the line of VIPs, handing out canapés. There is a man stood on his own at the end of the line of chairs, his face half-hidden in the shadows. He is the only one not holding a drink. I can’t place where I recognise him from.
The waitress walks towards him with the tray and then I get the shock of my life as she walks - straight through him. Like he’s not even there…
“He’s brilliant, isn’t he!” whispers Elisa, nodding her head towards Lewis Sheehan. “Thank you so much for inviting me!”
“Yeah, brilliant,” I answer, my attention still drawn to the gallery rather than the stage. I can clearly make out the face of the man now and I can see that he is perhaps a little, well, less ‘there’ than the people to his left. He looks so familiar…
I quietly ask Elisa if she can see the man in the gallery, over on the far left. She looks but, despite me re-explaining where he’s stood, she says she can’t see anyone of the description. Her eyes go straight back to the stage, she is engrossed in the music.
I can still see him though, right up to the point when he looks at me, then just vanishes.
*****
We’re on the floor together at my family home, my little sister Katie and I, while Mum cooks up her famous Sunday roast. Between us are three piles of discarded wedding magazines with post-it notes colourfully bookmarking dozens of pages, a jug of Ribena and half a bottle of Cava.
Richard left for Denver fourteen days ago and I am counting the days until he is back. It was so quiet and lonely at home last night that I decided to drive to Mum and Dad’s and stay over for the weekend. Mum was really excited to hear about the visit that Richard and I had made to Lymenton Manor after I told him about how great it was. As a venue it was far less expensive than we had thought it would be. Richard found out that the Manor’s events coordinator had done a deal with the local Council who were obliged to provide a cost effective alternative to the local register office, which it had just sold off to be turned into a care home. It seemed that we were eligible for a Council subsidy.
So the date is set: March the 4 th . I am just so pleased I found Lymenton Manor in time and that we aren’t booking that horrible school.
“If I was getting married, I’d have a bright blue dress,” sighs Katie, “and white roses.”
She pretends to blow a kiss, Marilyn Monroe style. “Loads of people have white dresses, I’d want to be different.”
“Big Fat Gypsy Wedding different?”
She laughs. I like making Katie laugh. I’ve been so lonely since Richard went and although she’s only fifteen, she’s kept me company and helped me to plan my big day.
I consider what she’s said, “I know what you mean. But I always dreamed of a white dress.”
“Hmm. Traditional equals boring.”
“Well boring is fine with me. Anyway, wearing anything else would cast doubts on my virginity!”
We lock eyes, my eyebrow raised in challenge. She can’t raise her eyebrow and it drives her mad that I can. I feel a giggle play across my lips. I hold her gaze. She breaks first, laughing so suddenly that she forces Ribena out of her nostrils and nearly tips over the bottle of Cava while she chokes.
“Mind the magazines!” I yell, sliding them out of her way.
Katie is the nutty one. I’m the sensible one, you see.
CHAPTER FIVE
It’s Monday evening. I left mum’s this morning and drove straight to work. The work day flew by and now it’s time to go home. Between leaving my desk and getting into my car it’s got really dark. The trees, which drooped heavy with blossom all summer then painted the pavements with crunching yellow and red leaves through autumn, are now almost skeletal, hunched over the road as if they’re ready to pounce.
Winter is not just a change of season; it’s a change of lifestyle. All I want to do is to get home and into my
The waitress walks towards him with the tray and then I get the shock of my life as she walks - straight through him. Like he’s not even there…
“He’s brilliant, isn’t he!” whispers Elisa, nodding her head towards Lewis Sheehan. “Thank you so much for inviting me!”
“Yeah, brilliant,” I answer, my attention still drawn to the gallery rather than the stage. I can clearly make out the face of the man now and I can see that he is perhaps a little, well, less ‘there’ than the people to his left. He looks so familiar…
I quietly ask Elisa if she can see the man in the gallery, over on the far left. She looks but, despite me re-explaining where he’s stood, she says she can’t see anyone of the description. Her eyes go straight back to the stage, she is engrossed in the music.
I can still see him though, right up to the point when he looks at me, then just vanishes.
*****
We’re on the floor together at my family home, my little sister Katie and I, while Mum cooks up her famous Sunday roast. Between us are three piles of discarded wedding magazines with post-it notes colourfully bookmarking dozens of pages, a jug of Ribena and half a bottle of Cava.
Richard left for Denver fourteen days ago and I am counting the days until he is back. It was so quiet and lonely at home last night that I decided to drive to Mum and Dad’s and stay over for the weekend. Mum was really excited to hear about the visit that Richard and I had made to Lymenton Manor after I told him about how great it was. As a venue it was far less expensive than we had thought it would be. Richard found out that the Manor’s events coordinator had done a deal with the local Council who were obliged to provide a cost effective alternative to the local register office, which it had just sold off to be turned into a care home. It seemed that we were eligible for a Council subsidy.
So the date is set: March the 4 th . I am just so pleased I found Lymenton Manor in time and that we aren’t booking that horrible school.
“If I was getting married, I’d have a bright blue dress,” sighs Katie, “and white roses.”
She pretends to blow a kiss, Marilyn Monroe style. “Loads of people have white dresses, I’d want to be different.”
“Big Fat Gypsy Wedding different?”
She laughs. I like making Katie laugh. I’ve been so lonely since Richard went and although she’s only fifteen, she’s kept me company and helped me to plan my big day.
I consider what she’s said, “I know what you mean. But I always dreamed of a white dress.”
“Hmm. Traditional equals boring.”
“Well boring is fine with me. Anyway, wearing anything else would cast doubts on my virginity!”
We lock eyes, my eyebrow raised in challenge. She can’t raise her eyebrow and it drives her mad that I can. I feel a giggle play across my lips. I hold her gaze. She breaks first, laughing so suddenly that she forces Ribena out of her nostrils and nearly tips over the bottle of Cava while she chokes.
“Mind the magazines!” I yell, sliding them out of her way.
Katie is the nutty one. I’m the sensible one, you see.
CHAPTER FIVE
It’s Monday evening. I left mum’s this morning and drove straight to work. The work day flew by and now it’s time to go home. Between leaving my desk and getting into my car it’s got really dark. The trees, which drooped heavy with blossom all summer then painted the pavements with crunching yellow and red leaves through autumn, are now almost skeletal, hunched over the road as if they’re ready to pounce.
Winter is not just a change of season; it’s a change of lifestyle. All I want to do is to get home and into my
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