and returns with Alice, pulling her along with both hands.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Her blue eyes sparkle up at me. My daughter is a mini me – petite with black hair and blue eyes – our Welsh heritage, although we’ve only been to Wales a couple of times. My dad’s from Swansea, but his parents died when Dina and I were really young, so I don’t really remember them. There are no close relatives left in Wales since Aunty Caroline died so Dad never goes back, but I keep meaning to organise a trip.
‘Hello, Mrs Lewis, Mr Choudhry.’ I turn to see Cheryl opening the door to Kim Lewis and another parent I don’t recognise.
‘Right, get your coats.’ I usher my children over to the pegs to collect their things before turning to Kim with a smile, but she isn’t looking my way. Instead, her gaze is fixed on Hope at the other end of the hall. ‘Hi, Kim.’ I speak a little too loudly and it sounds forced.
She glances at me distractedly and manages a tight smile before heading over to her daughter. Now I’m really starting to get paranoid. First Madeline, and now Kim is acting like I’m persona non grata. What’s going on? I glance down and notice the children by my side staring up at me.
