‘I’ve had plenty of time and space already,’ he says. ‘We barely see each other.’
My voice sounds small as I ask my next question. ‘Do you think we should break up?’
The devastation in his eyes as he stares back at me says it all.
Bridget has invited me to stay with her for the ten days leading up to the wedding, but first I go to spend a few days in south London with my old Aussie school friend Polly and her family. Polly and I have had our ups and downs over the years, but, despite the fact that she now has two young children demanding her almost constant attention, she really comes through for me. She’s a rock and I’m feeling much better by the time I set off to Padstow in Cornwall, where Bridget and Charlie live.
I still can’t believe that Lachie and I are over, but it’s real. The days before I came away were hell. We shed so many tears between us – I have no idea how I managed to drag my sorry arse into work.
He intends to move in with a friend while I’m in England, and when I get back I’ll look for a place of my own. I could probably stretch to paying all the rent on our flat, but with our shared memories it would be too painful to stay. I’m thinking about moving out of Manly altogether. It’s always been more Lachie’s scene than mine, with his surfing lifestyle. But I’ll miss Lucy. She was gutted when I told her that Lachie and I had split up.
Bridget comes to collect me from the train station when I arrive in Cornwall and my mood does an about-turn at the sight of her beaming face. We throw our arms around each other and squeeze tightly.
‘I’ve missed you so much!’ she cries.
‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you,’ I murmur.
She withdraws to look me over, the corners of her lips turning down.
‘Don’t talk to me about it or I’ll lose it,’ I warn.
‘Okay,’ she complies, nodding.
She looks well and happy, her khaki shorts showing off her long, slim, tanned legs. They’ve been having a heatwave that we all hope lasts through the wedding celebrations.
‘Your hair has grown!’ I tug gently on a lock of her just-below-shoulder-length, dark, wavy hair.
‘Yours is still exactly the same,’ she replies with a laugh, her navy eyes smiling.
‘I had a trim a couple of weeks ago, I promise. You can’t see because I’ve tied it back.’ I’m wearing it in a long fishtail plait, one of my favourite styles when I can be bothered to make the effort. ‘Maybe I should lop it all off and have a proper post-break-up overhaul.’
‘Don’t you dare. It suits you like this. How was your journey from London?’ she asks. ‘It’s a bit of a shit, isn’t it?’
‘Could’ve been worse.’ The flight from Sydney to London was bleak, made a million times worse by my broken heart. ‘I’m excited to see a part of the UK I haven’t been to before.’
‘I’ve got so many beautiful places to show you.’ Bridget sounds like she can’t wait.
‘We’ll have to cram it all in.’ I’m determined to stay upbeat for her.
‘I wish you could stay longer,’ she laments. ‘I feel like postponing my honeymoon.’
I laugh.
‘I’m not even joking,’ she says. ‘Laura can’t get here until Saturday.’ That’s four days before the wedding. Laura is her friend who lives in the States.
‘Are you sure you’ll have room for us all?’
‘Definitely! It’ll be a bit of a squash, especially when Mum and Dad get here, but I want you with me, so much. Are you sure you don’t mind sharing a room with Laura and Max for a couple of nights before the wedding?’ Max is Laura’s baby. ‘Mum was talking about getting a hotel room, but she hasn’t managed to get organised.’
Bridget’s parents are divorced, but their relationship is amicable enough for them spend a few days in the same house together. The same room, however, would be pushing it.
‘Of course not,’ I reply. ‘I can’t wait to meet everyone. So Marty’s staying at a B&B?’
‘Yeah. She and Ted wanted a proper minibreak. She can’t believe we’re getting married midweek and making them use up some of their holiday time.’ She shrugs and grins.
Marty is engaged, too. Bridget thinks it’s hilarious that she’s beating her chief bridesmaid down the aisle. No one saw that coming.
‘Why couldn’t Leo make it?’ I ask. That’s Laura’s partner.
‘Too many bookings, and I didn’t give them enough notice.’ They run a guesthouse in Key West. ‘It’s probably just as well. I don’t want anyone to upstage Charlie on our Big Day.’ She giggles.
She’s told me on numerous occasions that Leo is super-hot.
‘I can’t wait for you to meet Charlie!’ She bangs the steering wheel with excitement.
I have a feeling that, if she weren’t driving, she’d be clapping her hands like a three-year-old.
‘Me neither,’ I reply, and I mean it.
We’re back at Charlie and Bridget’s house in no time, a gorgeous four-bedroom detached house with a whitewashed exterior and a silver-grey slated roof. Charlie and Bridget have only recently finished renovating it after buying it late last year.
‘This place is amazing!’ I gush as we climb out of the car.
‘We couldn’t have got it without Dad’s help,’ she reminds me coyly, as we walk up the pretty, flower-lined stone path to the moss-green front door.
She’s already told me as much. Bridget’s dad ‘invested’ in a flat in Chalk Farm years ago, but it’s obvious he bought it primarily to help his beloved daughter get onto the property ladder. Property prices in London have skyrocketed in recent years, so he made an absolute packet when he sold it and insisted on using the profits to help Bridget buy a family home with Charlie.
‘He’s so great,’ I say, and I know this from experience. I met Bridget’s dad many times when we lived together. I’ve never met her mum, but I will do in a few days when she’s here for the wedding. Bridget said it was a complete faff trying to agree on a date that suited her.
She doesn’t talk about her mother much, but I understand they’ve had a slightly strained relationship over the years, not helped by the fact that her mum chose to go back to work on a cruise liner, travelling the world, when Bridget was just six years old. Her dad raised her pretty much on his own.
‘He’s thinking about selling up the pub and retiring down here,’ Bridget says of her dad.
‘No way!’
‘Yeah.’ She grins and gets her keys out of her purse.
‘What does Charlie think about that?’ I ask in a low voice in case he can somehow hear me.
‘Oh, he’s delighted. They get along like a house on fire. Dad says Charlie’s the son he never had.’
‘That is so cute.’
‘Yeah, it’s lovely,’ she says fondly, unlocking the door.
‘Hey!’ A male voice calls out, and, a moment later, Charlie appears from a door off the hallway, a big grin on his face. ‘Hello, Bronte,’ he says warmly, coming forward to embrace me. ‘It’s so nice to finally meet you properly.’
‘You too,’ I reply with an equally big smile as we hug.