The Birds and the Bees by Milly Johnson

about the pace, though; it just gave her maximum opportunity to milk that last journey as a single chick and more time to wave and wink and smile at her friends and relatives, in her own unique Pammy way.
    ‘Dearly beloved…’ began the vicar and Stevie gulped. It was exactly four weeks to her own wedding and she hadn’t a clue if it was still on the cards. Her head was clinging onto the possibility that it was, but a very strong and sensible voice within was telling her that she needed to wake up and smell some very strong espresso.
    She managed to get through miming to ‘Love Divine’, which was pitched for either Barry White or Aled Jones in his Snowman days and no one in between. At least she had licence to dab her eyes at the readings then burst into full Teardrop City with everyone else as Pam and William sauntered back up the aisle as husband and wife, smiles bursting their faces open. There were no bridesmaids. Pam didn’t want anyone more glam than her stealing her thunder. Not that they would have been able to out-do Pam’s huge personality–and her huge everything else. And little, tiny, skinny William adored her. You could tell by his face during the ceremony that he could not believe his luck. No one, not even Matthew, had ever looked at Stevie with such intensity of feeling. And no one ever will , said a nasty little voice in her head that appeared to have a Scottish accent.
    So, in the absence of bridesmaids, the best man linked up with Madge, Pam’s mum, William’s doll-like mum linked up behind with Adam MacLean, and Pam’s dad walked out at a more leisurely pace with his own mother. Stevie noticed MacLean flash her a look and she flashed one back as hard. They both transmitted ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ in international eye language. Then, as if that wasn’t enough to contend with, the first person she saw as she followed the others outside for the photos was Matthew. The plus point was that Jo wasn’t with him. The minus point was that he had the suit on that he was supposed to be wearing for his wedding to her.
    ‘Oh shit!’ said Catherine. ‘Have you seen who’s over there?’
    ‘Yes, I’ve just seen him,’ said Stevie, suddenly feeling quite nauseous and light-headed.
    ‘No, not him.’
    ‘What?’
    Catherine did a discreet stabby point and Stevie followed it to see Jo there, in a black suit with red accessories, looking tall and slim and stunning. Stevie was thrown into total shock, and pins and needles prickled at her limbs. She wanted to run across the graveyard and go home. No, she didn’t, she wanted to charge at Jo with her head down like a bull and start clubbing her to death with an urn.
    ‘Keep calm,’ said Catherine, tapping her lightly on the arm. ‘You’re the one that hasn’t done anything wrong. Let them be the ones to make fools of themselves.’
    ‘She obviously hasn’t gone back to MacLean then, so that answers that one,’ said Stevie. ‘Then again, why are she and Matthew ignoring each other?’ She should have felt heartened by this but something was interfering with her ability to do that. Jo was, after all, a designer and this scene was looking distinctly designed.
    ‘They’re probably trying not to incur the wrath of the hairy-legged one,’ said Catherine.
    Stevie watched as Adam’s eyes fell on Matthew and stayed there for a long, long second. His body locked like a Rottweiler’s before an attack, then he snapped out of it quickly to be pulled into a smiling photographic tableau. Then, as a natural consequence of seeing Matthew, he looked around for Jo. He found her, he stared, he swallowed and then was once again part of the happy wedding scene.
    This must be as hard for him as it is for me, thought Stevie, recognizing that blanched, brave look.
    She let her eyes casually drift over to Matthew, who pretended that was the first he had seen of her and, how she managed it she didn’t know, but she waved genially and smiled like the