Freya’s place on the top table gave her a bird’s eye view of Travis, taking photos of the speeches, the couple posed by cake and candid shots of the guests. However, they were both far too busy with their duties to speak to each other.
She was seated next to Nico, whose speech about Ravi’s adventures as a medical student brought the house down, though Roxanne and her mother were almost hiding behind their menu cards at several points, wondering what he was going to say next.
He’d pitched it exactly right and left everyone with a toast to the happy couple. Mr Jameson left everyone dabbing their eyes with his heartfelt speech to his daughter and her new husband. It was sincere and gently humorous, and not too rehearsed.
Freya would have been made of stone not to imagine her own father standing up and wishing her a ‘lifetime of happiness’, though she had no recollection of his face and had never heard his voice apart from a video of him telling a joke at a family party.
A realisation socked her in the gut: could his passing be one of the reasons she couldn’t imagine a stable future for herself? Even if she didn’t consciously recall him, she must have some memories of him: like treasure on the bottom of the sea, lying too deep to reach or even see, yet there all the same.
‘Here. Have this.’
She felt a whisper against her ear and Nico’s fingers brush hers under the table. He’d pushed the rose-pink handkerchief from his morning jacket into her hand.
She reached up to her cheek and found it damp with tears.
‘It’s all very emotional. I’m almost in bits myself.’
His cheeky smile told her otherwise. He thought she was crying at Mr Jameson’s speech, little did he know it was for a loss she’d never really mourned in the first place, and perhaps for the loss of what might have been: relationships, children …
She smiled. ‘It is. Thanks.’
It had been dark for several hours by the time the meal and the speeches were over. Freya got up, longing to seek out Travis to thank him but Roxanne wanted to speak to her.
‘Travis is a total star. I know I shouldn’t have kept him here but I did want the photos and also – I wondered if you wanted him to stay here longer?’
‘Roxy! That’s outrageous.’
‘Sorry, it was wrong of me. Have you been OK?’
‘Yes, until you told me that.’
‘Come on, you know the bride is always on matchmaking opportunity. You now have Nico and Travis to choose from.’ Before Freya could protest, Roxanne hugged her. ‘I’ve had such a wonderful day. I just want everyone to be as happy as I feel with Ravi.’
Freya couldn’t be cross with her friend for long and especially not on her wedding day. ‘I am happy. I’ve had a fantastic time and I still am, and more important, I have loved being a part of your special day. Ravi is a brilliant guy and I can see how much you love each other. That’s all I could ever ask for.’
‘Oh, don’t set me off!’ Roxanne cried. ‘I’ve already had to retouch my makeup three times.’
‘It’s true. Today has been … even better than I expected.’
‘And Travis being here isn’t a small part of that? He’s been amazing.’ Roxanne turned her head to indicate Travis. He was, finally, taking a break, sipping a pint of Coke by the bar, and looking, Freya admitted, a little frazzled but absolutely gorgeous. Her heart skipped several beats. The way he’d stepped in was chivalrous. ‘I’m not sure he’d have done it for anyone else but you.’
Freya snorted. ‘He would.’
‘Hmm …’
Ravi arrived, slipping his arms around his wife’s waist. ‘Roxy, the band are ready to set up. They’re double checking what you want them to play for our first dance?
‘I remember the days of arguments about it and hope I said something easy as I’ve had rather a lot of champagne.’
‘It’ll come as a surprise, then,’ and he led her away.
They were the picture of newlywed bliss, Freya thought, fuelled by a lot of champagne. Finally, the relentless tide of romance and high emotions – not to mention the fact she’d been up since five a.m. – had worn her down. There’d been so many points at which she’d told herself: this could have been me. So many times, she’d asked herself: what if? What if … what?
Once again, she chased away the fruitless thoughts and made her way over to the bar. She took her wine and turned round to find Travis standing beside a pillar, almost hidden by a large potted palm – with his lens trained on her.
Noticing her a fraction too late, he lowered the camera hastily. Freya held his gaze, daring him to look away and after a few moments’ hesitation, he walked over to join her.
Although she was sure he had been taking pictures of her specifically, it seemed arrogant to ask.
‘How’s it going?’ They both said the same phrase at once and both laughed out loud.
‘You go …’ Travis started, overlapped by Freya with, ‘You speak first …’
The next second consisted of them both with mouths clamped shut until Freya broke the deadlock: ‘How are you? Have you had chance for a break?’
‘Not much but I don’t need one. The time’s flown by.’
She wasn’t sure she believed him. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘The staff offered me some food but I was too busy to eat. I’ve lain on mountains and in bird hides for hours on end. I’m used to harsh environments.’ He grinned.
‘Is this one?’
‘It could have been, but to be honest, it hasn’t been as challenging as I expected.’
Freya frowned, not quite sure of his meaning. ‘In what way?’
‘Everyone’s behaved, by and large, and been willing to have their photo taken.’ He smiled. ‘Once the fizz was flowing, most of the guests unwound and I got some pretty good candid shots. I’d much rather take those than the formal poses.’
‘More like capturing wildlife?’ Freya said, enjoying the twinkle in his eye that reminded her of the old Travis.
‘Much more. That’s all we are really, isn’t it? Wild animals with a veneer of civility. Although I’ve done weddings where there’s been some pretty vicious behaviour.’
‘What?’ Freya said. ‘Actual fights?’
‘Fist fights. Cat fights. Verbal venom. If you’ve ever seen hares boxing or two stags locking horns, you’re prepared for a wedding and before you ask, I did keep shooting at times, just in case evidence was required.’
Freya sipped her wine and giggled. ‘Thank goodness that’s not happened today.’
Travis leaned in towards her. ‘Yet.’
‘I know I’ve said it before but thank you for agreeing to this. It’s meant the world to Roxy – and I can’t wait to see the pictures.’ She had a vision of his camera again, trained on her from behind the pillar. What else had he captured? ‘Um. Any chance of me taking a sneaky look now?’
‘Sorry. Nice try but no can do. The bride gets first view.’
‘Of course,’ she said hastily, embarrassed for asking. ‘It’s Roxy’s day. You deserve a break. There’s a buffet in a little while. You have to eat or you’ll keel over.’
‘I’ll have to take a rain check on that. I’ll stay for the first dance then I think my job is done.’
‘You’ve gone beyond the call of duty.’
They had to stop talking.
‘Ladies and gentlemen. The bride and groom will now take to the floor for their first dance as Mr and Mrs Sahota!’
A huge round of applause and cheering, punctuated by enthusiastic whistles. Guests flocked to the dance floor.
‘I have to get this,’ Travis said, picking up his camera and moving to the edge of the dance floor.
Freya made her way to the front, cheering them on as they started to dance. Roxanne laughed. They hadn’t rehearsed anything: no Strictly moves, flash mobs or YouTube viral videos – just a newlywed couple shuffling around the floor, slightly self-conscious, a little bit drunk and deliriously happy.
They didn’t notice the phones held up to record the moment or Travis snapping away from a discreet distance.
Travis returned to Freya after a couple of minutes, leaving the bride and groom to finish their dance to raucous applause.
The singer took to the mic. ‘Three cheers for Mr and Mrs Sahota!’
‘Doesn’t Roxy look amazing?’ Freya said.
‘Yes. Nice dress.’
‘Is that all you can say?’
He smiled. ‘I’m more used to looking at filters than dresses. She looks lovely.’ His smile faded and his eyes dared her to look away. ‘But not as lovely as you.’
If he’d smiled or had a glint in his eye, she would have laughed at him, but she couldn’t. She knew him too well and that he meant every word.
‘I don’t think you can say that on a bride’s wedding day,’ she said as lightly as she could.
He shrugged. ‘I just did. Roxanne looks stunning but you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.’
‘Travis … no, stop it …’
‘Why?’
‘Because …’ She might feel something for him? It might not end there?
She was left speechless, any words drowned out by the raucous applause and the shouts of the lead singer. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, may we invite you all to take to the floor so we can get this party started!’
A faster tempo track began and Mr and Mrs Jameson and the Sahotas were on the floor, throwing shapes.
‘I must get pics of the parents dancing or Roxy and Ravi will never forgive me,’ Travis said, leaving Freya stranded and stunned by the edge of the floor.
He mustn’t say stuff like that at a wedding, or any day: words that made her body zing with desire and turned the key on feelings that had been locked away so long.
Travis was a blur somewhere behind the guests gyrating on the dance floor, all ages of them – hiding away behind the camera somewhere.
A hand touched her arm, making it tingle. She spun round, ready to beg him not to touch her.
‘Nico!’
That handsome face was smiling down at her, jacket and tie discarded, eyes gleaming with amusement.
‘I believe it’s traditional for the best man to dance with the chief bridesmaid after the bride and groom?’ he said.
‘Is it? I haven’t heard that before.’
‘Maybe I just made it up.’ He held out his hand. ‘You can, of course, refuse.’
‘If it’s tradition, then I can’t.’ She smiled back. ‘Thank you.’
The tempo slowed and his hands settled on her waist, lightly and expertly, pulling her a little closer but not too close. They turned round, covering the floor, slowly turning round and round. Over his shoulder, she searched every corner of the room for Travis yet there was no sign of him.
Roxanne caught her eye and beamed delightedly. Freya smiled back.
‘I think we’ve been set up,’ Nico said.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’
She was in the arms of this handsome, single, Italian surgeon. She imagined her mother watching, in paroxysms of ecstasy.
The dance ended, but Nico kept his hands on her waist.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said.
Roxanne was watching them from the bar like a hawk observing a rabbit along with Mrs Jameson, an auntie and a cousin. If the group had had binoculars, Freya was sure they’d trained them on her and Nico, hoping the two of them would pair up – and mate – right in front of them.
‘Freya?’ Nico’s eyes were filled with concern.
‘Thank you, but … not now. I, um, need to go to the bathroom to do my makeup.’
She left him, almost tripping over her dress in her haste to reach the double doors that led out of the ballroom. She could only imagine Roxanne and co.’s disappointment in watching one of the pair fly away from the other.
In the foyer, Ravi was saying goodbye to several relations.
‘Ravi!’ Freya flashed a smile at the relatives and cut in. ‘Sorry to bother you but have you seen Travis?’
‘He’s gone home,’ Ravi said. ‘I think he’s knackered after working all day and he said he had a tour to lead first thing.’
Freya’s heart sank into her wedding shoes. ‘Oh. I see.’
‘It wasn’t that long ago. Couple of minutes? Do you need him?
‘No, I only wanted to say thanks.’
‘I did that for you. He’s a top bloke, stepping in like that.’
‘He is. Thanks.’
Leaving Ravi being hugged his family, Freya trudged back towards the ballroom, crushed with disappointment, desperate to know more. Travis couldn’t leave, not after saying … what he’d said. His words had come out of the blue, with the force of a hammer.
She turned around and hurried to the door. She wanted to run but that would have attracted attention and she’d probably trip over her bloody heels … oh, sod it!
She took them off, hitched up her dress in her free hand and jogged towards the hotel entrance and into the stone porch.
The cold snatched her breath away and it was snowing. The car park was white over, and frost sparkled on the box trees standing sentinel at the entrance. She couldn’t go out in her bare feet – but wasn’t that Travis’s car parked by the far hedge, with the boot open? Was that shadowy figure him?
Abandoning her heels, she grabbed a pair of wellies from the rack in the porch and pulled one on, hopping around and almost toppling over in her haste. They were five sizes too large for her and she strode into the darkness like Jack the Giant Killer in his seven-league boots, except she was slithering and squashing through the snow.
Travis closed the boot with a slam and climbed into the car.
‘Wait! Argh!’
Freya stumbled, swore but by a miracle, stayed upright.
His car engine started.
‘Hang on!’
His reversing lights glowed white in the darkness.
She took three giant strides. The car inched backwards in the snow.
‘No!’ She banged on the roof. ‘Wait!’
The engine stopped dead and the door flew open.
Travis jumped out and his eyes widened in shock. ‘Freya? Are you OK? What’s the matter?’
‘Y-you are,’ she said, gulping in the air. ‘You can’t leave. You have to stay with me.’