“Dont You Dare Touch Her!”
Mum rang, her voice thin and childlike: “Emma, could you come over…?”
Emmas heart dropped to her stomachthat tone was familiar. The last time shed heard it was when Grandad passed. Back then, theyd scrambled for black outfits (only her older brother Oliver had any, thanks to his teenage goth phase), endured a stuffy train ride, and milled about a gloomy strangers flat. Grandad had been a painter, with friends aplenty, but when it came to burying him, only Mum had stepped up. Her voice had sounded exactly like this.
“Whats wrong?” Emma asked, nerves twisting as she imagined what James would say if they had to postpone the wedding *again*. The first delay was her faultshed gone skiing with friends, broken her leg, and James had yelled himself hoarse about his parents booking flights and arranging time off. “I *told* you not to go if you cant ski!” hed snapped.
This time, though, it wasnt her fault. Still, guilt gnawed at her.
“Grans ill. Just back from hospitaltests arent good.”
Emma knew Gran had been for tests, and if Mum had led with *that*, shed have been upset. But now? Relief flickered. No one had died; the wedding wouldnt need postponing. If anything, they ought to hurrybefore Gran…
Her throat tightened. The thought was terrifying. Gran had always been there. Mum had told her how, when Grandad left them penniless, Gran worked triple shifts to keep Mum fed and clothed. It wasnt until Mum turned seventeen that the *great artist* deigned to help. Even now, Gran slipped them moneyhow she managed on her pension, Emma had no idea.
“Ill come now.”
Gran was putting on a brave face, even cracking jokes. “Dont fret, love. Chemo might help. Shame about the hair, thoughhad this plait my whole life. Cant imagine myself without it.”
Grans hair *was* magnificentlong, thick, though lately streaked with silver.
“Lets dye it for the wedding?” Emma suggested. “Youll be the prettiest one there!”
Gran lit up, then immediately rummaged for her purse.
“Oh, Gran, dontIll buy it!”
“Dont be silly, youve a wedding to pay for. Take it.” She fished out a small pink bag. “Took me three monthseyes arent what they were.”
Inside was a delicate, snow-white shawlold-fashioned but achingly sweet. Emma decided then: shed wear it on the day.
“Gran, its *perfect*!”
“Your mum said youd never wear it,” Gran muttered. “Never satisfied, that onemade her a yellow dress once, raglan sleeves, and she *spilled ink on it* just to get out of wearing it…”
Her voice wavered. Emma lied smoothly: “Mum says that was an accident!”
They chatted, drank tea, dyed Grans hair. Evening fell. Emmas phone lay forgotten in the hall, buzzing unnoticed. The doorbell rang; she sprinted to answer, spotting a flood of notifications.
On the doorstep stood Oliver and his best mate, Liam, holding a boxinside, a ginger kitten with wide, curious eyes.
“Margaret Townsend, look what weve brought you!” Liam crowed.
Gran gaspedthen burst into tears.
Three years ago, her beloved cat, Marmalade, had died. A ginger menace with bold amber eyes, hed been her companion for twelve years. Shed refused another pet ever since.
“Liam, love, Im *dying*! Whatll happen to him?”
“Oi, Gran,” Oliver cut in. “First off, no ones chucking him out. Secondguess youll have to *not* die.”
“But whatll I feed him? Havent even got milk!”
“Ill go!” Emma volunteered.
“Ill join,” Liam said. “Fancy a bite anywayget something for tea…”
Truthfully, Emma didnt want to be alone with Liamthere was something in his gaze that unsettled her. When shed handed him his wedding invite, hed taken it stone-faced and said, “Shame. Id hoped I still had a chance.”
But arguing in front of Gran seemed wrong, and dragging Oliver along felt daft. Off they went.
Her worries were for nothingLiam stayed quiet. Only murmured, “Really hope Gran pulls through,” and when Emma asked if James was coming to the wedding, he just said, “Course.”
They bought a cake and pasties, which Gran sniffed at. “I fry better.” Oliver praised her hair; Liam asked Emma to try the shawland stared, spellbound.
A lovely evening, though Mum was missedshe was on shift, no cover. Emma finally checked her phone: James had blown it up. Shed forgotten dinner with his parents.
“I *told* you I was at Grans!” she defended. “Shes just been diagnosed”
“Shes had her time,” James snapped. “Dont ruin *our* lives. Mums heartbroken.”
She rushed home to placate him. Oliver drove; Liam stayed with Gran.
Predictably, a row erupted. James called her irresponsible, selfish. When he saw the shawl, he scoffed: “Tacky. Youre *not* wearing that.”
Hope fadedthey bickered nonstop until the wedding. Then Gran was hospitalised. Emma suggested cancelling, but James listed the lost deposits, paid vendors, arriving guests. “Shes not missing much anyway.”
She knew he hated the shawl. Gran wouldnt be there. But photos lasted foreverand Gran had spent *three months* knitting it. Shed wear it, no matter what.
“Love, *why* that tablecloth?” Mum fretted. “That gorgeous dresswhy ruin it? I know Gran” She burst into tears.
James arrived; Mum flurried about*nothings ready!* Emma hated the cheesy “grooms tasks” but didnt want to offend his parents. Waiting was nerve-wrackingher bridesmaids were off tormenting James. She rang Gran.
“Could you visit? Id love to see you.”
“Of course!” Emma said, though James might object. “Whos got the kitten?”
“Liams got him. Sweet boy…”
Liam was their chauffeur todayOliver had declared hed be “properly pissed” at his sisters wedding. *Why hadnt she noticed how kind Liam was before?*
James spotted the shawl. “Take it *off*! I *told* you!”
Bridesmaids, family, photographersall watched. Emma flushed.
“Stop. Its *my* wedding too.”
“And *my* wife obeys me.”
“Im not your wife yet!”
Mothers intervened, but suddenlyEmma didnt *want* to marry him. She didnt want his nitpicking, his demands, her happiness always second.
“I want to see Gran.”
“Are you *mad*?” James hissed.
She shoved past; he grabbed her wrist, hard.
“Dont you *dare* touch her!”
Emma turned. Liam, eyes blazing.
“Piss off,” James spat. “*My* wife*our* business!”
Then Oliver punched him. Took Emmas hand. “To Grans?”
Chaos eruptedMum pleading, Jamess mother screeching. But Emma didnt care. She followed Oliver, thinking of Gran. She caught Liams eyesilently beckoned.
And he followed, chasing them down the balloon-strewn steps.
