Wedding Belle
by David Harker
“Biggest
mistake of her life this is”.
The woman didn't
seem one for keeping her opinions to herself, and
Julie was on the receiving end of the entire
wedding collection.
“Really?
I think they make a lovely couple” she
ventured.
“Ahh well
it always starts out like that, but then they
change! Take me for example".
I wish someone
would, thought Julie perhaps a little
uncharitably, but she was getting tired of this
complete stranger talking ceaselessly at her.
She’d arrived at St. Chad’s much later
than she’d intended – the high street
had been at a standstill and parking practically
non-existent. Now, as a consequence, she sat at
the back next to some 'Essex girl' of a character
who just wouldn’t shut up.
“My names
Connie!” offered the woman, giving her a dig
in the ribs.
“What?”
replied Julie with a start. She’d actually
been miles away, wondering whether she’d put
enough money in the meter.
“I'm
Connie. I was just saying how my ex was so cute
until we got married. Changed in an instant he
did – right before my very eyes!”
Connie paused
briefly for the sympathy she felt she deserved.
When it didn’t come she tried again.
“Couldn’t
do enough for me he couldn’t, then all of a
sudden he turns into some kind of couch slouch.
Wouldn’t have minded so much but he was a
right grumpy git too. Well you know what I say
don’t you! Some say the glass is half empty
and some say it's half full… but I just say
‘Are you going to drink that or what?’”.
Connie
shrieked with laughter at her own joke and gave
Julie a playful push, drawing attention to
herself and by default to Julie, who squirmed
with embarrassment and mouthed an apology to the
sea of disapproving faces now scowling at them.
“Look at
all them stuck up gits with their la-di-da faces.
You’d think they’d never had a larf in
their lives!”
Connie stuck
her tongue out at a matronly figure with a
particularly effective disapproving look on her
face.
“Anyway I
was telling you about my ex. Well we went off
last year on holiday to Pontin’s. Gawd that
was a do that was - pissed off our faces every
night we was, brilliant! Then on the last night I
went for a wee and come back to find him with
some slag’s hand down his trousers! Bold as
brass! Middle of the dance floor and all!”
Connie waited
for Julie to interject some semblance of sympathy,
and once more she fell decidedly short of the
mark.
“What did
you do? I hear you ask”, Connie soldiered on,
determined to get to the punch line.
“Well I
picked up my handbag, went back to the chalet,
threw my stuff in a bag and drove home. Left him
to pick up the bill and to get home somehow,
which he eventually did. And THEN do you know
what he did?”, she paused briefly again for
effect before continuing.
“He said
he was unhappy and that he just wanted some space
in our relationship! The cheeky bastard! So I
told him he could enjoy the space of the great
outdoors and locked him out!”
Connie cackled
loudly and uncontrollably for what seemed an age.
The tutting sounds and backward glances added
immeasurably to Julie’s discomfort.
Fortunately just at the point when she wished a
hole would open up for her, the Wedding March
started to play and the wedding guests rose to
their feet. Every eye turned to the door at the
back and a sigh spread through the congregation
as the gorgeous bride with her attendants began
to sashay down the aisle. The flowers, the dress,
the bride - the whole scene was utter perfection.
Until that is, the somewhat loud and somewhat
imperfect exclamation:
“Ere, who
the bleedin’ hell is that?”
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