The Backpacking Bride (The Backpacking Housewife, Book 3) Read online

  ‘I cringed at reading the filthy words he’d used in his texts to her,’ she admitted to me.

  ‘But how did you know it was for real?’ I queried. ‘How did you know it wasn’t just a cruel hoax? Maybe a bitter ex-girlfriend? How did you know for sure he’d been cheating on you?’

  ‘Because there were photos of Theo and the woman together. After seeing them, there was no doubt in my mind that he’d been cheating on me. And that I’d been a complete and utter fool to fall for him and to trust him.’

  ‘Oh, Maddy. I’m so sorry this happened to you.’ I reached for her hand and wanted to cry.

  ‘But I think what happened to you was far worse, Maya. It must have been terrible.’

  ‘Yes, it was terrible.’ I realised she was trying to deflect back to me but I really wanted to give her this chance to fully voice and explore her feelings.

  ‘Tell me, what did you do? How did you explain this to your guests?’

  ‘Well, I was completely devastated. It felt like my whole world had imploded. Without any warning, the happiest day of my life had become the worst. I remember how I threw the phone down and ran into the bathroom. I remember Cassie asking me if someone died. When I came back out of the bathroom, I was a mess. My bridesmaids and my mum were passing around my phone and reading the awful texts. Then, of course, they rallied around to try and console me. They were incredibly angry. They wanted to kill him. They said they wanted to cut off his balls. My mum told me to call him and tell him the wedding was off. But I wanted to think.’

  Her voice was starting to falter now and the tears were welling up in her eyes again.

  ‘I needed a moment to think about what to do. You see, my father had taken time off work – something he never did – and he’d flown in specially on a long flight from Arizona. All of our guests, family and friends, some of whom had also travelled great distances, would be dressed up to the nines and making their way to the church right at that moment. The minister would be standing at the altar dressed in his robes. The choir would be tuning up and the organist setting out all the sheet music we’d chosen. My cousin Jane would be gargling honey and lemon water in preparation for singing ‘Ave Maria’. And afterwards, everyone would be expecting a big fat fabulous wedding reception with Champagne and wine and gourmet food prepared by a team of top chefs.’

  I could see she was right back there in the moment. Remembering how it had unfolded and how she had felt. The weight of all that responsibility and expense.

  If she hadn’t had the opportunity to talk about what had happened, maybe this would help?

  ‘I was thinking about the flower displays and imagining all the tables beautifully set and our carefully chosen wedding favours laid at each place setting. How the ice sculptures would be en route. The six-tier wedding cake on display. At great expense everything would be ready and absolutely none of it was refundable. How could I possibly cancel? How could I possibly cancel a huge wedding like that with just one hour to go?’

  ‘But you didn’t go ahead with the wedding?’ I handed her another tissue.

  The one she was gripping on to had disintegrated and been squished into a small ball.

  ‘No. I had no intention of marrying him. But as well as being upset I was incredibly angry.’

  I sighed. ‘That I do understand. It’s apparently the first emotion when experiencing grief.’

  ‘Well, I was raging. The blissful love-bubble I’d been inhabiting had well and truly burst. The wonderful life I’d been imagining for myself as one half of a happily married couple had disappeared in a puff of lies and infidelity. And to think how I’d so readily given myself to this cheating no-good lying excuse for a man. How I’d trusted him so implicitly. And, not only that, how I’d somehow so easily and so carelessly thrown away all my own plans and lifelong personal ambitions just to be with him. Was I mad? What on earth had I been thinking?’

  She was ranting now. I stayed silent, recognising the pain as the same raw pain I had experienced. I knew she needed to get this out.

  ‘So … I decided I needed to do it my way. I needed to look in to Theo’s eyes when I told him what I knew. And I wanted all our family and friends there to witness it. So we patched up my makeup and we headed out to the church. I remember sitting in the back seat of the limo, my mum squeezing my hand as we approached the church. My heart was thumping. I could hear the bells ringing. I guessed that most people were already in the church, but I could see there were a few guests hanging back hoping to catch a first glimpse of what they expected to be the blushing bride. Then our car came to a halt at the kerbside. I turned to ask my mum if she was going to be okay. I was concerned she wouldn’t be able to see this through after she’d worked so hard and spent so much money planning this whole thing. I told her it was crucial that she played the part of proud mother-of-the-bride for a while longer yet. At least until I could look into his lying cheating eyes one last time. But that wasn’t even going to be the hardest part of this ordeal. I knew that was coming up next.’

  ‘Your dad?’ I guessed. She’d said he was meeting them at the church.

  ‘Yes. I could see my dad, smiling and waving at us, standing proudly in his brand-new suit and tie. He was all ready to open the car door and link his arm through mine to escort me, his only daughter, his little princess, down the aisle.’

  She paused for a moment to catch her breath and mop her tears.

  ‘If my dad had only known then what we knew, he’d have dragged the lying scumbag out of that church, kicking and screaming into the churchyard and put him into one of the graves. I had to force my face into a smile as my dad helped me out of the car. Cassie, Joanie, and Ella were climbing out of the limo behind us.

  ‘At the church gate, Cassie held on to my bouquet while my mum fussed over me, straightening out my dress, arranging my veil, checking my makeup and blotting any sign of recent tears with a tissue. My dad just stood there looking at me in awe and wonder.

  ‘“You look so beautiful, my Maddy-moo!” he told me and I just wanted to burst into tears and throw myself into his arms. Mum hurried off inside the church to play her part and take her seat. I locked arms with my dad, and we walked through the gate and towards the church.

  ‘Inside, as the organ struck up with ‘Here Comes the Bride’ all our guests, exactly one hundred family and friends on each side of the church, all stood in their pews and turned to look at me. I kept my gaze forward and I focused on what looked like an endless walk to the end of the aisle where Theo was standing next to his best man.

  ‘My heart was aching and my legs felt like they were encased in lead as I walked. My dress, chosen with such care and consideration for what was meant to be one of the most special days of my life, felt like it was nothing but an over-the-top, flouncy fancy-dress costume. And my smile felt as fake as my fiancé as I walked towards him on my father’s arm.

  ‘As the music stopped, my dad parked me in front of the minister at Theo’s side and I glanced over my shoulder at my mum in the first pew and my three bridesmaids, who were standing supportively close to me, looking stoic rather than serene. Cassie stepped forward to take my bouquet and to slip my phone into my right hand. “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today …” the minister began to say. I concentrated on watching the minister’s moving lips so I didn’t have to look at Theo. I knew if I turned to look at him, I’d risk losing it. That I might actually hit him. I remember I could feel the heat from Theo’s hand next to my hand. And I took a deep breath and almost choked on his sickening cologne.

  ‘Time seemed to last forever. Words were spoken slowly. A hymn was sung tunelessly. I was too hot and then I was too cold. Sweating and then shivering in the agony of anticipation. Then, eventually, we got to the part where we faced each other to say our vows. In the age-old tradition, Theo was to be the first in saying his part. I braced myself. This was the part where I got to look at his handsome face, look into his eyes, to see if I could see something I’d never seen in t
hem before: lies. My heart sank when I saw he had the audacity to smile at me. I didn’t smile back. I felt sick as he lifted my limp hand in his and held it. He was clearly unnerved by now and silently questioned my cool response to him.

  ‘But I didn’t care. I just wanted this over and done. He started to repeat his vows and I just thought blah blah blah … you bastard! I waited for him to finish so I could have my turn. When the minister urged me to repeat the words after him, I dropped Theo’s hand and turned to our congregation, making sure I raised my voice enough to be heard clearly all the way to the back of the church. And I said: “Family and friends, there will be no happy ever after today”.’

  I stared at Maddy in rapt admiration. ‘Oh wow – and how did everyone react?’

  ‘There was an immediate gasp after which all mouths remained open and all eyes remained popped. Heads and hats and feathered fascinators all bobbed up and down and swung from side to side as everyone looked to each other and then to me and to Theo for an explanation.’

  ‘And, what did Theo do?’ I asked.

  She had described the scene so well that I was both horrified and cringingly captivated.

  ‘Theo’s face went pale when he realised I’d been holding onto my phone and he demanded to know what was going on. Then he tried to grab my hand and snatch my phone. And I said to him, “It seems there’s been quite a lot going on and behind my back.” Then I read out loud every single cheating text message – even saying the filthy words that really shouldn’t have ever been said in a place of worship – and Theo finally showed his true colours to me by turning a cowardly yellow and then completely green before he turned to flee from the scene. I watched him go, swiftly followed by his speechless brother, his blushing mother and his irate father. Those in the pews watched too, before turning to me with disbelief and pity on their faces. I desperately tried to hold myself together if only for my pride. But you know, I wasn’t so much distraught, as I was angry and disappointed.

  ‘Theo isn’t the man I thought he was and, before you throw me a pity party, I want you to understand this was not just about him. This is now about me. That’s why I decided to travel and to come to India. This is about coming to terms with what I have done!’

  I heard her tone switch from cries of sadness to one of great strength and determination.

  ‘This is about how I somehow went from someone sensible to someone stupid. How I turned from someone credible to someone so cringeworthy. How did I get so wrapped up in thinking I was in love that I lost any semblance of good sense? How can I ever respect or forgive myself for getting it so very wrong?’

  ‘Maddy. Stop. This is not your fault. You mustn’t blame yourself!’ I insisted.

  ‘But Maya, all this will have been for nothing if I can’t see where I go from here. I’ve let myself down so badly. And, if falling in love is an act of self-sabotage, how do I know for sure I won’t mess up like this again? How do I know I won’t let my guard down again and one day allow my life to systematically unravel just because someone good-looking and charismatic happens to walk into the same room as me and shows me some attention?’

  I guess she had a point. There was a lesson in all of this for her and it was a valuable one.

  ‘I had my whole damned life set up and then I just let it all go. Everything I’d worked so hard for – for years! – and I did it for him. Like it was all suddenly and inexplicably worth nothing to me anymore. So perhaps the real question now is: how can I ever trust myself again? That’s what I’m determined to work on, so nothing like this can ever happen to me again!’

  Maddy sat back in her seat and looked almost triumphant after her tirade.

  It really does go to prove how everyone we meet is carrying a burden of some kind that we know nothing about. Sometimes helping someone requires sacrifice and a grand gesture but at other times, if we are prepared to open our hearts, offer a listening ear and a portion of our time, then maybe that’s all that’s ever needed?

  ‘I’ve felt so comfortable chatting with you, Maya. I just want you to know I feel incredibly fortunate to have met you today. You are a very kind-hearted person. Thank you for listening. I guess I was bottling it all up. You were right, talking about it has helped me.’

  I smiled and felt a lovely warm glow inside.

  I took her hand and squeezed it. ‘It’s been a pleasure and I’m sure you’ll be absolutely fine.’

  ‘Erm … Maya, I was just thinking. I know you said you were planning on travelling to Hong Kong straight away but, well, if you did want to see more of India and join me then I’d more than happy to share this journey with you. Why don’t you think about coming along?’

  I was taken by complete surprise at her lovely and generous offer and for a moment I found myself stalling and stuttering a few words of thanks while I considered the possibility. How I would have loved to see the Taj Mahal and the Red Fort at Agra, all the special places in The Golden Triangle. And, as I’m almost in Delhi, it seems a real shame to miss out on seeing all the main sights. They were all so close.

  It was indeed a very tempting offer. But I was already shaking my head.

  Jon had planned this itinerary and I didn’t want to divert from his plan for us.

  However tempting the detour, I’m on Jon’s magical mystery tour and it’s important, indeed imperative, not to get distracted. I must follow and complete this very special journey.

  ‘Oh, Maddy. Thank you. I’d love to come but I honestly can’t. I have a flight to catch.’

  When we reached Delhi, we left the train and hugged each other on the platform. We swapped emails and social media contact details and promised to keep in touch and remain friends, so we could provide each other with emotional support if we needed it, as well as to find out exactly how both our backpacking bride stories would eventually unfold.

  I walked away realising that in meeting both Belle and Maddy, I’d heard two very different wedding-day disaster stories other than my own. But I’d also witnessed two very different personal reactions to the fallout. Belle was still holding on to being an angry anarchist, while Maddy was determined to walk away from this guarding her heart and with a lesson learned.

  So, where does that leave me? Which mindset will serve me best?

  Which attitude will I choose in the fallout from my own wedding-day story?

  * * *

  It’s a thought I’m still mulling over as I enter Terminal Three at New Delhi Airport, a modern and incredibly busy terminal with artful, symbolic mudras or ‘hand gestures’ sticking out from the walls that make me feel like I’m being given a figurative thumbs-up as I head to the security checkpoint. But when I get there, I see there’s some kind of commotion and delay happening.

  Two holy men dressed in their saffron robes are being addressed by a posse of security guards. They are standing to the side of the scanning machine and being asked to identify their luggage. I watch as, pointing out their small suitcases, they both look quite terrified. When these suitcases are opened up I see that there are indeed forbidden items inside to be confiscated. Specifically, large bottles of shower gel in excess of the 100ml allowed in cabin luggage.

  I feel very sorry for them as they are ordered to hand over their oversized toiletries.

  With the waiting over, we all move through the security line. At the other side, I find my gate. There’s still an hour to go before departure so I sit to wait. A moment or two later, the same two swamis arrive and sit on the empty seats in the row next to me. I hear them chatting away to each other and they still seem really upset at having lost their shower gel.

  I hear some Sanskrit words I recognise like saucha and I realise they’re worried about cleanliness. Something about ‘what will we do if we can’t wash?’ and ‘we won’t be able to attend the dhyana.’ They both sit anxiously rubbing prayer beads and looking extremely glum.

  I recall seeing the poster in the shala showing a pair of hands held in a prayer pose.

  Wash to symb
olise purity of body and soul.

  I realise and appreciate their predicament. If they’re not used to travelling, then they probably won’t realise that now they’re through security, they can go and buy new toiletries.

  Or maybe they don’t have any spare money?

  I remember that monks aren’t allowed to carry cash. They rely totally on alms from others.

  I look around and wonder what I can do to help without offending them.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I said tentatively, ‘Do you need soap?’

  They turned to look at me and blinked in surprise at me speaking to them.

  ‘We are humble pilgrims. We need to prepare ourselves for prayers. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I understand. You have to wash to symbolise purity of body and soul.’

  At the bottom of my bag, I find two wrapped cubes of the organic soap Belle had made in the ashram workshop and had given to me. I place the soaps on the chair seat between us so as not to risk us touching. Some holy men are not allowed to touch a woman ever, even accidentally. They look down at the soap and then back to me in absolute delight.

  It’s so nice to see a smile on their faces. It really warms my heart.

  ‘Thank you. You are very kind in opening your heart to us.’

  I blush. That’s twice in one day I’ve been told I’m kind-hearted.

  One of them produces a wallet and I immediately feel terribly embarrassed.

  They obviously do have some money, but I really don’t want to be paid anything.

  ‘Oh, no. Please, that’s not necessary. Honestly, I’m just glad I could help.’

  From a selection in his wallet, he places a picture card down on the chair.

  ‘Please accept this divine gift in return for your kind heart full of love and your gift of soap.’

  I shift in my seat and feel uncomfortable but when I glance down at the picture card, I immediately recognise the twelve-petalled lotus flower with its six-pointed star that is the symbol representing Anahata, the heart chakra. I also remember Swami Nanda’s words about divine energies and karmic healing and get a strong, strange feeling tingling down my spine.