Page 3 of The Lucky Escape

There’s no rush like it, when somebody says out loud that you’re the person they want to build something with. I think the most uncertain bit of my life was turning thirty and feeling like everyone else had plans and I wasn’t quite an adult yet. Moving in with Alexander made me a grown-up, on the same track as everyone else. I made him dinners and organized our furniture, and got curiously into doing stuff I swore I never would – being the one to buy his mum’s birthday card, or suggesting dinner parties so I could meet the partners of his work colleagues and rugby pals. Ienjoyed it. Revelled in it. We finally wanted the same things, too.

When I arrived at the church with Dad, Freddie and Adzo, it was a surprise to see the wedding planner outside, looking corporate and businesslike in a black suit with cropped pants and flat ballet pumps, her silky dark hair in a low ponytail. She’d told me the night before, in her lilting Sri Lankan tones, to take all the time I needed to get out of the car, to fuss with last-minute touch-ups and pruning and to take a big breath.Everybody waits for the bride,she’d repeated, over and over.You can take your time, okay?She was supposed to be waiting for me at the church doors, having made sure everyone was seated. Seeing her, I frowned.

‘Who’s that?’ asked Freddie, clocking my furrowed brow.

‘Happy,’ I muttered, my palms immediately clamming up. My body knew before my mind could catch up that things were about to go wrong. My spidey-senses were doing somersaults. ‘Something’s not right. She should be at the church doors.’

Dad peered out of the window. ‘I’m sure everything is fine,’ he intoned, cautiously. ‘I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be.’

We let what he’d said hang in the air.

Happy approached the car as we pulled up, looking tired and wan – categoricallynothow you want your wedding planner to look. Instantly I thought that the minister had taken sick and we’d have to get married by somebody we’d never met before. That was the first thing that popped into my head. The second thing was that maybe something was up with the cake or we didn’t have enough ice for the champagne buckets. But catering stuff was at the reception, a problem for later, not for now.

Maybe she’s come to tell me how emotional Alexander seems.

Maybe he’s sent a message for me.

Maybe she’s come to tell me how much he loves me, how he wants me to get into the church as fast as I can.

But that’s not what she said.

‘What do you mean he’s not coming?’

‘Urm …’ Happy stalled, uncomfortably. ‘He messaged me. And it seems he’s had … a change of heart.’

All I could do was parrot back what she’d said to me. I couldn’t form my own words.

‘A change of heart.’

Her eyes were wide but got wider still, willing me to understand. But I didn’t.

‘I did try to call …’ she pressed.

She gave an apologetic smile to my dad and sister and Adzo, whose whole body had frozen, like if she moved an inch the world would come crashing down. Only her eyes moved, switching between me and the wedding planner. I’m not even sure she was breathing.

Alexander wasn’t coming.

It was my wedding day, and the sky was blue and my dad was by my side and the wedding planner, who had a smear of pinky lipstick on her front tooth that made me instinctively run my tongue against my own in case I did too, had just told me my fiancé had texted (texted!) to say the wedding was off.

‘Sorry. I’m just trying to … get a handle on all … this.’ I gestured to the air in front of me. ‘Just to confirm – did you try to call me, or did he?’

My eyes were itchy, my thoughts pulled through treacle. Iblinked quickly. Happy didn’t blink at all as she measured out her words.

‘Me,’ she said. ‘I called him to begin with, but when he didn’t pick up I called you. Of course, you didn’t answer either.’ She paused, deliberating over what to say. ‘I’m so sorry, Annie.’

‘Can I see your phone?’ I requested, my words clipped. I needed proof. ‘The message?’ My voice sounded far away. I was moving my mouth, but everything was happening at the opposite end of a very long tunnel.

I sensed Dad move to say something, but he thought better of it. Instead, he put his arm around Freddie. She stared at me, her bright eyes darting between us adults, reaching up to take Adzo’s hand. The look on Adzo’s face made me feel sick.

‘Please,’ I added. My voice was squeaky and high. Strained. I took a breath and forced a smile at Freddie, trying to tell her not to panic. She scowled. She knew what today meant, and had been so excited that I was excited.

Happy smiled back painfully, her face a portrait of compassion. She must have got it all wrong though, I reasoned. She must have got confused, must have misread his message. Alexander wouldn’t simplynot turn upon our wedding day. That would be an awful thing to do. Unforgivable. Of course he was coming. We were engaged. People were waiting. I’d not eaten a full meal in six months, was fake-tanned to within an inch of my life, and had already ordered the ‘Mr and Mrs Mackenzie’ thank-you cards.

The moment we’d got engaged flashed into my mind. He’d asked on Christmas morning, right when we woke up, the box having appeared on my bedside table at some point in the night.

‘What do you reckon?’ he’d asked, smirking, his lean naked torso stretched out as he lay on his side. All I’d done in reply was scream, slipping the ring immediately onto my finger, forgetting that was something he was supposed to do for me. I’d never thought it was possible to want to faint from happiness until that point, but wearing it made me more delighted, more ecstatic, moreeverythingthan I’d ever been in my life. That ring cemented my future.

‘I’m guessing that’s a yes?’ he’d said, and I promptly burst into tears, nodding and making so much noise that his mum had knocked on the bedroom door of the shared holiday cottage we were in to see if everything was all right.

---