Free Star Fish by Nicola May Page B

in uniform bride style. I was looking thin and radiant. My husband-to-be was waiting at the end of the aisle, looking at me with complete love and adoration. I could hear the church bells ringing and my friends singing. The sun was shining brightly outside and the honeymoon was booked to St Lucia.
    It was at times like these that I was really glad to be a Piscean, seeing life through my rose-coloured spectacles. If I had had a logical, earthbound mind, in truth Brad would be in the white organza, my cute little bridesmaids would be in the guise of Anna, Katie, Liv and H, all jostling for position in the photographs. My groom would have his fingers crossed hoping I wasn’t staggering down the aisle and the honeymoon would probably be in Katie’s apartment, as I would have spent all the wedding money on food.
    ‘Amy, we’re on this table, come on.’
    A colourful character addressed Carl. ‘All right, geezer?’ He was about six foot four with a shock of red hair, pulled forward into a quiff. He was accompanied by his girlfriend who was about four foot four, with jet-black hair cut into a severe bob with an earring in the shape of some sort of animal in her nose. She looked quite scary but was in fact a real laugh.
    ‘Carl, geezer, how’s it going, man? Haven’t seen you for ages.’
    Ginger Geezer Man had gone to university with Carl. His sense of humour was as amusing as his looks. The other two people on our table were Auntie Marge and Uncle Doug from Scunthorpe. The pair of them must have been nearing eighty.
    ‘Hi there, I’m Amy.’ I held out my hand to Uncle Doug.
    ‘You’re lame, duck? Why? What on earth have you done?’
    Auntie Marge intervened. ‘It’s OK, Sammy duck, he’s a little deaf.’
    By this time the other three on the table were in hysterics.
    ‘Oh, how annoying. I missed the joke, Doug,’ Auntie Marge continued.
    ‘Missed what, duck?’ Uncle Doug replied, whilst letting off an almighty fart. This is going to be fun, I thought.
    The wine was flowing. We were all getting on really well, despite the fog of Uncle Doug’s obvious bowel complaint. I really wished that Anna had been here, she would have relished this toilet humour.
    ‘Nice beaver,’ I commented to Severe Bob.
    ‘What?’ She looked at me as if I was either a closet lesbian or completely mad.
    ‘I said nice beaver – nice beaver nose ring.’
    Ginger Geezer, Severe Bob and Carl were laughing so much I thought they would fall off their chairs.
    ‘It’s a rabbit!’
    ‘Oh sorry, how embarrassing.’
    ‘Who’s had it?’ piped up Uncle Doug and then promptly farted again.
    As the wine continued to flow I felt more and more at ease with Carl. I could still almost feel our kiss from earlier and actually couldn’t wait to be alone with him. I knew he felt the same way as I could feel his hand occasionally brushing my thigh.
    The speeches had started. The father of the bride stood up.
    ‘Firstly I would like to say that I am so, so proud of my beautiful daughter. She surpassed herself at college, got her degree and continued to maintain her healthy twelve-year relationship to my new son-in-law, without even a single row. She is a constant support to me and I love her dearly.’
    How wonderful, I thought weepily, and then started imagining my wedding again.
    My father stood up.
    ‘Firstly I would like to say that despite a turbulent thirty-two years, I am proud of young Amy. Neither the fact that she was chucked out of college for having an affair with her music teacher, nor the fact that she brought more inappropriate men home than her cat brought in mice, nor even the fact that she has actually paid her husband to marry her allows me to not still love her dearly.’
    I was brought abruptly out of my thoughts by a hand slowly creeping up my leg and under my dress. Carl’s hand felt rougher than I had imagined. I smiled and began to squirm slightly; I looked to the side to give Carl a sultry look and nearly fainted as I