Goose by Dawn O'Porter

‘bleedin’ obvious’ (as Pop used to say) when people are in need of a spot of light comical relief, but I can honestly say this is one of the best ever strokes of comedy genius that I have ever had. I open the plastic bag and pull out Aunty Jo’s wedding dress. Despite her being generally quite stylish, this eighties frock looks like someone threw up a Mr Whippy. Layers of billowing crushed ivory silk, silly bows and tacky embroidery. How she ever thought this was a good idea I will never know.
    â€˜Ahhh, a wedding,’ says Nana, looking thrilled. ‘Who is getting married?’
    â€˜Ricky,’ says Flo. ‘Ricky and Renée.’
    I feed Ricky’s feet through the dress and pull it up over his shoulders. ‘Quick, go and get the camera from the drawer in the kitchen,’ I tell Flo. ‘We must document this special day properly.’
    She comes back and snaps away. I have pulled Nana’s armchair round so it is next to me and put the flowery head piece on her that was also in the plastic bag. I have linked Ricky’s arm through mine and I flutter my eyelids as if blissfully in love. I think Nana thinks it’s genuinely a wedding, she is so happy and smiley.
    â€˜OK, look at your new husband,’ instructs Flo. I turn to Ricky and gaze lovingly into his eye sockets. ‘Do you, Renée, take Ricky to be your lawful wedded husband?’
    â€˜I do,’ I say, wistfully.
    â€˜Do you, Ricky, take Renée to be your lawful wedded wife?’
    I say ‘I do’ like a really bad ventriloquist and tug on the neck of the dress so Ricky nods.
    â€˜I now pronounce you hu—’ But before she can finish her pronouncement the distinctive noise of a sharp gasp stops her going any further.
    I turn to see Aunty Jo, her arms crossed angrily over her chest, glaring at me and Ricky and Flo.
    â€˜What do you think you’re doing, Renée?’
    I have never seen her look so mad. I immediately feel like a total fool.
    The atmosphere in the room turns really cold. Aunty Jo is standing in the doorway. And it looks like she might cry.
    â€˜I got married in that,’ she says, quietly, glossing over the fact that a skeleton is wearing the dress. ‘You think it’s funny that my marriage didn’t work out?’
    This is awful. Aunty Jo never gets like this.
    â€˜We are not making fun of you,’ I say awkwardly. ‘I  …  I just thought it would be funny to dress Ricky up  …  ’
    But no amount of explanation can make what is going on seem like normal behaviour. Aunty Jo sighs heavily, shakes her head at me and then walks away. Flo and I hear her bedroom door close. I feel terrible.
    Flo gives me an ‘Oh shit’ look.
    â€˜I’ll get the dress off him and wait in your room,’ she says, starting to undress Ricky.
    Meanwhile, Nana is still sitting there, staring at Ricky, as though everything is completely normal.
    â€˜Come on, Nana,’ I say, ‘let’s get you to bed.’
    â€˜Did she change her mind?’ she asks.
    â€˜Did who change her mind, Nana?’
    â€˜Your wife?’
    â€˜Something like that, Nana,’ I tell her.
    I guide her to her room, see her into bed and give her a kiss goodnight. ‘Sweet dreams, Nana. I love you,’ I say as I shut the door. Only a few years ago she did the same to me.
    â€˜Aunty Jo,’ I say, tapping on her door and opening it gently. ‘Can I come in?’
    She is lying face down on the bed, a pillow over her head. It’s the kind of position I would lie in, and for second I imagine her as a teenager. Mum’s little sister.
    â€˜I’m really sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to.’ I say, sitting next to her.
    She pulls away the pillow and rolls over. She hasn’t been crying, but she looks exhausted and stressed. She sighs again, but looks less mad.
    â€˜I know you didn’t, Renée. I just saw