Then I’d decide whether I was doing a runner or not.
‘Give me one minute.’ I held up one perfectly manicured finger, picked up the soft, lace skirts of my grandmother’s wedding dress and whisked myself out of the living room, down the flag-stoned corridor and through the creaky old door into the kitchen.
Opening the kitchen door into the back garden, as stealthily as possible to prevent my sisters from assuming the worst, I stepped outside into the blustery May air.
Maybe a smack in the face from the wind would head off my panic attack. I turned my face into the breeze, and then –oh.
A man.
At the edge of the house.
Standing with his hands in his pockets, his face frowning in concentration.
In a suit, and a tie, a white rose in his lapel.
The groom.
And I’d met him before.
Oscar, my four-year-old nephew, was with him. I took a tiny step closer, leaning forwards in the hope that those extra three inches would allow me to hear them.
‘I’m did running away,’ Oscar announced.
Oh, so that makes two of us, then. Maybe we could team up, scarper together.
‘Why are you running away?’ The man tilted his head to one side, as if considering the matter. ‘That’s a big, brave decision to make.’
‘Cos I don’t want to carry the stupid rings cos I got a stupid baby walk and everyone will laugh and then I’ll fall over and drop the rings and Auntie Emma can’t married and it alls my fault and I don’t get any cake.’
‘Right.’ He rubbed his jaw, thoughtfully. ‘I’m guessing that maybe someone else dissed your walk?’
‘Lottie said I look like a baby rangtang.’
‘Okay. And if you don’t carry the rings, does Lottie get to do it?’
‘Yep.’ Oscar sniffed, swiping a tear away. My heart squeezed, for a whole lot of reasons.
‘Do you think that Lottie could have said that about your walk because then she can carry the rings?’
Oscar thought about this.
‘Do you think that your lovely aunties and uncles and grandparents will laugh at your walk? Have they ever laughed at you before?’
‘Only when I did tell a funny joke.’
‘There you are, then. She’s jealous. I’m willing to bet this Lottie is your big sister, isn’t she?’
‘YES!’
‘What normally happens if you fall over?’
‘Mummy gives me a cuddle better, and says, “Come on, soldier, up you get”.’
‘She doesn’t say you can’t have any cake?’
‘No! If I hurt myself, I do get cake!’
My groom shrugged his shoulders. ‘There you go, then.’
