Wedding by Sharon McDougal

The white view flickered with snowflakes. Increasingly fat now, splattering at the car windscreen in a cartoonish way. It looked chaotic and nice. Why didn’t he mind the disruption?

5.32pm. He’d left work at 4, he should have been back half an hour ago. Cath hadn’t texted yet, soon she would.

It was definitely falling more heavily. ‘Substantial snowfall’ the radio confirmed. He felt something inside him relax, he noted that he must have been in dread a bit. He was glad of this intervention.

Maybe there would be a lull in life. A standstill over the entire weekend. A freeze-frame of him, now, stuck in time.

Wedding by Emma Morley

Sarah flicked on the light and gave up on any more hope of sleep. The muffled sound of music told her that Marion was also awake. Christ, I hope she’s had more sleep than me, she thought. Her back ached badly and her eyes were dry and the curious toxic taste in her mouth was a clear sign that her body was in desperate need of rest. The past few weeks, and before, had been horribly stressful. She heaved herself out of bed in order to make her daughter a cup of tea.

‘Hello darling, how are you? Did you sleep?’ she gave Marion the tea.

‘A bit. How about you?’

‘Yes, fine, thanks.’

She sat on her daughter’s bed. Marion looked tired but lovely. Her newly dyed blond hair disheveled and her skin had a light tan which brought out the extraordinary paleness of her blue eyes and made her look younger than she was. Marion sipped the tea and smiled.

Wedding Nerves by Janet McEvoy

Something had woken her. Catherine had been asleep in the unfamiliar bedroom, but now her mind was alert, her body tense with fear.

Earlier, sitting with her mother on the edge of the bed, they had talked of everyday things, calming her jangling nerves. They spoke in hushed voices, intimidated by the size and grandeur of the house. Before leaving her, her mother went to close the heavy drapes, and, walking past the dressing table, picked up the ornate tiara Catherine was to wear the next day. ‘Good god, it’s heavier than it looks isn’t it?’ ‘Yes, and its horribly tight too’ said Catherine, ‘but then it wasn’t made for my head, but for you-know-who’s’. Her mother grimaced, returning the tiara carefully to its velvet nest. ‘Well, you’ll look beautiful in it darling, and anyway, tomorrow is all about you. Come on now, try to get some sleep’. Her mother leant over and kissed her tenderly, stroking her cheek. “Sweet dreams, sweet girl”. Moving to the door she stopped, not quite able to leave her anxious child. ‘You’re bound to feel apprehensive darling, I know I did. Especially with all those people. But you must try to screen it all out and just focus on who you’re marrying. It’ll help you get through it”. ‘I will’ she answered, and they giggled at the echo of her pending wedding vow. Her mother flicked the light switch and closed the door, and Catherine went to sleep, more easily than her fractious state would have led her to expect.

The Wedding by Lucy Thomas

The American woman was still sitting by the window when they returned from their walk. Peeling off their wet clothes, Margot staggered trying to loosen a welly and laughed as she clutched at Rob, the sound breaking the silence of the virtually empty hotel. It had been Rob's idea to come away early for their friends' wedding, to make a holiday of it and despite her earlier concerns she was now pleased. It was good to get away from London and, she guiltily admitted to herself, the house and the children, their very solid, noisy presence a constant reminder of what was now absent. The woman at the window had turned at their noisy entrance and Margot suddenly saw herself reflected in the barely contained distaste she thought she detected in the woman's glance. She felt self conscious, her happiness an artifice, the girlish laughter purely an attempt at feeling light hearted, as if with trying hard enough she could expunge the previous year, she could convince herself that she was happy and if she could convince herself then she could convince Rob too. This was a fragile facade she had constructed, just a glance could dismantle it, she felt panicked, the whole weight of her responsibilities and attendant grief and disappointments threatening to pull her under, suffocating and inescapable. 'What the hell am I doing here?' she thought, the hotel drawing room suddenly too hot, too silent and Rob walking towards her, smiling, oblivious to the shattering of her much fought for earlier positive mood.