‘You won’t be saying that when we get to the venue. The time will fly by then.’
‘I didn’t think we could get into the venue till after two?’
‘Stop being so contrary and top me up. There’s plenty left in the teapot.’ Cynthia held out her mug and Sarah poured stewed tea inside it.
‘Dad not up yet?’
‘No, the lazy bugger was still snoring when I got up.’
‘Did he say where he went last night?’
‘Said he’d gone for a drive. He stunk like a brewery when he climbed into bed. I made him brush his teeth three times before I’d kiss him goodnight. What a night to go out drinking, just before our big day.’ Cynthia huffed and inspected her fuchsia nails.
‘Big evening, not big day. It’s not like you’re renewing your vows.’
‘Pah, renewing vows is a stupid modern idea. A Silver Wedding anniversary is far more important. Couples these days are unlikely to make it to twenty-five days, never mind twenty-five years.’
Sarah felt the weight of her own failure sitting heavy on her shoulders. By the time they’d returned her unused wedding dress to the shop, it had picked up a stain from somewhere, a tiny mark that had cost her parents five hundred pounds. Two years later, Sarah was still paying them back. ‘You’re an inspiration,’ muttered Sarah, putting the kettle back on to make a coffee.
‘Isn’t it about time you found a new man? I don’t want to be an ancient mother-of-the-bride.’
‘You said you didn’t want me to settle for just anyone?’
‘I don’t. But time isn’t on your side, girl. You’d better hurry or you’ll find yourself an old, lonely, overweight spinster.’
Sarah sucked in her stomach and lifted her head to hide the double chin she’d gained over the past two years. Her mother loved pointing out how much weight her daughter had piled on. Cynthia was no waif, but in her book, once you’d snagged your man, it didn’t matter if each passing year brought an increased dress size.
‘I need to get ready for work.’
‘Work? You haven’t taken the day off?’
‘I’ve taken the afternoon off, not the whole day. I’ll collect the flowers on my way in and keep them in water in the staffroom.’
Cynthia tutted, folding her arms over her ample chest and pulling her face into a frown.
‘I’d have thought my only daughter would have made more of an effort on my big day.’
‘Big evening,’ said Sarah under her breath as she filled her cup with coffee and carried it up to her room. Sitting on her bed, Sarah opened her banking app. At least the number was in the black, but not by much. Wasn’t living with your parents supposed to be cheaper? With the rent Cynthia charged, Sarah could never save up for a place of her own.
Sarah yanked a shift dress over her mass of shiny dark hair and pulled her blazer on over the top. A sheet hung over the mirror and Sarah pulled a small corner aside to swipe tinted gloss across her lips. It was months since she’d viewed herself in the full-length mirror. She couldn’t bear to see the image reflected. The kindest description of herself wasbig-boned, but she’d been called far worse by men on the street. Her cheeks burned with shame at the thought.
Mark used to call her beautiful. It had been nice, someone seeing something in her she failed to see herself. Of course, she hadn’t believed him, but it was good to hear. Since Mark left her, the only person to compliment her was her dad and parents didn’t count. She was Colin’s only child. Of course, he was blind to her flaws. Sarah could have three green heads and Colin would still walk round the house singing ‘The Most Beautiful Girl In The World’ to her.
Grabbing her bag from the back of her door, Sarah raced through the house to avoid another conversation with Cynthia. Any interaction with her mother was bound to end in another job being added to her to-do list. Sarah reached the bus stop with moments to spare, only to find a notice detailing cancellations. Typical, the one day she needed to be early. At least the sensible pumps on her feet were comfortable to walk in.
With no time to lose, Sarah marched her way through the streets so familiar she could’ve walked them blindfolded. An unfamiliar sensation took hold as she sped past uniform grey buildings and concrete office blocks. No longer were the uniformed square boxes a comfort. That day, the monotony of her surroundings caused a tightness in Sarah’s chest. She felt trapped.It’s just the stress of the day, she told herself, pushing past early morning commuters to reach the florist as it opened.
*
Sarah kept her finger on the counter bell, ringing in a steady stream of tings until the wild-haired florist appeared at the counter.
‘Are you going to be much longer? I need to get to work.’
‘I’m going as quickly as I can. Why don’t you come back at lunchtime like I suggested?’
‘Because,’ said Sarah, pushing back her shoulders in an attempt to emulate her mother’s attitude, ‘we agreed on collection at nine a.m. It is not my fault that you have a problem with time keeping.’
‘And it’s not my fault that your mother left a message on my answerphone at eleven o’clock last night, changing the order.’
