Before You Go Read online

  ‘You look beautiful, love,’ Mum says, as she peers at my face in the mirror.

  ‘So do you.’ And she does. She looks so young, and the electric blue of her dress lights up her face. She blushes and turns away.

  ‘Right, let’s get going,’ she says, and then we’re off. We pile into the car. As we rumble along I stare out of the window, trying to steady my heart. After the excitement of the morning this is the first chance I’ve really had to think, to take in what’s happening. In a few minutes’ time I’m going to see Ed again, in front of dozens of people, and I’m not sure how I’m going to do it. Every time I see him it makes me feel weak with pain and desire. I feel dizzy.

  But before I know it we’re pulling up outside the hotel. Outside the front door my Aunty Jo hurriedly scrunches her cigarette out under her shoe then bends to throw it in a bush before scurrying inside. Rob is standing nearby looking smart and uncomfortable in his black suit, tugging at his collar and adjusting his tie as he scans the approaching cars. When he spots me his face breaks into a grin and he raises his hand in a half-wave and makes his way towards the car. He arrives at the door as I climb out and offers his hand to help me stand up straight. He’s looking at me with an expression in his eyes that’s hard to read.

  ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Yes, everything’s great,’ he says. ‘I’m just so relieved you’re here. Ed’s been like a bear with a sore head all morning. I’ve never seen him so stressed and nervous.’

  I smile and hug Rob tightly. ‘Thanks for looking after him.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Zoe.’

  Dad is at my elbow now. ‘Right, shall we get you married, then?’ he says gently. Rob takes Mum by the arm and leads her inside ahead of us. Then it’s just me, Dad, Becky and Jane, standing outside in the bitingly cold December air. I want to remember this moment forever and so I take in all the details – the pale-grey sky; the leaves edged with white that cling to the evergreens; the look on Dad’s face, half proud, half sad. Then a shiver runs through me and I take a deep breath and say, ‘Right, let’s do it.’

  We walk slowly across the gravel and towards the door, Jane and Becky following behind. There’s a roaring in my head that’s making it hard to think, and I focus on placing one foot in front of the other.

  And then we’re there, at the door, and everyone is standing and waiting for us to walk down the aisle, watching me expectantly. I can’t catch anyone’s eye and I keep my eyes trained on the floor as we walk slowly towards the front of the room. Finally, I look up, and there’s Ed, and the sight of him is so overwhelming I feel my legs give way beneath me and I stumble. Dad’s arm tenses, holds me up, and someone gasps. The room is spinning but I keep going, one foot, then another, and another, until we’re there and Dad’s letting go of my hand and Ed’s face is in front of mine. I look him in the eye, hold his gaze, drink in the details of his face: the piercing blue eyes, the hair cut shorter than usual, neater. His shoulders are hunched and he looks pale.

  ‘You OK?’ he mouths and I give a tiny nod.

  The registrar starts to speak and Ed reaches out his hands, takes mine gently. His touch is like an electric shock and I flinch as I let the familiar words wash over me, trying hard not to cry.

  And then we’re married – again – and as we walk down the aisle hand in hand everyone cheers, and yet I feel as though my heart is going to break: we were so happy today, but I’m not sure we’ve ever been this happy again. And now, now he’s gone, and this could be the last time I ever see Ed.

  It’s even colder outside now and as we stand and have a few photos taken I’m shivering uncontrollably, unsure whether it’s from the cold or the terror that’s descended.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you back inside, you’re freezing.’ Ed pulls me by the hand and holds me in his arms to warm my frozen body. I blink wildly, trying not to let the tears fall. This is meant to be the happiest day of my life, but it’s hard to behave like the blushing bride when I’m really a grieving widow.

  Ed kisses the top of my head and pulls away. ‘You’d better go and meet your public.’

  I nod. ‘Yes, OK.’ I look up at him. ‘Ed?’

  ‘Yes, Zo?’

  ‘Promise me you’ll never forget how happy we are right now? Promise me you’ll never forget how much we love each other?’

  ‘Of course not. But what’s this all about?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just – I don’t want this to be it. I want this to be just the beginning, not the end.’

  Ed watches me for a moment, obviously trying to work out what to say. But the moment’s lost when Dad walks through the door.

  ‘Come on, you two lovebirds, come and join us, we’re starving.’

  I take a deep breath and plaster a smile on my face. All I want is to stay here with Ed and never let this moment, this day, end. But I know it’s impossible, and that everything has to come to an end sometime. And so I make a decision: if I’m going to go through this day again then I may as well make the most of it and enjoy it.

  I grab Ed’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go and eat, drink and be merry.’

  And so we join everyone; people offer their congratulations, people I haven’t seen for many, many years, and I feel a pang of guilt. They were my friends, we liked them enough to invite them to our wedding, so what happened? Did I really become so self-obsessed that I didn’t value them enough to stay in touch? I vow to change that, if I ever get the chance.

  We sit down to eat and my eyes wander round the room. Jane’s sitting with Simon and Joanna and a couple of Ed’s friends from home, both male although both of their names escape me now; there’s my Aunty Jo and her partner Richard and her grown-up son, my cousin Josh. I smile as I remember the end of the evening, when Josh and Jane dance drunkenly together before snogging each other’s faces off. Aunty Jo was mortified.

  Just like the first time, the day passes in a whirl of excitement: our first dance to Pearl Jam’s ‘Smile’ – one of my favourite songs and one that has always made me think of Ed; chatting, drinking and dancing, and before I know it, Ed is holding me in his arms and we’re swaying together on the dance floor. We’re drunk on champagne and it’s nearly the end of the day. I lean my cheek on his chest and he holds me a little bit tighter and the lights blur around us. I lift my head and look up at him.

  ‘I love you, Edward Williams.’

  ‘I love you too, Zoe Williams.’

  I feel so close to him at this moment that I have an almost overwhelming urge to tell him everything. To tell him about us, our future, his death, the rows, the highs and the lows. And, of course, about me, reliving our significant moments together all over again. It’s such an amazing, important thing, it feels wrong to keep it from him. But it’s impossible. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’d say if I tried to explain it. How would I have reacted if he’d said the same to me?

  As we sway there gently, I can’t help wondering again whether this is all leading up to something, why this has happened to me. Is it because things are going to end up differently? Although the days haven’t been exactly the same, detail for detail, as they were the first time round, the result has been the same so far. But that doesn’t mean things can’t change. That doesn’t rule out the possibility that, if I keep trying to do things differently, Ed might be OK and we might get the chance to grow old together, just as we’ve promised to do today.

  The song comes to an end and I pull away from Ed and wipe a tear from my eye before we walk, hand in hand, to sit down. I glance at the clock. It’s 11 p.m., almost time for everyone to go home. I’m not ready for the day to be over, not yet.

  One by one, friends and family come to say goodnight and congratulations. And then the music stops, the lights come on, and we’re heading up to our room. I want the day to mean something, I want to try to do something different, but I don’t know what. I’m running out of time.

  ‘I know this sounds weird, but can we just sit and chat,’ I say as Ed and I stumble in
to the room and switch the lights on. We look at the bed; it’s covered in petals and there’s a box of condoms with a note stuck to it. Ed picks it up. ‘Be careful, you’ve only just got married.’

  I roll my eyes. Rob.

  ‘You mean you don’t want to ravish your new husband on your wedding night?’ Ed pretends to pout, and I pick up the box of condoms and throw them at him.

  ‘I just feel a bit – overwhelmed. Do you mind?’

  ‘Course not, if that’s what you want to do. Your wish is my command.’

  ‘Help me out of this, then,’ I say, and Ed unzips my dress and it falls to the floor. I’m standing in the lingerie I bought especially for today and as I climb into bed and under the covers to wait for Ed I feel shy. A few moments later he climbs in next to me and wraps his arms around me.

  ‘You happy?’

  ‘Utterly,’ I say. And I mean it. I am.

  ‘Just not in the mood, eh?’ He grins at me.

  ‘Nah, just don’t fancy you.’

  He slaps my bum playfully and I giggle and suddenly I am in the mood after all. I don’t know whether it’s the niggly feeling that I may not see him again, but right now I want this man more than I ever have in my life. I sit up and throw my leg across him, kissing him passionately on the lips. He responds eagerly and for the next hour we lose ourselves totally in each other. It’s so good it makes me long for those days again.

  When we’re finished we lie in each other’s arms and talk about the day.

  ‘Did you see Mum on the dance floor?’ Ed laughs. ‘She was mental.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘What about when your Uncle Ted fell over. He was so drunk he lost his footing, dropped his drink then slipped on the wet floor. It was a total clusterfuck.’

  ‘It was usual Uncle Ted behaviour.’

  A few seconds pass and we lie in silence.

  ‘Rob said you were a nightmare this morning,’ I say.

  ‘Did he, now?’

  ‘He says you were really grumpy.’

  ‘Huh, charming.’ He pauses for a minute. ‘I suppose I was, though. I was just terrified you weren’t going to turn up and I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if you’d changed your mind. I don’t think I could have gone on.’

  I look at him.

  ‘Really? You thought I’d change my mind?’

  ‘Well, you never know.’

  ‘Edward, I love you more than anything else in the whole world. You’re my calm head in chaos, my fun in sad times. You’re everything to me.’

  He props himself on his elbow and looks down at me. ‘You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.’ He looks so serious that it doesn’t feel like the right time to make a joke, so I stay quiet. Then he leans down towards me and kisses me deeply once more and then we fall into each other again, more deeply and passionately that we ever have before. And afterwards I finally feel ready to fall asleep and leave this day behind and see what comes next. It finally feels right.

  12

  19 May 2005

  Breakfast plates are piled in the sink, and streaks of jam smear the wooden surface of the table. I run my finger lazily through the crumbs, listening to Ed singing along loudly to the radio in the shower.

  My shiny new phone has already told me it’s 19 May 2005, which means I’m thirty years old. Unfortunately it hasn’t told me exactly what’s going to happen today. That’s still buried somewhere in the junkyard of my memory.

  I need to go for a run, clear my head. Running has been my tension release since the wedding, my way of unwinding after a long day at work. I stand and walk back to the bedroom, pulling out the running trainers that I knew I’d find there.

  By the time I’m ready to go the shower’s stopped and I can hear Ed moving around in the bathroom. I need to see him before I leave in case I don’t get another chance later, so I open the bathroom door and peek my head round. Ed’s wrapped a towel round his waist and his chest is bare, and the sight of him makes my heart almost stop. I want to reach out and touch him, run my fingers lightly over the dark hairs that scatter his chest, trace them down across his belly button, follow the darker hairs down—

  ‘Earth to Zoe.’

  ‘What?’ I jump, look up guiltily.

  ‘You were staring at me, not speaking. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Oh, I—’ I stop, my face hot. I feel like a voyeur, as though Ed’s body, eight years ago, isn’t something I should be allowed to look at. I feel like an impostor in my own life and it’s not a feeling I’m enjoying.

  ‘I just came to say I’m off for a run. Will you be here when I get back?’

  He grabs a towel and rubs it over his hair, his chest muscles flexing as he does. I try to concentrate on his words. ‘No, I’m taking Mum to the Chelsea Flower Show, remember?’

  ‘Oh yes, course. Sorry.’ I hadn’t wanted to go, but now wish I could. I wish I could spend the whole day with Ed. ‘Do you have to go?’

  Ed frowns, his damp hair sticking out in all directions. ‘What do you mean? Of course I have to go. Mum’s looking forward to it. So am I.’

  ‘But she wouldn’t really mind if you cancelled, would she? Stayed here with me for the day – we could, you know, go to bed . . .’ I tail off. The look on Ed’s face makes it clear my tactic isn’t working.

  ‘Zoe, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting very odd.’

  ‘What’s odd about wanting to see my husband?’

  ‘You know what I mean. You’ve known about this for ages and you didn’t want to come. Why are you being all weird now?’

  I shrug. ‘Dunno.’

  He looks at me for a moment, then turns to pick up his toothbrush. ‘Listen, I’ve got to get ready. Have a good run, OK, and I’ll see you later.’ He leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek and turns away, back to the mirror. I’ve been dismissed. I have no choice but to leave now, and hope I see him later.

  I tuck my laces in, clip my iPod holder to my arm, stick the white headphones in my ears and head for the door. The pavements are damp from this morning’s rain, but it’s dry now and the sun’s struggling to show its face from behind the iron-grey clouds. I set off along the road, the sound of the Prodigy’s ‘Firestarter’ filling my ears as my feet pound the pavement and I listen to my breathing getting faster and faster and then settling into a steady rhythm. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this free, without the sense of doom that’s settled heavily on my shoulders over the last few years. I’ve missed it.

  Slowly my mind settles into a rhythm too, until the running and the sounds of London become just background noise. I trawl my memory back through the years to this day, and try to remember what happened, why I’m here. There must be a reason.

  And suddenly it hits me like a bus.

  This is the day that changed everything between us forever. This is the day Ed said he wanted to start trying for a baby. And I’d said no.

  I’d known Ed had been thinking about things for a while – he’d even tried bringing it up a couple of times but I’d swept it away, pretended it wasn’t happening. But I’d seen the hurt in his eyes every time someone asked, ‘So, when are we going to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet, then?’ Mind your own business! I felt like yelling. But I’d kept quiet, and ignored what was bubbling along below the surface of our marriage. Babies weren’t on the agenda yet; life was too busy. I was working hard and loving doing so well, making money, going out drinking. I loved living in London with Ed and I didn’t want anything to change.

  But today – the first today – when I’d got back from a day out with Jane and he’d been out with his mum, he’d been sitting on the sofa, quietly. The TV wasn’t on, and he had an open magazine on his lap, which he wasn’t looking at. Instead, he was staring straight ahead at the blocks of wood stacked up in the fireplace. He didn’t move when I came in, didn’t appear to hear me, so I moved around in front of him and knelt down. There was a knot of tension rising from my belly, snaking its way up to my t
hroat.

  ‘Ed?’ I took hold of his hand. ‘Ed, what’s wrong?’

  His eyes slowly came into focus and he looked at me and smiled weakly.

  ‘Hi, love,’ he said.

  I peered at him. ‘What is it? Are you ill?’

  He looked at me blankly, then finally he spoke. ‘We need to talk.’

  His words, those words, sent spikes through my heart – because I knew exactly what he was going to say. I nodded, looked at the floor and sat next to him on the sofa, stiffly.

  ‘This is about having a baby, isn’t it?’ My voice was flat.

  I could see him turn to look at me from the corner of my eye but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  ‘Yes. It is.’

  I waited for him to say more.

  ‘It was just – today, being out with Mum. There were families together everywhere with their kids, and they looked so happy and I felt so – lonely. I don’t know how to explain it. I felt like I did as a little kid, seeing everyone with their brothers and sisters having fun, while I was all alone, and I realized I just didn’t want to feel like that any more. I know I’ve been saying it for a while but it really came home to me today, Zoe. I really want a baby. Your baby. Ours.’

  My whole body felt like a coiled spring as I sat there under his gaze, ready to snap. The silent seconds became minutes, hours, weeks, until it felt as though the tension couldn’t stretch any more.

  ‘Ed, I can’t.’ The words came out in a rush, like an explosion, as if it would somehow make hearing them easier. I turned to face him, tried to soften the blow. ‘I know what you’re saying but I’m just not ready. I’m – I need some time.’

  His face crumpled and he rubbed his hand across it, trying to hide the hurt. But it was too late.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ed. I know you want a baby, and— But I just can’t. Not yet. Not now. I’m sorry . . .’