The Wedding

by Ruth Heald

Genres: General Fiction; Family Life; Women's Fiction; Noir; Thrillers; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Just four words were printed in the card. He doesn’t love you. I’ve been dreaming about this day – marrying Adam, my childhood sweetheart, who I’ve loved for eighteen years. I didn’t realise the perfect day would turn into the perfect nightmare. I was so excited to send out the wedding invitations, carefully writing everyone’s names on thick cream paper in beautiful cursive script. I had no idea I was inviting someone to destroy our marriage. I couldn’t wait to say ‘I do’ surrounded by loved ones clinking champagne glasses. I couldn’t imagine that one of them would try to hurt me. It was meant to be the first day of the rest of our lives. I never thought it would be the end of my life as I knew it. We were meant to share our vows, to toast our future. But when the truth comes out, shocking the onlooking guests and ripping my heart out, is a happy ever after possible? A completely gripping and totally addictive read that will get your blood pressure rising and send shivers down your spine. Fans of Date Night, The Sister-in-Law and The Girl on the Train will devour this twisty, dark and gasp-worthy page-turner in one swift gulp! What readers are saying about The Wedding : ‘ Wow – I was left speechless after reading this… Had my emotions all over the place… I was crying happy tears at a seemingly beautiful family reunion only to be screaming at the book pages later… Honestly one of the best thrillers I've ever read.’ Goodreads Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Oh my goodness, what a brilliant read from beginning to the end, it just had me on the edge of my seat all the way and couldn’t stop reading… Brilliantly addictive, I can't stop thinking about it.’ NetGalley Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Ahhh isn’t it just amazing when a book does exactly everything right!!! I absolutely loved this from start to finish… This book was really one of those please-just-one-more-chapter books!’ @the_book_girls_1, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ WOW! This book takes you on a wild ride and has everything you want in a psychological thriller… Do yourself a favour and read this the moment it’s released.’ @steffanyzimm, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I loved every second of it!!! This book was that amazing… I devoured this story in a single sitting – it was that unputdownable.’ NetGalley Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Wow!! I absolutely loved this book and read it in under 24 hours!… Kept me hooked until the end! ’ Reed Reads ‘ TWIST AFTER TWIST AFTER TWIST AFTER TWIST! ’ The Blonde Likes Books ‘ Just wow… I was so blown away… Heartbreaking and shocking as hell. This book has one twist after another, and once you think you have it figured it out, FLIP.’ Georgina Cole Library, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Unputdownable… I stayed up into the early hours to reach the end… The book starts with a deadly bang that had me turning the pages fast… Totally kept me on my toes.’ Carla Kovach, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Completely devoured this… To say this book had me hooked from the first page is an understatement. It’s a tense, gripping psychological thriller that moves at such a pace you’ll be left trying to catch your breath. It’s completely absorbing and I can’t recommend it enough.’ NetGalley Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Impossible to put down. I devoured this entire book in just one sitting!’ @littlemissbooklover87, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: March 3, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

The fresh cut on the side of my bare foot stings as it comes into contact with the wooden floor of the honeymoon suite, and the train of my wedding dress drags behind me, heavy with dirt and sand. The image of the bride in the mirror shocks me as I pass. My sleeveless silk wedding dress chosen so carefully, my dark curls manipulated into a long braid, flowers entwined in the plait. Me. But the woman in the mirror is from another life.

I am no longer a bride. I will not be a wife. Not now.

The reflection draws me to her, but when I get closer I see the real me. Mascara in angry black streaks down my face, tear tracks parting my thick foundation. A couple of the clips in my hair are tumbling out, half suspended between my head and shoulders, strands of dark hair breaking free. I run my hand over the soft silk of my dress, feeling the edge of the rip from earlier under my fingers, now sewn up so neatly it’s barely noticeable. Not all scars can heal so beautifully, even if you can’t see them any more.

What am I even doing here? I should have run away as fast as I could, away from this place, this hotel, away from her. But instead I’ve come back to this suite. It had felt like a safe haven, with the four-poster bed, the chaise longue and the jacuzzi in a glass-covered sun room. Not any more. Now the bed taunts me, reminding me that it should have been the witness to the start of my marriage, not the end of my relationship. The digital clock on the dresser glares out the time. It’s later than I thought, the day creeping away from me. If things had gone to plan, I’d have already said my vows and kissed my husband. Now I’d be celebrating with my guests.

I hear a gentle whirring. At first I think the sound is in my head; a symptom of my unsettled mind. But it isn’t. It’s the jacuzzi. It shouldn’t be on. No one’s here. At least, that was what I thought.

‘Hello?’ I call out tentatively.

As I open the door to the room that houses the jacuzzi, I blink. Earlier the light had streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but now it’s completely dark, the blinds pulled down and the ceiling covered. I can’t see anything at all.

‘Hello?’ I say again, curiosity quickly turning to fear, my heart pounding. Someone must be in here with me, their eyes already adjusted to the dark. Waiting, watching. I think I can make out the sound of someone breathing, steady and even, a contrast to my shaky and uncertain breaths. My chest tightens and I take a step back, jarring my shoulder against the tiled wall. Running my fingers along the tiles, I finally connect with the light switch.

It’s a relief when the room reveals itself. Empty except for the jacuzzi, bubbling invitingly. My eyes dart around the space. There’s no one here. I can’t think with the bubbles whirring, the foamy water sparkling under the low-level lighting. I push my hand onto the red rubber off-switch, watch the bubbles subside.

As the water stills, dark hair floats up towards the surface.

I feel a rush of heat spreading through my body as my breathing gets faster. I grip the edge of the jacuzzi, my knuckles turning white. It feels like everything has been building up to this moment. She planned this.

A small, smooth, pale face bobs just under the surface of the water, hair fanning around it, glassy eyes staring, white material swathing its body.

It’s a doll. Like the other one she left for me, it has long dark hair – just like mine – and is wearing a wedding dress.

Its matted hair wraps around my arm as I reach into the water to pull it out. Its white dress is torn, its body cut open.

This is it, I think. I can’t escape her any more. She has won.

The silence is broken by footsteps behind me. I scream, but it’s instantly stifled by a hand clamped over my mouth, small and strong. Another hand in my hair, fingers tangling in my plait. I see the flowers that had been woven in so carefully just this morning falling into the water. An array of colour, that’s how the hairdresser described them.

The hands pull my head up by the hair as if it’s me who’s the doll, and then my face is being pushed into the water, fingers on the back of my neck holding me down.

I can’t breathe. The water swirls around me and my head pounds. I fight desperately to break the surface, my arms flailing, hands crashing into the tiled seat of the jacuzzi again and again. I try to turn, to duck away, but the hand stays firmly on my neck. I push against it, needing to release my head from the water. I can feel it soaking through the shoulder straps of my perfect white dress, can feel my lungs burning.

Memories flash through my mind. Adam waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The elation I’d felt when I found out I was pregnant. Laughing with my parents at some juvenile joke, their faces stretched out into smiles. Then their expressions before they’d died: my mother panicked, my father determined, fighting to get back to her. Before they were both carried away by the current, disappearing under the water.

And then it hits me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to drown like my parents. On my wedding day. All because of her.

Lauren picked up the first wedding invitation from the pile and opened it, her new fountain pen poised above the cream paper, ready to write the names of the first guests in the neat, cursive script she’d been practising. As she held the pen over the paper, a tear landed on it, spreading across the date of the wedding. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand as her cat, Misty, rubbed against her leg under the table. Lauren reached down and stroked her between the ears, for her own comfort more than the cat’s.

It was not the time to be sad. Her own happy face beamed out from the engagement photo on the front of the invitations, and she tried to recall how she’d felt that day, with Adam looking at her as if she was the only woman in the world, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

‘Are you alright? What’s happened?’ Adam’s voice was etched with concern as he came up behind her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her. She gazed out of the window at the East London skyline and tried to stem her tears.

‘I can’t do it,’ she said.

‘Can’t do what?’ When she looked up at his face it was even paler than usual. ‘You mean get married?’ he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

‘No, not that.’ She managed to force a small smile. ‘Of course not that. It’s just the invitations.’

‘What about them? Haven’t they turned out like you want? You look beautiful in this picture.’ He looked at her, studying her. ‘But we could change them if you like.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s my parents.’

‘Your parents?’

They’d drowned eighteen years ago, and although the pain wasn’t as fresh any more, it was always there, lurking in the background, especially at moments like these. They should be at her wedding. She should have been writing the first invitation to them.

‘Writing the invitations is just reminding me they won’t be there, that I can’t write one to them. I’ll be walking down the aisle without my father’s arm in mine, without my mother watching.’

Adam reached over and massaged her shoulders. ‘I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.’

Lauren stifled a sob and Adam sat down beside her and put his arm around her.

‘We can make them a part of the day, find ways to include them,’ he said.

‘I’m going to wear Mum’s silver bracelet,’ Lauren replied. ‘She wore it on her own wedding day. I’ve seen the pictures.’

Lauren’s parents had married in the same church where Lauren and Adam had booked their wedding. She hoped that would help her feel like they were part of the celebrations.

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ Adam said. ‘And we’ll think of a way to include your dad, too. Maybe we could serve his favourite ale at the reception.’

Her dad had been a member of CAMRA, the real ale society, and he’d loved telling everyone he met about the flavours and textures of different British ales.

Adam squeezed her shoulders. ‘Do you want to visit them?’ he asked. ‘Before you write the invitations? We could go to the memorial.’

‘What, now?’ It would be two hours before they got to the South Coast.

‘Why not?’

They left ten minutes later. Her parents’ memorial stones were just outside Bournemouth on a small grassy clifftop overlooking the ocean. The traffic was clear in their direction, the day trippers to the coast queueing to leave the seaside towns, while the traffic flowed freely into them.

Lauren used to come to the coast on family holidays, with her sister and her parents. Lauren’s mother had been Adam’s mother’s closest friend and Adam’s family had sometimes joined them. All the children would play in the sea together, followed by a trip down to Bournemouth pier to go in the arcades. Adam was older than them and he’d seemed so grown up. Even as a child she’d imagined marrying Adam, whispering to her sister about it in their bunk beds when they were supposed to be asleep.

When they arrived at the coast, Adam and Lauren sat in the car park on the edge of the cliff, staring out at the clear blue sky above the ocean. It was already early evening and the sun was low and bright. Adam reached into the back of the car and pulled out his briefcase. ‘I wonder if it would help,’ he said gently, ‘if we wrote an invitation to your parents.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I thought… it might be therapeutic for you to write the invitation and take it to the memorial stones. Help to make them feel part of the wedding.’ He looked uncertain then. ‘You don’t have to, of course. It was just an idea.’

She nodded. ‘Let’s do it.’

He passed her an invitation and a pen and she hunched over in the passenger seat, leaning on his briefcase as she wrote their names.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine another life. The excitement on her mother’s face when she realised Lauren was getting married; her mother choosing her wedding outfit; her father practising his speech in front of the mirror.

She pushed the invitation into an envelope, sealing her love inside. Adam was right – she felt better.

When they were out of the car, Adam took her arm and they climbed further up the cliff to the memorial garden. A small sign on the gate said it had closed at four, but Adam paid no attention.

‘I’ll give you a leg-up,’ he said. With Adam on one knee, she smiled at the memory of his marriage proposal, in their favourite local restaurant. But this time she stood on his knee, hoisting herself up over the wall. She fell down to the other side and then scrambled to her feet, brushing the dirt off the knees of her jeans. He followed easily, muscles well trained from the gym.

She went straight to her parents’ memorial stones on the back wall of the graveyard. Most of the stones were weathered from the sea salt that blew in on the harsh wind, but the lettering on her family’s was still legible, their names carved into the stones, one above the other. Her father had been five years older than her mother, but their lives had ended on exactly the same day. A bouquet of flowers had been left in a weighted-down glass, but now the petals had gone and only the stems remained.

With a heavy heart, she thought back to the day they’d died. The two families had been on holiday together in Thailand: six of them. Her and Adam, her sister Tracey, Adam’s mum and her parents. But only her parents had drowned in the accident. Sometimes she thought that that was what had given her and Adam that unbreakable bond, witnessing that horror together, both wishing they could have saved them.

She thought of her sister, how close they used to be, how she’d always looked up to her. Tracey was two years older than her; nineteen when their parents had died. She’d been on an extended gap year. Lauren had expected her to stay in the UK after their parents’ funerals, but instead she’d gone straight back to Asia and continued travelling. Eventually she had settled in Thailand, getting together with a fellow ex-pat and adopting a daughter. It was then that Lauren had realised her sister was never returning to the UK. Lauren still missed her. With her parents gone and Tracey in Thailand, Lauren had felt rudderless and alone. If it hadn’t been for Adam, and his mother Sam, who’d welcomed her into their home, she didn’t know how she would have coped.

Adam climbed up onto the wall that mounted the memorials and pulled Lauren up beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder as they gazed out. From their vantage point on the hill above the cliff they could see the sun was now touching the sea, its rays fanning out over the water. She could hear the waves below them crashing against the cliffs.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said. ‘It’s so sad that they’ll never see a scene like this again.’

‘But we will,’ Adam replied softly. ‘We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. They’d have wanted us to be happy.’

Suddenly Lauren could see things clearly. That by resisting writing the invitations, she was resisting starting a new life without her parents, resisting moving on.

As if reading her mind, Adam opened up his briefcase and pulled out the invitation. ‘Here you go.’

Lauren gazed out at the sunset. There was nowhere to leave the invitation by the memorial. It would only blow away. So instead, she took a deep breath and opened the envelope that she’d only recently sealed.

She read out each word, telling the air the location, the time, the date, her voice getting lost in the wind that blew around her hair, and rustled the thick paper in her hands. Tears flowed freely as she sat on the wall with Adam’s arm around her.

‘Do you feel better?’ Adam asked as she finished and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

She nodded. ‘They’d just want me to be happy,’ she said. ‘And I’m happy with you.’

Her hands holding the invitation were damp from where they’d caught her falling tears.

She thought about tearing it up into hundreds of pieces and letting them scatter on the wind, falling like confetti. But she didn’t want to litter the memorial garden, so instead she handed it to Adam, who put it back in the briefcase.

Then he pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. ‘Let’s raise a glass to them.’

She hesitated for a moment, not sure how she felt about drinking champagne by their memorial stones. Then she thought of her mum’s smile, and her dad’s booming laugh, and she knew that if they could see her and Adam, they’d be happy. ‘Sure,’ she said with a grin.

‘They can’t be at the wedding, but we can toast them now,’ Adam said.

She nodded, her face breaking into a smile. The sound of the popping cork was loud despite the wind.

As she sipped the champagne she realised that it was up to her and Adam to remember her parents, to find ways to include them in the celebrations. Lauren imagined their pride in her as she walked down the aisle to marry Adam. She closed her eyes and revelled in the feeling of family, of feeling safe and loved. She missed them both, but she was lucky. She was still safe, still loved, with Adam. When she got home, she vowed that she would write the rest of the wedding invitations. Nothing would stop her marrying him.

Lauren made her way through the bustling East London market, past the stalls selling artisan breads and cheeses and overpriced vintage clothing, to the meats, fish and veg section at the far end of the alleyway, where her mother used to shop when Lauren was a child. Lauren loved living in East London. Round every corner was a memory from her childhood. She hardly saw her sister any more, with her so far away in Thailand, but at least by staying in the area she grew up in she still felt connected to her family.

At the market, Lauren chose a whole sea bass and some oriental vegetables, picking up some fresh chillies and ginger to go with them. She’d loved Thai food ever since the holiday to Thailand with Adam and their families, when she was still a teenager.

On the way home she stopped at the off-licence and asked them for the best wine to have with sea bass, leaving with a bottle that cost twenty-five pounds, far more than she’d normally spend.

When she arrived back at her block of flats, she managed to ignore the lure of the lift and took the stairs up the fourteen floors, a habit she was determined to stick to as it got closer to the wedding.

Inside the flat, she found Misty in the spare room and stroked her. The cat had made the room her own since the lodger left, curling up on the pillow of the bed in a small patch of sunlight streaming in from the window. That was one of the nice things about being on the fourteenth floor. There was nothing to block the sun. This room was supposed to be the baby’s room. The baby that would have been due in a few weeks’ time, if she hadn’t lost it. Lauren swallowed her tears. They were planning to start trying for a baby again after the wedding.

She went into the living room, sat down at her dining table and tried to work out the table plan for the wedding. It was the top table that was the problem. Who would be on it, where they would sit. Her sister would be beside her, standing in for her parents. On Adam’s side, his mother, Sam, would be there, and his father, who’d finally confirmed he was coming. His presence would make things difficult. Adam’s parents’ divorce had been acrimonious and his mother wasn’t willing to sit anywhere near his father. Lauren would have to shuffle everyone around, but she’d be able to keep them apart. Lauren would be next to her sister, with Adam’s dad the other side of her, a few seats away from his mother, who’d be next to Adam. Lauren just needed to work out where she’d put Adam’s dad’s girlfriend. Perhaps he could go next to Ken, Tracey’s husband.

She thought of her sister. The wedding was bringing them together again, helping to repair their relationship. After their parents had died, they’d argued over the sale of their flat. Lauren had wanted to take time to clear it out, but Tracey had wanted to sell it immediately to get the money in the bank. They’d hardly spoken for years when Tracey moved to Thailand, despite Lauren’s efforts. But Tracey had softened towards her in the last couple of years, and now they chatted regularly. Last year, Lauren had finally made the trip over to Thailand to meet her niece and twin nephews.

Adam would be home in an hour, so she put away the table plan and then got to work on the sea bass, filleting it and then seasoning it with chilli and ginger. From next door, she could hear the sound of a pumping bass. Ever since their neighbours had started renting out their place on Airbnb there had been a steady flow of tourists. When the neighbours had lived in the flat they’d got on well, checking each other’s flats when they went on holiday and watering the houseplants. But since they’d moved out, she’d given the spare keys to Adam’s mother and her uncle instead, in case of emergencies. Adam had also given one to his friend Kiera, who worked with him and lived nearby.

Lauren ignored the gentle thump of the bass and put the radio on. Soon she was singing along to Britpop, reminding herself of the days when she and Adam were young, when he’d just been a teenage crush for her, before they’d embarked on their relationship. She smiled when she thought about how, back then, she’d had no idea that they’d actually end up getting married.

It had been weeks since Lauren had had a meal with Adam in the evening. Her shift pattern at the hospital’s A&E department meant that they often missed dinner together, and even when she was working daytime hours, Adam was regularly late home from the GP surgery, meaning they either ate separately or had a rushed meal together.

Whizzing round the flat, Lauren checked it was tidy. She paused for a moment, looking into the sunny box room where Misty was curled up in the corner. The bed was covered in wedding paraphernalia: the cake stand, spare wedding invitations and her bridal shoes.

Lauren caught sight of her mother’s jewellery box on the side. She went over and opened it, slipping her mum’s silver bracelet over her wrist. The blue stone sparkled in the light. She thought of her mother on her own wedding day, wearing this bracelet; the cold silver that was now touching Lauren’s wrist pressing against her mum’s wrist all those years ago. She closed her eyes and smiled.

She pulled the door to the room half closed, leaving Misty enough space to get out if she wanted to, and then went to the kettle and switched it on to make a cup of tea. Unopened post had been put in a small pile on the kitchen counter and she picked it up and flicked through. Mainly junk mail – an invitation to try a new broadband supplier, a pre-approval for a credit card, a charity appeal. The final envelope was square and addressed to her with a typed label. It felt like a card. She looked at it curiously, wondering what it was for. It was ages until her birthday. Sliding her finger under the seal of the envelope, she pulled out the card. It was thick and shiny. On the front was a picture of her and Adam wrapped in each other’s arms under a canopy of bare winter trees, the sun shining low through the branches. She smiled. It was the same as the photo displayed on their dining table, the picture she’d chosen for the wedding invitations. It was her favourite of all the engagement pictures her friend Zoe had taken because it captured the looks in their eyes, the understanding and the love that existed between them.

They’d been so happy then, no clouds on the horizon. There were other pictures, too, ones she hadn’t put up. Of her touching her stomach and smiling up at Adam. Of him with an arm protectively around her waist, beaming. He’d proposed because of the baby, saying he wanted to commit fully to her, to be a family. They hadn’t known that they’d lose the baby just a few days later.

But they’d try . . .