Emily stood staring at herself in the mirror, the perfect white dress clinging to her frame, feeling utterly surreal. Mum had spent three weeks tweaking every fold, every sequin. Now all that beauty hung on her like a shroud.
“Em, ready, love?” Auntie Gail popped her head around the door, Mum’s old school pal. “Folks are arriving, the cars are outside.”
“Ready,” Emily lied, adjusting her veil. “Auntie Gail, shouldn’t we just call it off? It feels all wrong…”
“What are you saying, pet!” Auntie Gail gasped. “Your mum poured her heart into this, shelled out nearly two grand! Everyone’s here now, the buffet’s laid on. And as for your Tom…” She shook her head. “His own fault. Shouldn’t have dashed off last minute!”
Mum bustled in, eyes red-rimmed but jaw set. “Right, Emily! Enough moping!” she declared firmly. “I won’t let that idiot ruin today. We’re having a wedding, and let the whole of Bournemouth see my beautiful daughter!”
“Mum, it’s ridiculous! A wedding without a groom! What’ll people say?”
“What *will* they say?” Mum moved closer, fixing Emily’s earrings. “They’ll say Veronica Harrison’s a star – didn’t sit at home snivelling, showed everyone her daughter deserves better! That’s what!”
Emily sighed. Mum was on a roll – once she decided, you couldn’t sway her. She’d decided last night the moment Tom had rung, declaring he wasn’t ready for marriage.
“Mum, just think of the humiliation!” Emily tried again.
“Humiliation is sticking with a man who doesn’t value you! We’re proving we don’t need him!” Mum spun towards the door. “Right, chatter over. Let’s go!”
About forty guests filled the room downstairs – relatives, neighbours, Mum’s workmates. Whispers hushed as Emily entered; pitying glances flicked her way. Felt like a West End farce.
“Oh, Emily, you look stunning!” Cousin Lucy rushed over. “So, um… how are things?”
“Just dandy,” Emily replied flatly.
Mum climbed onto the small dais meant for the band and tapped her spoon against a wine glass. “Right everyone!” she began. “Today’s a special day. My Emily is getting married… to her new life! To freedom from useless blokes! To being happy herself!”
Silence. Someone coughed awkwardly.
“Veronica, lost the plot?” Auntie Nina hissed.
“Found it, actually!” Mum retorted. “Emily, come here!”
Emily reluctantly approached. Mum pulled her close.
“Here she is! Clever, kind, my golden girl! That… Tom bloke? He didn’t deserve her! Let everyone know – we’re celebrating, not crying!”
“Mum, stop it,” Emily muttered through clenched teeth.
“Will not!” Mum raised her glass. “To my daughter! For realising in time who *not* to tie herself to!”
Guests hesitantly raised their glasses. Someone mumbled, “To Emily.” Others sipped silently.
“Right, tuck in!” Mum announced. “Let’s have some cheer!”
Emily sat at the head of the table. Beside her was Tom’s empty chair, decked with ribbons. It looked utterly pitiful.
“Maybe shift that chair?” Auntie Gail suggested softly.
“Not a chance!” Mum cut in. “Let everyone see who’s missing! Let ’em draw conclusions!”
Salads arrived. Guests ate quietly, making small talk. The tension hung thick.
“Why the long faces?” Mum stood again. “Emily, tell everyone how you and Tom fell out!”
“Mum, please don’t!” Emily pleaded.
“Oh, I think we should!” Veronica insisted. “Honesty’s best!”
Emily looked around at the curious, kind faces. Suddenly, something broke inside.
“Alright then,” she said, standing. “He rang yesterday. Said he’d changed his mind. Said he couldn’t handle the responsibility, wanted more life just for himself. After three years together! Three years I waited for a ring, planned our future, dreamed of kids!”
The room was deathly quiet.
“And you know what?” Emily continued, anger fuelling her words. “Mum’s right! Enough waiting for men to make us happy! I *can* be happy alone! Without Tom, without any bloke who doesn’t appreciate what he’s got!”
“Exactly, love!” Mum chimed in. “We women are in charge of our own lives!”
“Well, I left my Victor last year,” neighbour Auntie Marge piped up unexpectedly. “Got fed up with his nonsense. So much peace now!”
“Good on you!” another woman chimed in. “My Steve thought I’d fall apart. I sold the flat, bought a cottage in York, sell veg at weekends. Living better than ever!”
Soon, women were sharing stories – divorces, learning independence. The men sat quietly, exchanging glances.
“Remember, Veronica,” a second cousin asked Mum, “how your mum was dead against you marrying? Said Emily’s dad wasn’t worth it?”
“Right she was,” Mum nodded. “Cleared off when Emily was five. Said he was too young.”
“They all say that!” declared someone’s aunt. “Too young! Who’s left holding the baby? Us!”
Talk grew lively. Women swapped tales; men tried half-hearted defences or kept mum. Emily sat in white silk, feeling a shift inside.
“Y’know what?” she said as chatter eased. “Enough waiting for Prince Charming! I’ve got a job, earn my crust, own my flat. Why settle for a bloke who bolts?”
“Hear, hear!” chorused a young mum, friend’s daughter. “Raised my lad alone, manage fine. Sat waiting years for his dad to wake up… he married someone else!”
“My friend Gillian,” another guest shared, “went to uni at forty! Dreamt of being a counsellor years, husband forbade it. Soon as they split? Enrolled!”
Mum switched the stereo on. “Enough glumness!” she declared. “Dancing! Emily, lead us!”
“Mum, I’m in a wedding dress!”
“So? Your dress, your rules!”
Emily stood, swaying awkwardly. Others joined – women first, then some men started tapping feet.
“Em, remember school discos?” Old classmate Chloe beamed. “You were always the best dancer!”
“God, yes,” Emily laughed. “Thought back then life was all ahead, like a film!”
“And isn’t it?” Chloe asked seriously. “Life *is* ahead! You’re young, gorgeous, brainy. Tom lost out, not you!”
Dancing continued. Cheer rose; laughter, jokes. Toasts came: “To the bride!” “To strong women everywhere!” The atmosphere transformed – festive, not funereal.
“Em, you look smashing tonight!” Neighbour Auntie Brenda smiled. “That dress is a dream! Shame it’ll just gather dust.”
“Why should it?” Emily frowned. “I’ll wear it again! Uni ball, big birthdays, just for the fun of it!”
“Exactly!” Mum cheered. “Beautiful things *should* be enjoyed!”
By evening’s end, spirits soared. Guests even suggested
She hung the beautiful white dress back in the wardrobe that night, whispering quietly to herself that she was, truly and completely, enough.
