Sally's Wedding (Inspiration point(s)

I've known her all my life, we grew up together; went to the same school, still live next door to each other in the same road, in the same part of the most expensive area in the county. Our parents know each other and frequently dine in each other's homes. So it was a matter of course that my parents and I would attend her wedding.

Generally speaking I like weddings, not so much the ritual, although I still find that impressive when I take the trouble to listen to the words carefully….I sometimes wonder if the participants ever listen to the words carefully. No! It's the whole enchilada, good atmosphere, everyone wishing the happy couple a joyous future, good food, champagne, you know what I mean, the whole event, it's just…well…a happy occasion, isn't it? This one should have been, except that for some reason I couldn't quite identify, I felt uneasy.

I'm not married, so far I've never felt the urge if you understand my meaning, I have become regarded by the circle around me as "Not the marrying kind". Rubbish of course I just haven't met any one with whom I wanted to share the rest of my life, and my wealth if it didn't work out. I've seen so many divorces that I have become a bit cynical about these things. And another thing, I don't like the bloke she's marrying. Too good looking, too smooth talking, expensive flat in London's Docklands, well connected…he reckons, great future with her father's company…he reckons, scratch golfer, brilliant rugger player, almost county level, fact! But I don't like him. I reckon he's after her money and his future, to me it seems obvious. Why can't she see all this? Don't tell me "Love is blind". I know all that, but does love have to be stupid as well?

I did contemplate telling her but you know how dodgy that can turn out to be. Scornful looks, questions like "What is your golf handicap now? Did you make it into the rugger team with Rupert? What job did you say you were doing lately? You are still living with your parents aren't you? These sort of remarks can have a very nasty effect on your morale and shoot your self confidence to pieces. To tackle the subject more directly would probably provoke even greater contempt. "Sally, don't you realise he is really in love with himself, he is using you to impress your father in the hope that he'll be promoted even further beyond his capabilities?" I can imagine the response that little offering would receive. So I said nothing, she's a big girl now, she'll soon suss him out. Too late of course but…there you go, there's a price to pay for everything.

She was late arriving at the church. Actually she was always late arriving anywhere. I remember the time when we were supposed to be arriving at a dinner in London…no let's not go there! I wandered around the churchyard passing groups of guests chatting happily. Fascinating thing to do that you know, just wander past groups of people and listen to the snippets of conversation. "I screamed at him," one woman was saying to another "Bring them back, they're not finished yet!" I waited a moment in the hope of hearing more but the look she gave me on noting my rather less than passing interest convinced me I should move on.

I do try to be sociable at these occasions, no really I do! I just find it difficult to prattle on about nothing and seem to get easily bored by those that do. Rupert of course has no such difficulty. He was busily net-working. A broad smile of welcome here a knowing look there, a warm handshake to a local bank manager and a gushing compliment to his wife. All the while directing his group of friends to perform this task or that. I avoided him like the plague.

I tried to join another small group of neighbours but somehow couldn't quite pick up the thread of the conversation until one of them noting my presence at last said. "We all expected you to marry Sally you know. You seem to get on so well. You've known her for years haven't you?"
"All my life," I agreed shortly. I didn't know what else to say so I just added, "She's a wonderful girl. He's a very lucky fellow," and quit the group, resuming my wandering around the churchyard.

I decided to rejoin my parents, they at least didn't ask awkward questions or make remarks that I found disturbing. Disturbing? Why did I find those remarks disturbing? As I approached the clique in which my parents were embedded I could hear one of the women in full flood. "After all," she told them loudly, "pink teapots are not the answer to life." To my amazement all the others nodded wisely as if she had just delivered the tablets off the mountain. What on earth could they have been discussing?

I veered off and stood quietly on my own by the church door. Some hope! In the doorway just out of sight I found Sally's mother. She looked as though she had been crying, well natural enough I suppose, it is her daughter's wedding after all, mothers have been known to cry on these occasions. But I liked her, memories of drinks and cakes in her kitchen after school flooded back, she had always treated me like one of her own family. "She'll be happy, you know," I told with rather more confidence than I really felt.

Her reply rather surprised me. "I'm not so sure," she said. "He's a lovely young man but very self'centered, he cares more for himself than for her I think." Then as if ashamed of her outburst, turned her back and blew her nose into a tiny white lace handkerchief. I turned to go, but felt her hand on my shoulder. "I always hoped it would be you she married." She said quietly and her eyes began to fill with tears again. I nodded sympathetically. "She's a strong willed girl." I replied. "I don't think Rupert quite understands how strong yet, he will though I'm sure, don't you worry." I turned to go, anxious to avoid any further discussion about whether I should have been the one she was marrying. Did veryone think the same? Perhaps they had all turned up in the expectation of my doing some sort of impersonation of the bloke in "The Graduate". No chance….I mean it. She's a great girl, I've always said so, but definitely not for me. Well not now anyway.

She did finally arrive twenty-five minutes late, Rupert by then was looking a bit ragged round the edges, his best man exhausted by the number of errands he had been asked to perform, her mother had gone into the church and sat in the front row waiting for Sally's arrival and all the guests had filed into their correct places in the church. I went in last. I wanted to see what she looked like, I should have known, a vision, far too good for Rupert.

I went into the church and sat in the nearest vacant pew. I happened to be behind the group with whom my parents had been a while back. They were now in the second row from the front. To my complete astonishment the first thing I overheard the woman in front say in a stage whisper to her neighbour was "After all, pink teapots are not the answer to life are they?" Her companion smiled and nodded her head in ageement. I was beginning to wonder, perhaps they were!

The ceremony went without a hitch, the reception afterwards was a joy, Sally's father made a brilliant speech and ha-bleeding-ha Rupert made a hash of his. The wedding breakfast over, groups of friends began forming in the garden of Sally's parents' house. The caterers asked if we would like some tea. Of course we would, have you ever known a garden full of people to refuse a cup of tea on a summer's afternoon?

We all sat down at the neat little round metal tables and the waiters served the tea…..in bright pink tea-pots!. I felt it was time I wasn't there and quietly slid away through the hole in the fence that I had used to escape from Sally since I was…well very young!