Summer Shorts - Anthology

Blossoms in the Wind by welshfoxglove

Blossoms in the Wind by welshfoxglove

Whoever said your wedding should be the most enjoyable day of your life had clearly never been a bride.

Memorable? Yes. Crazy? Definitely. But enjoyable didn't quite sum up Anna's experience so far.

In the beginning, it had been smooth sailing. Ever the perfectionist, Anna had thrown herself headfirst into the planning, fuelled by her desire to ensure each and every detail was just as she envisioned it.

But that was then.

Fast forward six months and the cracks had begun to show. In those final weeks leading up to the big day, Anna had lost count of the times she'd been jolted abruptly from slumber; brow slick with sweat as she agonised over whether the traditional fruitcake had been the right decision, or whether the table decorations she had chosen would appear tacky.

Somehow, though, she had made it to the day of the wedding itself — the supposed "most enjoyable day of her life".

And it could have been — except everything was currently falling apart.

Standing on the lush, sloping lawn of the country manor inside which she had just become Mrs Simmonds, Anna gazed blearily at the mass of elegantly-clad guests milling about sipping champagne, clutching the train of her lacy dress as she fought back the tears.

To the average guest, there would appear to be nothing amiss. The buffet had just been laid under one of several gazebos — Anna had not wanted to take chances with the unreliable British summer weather — and a number of people had already gravitated towards the food. The assembled guests' voices mingled together, creating a low hum of background noise punctuated by the occasional tinkling laugh or clink of a glass. Everyone looked relaxed; some were posing for pictures against the perfect backdrop of the beautifully-landscaped gardens, while other conversed merrily.

Anna felt as if she was viewing the scene from within a tiny bubble; one with a limited supply of oxygen. Blind to the relaxed merriment of the guests around her, all Anna could see was the pain in the eyes of the man she had just tied herself to for the rest of her life.

"Can't you talk to her?"

Jason's voice was laced with irritation, his eyes darting anxiously around the assembled crowd of family and friends. Anna's gaze followed his, before coming to rest upon the single scene disrupting the otherwise tranquil environment.

Lounging beside the marble fountain which stood as the centrepiece of the manor's grounds, Anna's younger sister could be seen pouting and huffing in what she no doubt thought was a long-suffering way. Although well out of earshot, Anna could tell from her parents' pleading expressions that they were desperately attempting to reason with Jess — and from the frequent exasperated gesticulations and shakes of the head, it was clearly not going well.

One might think from this description that Jess was a child of about eight years old — not, as was actually the case, a twenty-year-old woman. Known to pout, sulk and whine when she didn't get her way, Jess had never quite matured into adulthood. She also had a penchant for creating drama and disruption, highlighted by the fact that she had now completed two first years at different universities, before dropping out at the end of each. Now living back home with her parents, with little sign of attempting to forge a career for herself, it seemed she would be remaining in her childhood home for quite some time yet.

For Anna's parents, expecting a quiet road towards retirement, it had been rather a shock to have Jess return. It wasn't that they were unhappy to have their youngest daughter home again; it was just that Jess was hard work.