Maid Stumble Branch: use these three words

‘Why did you let Julie be your maid of honour? She’ll mess it up somehow, I know she will.’

Sue’s question buzzed in my ear. As my best friend since forever, she’d expected the role, but she was eight months through a difficult pregnancy and I hadn’t wanted to add pressure. Or be left with no one if she had to spend the last month with her feet up being waited on.

‘I’m sorry, Sue.’ I pointed to her significant bump, sat next to me in the bridal boutique while we waited for Julie to appear from the dressing room wearing the final fit of her gown. ‘We’ve been through this a zillion times – I didn’t want to add to your problems.’

She humphed. ‘That bit I know, but why her?’

Why her? Good question. I did have other friends I could have called on. However, Julie was my brother’s fiance, and we got on pretty well. She could be a bit of a klutz at times, gawky with colt-like legs and long, slim arms which didn’t always coordinate. She’d been thrilled when I asked, and had been diligent about her duties, if not always efficient. Sue had been a pain, double-guessing Julie at every turn, pointing out colours I hated (not those I loved), ditto with flowers etc. I’d felt sorry for Julie, whose pretty face had grown haggard over the months of planning.

‘It’s okay,’ I told her several times. ‘You’re doing a great job. Sue’s not normally like this, it’s the pregnancy.’

She appeared to be comforted, and things had settled for a while. Now Sue was playing up again, the day before the big day.

‘Look,’ I said, twisting sideways to peer into her face. ‘Why don’t you offer Julie an olive branch, so to speak, and be nice and sweet just for the next two days? Not make her more nervous than she already is.’

Sue scowled, then grinned over my shoulder. I turned to see, and winced at the thump of Julie’s stumble in her too high heels, and the tearing rip of the gown …

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2 thoughts on “Maid Stumble Branch: use these three words”

  1. Tess knew she was in trouble. Maid to Lord Travington, she had been out wandering the moors and, not realising the time, was late back to the manor.
    Lateness was something that Lord Travington could not abide and so on her return Tess tried to sneak in a side entrance.
    Somebody had left a large branch in the doorway over which, in the rapidly approaching darkness, she stumbled.
    “Aha, young lady, caught you in the act,” chided Lord Travington, who obviously realised she was already missing and was lying in wait.
    “Sorry m’lord,” mumbled Tess contritely. “Went for a walk and lost track of time. Won’t happen again.”
    “Too right it won’t,” he thundered, his face turning purple. “I’ll teach you not to dally.”
    And with that he removed the leather belt from his trousers and raised his arm to strike.
    Tess cowered, waiting for the blow to strike, when she suddenly noticed his trousers slipping to reveal bare legs and not much else.
    Realising what had happened, Lord Travington paused mid-blow and, totally flustered, grabbed for his pants with his free hand.
    Tess couldn’t help laughing at his unfortunate plight and took off down the corridor to her bedroom.
    Bellowing like an enraged bull, Lord Travington limped in pursuit, belt in one hand and trousers in the other.
    But Tess was too quick and, reaching her bedroom door, slammed it shut then shot the bolt home.

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