Thirteen Weddings (17 page)

To my surprise, Becky doesn’t seem particularly fazed about her reluctant groom as the day proceeds. She’s having the time of her life. Rachel and I drive along a scenic, winding
road to the reception venue. The lake is on our right, visible above a grey stone wall dotted with splats of greeny-brown moss. To our left are tall, leafy trees, and beneath them the forest floor
is covered with green grass and feathery ferns unfurling upwards into the sparse sunlight.

Waterfall slivers cut through the mountains like scars, and the mountains themselves are impressive, their colours smudged with greens, mauves, browns and greys. Scraggy gorse bushes cling to
the slopes, bursting with yellow flowers. The rhododendron flowers are vibrant in colour: bright orange, pink, red and yellow.

When we arrive, we decide to make the most of the gorgeous weather by shooting the group shots in the garden. But when we’re setting everyone up, we realise there’s no groom. I find
him around the back of the hotel, talking on his phone.

‘I don’t want to be in any photographs,’ he snaps as soon as he sees me.

‘But we’re doing the group shots,’ I plead.

He ignores me. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he says into the receiver in a downhearted voice. ‘Got me ball and chain now, never mind.’

Rachel and I are relieved when we finally get a break.

There’s a stone bench under the trees by the lake so we take time to have a breather. The evening air is mild, but the bench is cold underneath us. Through the trees I see four
familiar-looking people walking along the path on the other side of the lake. One of the guys is blond and wearing a black beanie, the other is dark-haired, and there are two girls.

‘Is that the others?’ I say aloud, jumping up and moving out from under the trees. I wave and the guy who I’m assuming is Lachie waves back. ‘Do we have time to go and
say hi?’ I call to Rachel.

‘Go
for it,’ she replies, firmly rooted to the bench. ‘We’ve probably got half an hour. I’m going to chill here for a bit.’

‘Okay, no worries.’ I hurry along the path, my kit bag heavy on my shoulder and my camera clonking against my stomach until the faraway faces become more and more distinct. I grin at
Lachie as he runs the last twenty metres towards me. The last thing I expect is for him to pick me up and swing me around so I squeal when he does.

‘Put me down!’ My head is spinning by the time my feet are planted on the pathway, my camera smacking against my gut. ‘Oof!’

‘How’s it going?’ he asks, laughing and blocking me as I try to hit him. He’s wearing a white, slightly holey T-shirt and a beanie which is completely unnecessary in this
weather.

‘Urgh, it’s all a bit shit, actually.’

‘What’s up?’ Alex asks with a frown as he, Bridget and Lisa reach us.

‘The groom is a total tosspot,’ I reply to everyone’s amusement. ‘What are you guys doing here?’

‘That’s the campsite there,’ Lachie says, twisting around to point behind him.

‘That’s so close. The reception is just across the lake.’ I jerk my head to my right, indicating a distant whitewashed building. ‘I could practically walk here
later.’

‘It’ll be too dark.’ Alex shakes his head authoritatively. ‘I’ll come and pick you up in the car.’

‘Or I could walk you,’ Lachie interjects.

‘It’s okay, Rachel’s driving,’ I tell them with a smile, turning to Bridget. ‘How’s your tent?’ I ask her. She’s just had her hair cut into a
stylish blunt bob and she looks fantastic.

‘You want my honest answer?’ That sounds ominous.

‘Yes?’ I reply tentatively.

‘I can’t believe I ever suggested this.’

I laugh. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t think I’m a camping sort of girl. The tent is so small!’ She pulls a disgusted face. ‘And my bed is so hard!’

‘Have you never been camping before?’ Lachie asks, looking down at her with amusement.

‘No.’

‘No?’ I ask, perplexed. But she was so keen on the idea! ‘Then why did you suggest it?’

‘I didn’t know my aunt was going to be booked out,’ she grumbles.

‘Have my bed at the B&B if you like. I’m happy to camp.’

Her mood visibly improves. ‘Really?’

‘Sure.’ I scan the meadow behind them. ‘Where are Maria and Russ?’

‘They’re up at the tents,’ Lisa reveals with a mischievous look.

‘Did you know they got it on together last week?’ Bridget questions me with narrowed eyes. ‘After the pub?’

‘Did they?’ I reply with surprise. ‘Wow.’ I wonder why Maria didn’t mention it. Felt a little self-conscious, I imagine. I look for Rachel under the cluster of
trees in the distance. ‘I need to get back.’

‘We’ll walk with you,’ Alex says. He and I fall into step with each other. The warm sun beats down on my neck and shoulders. I’m wearing smart black trousers and a
navy-blue shirt and my light-brown hair is up in a ponytail.

‘You want me to carry that for you?’ Alex asks, nodding at my heavy kit bag.

‘I’m alright,’ I brush him off.

‘Go
on.’

I comply, sliding it off my shoulder and into his proffered hand. ‘Thanks.’

He nods at my camera. ‘Can I see some of your shots?’

‘Sure.’ I turn my camera on and scroll down as we walk. We pause on a small grey stone bridge curving over a bubbling brook and I tilt the screen his way.

‘There’s a fish!’ Lisa cries, while Bridget takes off one of her shoes and complains about a blister.

Alex moves his head closer to mine. I return my attention to my shots, breathing in his scent as I do so. ‘I messed up the exposure on these ones,’ I remember as I skip through the
signing of the register.

‘The bride and groom silhouettes look good, though,’ he comments, touching his hand to mine so I slow down.

‘Rachel manually exposes when she shoots in front of a window, so she will have got what she needs,’ I tell him, noticing the slight waver to my voice. ‘Check this out.’
I go back to the pictures of the groom before the service.

‘Bloody hell,’ he exclaims, pulling the camera closer to his face. ‘What a miserable twat.’

‘I know.’ I laugh and look up at him.

Rachel joins us. ‘Hey, guys,’ she says, nodding towards the reception venue and then at me. ‘We should get back.’

‘Sure,’ I reply.

‘How much longer do you think you’ll be?’ Alex asks me.

‘Not long, thankfully. We’ve just got to tick the first dance box and then we’ll be done.’

‘Is there a pub nearby?’

‘There’s one next door.’

Alex spins around and walks backwards for a few steps, facing the others. ‘Why don’t we go for a couple of beers and wait for Bronte?’

‘Good plan,’ they concur.

Alex spins back around and flashes me a sidelong smile. ‘Then we could all walk back together.’

‘I need a drink. A big one,’ Rachel says. ‘Damn, I’m driving,’ she remembers.

Rachel and I join the others at the pub as soon as we can. It is such a relief to be done with that day.

‘Why don’t you leave your car here and walk back with us?’ Alex suggests. ‘I can give you a lift here in the morning.’

‘Thanks, but I’m kipping at the B&B. You can have your terrible night’s sleep, but I’ve got a bed to go back to.’

We take our drinks to the table where the others are sitting.

‘Bronte!’ Lachie exclaims when he clocks me. He’s already had a few and his effervescent personality is practically bubbling over.

Rachel sits down and Alex sets off to hunt out another chair.

‘She doesn’t need one,’ Lachie calls after him, pulling me onto his lap. I gasp with surprise. Then he buries his face in my neck and laughingly kisses me over and over, just
above my collarbone.

‘Argh!’ I squeal. His beard tickles. ‘Stop it!’ I manage to spit out, smacking his thigh.

He stops kissing me, but he keeps his warm arms hooked around my waist and smiles up at me, his light blue eyes twinkling. What a flirt.

Alex averts his gaze from us and sits down, picking up a pint glass.

‘What’s Zara up to this weekend?’ I ask, trying to include him. I don’t want him to regret coming.

‘She’s—’

‘Who’s Zara?’ Lachie interrupts before Alex can reply.

‘His fiancée,’ I tell him over my shoulder.

‘Really?’ He says it with total surprise, looking past me to Alex. ‘You getting married, mate?’

‘Yep,’ Alex replies shortly.

‘When?’ he asks.

‘December.’

‘You gonna get Bron to do your wedding?’ Lachie rests one hand lightly on my right leg.

‘Rachel’s doing it,’ I say hastily with a smile in her direction.

‘Well, if you need an awesome wedding singer, you know where to find me,’ he says cheekily, jigging me up and down on his knee.

‘Would you stop that?’ I slap his thigh again. He’s wearing scruffy denim jeans.

‘I’ll keep you in mind,’ Alex replies drily. ‘She’s in New York for work,’ he answers my question, trying to ignore the person whose knee I’m sitting
on.

‘Again?’

He nods.

‘Does she go there a lot?’

‘Every few weeks.’

‘You must miss her,’ Lisa says, listening in.

‘Yeah.’ He shrugs.

‘Ever thought about moving to New York?’ Lisa asks.

My heart skips a beat.

‘Aah, not really,’ Alex replies, meeting my eyes again. And then Lachie buries his face in my neck once more and I’m distracted fighting off his ticklish kisses.

We head back to the campsite while it’s still light enough to see. Bridget, with her sore feet, hitches a lift with Rachel, but the rest of us are happy to get some fresh
air.

‘What’s the story with your mate?’ Lachie asks me in a low voice, nodding ahead at Alex, who’s walking next to Lisa and talking about work. Alex asked me a similar
question about Lachie on the way up here.

‘What do you mean? There’s no story,’ I say innocently.

‘What’s going on between you?’

‘Nothing,’ I exclaim under my breath, keeping my voice low so no one can hear us. ‘You heard him. He’s getting married in December.’

He thinks for a minute before speaking. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, things seem a little tense between you two. It’s like you’ve got history.’

Now I really am tense. ‘I
do
mind you saying, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut.’

He digs his hands into his jeans pockets, but the ensuing silence doesn’t last for long.

‘Do the others know?’

‘Know what?’

‘About your history?’

‘What history? I didn’t say we had any history!’

Lachie gives me a look, and for once there’s no trace of amusement on his face.

I take a deep breath and give in. I think he’ll keep my secret safe.

‘If you really want to know,’ I say quietly, ‘Alex and I met a year and a half ago when he was on a break from his girlfriend. Something... happened,’ I leave him to fill
in the blanks. ‘I didn’t expect to ever see him again.’

‘And now he works with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fuuuuuck,’ he says slowly.

‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘Never mind, Bronnie, I’ll take your mind off him.’ He wraps his arm around my neck and pulls me close.

Bronnie? ‘Oh, stop.’ I push him away and Alex looks back at us, hearing the commotion. I force a light laugh and he returns to his conversation with Lisa. ‘I don’t need
anyone to take my mind off him, thanks,’ I say under my breath. ‘There’s nothing between us, and I’m happy being single right now, anyway.’

‘Just trying to be helpful,’ he says quietly. I glance at him to see if I’ve hurt his feelings, but I can’t tell. His expression is too hard to read.

The path turns to a grey stone one, and small clouds of dust puff up around Alex’s Converse trainers as we walk. I take out my camera and start to click off some shots. This view around us
is breathtaking. Majestic mountains slant across each other and the beech trees are still lime green with fresh new leaves, undarkened by the summer sun. Bluebells peek out of the grass amid the
ferns, and I almost short with laughter. This is so perfect it looks staged. If I saw a film with a set like this, I’d think it was a tad overdone.

I turn and click off a photo of Lachie, then call to the others to spin around. Alex pushes his hair off his face. He looks gorgeous in black jeans and a dark grey long-sleeve T-shirt pushed up
to the elbows. I do think he has sexy forearms.

Oh dear. I really shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts.

We leave the dry path and climb a slight hill to get to the campsite. The green grass is shaggy and wet underfoot and my boots squelch through the bog. Lachie leaps like a goat over the muddiest
patches, helping the rest of us to navigate our ways. We reach a sturdy wooden gate attached to a chunky, moss-covered stone wall and pass through it into a forest of pine trees.

The others have already set up their tents and built a fire, so now all they have to do is light it.

Russ and Alex take control. The fire crackles into life in the centre of a large log circle meant for sitting on. Four tents surround the circle, facing the fire. Lisa is in one, Alex and Russ
are staying in another, Lachie has a small one-person tent to himself and Bridget was supposed to have the fourth tent before she decided to sleep at the B&B. Maria and I have agreed to swap
with her.

Lisa brings a couple of bottles of Prosecco out of her tent with disposable glasses, and Maria emerges two seconds later with bags of popcorn and marshmallows. Then Bridget appears from behind
her tent with a cake, lit with candles. Lachie follows, strumming his guitar.

‘Aw!’ I cry, as everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to me. There’s a number ‘30’-shaped candle on the top, and the flame flickers as Bridget steps carefully
around the fire towards me. My eyes mist up and I blow out the candles, touched by the effort everyone has gone to.

‘Thank you,’ I say meaningfully, giving Bridget a clumsy hug around the cake she’s holding.

‘Happy birthday, Bronte.’ Russ steps over a log to give me a kiss on my cheek.

‘It’s not her birthday yet,’ Bridget reminds him. ‘Don’t forget it’s on the twelfth. I can’t believe I’m not going to be here for you.’