Maid of Honour

Her position at the wedding was unclear. As one of three sisters she was neither bride nor bridesmaid. Lizzie, the youngest gushed over her blush-pink spaghetti strapped bridesmaid dress, whilst Sharon brought tears to their mother’s eyes with a sparkly beaded corset and slinky fishtail skirt. Elinor stood watching with a twitchy smile.

       ‘I only want one bridesmaid,’ Sharon said trying on a tiara. ‘It’s going to be a very small wedding.’

       ‘It is her wedding,’ their Mother whispered, gently putting her arm around Elinor’s waist.

       ‘I’m not getting involved,’ Lizzy said head tilted, smoothing down the chiffon over her stomach.

       It had been a last minute change of mind not heart, Elinor thought, when Sharon announced two weeks before the wedding that she was to be Maid of Honour.

      ‘You were always going to be my maid,’ Sharon said whilst tightly tying ribbons onto miniature boxes.  

Now she had a title, a role; a position in the wedding. Guilt must have finally got to her, Elinor thought, or perhaps Sharon was just worried that people might talk. Elinor bought a cerise hat and wore a black dress.

The same dress she had worn to Ben’s funeral a year earlier.