Lucky The Bride

Coffee Break Tale

Quick! Grab a pinch and throw it over your shoulder.” Mum peers at me anxiously as I try to scoop up the salt I’ve spilt across the tablecloth. “No, Jenny. The left shoulder, not the right, or it’ll bring bad luck!”

I do as she says, even though it means I’ll have to clean up salt from the carpet now, as well as the table. When it comes to matters of luck, Mum knows all the tricks and I’ve learned not to argue with her.

Growing up, I was never allowed to walk under ladders, didn’t dare open my umbrella indoors, and was constantly watching out for black cats crossing my path. I think, since we lost my dad when I was only seven, it’s been her way of keeping me safe.

Of course, Andrew thinks she’s being over-protective and it’s all just superstitious nonsense.

He said as much the first time he came round to take me out, when Mum shook her head ominously, said it was Friday the thirteenth and she’d feel a lot happier if we stayed safely at home.

When he fell off the kerb coming out of the pub and twisted his ankle later that evening, he put it down to poor street lighting and wonky slabs. I wasn’t so sure.

By the TIME we get there she’s COUNTED four MAGPIES

Now, three years later, we’re about to get married. Mum has put a frilly garter next to my boiled egg.

“Something blue,” she says. “You’ve already got something old – your gran’s necklace – and the wedding dress is new. So, if you borrow my four-leaf clover charm to pop in your bag, you’ll have the set. You’ll need a sixpence to go in your shoe, though. I’ve got a tin of old coins. You eat up while I go and find it.

“Be careful not to break that mirror,” she says as I do my make-up. And she screams as I lift my new satin shoes out of their box. “Never put shoes on a table. It brings bad luck.”

Whatdoesn’t? I ask myself as she fiddles with the silver horseshoe hanging on a ribbon that the girls at work have given me, making sure it hangs pointsside up, so none of the luck can fall out.

By the time we get to the Register Office, she’s counted four magpies through the taxi window. I don’t like to tell her that I think they were just blackbirds, because she’s so insistent it means I’m going to have a boy. A boy? I’m not even pregnant, and have no immediate plans to be, but that doesn’t seem to stop her.

The wedding goes without a hitch. On Mum’s advice I’ve left clocks off the gift list, avoided red and white for the flowers, and been careful that neither of us drops the rings. Never heard of those omens of doom? Me neither, but if it keeps her happy… “Don’t forget to throw your bouquet,” someone shouts on the steps outside. So I lob my flowers high – and turn to see Mum clutching them awkwardly to her chest. “You know what this means?” I say, grinning. “You’re next to marry!” She’s gone all red but hangs on to them anyway. “Superstitious nonsense,” she mutters as she brushes a tiny money spider off the leaves. “Huh! I suppose this little fella means I’m going to win the lottery!” Andrew raises his eyebrows and, as we climb into the back of the car, I can’t wait to kick off my shoes. The sixpence Mum taped inside has been rubbing like mad. That’s when he spots the garter peeking out from underneath my dress. “Oooh,” he says, giving it a playful twang. “Very sexy! I think this could be my lucky night…” And, even though I’ve lost the sixpence and there isn’t a lucky chimney sweep in sight, I think he could be right.