Page 6 of Be More Lucy

Jack walked through the gate in the hedge and scanned the long grass in front of him. No sign of Em. He headed up the slope. Still no sign.

‘Em. Em!’ He called as he walked.

He heard a rustling nearby and spotted a flash of blue fabric.

‘Hello, you. I’ve been worried.’ He bounded over to her.

‘Sorry, I must’ve nodded off.’ Em sat up, looking half asleep. ‘Do we have to go back indoors?’

It was so tempting to stay out here, just the two of them, but he suspected Charlotte would come looking for them if they didn’t return soon.

‘Yes, my darling, sadly we do,’ he said, holding out his hand to help Em to her feet.

4

‘Stand there.’ Lucy steered Em to the middle of the dance floor. ‘That’s the optimum place for catching the bouquet, I reckon.’

‘Why don’t you stand here then?’ Em asked.

‘It doesn’t look like Adam’s marriage material, does it? Or rather he is, but not to me.’ Lucy seemed quite matter-of-fact about the potential Adam situation. Em was glad she seemed to be taking it in her stride now. It was amazing how she rarely wallowed in self-pity. She always had the attitude that they weren’t worth crying over.

‘Yeah, it’s definitely your turn to get the bouquet this time.’ Charlotte said to Em.

Em rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a load of superstitious nonsense. You caught it at Mia’s wedding last year, and you’ve been pipped to the altar by two people now.

‘Thanks for rubbing it in,’ Charlotte laughed.

The rest of the unmarried female guests were gathering around them.

‘You might need elbows to fight off Ella’s cousin Rachel,’ Charlotte whispered in Em’s ear. ‘She looks determined.’

Rachel did seem keen. She looked like a goalkeeper poised to deal with a penalty kick. Rachel’s younger sister, Rosie, was standing on the other side of her, looking equally focused.

‘Watch it, ladies! We’ve got competition,’ Lucy said as Ella’s gran manoeuvred her wheelchair in front of Em.

She looked over her shoulder and grinned at them. ‘Caught three, married three,’ she said, rubbing her hands together.’

‘Have you got anyone in mind today?’ Lucy asked.

‘Cyril. He is the perfect bridge partner, still has his wits about him, and he has decent teeth and an index-linked civil service pension. What more could a single girl wish for?’

‘Is he here?’ Em asked.

Ella’s gran nodded towards a small, frail bald man who looked to be in his nineties. He was slumped on one of the sofas at the back of the room, snoring loudly with his mouth open. ‘He’s saving his energy for later.‘

Em didn’t ask for more details about why Cyril would need to save his energy. Judging by the twinkle in Ella’s gran’s eyes, it probably wasn’t for a hand of cards.

The DJ turned on the microphone. ‘Is everyone ready?’

Ella was standing on the stage holding a small hand-tied bunch of freesias.

‘That’s not your bouquet,’ Ella’s gran objected.

‘It‘s a special throwing bouquet, Gran. I’d take someone’s eye out if I threw the real one.‘

Ella’s gran appeared to think momentarily, then rolled her wheelchair forward a couple of metres.

‘She knows what she’s doing,’ Lucy whispered to Em. ‘That small bouquet isn’t going to travel that far. I reckon you should move forward too.’

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