The Flower GIRL
It’s like she’s taking over,’ Lynne said as she walked into the lounge.
Her husband Dave glanced up from the football on the TV. ‘Who?’ ‘Stella.’
‘Ah,’ he said knowingly.
‘I’ve just come off the phone with Amy. She said her mum’s offered to arrange the flowers for the tables and make the garland for Polly.’
‘So what? You hate flower arranging,’ Dave said, his focus back on the match.
Lynne frowned. Admittedly, she was always relieved to receive pre-arranged flowers in one of those water-filled plastic bags. ‘That’s not the point. She’s already designed and made the bridesmaids’ dresses and...’
‘And you told me she’s a dab hand with the sewing machine, so what’s the problem? I thought you were pleased when Amy asked you to crochet that jacket?
‘I was...I am,’ she said, but her words were drowned out by her husband’s cheer as a goal was scored.
‘Why are you letting it get to you?
Lynne went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. The phone call from her future daughter-in-law had
