“Dont you dare touch her!”
Mum called, her voice thin and childlike, and said: “Emily, can you come over?”
Emilys heart sank straight to her stomach. Shed heard that tone beforewhen Grandad passed away. Back then, the whole family scrambled for black outfits (since black was all her older brother, William, would wear in his rebellious teenage phase), squeezed into a stuffy train, and drifted aimlessly around a gloomy flat that didnt feel like home. Grandad had been a painter, surrounded by admirers, but when it came to burying him, only his daughterMumwas left. That same hollow voice was back now.
“Whats wrong?” Emily asked nervously, already dreading what Edward would say if they had to postpone the wedding *again*. The first time was because shed gone skiing with friends and broken her leg. Edward had shouted himself hoarsehis parents had booked time off, bought train tickets, and there she was, reckless as ever. Hed warned her: *Dont go if you cant even ski properly!*
But this time, it wasnt her fault. Still, guilt gnawed at her.
“Grans poorly. Just got back from the hospitaltests arent good.”
Emily knew Gran had been for tests, and if Mum had led with that, shed have been upset. But now? Now it almost felt like a relief. If no one had died, the wedding wouldnt need postponing. In fact, they ought to hurrywhile Gran was still…
Her throat tightened. The thought was terrifying. Gran had always been there, as long as Emily could remember. Mum had told her how, after Grandad left them with nothing but tuppence to their name, Gran worked triple shifts just to keep food on the table. It wasnt until Mum turned seventeen that the *great artist* finally deigned to help his daughter. And even now, Gran still slipped them moneyher, Mum, William*how* did she manage to save anything from her pension?
“Ill come straight over.”
Gran was putting on a brave face, even cracking jokes.
“Dont fret, love. Theyll do chemomight help. Just hate that Ill lose my hair. Had this plait my whole lifecant imagine being without it.”
Grans hair *was* gloriouslong, thick. Though lately, more silver than brown.
“Lets dye it for the wedding?” Emily suggested. “Youll be the prettiest one there!”
Gran lit upthen immediately fumbled for her purse.
“Gran, no, Ill buy it!”
“Dont be daftyouve a wedding to pay for! Take it, no arguments. Ohwait, Ive got something for you.”
She rummaged through the cupboard, plastic bags rustling, before pulling out a small pink parcel.
“Took me three months. Eyes arent what they were,” she said, and Emily could *feel* the nervous hope in her voice.
Inside was a delicate ivory shawla bit old-fashioned, but so tenderly made Emily decided on the spot: shed wear it at the wedding.
“Its perfect, Gran! Thank you!”
“Your mum said youd never wear it,” Gran muttered. “She was always like thatmade her a yellow dress once, raglan sleeves, and she *doused* it in green ink just to get out of wearing it…”
Grans voice wobbled. Emily rushed to reassure her*Mum said it was an accident!*the lie slipping out easily.
They chatted, drank tea, dyed Grans hair, and before they knew it, evening fell. Emily had left her phone in the hall, so she missed the calls. Not that she expected anywhat else could go wrong today? Then the doorbell rang.
William and his best mate, Christopher, stood there, a box in hand. Inside, a ginger kitten peered up with bright, curious eyes.
“Margaret Thompson, look what weve brought you!” Christopher beamed.
Gran took one look at the kittenand burst into tears.
Three years ago, her beloved cat, Marmalade, had died. A bold, amber-eyed ginger, hed been her companion for twelve years. Shed been heartbroken, refusing to get another.
“Chris, loveIm *dying*,” she said. “Whatll happen to him then? Youll just toss him out!”
“Dont talk rot,” William cut in. “First off, no ones tossing anyone. Secondguess youll have to *not* die.”
“And whatll I feed him? Havent even got milk!”
“Ill go!” Emily offered.
“Ill come,” Christopher said. “Fancy a bite anywaywell grab something for tea…”
Truth was, Emily didnt *want* to be alone with Christopher. There was something in his gaze that unsettled herespecially when hed taken the wedding invitation, unsmiling, and said, *”Shame. Id hoped I still had a chance.”*
But arguing in front of Gran was out of the question, and dragging William along felt silly. So off they went.
She neednt have worried. Christopher stayed quiet, only saying how sorry he was about Gran and how he hoped shed pull through. When Emily asked if Edward was coming to the wedding, he just said, *”Course.”* No smile. Like there was more he wanted to say.
They bought a cake and pastiesGran scoffed, saying hers were better. William praised her hair; Christopher asked Emily to try on the shawl, staring like he was spellbound. A lovely eveningshame Mum was stuck on shift with no cover.
Then Emily checked her phone.
Edward had messaged. Shed *completely* forgottendinner with his parents. He was livid.
“I *told* you I was at Grans,” she defended. “She just got her diagnosis”
“Shes had her time,” Edward snapped. “No need to wreck *our* lives. Mums devastated, you know.”
She rushed home to placate him. William drove her; Christopher stayed with Gran.
Home was a battlefield. Edward ranted*irresponsible, selfish, no priorities*. When he saw the shawl? *”Hideous. Youre not wearing that.”*
Emily hoped hed calm downbut they bickered like cat and dog right up to the wedding. Then Gran was hospitalised. Emily suggested cancelling*no mood to celebrate*but Edward hissed about wasted money, non-refundable bookings, guests already arrived. *”Let her restshe wouldnt enjoy it anyway.”*
She knew Edward hated the shawl. Knew Gran wouldnt be there. But*photos last forever*. Gran had spent *three months* making it.
So she wore it.
“*Emily*, whyd you put that *rag* on?” Mum fretted. “That gorgeous dresswhy ruin it? I know Gran”
Then Mum cried. More mascara. Thank God Edward arrivedMum flurried into host mode. *Nothings ready! The grooms here!*
Emily hadnt wanted the silly games, the doll on the carbut Edwards parents insisted. Waiting was agonyher bridesmaids off doing the *”ransom”*, so she called Gran.
“Could youvisit me?” Gran asked softly. “Id love to see you.”
“*Of course* we will!” Emily saidthough she doubted Edward would agree. “Ohwhos got the kitten? Keep forgetting to ask.”
“Christopher took him. Such a good lad…”
Christopher was their chauffeur todayWilliam had declared hed be *”proper sloshed”* at his sisters wedding. *Grans right*, Emily thought. *He is good. Why didnt I see it before?*
Then Edward saw the shawl.
“Take. It. *Off.* I *told* you!”
Bridesmaids, family, photographersall watching. Emilys cheeks burned.
“Stop,” she whispered. “Its *my* wedding too.”
“And *I* want a wife who *listens*!”
“Im *not* your wife yet!”
Mum and his mother tried mediatingbut suddenly, Emily *didnt* want to marry him. Didnt want the nitpicking, the bending, the erasing herself to please him.
“I want to see Gran,” she said. “Take me to her.”
“Youre *mad*,” Edward hissed. “*Now?*”
She tried pushing pastbut he grabbed her wrist, *hard*.
“**Dont you dare touch her!**”
Emily turned.
Christopher. Eyes blazing.
“Piss off,” Edward snarled. “*My* fiancée*well* sort it.”
Then William punched him. Grabbed Emilys hand.
“Lets go to Grans?”
Chaosshouting, Mum pleading, Edwards
