The Shape Of
Things To Come
by Avis Hickman-Gibb
Early one
morning a bride-to-be was standing by her bedroom
window, drinking a stiff vodka and tonic - to
steady her nerves. Glancing up, she saw a sky
that was a clear blue; the few clouds left from
overnight were burning off, rapidly. It was set
to be another hot day in July. The wedding would
take place at 11.30am, at Richmond registry
office. Close family attending only; the wedding
breakfast to be held later at Jasper’s Bun
in the Oven, Kew Green. Then tomorrow, a
honeymoon in Venice via the Orient Express.
Ten minutes
before setting off, the phone rings shrilly into
the morning’s heat. She picks up the
receiver, and the conversation proceeds:
“Hi, good
morning sweetheart, are you up?”
“Yes.
Anything wrong? We’re just about to set off.
What do you want?”
“Nothing
really... just... you know those clothes I
brought round yesterday, to be packed for the
honeymoon?”
“Yes.”
“Well I
need my black shoes for today, and I brought them
round too, by mistake... So, could you just bring
them along to...”
“They’re
in the case.”
“Ok,
could you fish them out and..,”
“They’re
in the case, in the car.”
“Well
– could you go to the car and...”
“They’re
in the case, in the car, outside.”
“... WELL,
can you go outside...”
“They’re
in the case, in the car, parked outside your
house. Now. I drove it ‘round yesterday
afternoon, remember?”
“Oh...
where are the keys?”
“In my
bag, here.”
Pause.
“Well...
on your way to the registry office, could you
just swing by and open the boot?”
Another pause.
“No, I
can’t! I’ve got my family here, the
traffic will be a pig, and it’s bad luck to
see each other before we get there!”
“Oh. But
they’re the only black shoes I’ve got;
the ones I wear with the navy pin-stripe. I
thought you wanted me to wear that one.”
“Wear
another suit, then. Or buy some more black ones.
I can’t get there.”
Yet another
pause.
“... And
don’t wear sneakers.”
Another Voddy
sounded a good idea.
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