Fen had held the picture of her younger self, looking at the brilliance of her smile, the openness of her expression. She’d once hidden the photo away because, when she’d looked at herself, it was Nico’s voice she’d heard: No one will want you. But when she’d studied the photo again last night, on the eve of her wedding, with Robyn sitting beside her, she’d heard her own voice clearly. It told her that she was a woman who was both strong and vulnerable, who was brave and sometimes scared, who was loved and who loves. ‘Thank you,’ she’d told her aunt. ‘I’d love to keep the photo.’
Now, behind her, Fen caught the delighted murmurings of the guests as they rose to their feet. She couldn’t wait a moment longer.
She turned.
Robyn moved easily down the grass aisle, her hand in Jack’s, the two of them grinning wildly. She was wearing a simple cream dress, with flat shoes, her hair swept back into a low bun, a single orchid weaved within it. She was luminous.
There she is, Fen thought, eyes warming with tears.
Robyn moved to Fen’s side. Jack slipped his hand free of his mummy’s, lifting it towards Fen for a high five. She laughed as their palms connected, then watched him bound towards his grandparents, plonking himself on the seat between them, legs swinging.
Then it was just her and Robyn, hands joining, looking one another full in the eye.
She kissed the bride.
98
Bella
Did they have to kiss for quite that long? Bella thought.
In fairness, it did look like a sensational kiss. Being the only person in the audience who’d kissed them both, she’d know! See – she was making jokes! Smiling! She almost felt a genuine flush of happiness for Robyn and Fen.
There were many things that were taking time and adjustment. After the hen weekend, she’d handed in her notice at the jeweller’s, which had felt like a good step. Still haunted by Sam’s death, she knew she’d never return to nursing, but she’d found a new role working in a residential home for the elderly. Old people loved her – and she loved them. Eleanor came in twice a month, after visiting Wren, to run the table-tennis club, and Bella would slip off-duty for a few minutes to give her a game. She rarely got a point off Eleanor, who had a particularly deadly backhand, but it didn’t stop Bella baiting her.
Strange that she and Eleanor had become friends of sorts. Life. What a big fucking mystery! Other people, smarter than her, could try and figure it out.
Lexi, standing next to her, slipped her hand into Bella’s. Squeezed.
She squeezed back.
She adored this woman with her whole being. Always would. Lexi’s ride into motherhood hadn’t been easy. A difficult labour followed by complications from an emergency C-section, followed by two spells of mastitis, meant those early months as a single parent were particularly tough. Bella tried to stay over a couple of nights each week, bringing takeout, cabbage leaves, and pretty outfits for Wren, as what girl wanted to be dressed in neutral-toned organic vests Monday to Sunday?
The biggest surprise of Bella’s life was how hard she’d fallen for that little milky splodge of a baby. It was ironic to think she’d campaigned so hard to keep party-girl-Lexi aflame – when it was motherhood that deepened their friendship in new ways.
When Wren was three days old, Bella had carried her reverently from the maternity ward, clicking her baby seat into the back of her freshly valeted car, double-checking the Isofix. Then she’d helped Lexi shuffle into the front, reaching across to buckle her in, mindful of her C-section wound. Lexi had caught Bella’s arm. ‘I’d like you to be Wren’s godmother.’
Bella had turned to look at Wren, a tiny, perfect being, swamped within a car seat, eyes closed, lips pursed. So innocent and unmarked.
Bella had shaken her head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not a good role model.’
Lexi had looked Bella straight in the eye. Her skin was pale and wan, mauve shadows ringing her eyes – but her voice was fierce as she said, ‘You might have made mistakes, Bella, but you got back up again. That makes you an excellent role model for my daughter.’
Tears spilled onto Bella’s cheeks.
‘Anyway,’ Lexi added, ‘who else is going to teach her how to walk in four-inch stilettos?’
So, godmother she was.
Robyn visited Lexi often – and sometimes those visits coincided with Bella’s. At first their encounters were painfully raw, but over time, they gradually began adjusting to a new dynamic. It wasn’t easy, and there were often heated arguments – usually when wine was involved – but there was a fresh honesty between them, and that was something.