Bea was waiting outside Ruth's gate when we came back from our walk.
I stopped. Ruth stayed beside me.
“I won't come in,” Bea said. “Mum's about to send it. She's waiting for me to say yes.”
She held out her phone. Mother's proposed message called tomorrow's lunch a postponed wedding celebration.
“I nearly said yes,” Bea said. “There'd still be flowers and food. People wouldn't have to know.”
“Except the thing she told them about me.”
Bea looked down at the screen. Her thumb rested above the reply box.
“Yes.”
She deleted the few words she'd typed, then opened the family group. I could see her writing. She stopped once to rub her sleeve across her cheek.
“You don't have to wait here,” she said.
I stayed beside the gate.
She turned the screen toward me when she'd finished.
Nate and I won't be marrying tomorrow. I'm sorry to change your plans. If you're nearby already, please come to the house at six this evening for a short gathering. I'd like to speak to you myself. I'll contact everyone else directly.
“What are you going to tell them?” I asked.
“That you weren't chasing Nate. That I lied to you. Not just that Mum did. Nate is telling his guests and speaking for himself too.”
She took the phone back and pressed send. Mine buzzed in my pocket.
Then she called the caterer. Ruth opened the gate, but Bea stayed on the pavement while she said her name and told them there would be no wedding lunch. She listened, asked them to send her the cancellation costs, and ended the call.
Mother's reply appeared in the group. Bea, please call me.
Bea put the phone in her bag.
“Would you come with Ruth this evening?” she asked. “You don't have to say anything.”
I could stay here. I didn't have to watch her do something difficult to know she had chosen it. There were clothes in my drawer now, books on the desk, cake wrapped in the fridge. Ruth had made it very easy to stay.
But I wanted to see Bea say it with Mother in the room.
“Could you drive me?” I asked Ruth.
“Of course.”
“And back here afterward.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“I'll come with Ruth,” I told Bea.
“Thank you.”
She went back to her car. Ruth and I watched her leave, then went inside.
I changed into a clean shirt and tied my hair back. When Ruth picked up her keys, I picked up my coat and went with her.
We drove through town toward Mother's road. I looked out of the window at people walking home with shopping bags, a man taking a bicycle around a parked car. Friday evening, ordinary for everyone who hadn't been looking forward to tomorrow.
At the gate, I saw the canopy up over the garden. The hired chairs had arrived. They stood in straight rows, just as Mother had drawn them in her notebook.
For a moment I wanted Ruth to keep driving.
She stopped and waited without turning off the engine.
I took a breath, then another.
“Okay,” I said.
She switched it off.
I got out, put on my coat and walked through the gate beside her.