Red Awakening: (Red Knight #2) (9 page)

“Have you not met anyone then; some nice French farm girl?” I grin.

He hesitates. Ha, he has. He may now be a Vigore, but I can still read his cagey body language. He’s always been an awful liar.

“Spill the beans then,” I push him.

“You know me Liz, still weak as always,” he cheekily smiles. “And this whole new me, the ladies just can’t resist.” He lowers his head, slanting his view on me.

“God, nothing changes.”

I finish what remains in my glass, leaving just the melting ice at the bottom. That’s my lot; no more drinks. Tomorrow is going to be nerve-wracking enough, without suffering a hangover.

“Right, I have to go.” Butterflies explode in my belly as I stand up.

He pushes out the wicker chair and moves around the table. “Well look who’s gone all sensible.” He pulls me in close to his body and squeezes. “You going to be okay; still time to back out you know,” he jokes.

“Shit,” I say in an outbreath. “Don’t Nathan.”

“Go on then. Go and get your beauty sleep.” He kisses my cheek and gestures me away. “You’ll be fine Liz… promise.”

I take a few reluctant steps toward the bar doors and turn back. “It’s really good to have you here Nathan.”

                                                             ***

I make my way up the spiral stairs, holding the red leather box that was left for me in the reception safe.

I push my room door closed and prop my back against it, as I unravel the bow. I open the lid and my eyes zoom in on a beautiful hair comb, made of silver and pearl. It’s ideal. A small tasteful piece I would have chosen myself. I take out the small folded card and read.

Elizabeth

For you.

Love always, Adrien

I perch on the bed, my fingers brushing over the comb.
Everything will be fine,
I tell myself, collapsing back onto the pillows as the nerves once again take me.

Liz

An evening wedding; whose bright idea was that? This has been the longest day I have ever had to endure. I woke up this morning as the birds began to tweet in the woodland outside my window. It’s been horrendous how time has slowed down to a near stop. Clock watching has probably been my downfall. I’ve flicked my phone on and off to check the time so much, my battery is now flat.

Four whole hours I waited for someone, anyone, to come in and ask me if there was anything I needed. But not one of them (who I always thought were busybodies) rushed into save me from restless boredom.

In the end, at 10am, I resorted to ordering myself some room service. My greedy eyes combed the menu, and I requested a full English breakfast, with a large pot of strong coffee. Could I eat it? Well I did try. It tasted delicious, and if I weren’t getting married today, I’d have probably polished off the entire plate. But all I managed to consume was one rasher of bacon, half a fried tomato, and a bite of toast.

After my big breakfast flop, I’d had enough of sitting around waiting. Cate deserved a wakeup call. Drinking margaritas all afternoon with Nathan, is not what I’d call an attentive maid of honour. I bashed on her door, listening to her moaning out in misery. Finally, she answered, and I was greeted by a scene from the walking dead. Black panda puffy eyes, hair like dry straw, and stinking breath. I backed away from her and put on my highest, most annoying chirpy tone to greet her good morning. What I received was a painful growl, and the door in my face.

The daylight fades outside. I’m sitting in front of the white dressing table on a shabby chic stool, waiting for the moment to come where I literally freak-out. I’ve had my nails French polished by Kim. Had my makeup done by Chloe. And Cate is currently on a mission to get my hair exactly how I want it.   

“Will you hold still!” she barks, shuffling around me with giant yellow rollers hanging from her hair.

I don’t speak. I’m the one who’s supposed to be throwing hissy fits today because things aren’t going to plan. But the stress seems to have got to Mum and Cate more. I’m in some kind of indeterminate state right now, suspended in mute anticipation.

“I think that’s just about… perfect.” Cate circles my hair with spray. “Right, I need to get dressed.”

She swigs down her umpteenth black coffee, as I stare at my subtle smoky eyes, and surprisingly clear pale skin.

“Liz, are you okay?” she asks as though I’m hard of hearing.

“Hmm.”

“Are you sure?” she continues. “Even the blusher isn’t hiding your white face.”

I look in the mirror to study my cheeks. She’s right, I’m paling by the second. I wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t mentioned it.
Great.

“I’ll get Chloe to come back in and fix your face. Maybe you should eat.” She picks up the box of birthday chocolates my Aunt Carol left on my messy bedspread. “Sugar… you need sugar.” She stuffs a chocolate truffle into my mouth. “Better?” she fusses. 

I chew. “Yes Cate… go away now,” I muffle, swallowing the truffle down.

I sit alone in my white bathrobe. My hair is picture-perfect; the best Cate has ever done with it. It’s all loosely pinned just behind my left ear, with the comb Adrien gave me in position on the right side. I opted for no veil. They seem to blow around a lot, and I don’t want my features pressed up against netting, that’s stuck to my face. I want everything to be as natural as possible.

Mum flusters through the door, holding mine and Cate’s bouquets. A simple tightly grouped bunch of white roses. She pops them onto the dressing table right in front of me. I lift them to my nose and inhale the sweet scent with a sigh.

Mum is now lingering at my back, with an emotional ray displayed on her pink glossy lips. She looks great, very sophisticated for her. A light gold skirt with matching jacket. Her hair is straight with volume at the roots. And she has a white rose pinned to her lapel.

“Mum, please don’t,” I exhale.

“It’s nearly time.” She squeezes my shoulder and sniffs as Sara enters with a bottle of champagne. “Twenty-two years to the day, I gave birth, and now… now I’m losing you.”

“Mum,” I groan. “You’re not going to make it through the ceremony if you carry on like this.”

Her lips quake. “I know, but I’m so happy.” 

Sara’s pupils rise at my mum’s hypersensitivity. “Compliments of the groom,” she says, popping out the cork.

I’m not going to be sick; I’m not going to pass-out,
are the words I have to keep drilling into my head.

Sara stands by the bed in her beige dress, pouring the fizzy champagne into a flute.

“Here,” she places it before me.

I glance down at it, unsure if I really want it or not. God, these nerves are playing havoc with everything: my head, my ability to breathe, and my digestive system.

“Is everything okay down there Sara?” I ask.

“Yes, everything is right on track.”

“Adrien?” I squint.

“He’s fine Elizabeth.” Her pupils loop. “He’s talking to the Minister now.”

Of course he’s fine. He’s Mr Smooth, used to standing up before people, making speeches and organising events. God above, I pray not to mess this day up. I can foresee all the disastrous scenarios playing out in my mind. Tripping over my own feet. Becoming lost for words. Or collapsing and face planting the aisle.

“And the guests?” I fretfully utter.

She pours herself a glass, and she looks as though she needs it. I bet Adrien has had her running around all day. I know when she does something, she does it right. So I’m guessing right now she’s holding in all her frustration, because Adrien has sent her here to calm me down.

“Trickling in,” she says between drinks. “Like trying to herd a bunch of rabid cows,” she grumbles.

I have no idea what is going on downstairs: the setup or anything. Although, I have tried to look. Twice I’ve attempted to slip by Mum and Cate, sneaking down the hall on a covert mission in my white slippers. But each time, I’ve been frogmarched back. I’ve been kept in the dark, a prisoner in this room, and it’s driving me nuts.    

Cate comes back into the room, wearing her maid of honour dress. A one shoulder number: gathered satin, dark taupe, knee-length dress, with a black waistband. The only outfit, apart from my wedding underwear, I’ve actually chosen for today. And I have to say it was clearly the right decision. She looks so pretty with her long blonde hair flowing over her bare shoulder.

“Come on missy,” Cate orders. “Time to get you into your dress,” she sings in a high tone.

Oh crap, this is it, all the worries I have been holding in have just erupted throughout my body. I drink the champagne fast and stand up, as Sara hands me another.

“Right sweetheart.” Mum hugs me with teary eyes. “I’m going to let you get ready,” she weeps. “You’ll be absolutely fine.” She dashes out of the door before she sets me off.

I made Cate wait outside the bathroom while I got dressed into my lingerie, but required her help with the fiddly suspender belt. I’ve never in my life wore one before, and was confused on which way was front and back. Then there was the whole clip issue, which had me in an irate sweat. Making sure each elastic strap was the same length, in the same adjacent area, and would keep my silk stockings from falling down. Tights would have been easier, but I had to go all out on this. It’s for Adrien, and has to have the wow factor.  

It took Cate ten minutes to fasten up each tiny silk button on the back of my dress. At one point she told me I might have to remove my bra. Maybe I should have opted for a lighter padded cup, instead of something that twerks and lifts to create miracles. But in the end, she managed to get through the tricky mid-back section, and I nearly passed-out holding my breath for her.

“Foot up,” she says, crouched in front of me, holding my ivory satin shoes.

I gather up the skirt in my fingers, and slip my cream silk covered feet into the shoes.

She blows out and stands. “I’ll be two minutes. I forgot to bring my tissues and… and I think I’m going to need them.” She waves her hand in front of her face as she dashes out on to the corridor.

Now it’s just me and my reflection. In a million years, I never thought I’d be looking at myself this way. I turn sideways, loving the way the dress flows like fluid. It’s not over the top. It’s not attention seeking. It’s purely me. I inhale, filling my lungs to full volume, watching the moon rise in the evening sky, through the window behind me.

Cate flurries back into the room like a whirlwind, and hands me my bouquet. She gives my hair the once over, readjusting the stray strands that hang over my shoulder.

“Right, let me have a look at you.” She steps back with her bottom lip curled over. “I can’t believe this is happening,” her voice trembles. “You look so beautiful, Liz.”

“Oh god, Cate, I feel like I’m going to throw up.” I fold my arms around my waist, my heart’s pounding, and I just can’t take in a good breath.

“No you are not,” she orders. “You are the most gorgeous example of a bride, and you know I’ve dealt with a few.”

Sara’s head pops through the door. She looks at me for a second with a light expression of sentiment.

“It’s time.” She swiftly vanishes.

I keel over slightly, wheezing. “Oh god. Oh god.”

“Stop it,” Cate warns. “You are going to walk out of that door with your head high, and do me proud.” She squeezes me. “Now move those feet.” She leads me out to the hallway.  

I’m standing at the top of the wide oak stairs before a stain glass window. I look down at my rounded toe cream heels, while Cate arranges the short lace train behind me. I hold my bouquet with sweaty palms, twirling and twirling it. We’ve been told to wait a few minutes, and waiting isn’t helping me at all right now.

I hear whispering behind me. I turn to see Nathan in a grey three piece suit with a cream tie. His eyes soften as he fondly notes me torturing myself.

“Cate, give us a minute,” he says, still staring at me.

“Nathan, your timing is shit! We don’t have a frigging minute,” she panics.

“Cate it’s fine.” I laugh at her animated meltdown. “I have to wait for Geoff, so you can go and get my drawstring bag. I forgot to bring it.”

She blows out, flapping her hands. “Fine.” She stomps up the stairs.

I peer down at the roses. Nathan brushes his fingers lightly over my arm. He’s the only one here who I can be calm around.

“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day,” he smiles. “You’re a sight for sore eyes Liz,” he breathes out.

“Am I? I feel like I’m melting here.”

“You’ll be fine.” He kisses my cheek. “I’m here, how can things not go smoothly,” he giggles.

“Hmm.” I sigh and swallow, my eyes drawn to the floor again.

“Liz, come on girl.” He pushes up my chin. “This is your day and you look amazing, so give me a break or you might just make this vamp cry.”

“Shush,” I hiss, hoping no one heard that.

“I’m going to grab a seat.” He pecks my cheek again, then moves to my ear. “Cool, calm, and collected, okay.” I silently agree before he leaves me.

Cate returns with my bag as Mum appears at the bottom step in hysterics. She’s got me worried. I’ve never seen her so frantic.

“Mum what is it?”

She looks up at me. “Oh my god. Look at you. My baby girl,” she sobs.

“Mum, what’s wrong?” I snap.

“Of all the days,” she pants. “Geoff is sick, Liz. Not just hangover sick, I mean e-coli sick. The doctors with him now.”

Oh fuck. I am not walking down the aisle alone. I’m going to have to have Mum or Cate with me. Might be slightly unusual, but as long as I can squeeze the hell out of someone’s arm, I don’t really care.

“Ruby… Cate.” Sara calls as she hurries through the reception area.

Oh god, what’s happening now? They’ve all abandoned me and have formed a huddle, discussing options without me. Something else has gone wrong hasn’t it? Oh I swear, I’m going to lock myself in the bridal suite if someone doesn’t tell me what the hell is going on.

Nathan reappears and is dragged into the scrum. Jeez, what are they planning down there?

“Guys,” I yell. “I’m really not coping well here.” My knees bob up and down.

They all turn in sync and stare for what feels like a considerable amount of time, leaving me to stew some more.

Nathan strides up the stairs to me, two at a time.

“Liz, before things get any crazier, would you consider me as a substitute?” he asks.

“For?”

“For giving you away.”

Wow, that’s kind of a good plan. Bizarre, and I can’t understand why on earth he would want to after everything that’s happened; it being my fault he is what he is. That he had to move away because of it. And the torch he held for me that I cruelly blew out. But still, after all that crap that’s gone on between us, I still see him as my best friend.

I frown. “Well… do you think it’s a good idea?”

“Liz, the idea hasn’t come from me,” he says.

“Who?”