Then one of them — Sorcha, I think, and I have never been completely sure — said: "Do you actually think he'd pick you?"
And Nadia said: "He nearly did. Men like Jory don't marry girls like Freya unless they're after something safe. I'm just helping him sort it out."
Girls like Freya.
My maid of honour. My bridesmaids. Thirteen hours before.
And everything from the previous six months came back at once with the meaning swapped over.
Nadia insisting on running every single thing. Nadia taking the rings. Nadia saying, in the April, that I was lucky Jory liked sweet girls more than interesting ones, and me laughing at it.
Nadia at the engagement party with her hand on his arm.
And then Dilly said: "What if she finds out?"
And Nadia said: "She won't. She never notices anything till it's too late."
And something came up under the shock that was not panic and was not tears.
