The People's Friend Special

Let’s Get Married

Friendship is for ever in this romantic short story by Eirin Thompson.

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OWEN could hardly contain his excitement as he walked to Jenny’s house. They’d been friends ever since they met at nursery.

He’d been impressed by her ability to get all the other kids doing just what she told them.

They’d progressed to primary school together, though Owen started playing more with the boys, dashing out for football at break-time and lunch.

He still walked home with Jenny every day, though, along with Kirsty, their pal.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Jenny asked him when they were about ten.

“A footballer.” Obviously! “I want to be a chef,” Kirsty declared. “How about you, Jenny?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

That meant a teacher, Owen was sure. Jenny wouldn’t admit it because the kids claimed to loathe their teachers.

Later, all three of them ended up at the same comprehens­ive, with Owen and Jenny in the same class.

Owen didn’t say so, but he was glad to have Jenny near in this challengin­g new environmen­t.

That first year, she helped Owen with his French, which just about kept him on the right side of M. Saunders.

In return, Owen patiently explained algebra to her in a way Mrs Chambers hadn’t managed to do.

Kirsty ministered to them with coffee and home-made cookies.

“I’ll miss you both so much when we go to uni,” Jenny told Owen and Kirsty when they turned eighteen.

“It’ll be the first time in all my memory that I won’t see you every day.”

“I’ll speak to you on Facebook all the time,” Owen promised.

“And there’s always Skype,” Kirsty added. “It’s not like the olden days.”

They managed well enough until that first Christmas, when they came home to their families, and bear-hugged each other when they met up.

They spent two weeks lying about at each other’s houses, eating crisps and ice-cream, dividing their time between catching up and reminiscin­g.

Eventually university, too, became history, and Owen, Jenny and Kirsty were back – to their surprise – in their home town, establishe­d in their jobs and living in their own places.

It was time for the next step. Owen was on his way to ask Jenny to marry him.

****

Which should he do first? Show her the ring, or ask her to marry him?

Jenny had gone into the kitchen to put on the kettle.

This was always her first response to any visitor, however long or briefly she’d known them.

When she reappeared, with a tray, Owen cleared a space on the table where she could set it down.

“So, what brings you here on a Saturday afternoon? Shouldn’t you be at the football?”

“This is more important.” “More important than football? My goodness!”

He pulled the tiny box from his pocket, opened it up and thrust it under Jenny’s nose.

“Oh, Owen! Is it a real diamond?” Jenny gazed at the ring, almost hypnotised. “Yep.”

“It’s gorgeous!”

She took the ring-box from him.

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

“I’m asking you to marry me. What do you say?”

Jenny stared at the ring for a moment longer, then looked up at Owen, her eyes glistening.

“Of course I’ll marry you!”

****

The organist went into a rousing rendition of “The Arrival Of The Queen Of Sheba”.

Owen, at the front of the church, turned to see his bride, looking stunning in her long white gown.

As she drew closer, he could see she was radiant.

“Hello, Owen,” she mouthed.

“Hello, Kirsty,” he mouthed back.

“You make a gorgeous couple.” Jenny looked solemn in her surplice.

As Owen took the ring from Jenny, and went to place it on his new wife’s finger, for a moment their three hands touched.

He was reminded of the childhood games they’d played, where all three had to join hands in the centre.

He, Jenny and Kirsty had been the three points of a triangle since they were little more than toddlers, and though their paths had diverged after school, they’d never lost touch.

“You know why I went to Jenny first, about the proposal?” Owen had checked with Kirsty. “It was my way of showing we weren’t shutting her out in becoming a married couple.”

Kirsty had completely understood.

Jenny had thrown herself into the arrangemen­ts and would be sitting with the bridal party at the top table at the reception.

As the young couple sat down in the vestry to sign their names, Jenny reminded them of the first time they’d “got married”.

It had been in the garden at nursery, when a storm had brought down blossom from the big cherry tree.

“I put you in a long frock from the dressing-up box and fashioned a veil from a piece of old fabric,” Jenny recalled.

“You made us say ‘I love you’ and scattered blossom over us!” Kirsty reminded her.

Possibly Owen should have suspected Jenny’s true calling even then – it wasn’t teaching in a classroom.

“Everyone knew you were made for each other – even when you were four years old,” Jenny said now.

“We were all three made for each other, and we still are,” Kirsty insisted.

As the trio locked themselves into a huge hug, Owen smiled as he recalled noticing the church warden gazing, puppy-dog style, at Jenny throughout the service.

Perhaps he and Kirsty should invite the pair of them to supper – after all, even the Three Musketeers had had their d’Artagnan.

Owen had a very important question to ask . . .

The End.

Nowadays, the word “television” would no doubt be replaced with “computer screen”. Although it would be horrendous to go through life with square eyes, it’s more likely that sitting too close would give you a headache or eye-strain. Therefore, it makes sense to sit further back.

“If you do, it will stay in your stomach

for seven years.”

No, it won’t. It normally passes straight through your digestive system – though we don’t recommend you swallow it!

While on the subject of chewing, you might have had a telling-off ling-off from Mother for chewing food with yyour mouth open.

She was right about this one! If you swallow air, it can lead to discomfort and bloating. Not to mention, it doesn’t look good to eat with your mouth open!

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