Cornwall CALLING
On the eve of her wedding, Ava was awoken early by the sound of crunching gravel outside. Yawning, she peeped out of her bedroom window to see the florist emerging from her van, her arms full of lilies and roses.
She remembered her sister Sophie steering her towards those as she’d shown her pictures of various flower arrangements in her file marked Ava’s Big Day. Ava had happily gone along with whatever Sophie thought best.
She pulled on her dressing gown and crept downstairs to make a cup of tea, hoping to scurry back to bed, but her sister’s kitchen was a hive of activity.
‘Here’s our bride!’ cooed Sophie, and assorted delivery men and caterers beamed at her eagerly. ‘How does your last day as a single woman feel, sis?’
Ava blushed. She hated being the centre of attention.
‘Petrifying…?’ she ventured.
People looked rather disappointed. It was clearly not the romantic response they’d been hoping for.
Sophie, as usual, stepped in to say all the right things.
‘She’s so excited,’ she trilled, ‘just a bit nervous. I felt exactly the same the day before I married Simon.’
Sophie reached for her file and passed Ava a printed itinerary. ‘Here’s a reminder of everything that’s happening today,’ she said.
It read… 10am: Facial and massage. 1pm: Lunch. 3pm: Manicure and pedicure. 6.30pm: Pre-dinner champagne.
Ava hugged her. ‘You’re amazing,’ she said. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
A year earlier, after they’d lost their parents
