Plain Sailing
Family rallies around a nervous bride in this heartwarming short story by Alison Carter. Alice was only doing this once – her big day had to be perfect!
ITHINK I’ll just ask them to check the cake stand again,” Alice said. She jabbed at her mobile. “The cake’s bottom layer’s quite wide; what if it’s too big for the stand?”
Lesley, Alice’s mum, prised the phone from Alice’s hand.
“It’s all standard sizes,” she said in a patient voice. “Shall I show you the marquee guys’ brochure again?”
“I suppose not. But –” “Put the kettle on,” Lesley interrupted. “Distract yourself. We cannot have this for another five days.”
Alice knew she was making a fuss, but this was her wedding and she only planned to get married once. It had to be right.
There were hundreds of things that could go wrong; Alice had read blogs about wedding disasters.
“There’s your problem,” her dad said later, looking over her shoulder as she peered at her laptop.
“Catastrophising. Stick to those magazines where everyone’s smiling and not a carnation is out of place.”
“But that’s all fake!” Alice said. “There could be a best man with a stomach bug or a caterer who’s forgotten the forks!”
“Calm down, love,” her father said. “It’s going to be brilliant. D’you want milk in that tea?”
“I heard about a wedding in Capri where the milk was off. It ruined everything. Only black coffee! Black tea – even worse!”
“We’d cope,” her dad said, “and this is Keswick. It’s never hot enough here to turn milk.”
The family was starting to get frustrated with Alice as she made back-up plans to back up her back-up plans.
The caterer was screening her calls; the florist had reassured her that he had never, in a 35-year career, failed to deliver.
“Colin’s very good,” Alice told Lesley. “Very calm.” Lesley nodded.
“He’s seen a few frantic brides, though possibly not as frantic as you.
“Things won’t go wrong. I have seen your checklists and it’s impossible.”
Alice knew that she was exasperating, but weddings came with expectations.
She and Liam had gone traditional, with morning dress for men and a bridal gown that resembled the one worn by Queen Elizabeth in 1947.
Alice’s modest dress had a lace-edged neckline, long sleeves and a proper veil, although it was only the County Offices in Kendal.
There would be a fruit wedding cake and lots of white roses in the marquee to match her bouquet.
That evening Alice announced she was making a spare bridesmaid’s dress.
The whole family started to object at once but she raised a hand.
“I’m fast at sewing,” she said, “and all the little girls are practically the same size. I am just worried that Emily will drop cereal on hers, or Jasmin will jump in a puddle. Humour me.”
“We’ve been humouring you since Liam asked you to marry him,” Alice’s younger brother Scott retorted.
As the big day approached, Alice’s anxiety only ramped up.
Should they run over the order of the ceremony once more? What if somebody in the band got hay fever?
“I have a DJ on standby,” Alice told the family.
Liam was helping stick table layouts to an easel.
“You’ve what?” Lesley said. “Seriously?”
“What’s that costing?” Liam asked.
Alice looked at him in distress. It was the first time her fiancé had questioned her eccentricity.
“Practically nothing,” she said. “He’s Dylan’s mate.”
That same day, after the easels were finished (Alice took lots photos of them “in case of fire”) Lesley discovered that Alice had booked a second car “because you never know”.
Then, Liam found the draft of an e-mail that Alice “might send”, asking guests to confirm they’d booked their accommodation.
“People forget!” Alice wailed. “What if they can’t come because they don’t have a bed?”
Liam laid a hand on her arm.
“Stop it, sweetheart,” he said. “Just stop. You’ve lost perspective.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” a voice from the hall cut in.
They turned to see Colin, flamboyant and brilliant local florist, in the doorway.
He was leafing through Alice’s scrapbook of wedding ideas which had been left on the hall table.
“Back us up here, Colin,” Lesley said. “Alice has to stop making contingency plans.”
Colin was reading the scrapbook.
“That’s quite a bouquet,” he murmured. “Orchids and sweet myrtles. Myrtle – the flower of good luck and love in marriage.” He looked up.
“I suppose you know about Queen Elizabeth’s bouquet going missing?” The room fell silent.
“You don’t?” Colin said. “Well, somewhere between the couple’s return to the palace and the wedding breakfast, it vanished.
“She had to borrow one from a bridesmaid for the photographs. Take a look at archive photos.”
“See!” Alice cried in triumph.
Colin strolled in, sat beside her on the sofa and took her hand.
“Things do go wrong, Alice. I never mock a bride who stores spare vol-au-vents in her neighbour’s freezer or hides copies of her vows in her bra.
“If wedding blips can happen to Queen Elizabeth, they can happen to anyone. I have back-up flowers for every wedding.”
Alice flung her arms around his neck but he peeled them away.
“Having said that, I see a few people in this room who have been turned upsidedown and inside out by your stressed-out antics.”
Alice looked around her. There they were, smiling and exasperated, all at the same time.
“You heard the groom,” Colin said gently. “Stop it. Enjoy yourself.”
Alice stood up.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Mum, Dad and Liam all headed towards her with arms outstretched.
“It’s going to be wonderful,” Liam said. “Maybe something will go wrong. We can tell our children and grandchildren all about it.”
“Thank you,” Alice said. “All of you, for all of it.”
The End.