“And Ruthie and Paul’s,” I remind her.
“You weren’t a bridesmaid at that,” says Mum at once. “You were a… flower girl. So it’s twice, including today. Yes, twice.”
“Did you get that, Luke?” says Dad with a grin. “Twice.”
Honestly, what are my parents like?
“Well, anyway!” I say, trying quickly to think of another subject. “So… er…”
“Of course, Becky has a good ten years before she needs to worry about anything like that…” says Luke conversationally.
“What?” Mum stiffens, and her eyes dart from Luke to me and back again. “What did you say?”
“Becky wants to wait at least ten years before she gets married,” says Luke. “Isn’t that right, Becky?”
There’s a stunned silence. I can feel my face growing hot.
“Um…” I clear my throat and try to give a nonchalant smile. “That’s… that’s right.”
“Really?” says Suze, staring at me, wide-eyed. “I never knew that! Why?”
“So I can… um… explore my full potential,” I mumble, not daring to look at Mum. “And… get to know the real me.”
“Get to know the real you?” Mum’s voice is slightly shrill. “Why do you need ten years to do that? I could show it to you in ten minutes!”
“But Bex, how old will you be in ten years’ time?” says Suze, wrinkling her brow.
“I won’t necessarily need ten whole years exactly,” I say, feeling a little rattled. “You know, maybe… eight will be long enough.”
“Eight?” Mum looks as though she wants to burst into tears.
“Luke,” says Suze, looking perturbed. “Did you know about this?”
“We discussed it the other day,” says Luke with an easy smile.
“But I don’t understand,” she persists. “What about the—”
“The time?” Luke cuts her off neatly. “You’re right. I think we should all get going. You know, it’s five to two.”
“Five minutes?” Suze suddenly looks petrified. “Really? But I’m not ready! Bex, where are your flowers?”
“Er… in your room, I think. I put them down somewhere…”
“Well, get them! And where’s Daddy got to? Oh shit, I want a cigarette—”
“Suze, you can’t smoke!” I say in horror. “It’s bad for the—” I stop myself just in time.
“For the dress?” suggests Luke helpfully.
“Yes. She might… drop ash on it.”
By the time I’ve found my flowers in Suze’s bathroom, redone my lipstick, and come downstairs again, only Luke is left in the hall.
“Your parents have gone over,” he says. “Suze says we should go over too, and she’ll come with her father in the carriage. And I’ve found a coat for you,” he adds, proffering a sheepskin jacket. “Your mother’s right, you can’t walk over like that.”
“OK,” I agree reluctantly. “But I’m taking it off in the church.”
“Did you know your dress is unraveling at the back, by the way?” he says as he puts it on.
“Really?” I look at him in dismay. “Does it look awful?”
“It looks very nice.” His mouth twitches into a smile. “But you might want to find a safety pin after the service.”
“Bloody Danny!” I shake my head. “I knew I should have gone for Donna Karan.”
As Luke and I make our way over the gravel to the tented walkway, the air is still and silent and a watery sun is coming out. The pealing bells have diminished to a single chiming, and there’s no one about except a sole scurrying waiter. Everyone else must already be inside.
“Sorry if I brought up a sensitive subject just then,” says Luke as we begin to walk toward the church.
“Sensitive?” I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, what, that. That’s not a sensitive subject at all!”
“Your mother seemed a bit upset…”
“Mum? Honestly, she’s not bothered either way. In fact… she was joking!”
“Joking?”
“Yes!” I say, a little defiantly. “Joking.”
“I see.” Luke takes my arm as I stumble slightly on the matting. “So you’re still determined to wait eight years before you get married.”
“Absolutely.” I nod. “At least eight years.”
In the distance I can hear hooves on gravel, which must be Suze’s carriage setting off.
“Or you know, maybe six,” I add casually. “Or… five, possibly. It all depends.”
There’s a long silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of our footsteps on the walkway. The atmosphere is growing very strange between us, and I don’t quite dare look at Luke. I clear my throat and rub my nose, and try to think of a comment about the weather.
We reach the church gate, and Luke turns to look at me — and suddenly his face is stripped of its usual quizzical expression.
“Seriously, Becky,” he says. “Do you really want to wait five years?”
“I… I don’t know,” I say, confused. “Do you?”
There’s a moment of stillness between us, and my heart starts to thump.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Maybe he’s going to… Maybe he’s about to—
“Ah! The bridesmaid!” The vicar bustles out of the porch and Luke and I both jump. “All set to walk up the aisle?”