Chapter 37: THEN - The Safe Room

I woke the morning of the wedding with something a little worse than pre-wedding jitters, it was a sense of dread that made me want to puke.

There was no way to prove it, but I felt, deep down in my bones that he was watching me. Then there was Honey as my maid of honour. She’d been so flaky over the years. What if she didn’t show up? What if she came, but things were still weird between us? I hadn’t had a hen do because I was too scared of Peter turning up, putting my friends in danger. In fact, I’d rushed the wedding planning with a sense of getting it over with before he ramped up his stalking.

When the doorbell rang, my stomach flipped over. Honey stood on the front step, her face pale, maybe with worry, her arms folded tightly. She stood back for a second and then her eyes welled up, and she pulled me into a hug.

“My little sis getting married,” she said. “And I haven’t even got a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?”

She pulled back. “We need to do something about those eye bags. I love you but you’re looking more haunted lighthouse-keeper than beautiful bride.”

“I would punch you, but it’d ruin the photos if you had a black eye.”

She smirked. “Okay, whatever. Like you could even land a punch.”

“I’ll have you know⁠—”

“We’re wasting time. Come on.” She led me through to the bathroom and opened her make-up bag.

As she applied concealer under my eyes, her expression turned serious. “What’s with the eye bags, anyway? Are you worried about something?”

I let out a scoff. “You mean like the crazed psychopath that got out of prison a year ago? I wonder why I’d be worried.”

“Has he done anything since the honey thing?”

I shook my head.

“There you go then. You have nothing to worry about. Today will be perfect and you’re marrying an amazing man. Seriously, Ed’s the real deal.” She winked. “He’s rich.”

I laughed.

“No, seriously. He’s great. And rich.”

“Honey, come on, it’s not like that. He makes me feel safe.”

She smiled then. “I get it. I’d want that too.” She saw my eyes watering and slapped my wrist. “No crying before the ceremony. Waterproof mascara can only do so much you know.”

Ed and I had decided on a simple wedding. His parents offered to pay for the whole thing, but we didn’t want to start our new life feeling indebted for the sake of a fancy party. We made the venue a quaint countryside pub with an orangery and capped the guest list at thirty-five.

I bought my dress from a vintage store, obsessed with the lace sleeves the first moment I saw them. Mum fitted it for me, taking in the waist and adding a gorgeous train to the back of the dress. It began to feel like the wedding was repairing a wound that had opened up in my family.

Mum, Rachel, and Karolina arrived as Honey applied my lipstick, all carrying garment bags. The bridesmaids’ dresses were long, lilac gowns from John Lewis. Mum had bought a feathery fascinator from there too. The flat Ed and I rented suddenly felt full of life. I saw our future laid out together. Chaotic Christmas mornings with children and grandparents. Sunday dinners with the family. A house that was never silent, always warm.

And then I watched my sister answer the phone and I saw the light go out of her eyes. Her skin paled as she turned to me.

I didn’t know who was on the other end of that phone call, but I knew right away it had something to do with Peter.

I was in my dress, with my make-up done and my hair curled. I wanted to throw up.

“Is Ed okay?” I asked, as soon as Honey put the phone down.

“He’s fine,” she said. “But we need to go to the venue.”

We left immediately, arriving at the pub to find garlands crumpled on the ground, stomped into the dirt, tables upended and mud smeared across the tablecloths. The venue stank of piss, as though someone has been saving gallons of it only to throw it around the room, making sure it soaked into every inch of carpet.

Across the wall, above the archway Ed and I were planning to exchange our vows, was the word WHORE painted in red. I stood there staring at it, wondering if it had been painted in blood.

I burst into tears. Aside from someone being hurt, this was my worst nightmare. He’d come here to violate my best day and turn it into a horror show.

A woman standing just off to the side cleared her throat. “We’ve called the police.”

I’d barely noticed the pub manager standing there. I nodded. “Thanks.”

“What would you like to do?” she asked. “We can call the guests⁠—”

“Hold on a minute. My sister needs to process this.” Honey held up one hand and shepherded me away with the other. She got me into a chair and crouched down in front of me. I saw hard eyes and a tense jaw. A woman holding back her rage. “Do you want to cancel? I know this is⁠—”

“It’s never going to stop, is it?” I blurted out. “He’s never going to stop doing this to me. Not until one of us is dead. I can get married today, tomorrow, or never and none of it matters. Peter Harlow is obsessed with me and he’s never going to stop terrorising me. So what’s the point?”

“The point of what?”

“Anything.” I shrugged.

“The point is you being happy,” Honey said.

“While making everyone in my life miserable. You. Mum. Dad. Ed.” I shook my head. He had no idea yet. He was going to turn up to a trashed venue. The guests would be here any time soon.

“We can do this, Ambs.” She grabbed my hands. “The people coming here today love you and they will help you make this right.”

“I’m just so tired,” I muttered.

“Fuck him,” Honey spat. “Fuck the man who made you feel like this.” She squeezed my hands so hard I flinched. She turned away staring at the paint.

“Did something happen with you too?” I asked. “The honey on the wall… It made me feel like he was sending a message.”

Honey scowled. “I wouldn’t cut his mum’s hair at the salon. I sent her away. He came in and threw a tantrum at the manager who then gave his mum a haircut for free.” She sighed. “Long story short, I lost my job.”

“What?”

“I know…” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a great steaming pile of shit but let’s not dwell on it. Amber, we’re not letting him win. Okay? We’re going to clean this mess up and you’re going to marry the handsome, rich man of your dreams.”

I squeezed her hands. “Stop saying rich.”

She laughed, but her laughter felt far away, like it was a thin beam of light in a very dark space.