Summer at the Little Wedding Shop: The hottest new release of summer 2017 - perfect for the beach!. Jane Linfoot

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СКАЧАТЬ is nice of her to say, and reminds me what an appreciative boss she was. As she helps Sam’s Granny Kernighan towards the garden, she strikes up a loud running commentary. ‘Whoever catches this bouquet is supposed to have romantic good fortune very soon. It goes back to the days when touching a bride brought good luck, and fragments of wedding dress fabric were like charms. Throwing the bouquet was a way of stopping the crowd tearing the bride’s dress off as she left.’

      I shiver as the wind rushes in from outside. ‘That’s barbaric. I’m not sure I’m happy with the voyeurs either.’ I can’t help noticing a lot of the guys are coming out to watch. If they’re hoping for a girl fight, there are two here who won’t be joining in.

      As I hold the door open, I catch Mrs K’s eye. ‘What are you going to do with Mr Kernighan if you catch the bouquet and find another man?’

      ‘I’ll think of something,’ she laughs back, pulling her collar up against the cold. ‘There are lovely white roses and blue anemones in that bunch, so I won’t mind if I do catch it.’ She gives my arm a prod. ‘From the smile that handsome young chap by the bar gave you as we passed, I’d say you’re in there, even without the flowers.’

      As we move out across the floodlit herringbone brick paving, I send Jess an eye roll over the top of Mrs K’s head, but she’s too busy agreeing with Mrs K to notice. Eye rolls to that too.

      Now we’re outside, I can see there’s been a makeover here too. We used to hang out here as teenagers on summer evenings, with our lemonade shandies and cream sodas, but the rough ground has given way to a neat lawn and timber edged borders.

      I’m not wasting any time. ‘Okay, let’s talk avoidance tactics. How about we head for the trees?’ Newly planted, in the shadows at the far end.

      ‘Good thinking.’ Jess gently passes Mrs K onto one of the women already bouncing on the front line. Talk about pushy. Some of them have even tossed aside their heels. Whatever happened to spiking the grass?

      I shudder as I see their toes gripping the mud. ‘What a nightmare. It’s like school PE class all over again.’ My least favourite lesson. Along with maths. And science. As for competitions, I’m the world’s most disinterested competitor. Although if there was a competition for that, obviously, I’d be completely true to myself, and wouldn’t bother to enter.

      ‘Jules, it’s great to see you, and just in time for the scrum.’ It’s Jess, greeting her tamest, most blue eyed, floppy haired photographer. It might be my imagination, but his trademark pricey aftershave cloud seems even stronger in the dark. Jess narrowly misses getting swiped round the face as he flicks back his multi-coloured scarf. Even though she must have seen him already today, she stretches up to give him a peck. This isn’t just an air kiss either, it’s a maximum effort, lips-to-cheek job. Given how hard she’ll have leaned on him to come up with a best moments wedding album for a tiny fee for the Sams, it’s the least she can do.

      ‘Happy catching. Watch out for the water.’ Jules gives me my own wave, and bounds off to where Sam is positioning herself, flowers in hand, back towards us, by the pub doorway.

      ‘Water?’ Jess laughs, and does a funny little purr. ‘That boy is such a tease.’

      I’m rubbing my arms because they’re freezing. I mean whose idea was it to come out here in February, when we could easily have gone through the whole charade on the dance floor?

      ‘Okay, here we go. It’s happening.’ At last. Given we’re well to the right, and so far away we’re almost in the darkness, I reckon we’re entirely out of range. From what I remember from netball at school, Sam’s even weedier than me when it comes to throwing.

      ‘One two three … THROW!’ That’s Jules. Whatever the wedding situation, he can’t resist taking charge.

      Sam swings her arms and there’s a grunt as she lets go of the flowers. Then the bouquet flies upwards towards the starry sky. In a split second it’s already soared way over Mrs K’s head. It’s a strange spectacle when you’re completely detached and disinterested. There’s a flurry of disappointed moans as out-stretched arms drop, and heads along the entire front row turn to watch. The bouquet rises, tracing an extraordinary arc through the air. If Sam had been a champion hammer thrower, it couldn’t be travelling any faster. It’s hurtling safely to our left, then at the last moment it veers off like some kind of guided missile. The next thing I know, there’s a thump in my solar plexus, and I’m looking down at a bloody bouquet in my stomach.

      ‘Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.’ Horrified doesn’t begin to cover it. I fend off the flowers, flapping my hands, as if I’m shooing away a dog. Bouncing them as if I’m playing beach volleyball. There’s the feeling that if I don’t actually grasp the bouquet, it doesn’t count. I stagger backwards, make a feeble two handed re-launch, and spin it to land on Jess’s chest.

      ‘For chrissakes, Lily …’ Jess snaps.

      But it’s too late. She’s put two hands on it. So now it’s nothing to do with me – it’s hers.

      Phew. For a moment, there I thought I might have to go through the whole damned wedding hell again. Talk about near misses.

      ‘There’s no denying, you did catch it.’ Jess is talking at me through gritted teeth. ‘Or more importantly, it chose you. It was really quite extraordinary the way it did that.’

      ‘Yeah right.’ I don’t give a damn, because she’s the one holding it now.

      Her nostrils flare. ‘It’s only a bit of fun, Lily. It’s not real, you do know that?’ She runs a critical finger over the edge of a rose petal, reminding me she was the one who put it together this morning, although frankly it’s too dim to see much at all. ‘I’ll give it to Mrs K, she’ll be delighted with it.’

      ‘Great, good idea, whatever …’ My one step backwards, into the shadows, is meant to distance me. Metaphorically rather than physically. Like stepping over a line in the sand. Especially as the crowd is moving towards us en masse, all clamouring to see who got the bouquet.

      One step, but it feels like I’ve stepped off the edge of the world. The grass isn’t there, and my foot plunges over one of those dratted pieces of timber edging. Platform heels are nothing like as stable as the name makes them sound. When I topple, it’s backwards, in a series of staggers. I’m preparing myself to end up flat on my back in a border, with everyone gawping at me. Bad enough, but I’ll have to handle it. Then something whacks me on the back of the calves, and tips me over. The toppling I was doing before is nothing compared to this. As I plummet into oblivion, instead of the thumping impact of my backbone on soil, there’s a huge splash.

      ‘Waaaaaaaaa‌aaaaaaaaaaaahhh …’ Every bit of air leaves my lungs as I plunge into freezing liquid. Even my shriek dwindles to nothing. I’m not sure if my skin is burning hot or ice cold. What I am is wedged. Totally stuck. With my bum, head and body in sub-zero water and my knees hooked over some kind of wall.

      Jess’s voice is a squawk. ‘Good heavens, Lily, Jules did mean real water. How could we miss an above-ground pond?’

      ‘Did someone call me?’ A second later, Jules’ telephoto lens is pointing down at me.

      Spluttering through clenched teeth, I point at his camera. ‘Don’t you dare!’ Seeing a couple of open mouthed faces appearing, I let out a wail. ‘Don’t just stand there, get me out …’

      Out СКАЧАТЬ