Bea stood in the middle of the room with her dress open at the back.
The hairdresser had gone. A hotel employee held the two sides of the dress together, trying to find the hook above the zip. Bea's shoulders were rigid.
'Come and do this,' she said when Lena entered. 'It's being difficult.'
Lena shut the door.
Bea saw the book.
For a second neither of them moved. The hotel employee looked from one to the other, then returned to the hook.
'Could we have a minute?' Lena asked.
'We need her ready for the photographs.'
'I know.'
Bea said nothing. The woman put the small packet of dress pins on the table and went out. The dress fell open again, showing the plain fastening of Bea's bra.
Lena set the book on the dressing table beside the wrapped second copy. Bea's phone vibrated beneath it. She reached for the phone, then stopped.
'You've read it,' she said.
'Why are my letters in Owen's book?'
Bea closed her eyes. 'I didn't know which bits he'd picked.'
'You gave him my letters.'
'Not the actual letters.'
Lena stared at her.
'I'm not saying that makes it all right,' Bea said quickly. 'I sent some things. In messages. Not whole letters. Not with names in them.'
'You read them.'
'Yes.'
Lena had expected a protest. A claim that the box had fallen open, that she'd only seen a line. Bea's plain answer left her nowhere to put the first rush of anger.
'I asked you to keep them for me.'
'I did keep them.'
'For me.'
Bea looked away. On the table, two glasses of water stood beside a little dish of grapes. Lena had put the grapes there this morning because Bea wouldn't eat a meal. She wanted to sweep the whole dish onto the floor.
She opened the book at the first page she'd recognised.
'The toast. The cup. That was my kitchen. Mine and Kit's.'
'I'd seen Owen's cup. I picked that bit because it sounded like us. I thought—'
'And the film? The low note?'
Bea's eyes filled. 'I know.'
'You didn't even send it back to me and ask. You just took it.'
'I was trying to tell him how I felt.'
'Then tell him.'
'I'm not good at that.' Her voice rose. 'You know I'm not. You write something and it sounds right. I sit there looking at my phone thinking anything I say will be too much, or stupid, or he'll think I don't care. I did care.'
Lena turned to the page about children. She laid the book flat so Bea could see both messages.
'Do you want a child with him?'
Bea looked at the page. Her fingers moved towards the corner, then curled into her palm.
'Bea.'
'No.'
The room was so quiet Lena could hear the tiny buzz of the phone against the wood.
'Does he know that?'
Bea shook her head.
'He asked you.'
'I know he asked.'
'He said he couldn't stay if you didn't want children.'
'It was early. We barely knew each other. I thought once we'd had time—'
'You said yes.'
Bea put one hand against the open back of the dress, trying to hold it together. 'I thought I might want to. Or he might not. People change their minds.'
'Has yours changed?'
'No.'
'Has his?'
She didn't answer, but Lena knew. The house with space for the workshop. The family he'd spoken about at dinner as a thing settled between them. Bea had helped him choose where a desk would go. She had picked her own chair beside it. All that real wanting, resting on an answer she still didn't mean.
Lena stepped away from the table.
'You have to tell him.'
'I will.'
'Before the ceremony.'
Bea shook her head immediately. 'I can't.'
'It's not two yet.'
'They're all here, Lena.' She pointed at the door, at the noise beyond it. 'His family. My dad. There's a photographer downstairs asking where I am. What am I supposed to say?'
'The truth.'
'Easy for you.'
Lena felt that land. It wasn't easy for her. She had left Tom in the dark for six weeks because she didn't want to make a journey uncomfortable. She had tried to kiss Kit while Nia was upstairs. But none of that made her able to zip this dress and stand beside Bea.
'It won't be easier after,' she said.
'You don't know that.' Bea caught her wrist. 'Just get me through today. Please. I love him. You saw us yesterday. You know I do.'
'I know.'
'It's not all some horrible trick.'
'I know that too.'
Bea's grip tightened. 'Then leave it. Just until we've done the vows. We can talk properly when everyone's gone. He won't want to throw everything away then.'
Lena looked at her friend's hand on her wrist. The nail beside the red patch was freshly painted, a little pink unevenly wiped onto the skin. She had noticed the mark yesterday and wanted to help. That was all she'd wanted, all weekend.
She pulled her hand free.
'I'm not keeping it from him until he's married to you.'
Bea's face changed. 'You'd ruin my wedding.'
'I won't tell the guests. But I won't help you do this.'
'You can walk out. You can go upstairs. You don't have to say anything.'
'I can't.'
'You mean you won't.'
'Yes. I won't.'
Bea turned away, holding the dress against her chest now. Lena could see the bare line of her back, the little freckle she had once mistaken for an insect while they were trying on swimming costumes. She wanted to touch Bea's shoulder. She kept her hands at her sides.
Outside, Owen called Bea's name. There was a knock at the door.
Bea looked at Lena, frightened and furious, and Lena knew she would not be allowed to take this decision back.
The handle moved.