Please don’t bother the bride
She makes the ideal extra in a wedding video with her
extravagant white picture hat and vintage tea dress.
Chooses to sit near the wall on one of the red velour and
gilt chairs ranked like theatrical soldiers in a light opera,
studies the order of service as if she was a slow reader;
simultaneously trying to imagine the friend closeted in
a secret tower of the country hotel, attended by her mother
and sister, thrifty fairy godmothers who conjure their prudent
magic to transform outfits and materials sensibly bought
all that year in sales, into fantastic bridal paraphernalia.
A dusty cassette player begins to croak the wedding march.
She turns. The gown that seemed unremarkable in the shop
when her friend bought it at half price, without trying it on,
her Madame de Pompidou hair, garnished with a tiara and the
waxy bouquet translates her into a Wedgwood figurine.
She is Marie Antoinette amidst a congregation of suits
without ties and cardigans. Post ceremony, the pair stand on the
lawn, co-joined figures on a vast wedding cake. She hovers at their
side, tongue tied in the presence of the film star couple. Sips
warm Pimms and nibbles occasionally at the corners of polite
conversation with other guests. Eventually manages to deliver
her excuses like a sick note for games, exempting herself from
the reception where she would be placed on the white elephant
table with widowed great aunts and a dateless nephew.
One week back from the honeymoon and the friend calls at her
usual time 8:30 am. Over tea and cakes they smoothly pick up
their discussion where they had left it. But clothes and books
and her friend’s PhD must budge up to accommodate her casual
references to John now, who elbows his way into their conversation.
* Fiona Sinclair has had work published in numerous reputable
magazines. Her
first chapbook Dirty Laundry was published by Koo Press in
February 2010.
