Write a story featuring two main characters, Jane and Elizabeth. Jane’s daughter, Ruth, is about to be married. Elizabeth is more excited about this than Jane, who has already seen four of her other daughters married already. It’s the day before the wedding.
Using about 500 words, write a mini-story based around the two women described above, entirely in narrative, without using dialogue.
I must have cut a comical lopsided figure, with my vast but weightless hatbox swinging from one hand, the suitcase containing my new outfit, three backup outfits and the gift-wrapped coffee percolator leaden in the other.
Not that I much cared. The spring sun was so uplifting. I hoped, as I seesawed across the car park to the beautiful Georgian hotel, that the weather would hold for tomorrow’s noon ceremony.
I hauled my cargo into reception, and my second impression of cosy, oak-beamed Blake Court was even more heartening than the first. The place seemed to stretch out and put its arms around me. How could Jane be so blasé about it all? She blamed it on ‘wedding fatigue,’ having married off four daughters already, compared with my one.
Once the bubbly receptionist had checked me in, and summoned a porter to aid with my luggage, I called Jane from my room, hopeful of convening in the bar. She was over an hour away, in a motorway cafe, still sounding astonishingly apathetic. Ruth had arrived, though, if I wished to catch up with her. Ruth was the bride, my goddaughter, the youngest, and between you and me my favourite, of Jane’s quintet.
I flicked the toy-sized kettle on for a cup of tea first, and started to hang my medley of outfits in the wardrobe.
My room had a splendid view of Blake Court’s gardens which were a dazzle of budding colours. How I wished my Helen could have chosen such a wedding venue. Well, not that she chose any aspect of her day. It was all his lot. That clan swallowed her the minute she moved over there.
Oh, that wedding was a showpiece and a half. The colossal Neo-Gothic church (like any of that lot are religious – unless you count betting shops and bars as places of worship), the regiment of bridesmaids and groomsmen, the reception so choreographed I thought I was at a recording of Strictly Come Dancing.
I knew nobody there, Helen knew few more. The cream of Boston society were in attendance, but none of our family.
Despite losing my Colin the year before, I remained intent on upholding the ‘bride’s family pays’ tradition. However, my funds were snubbed, and I was patronised as the charity-case English widow.
Helen was not able to make Ruth’s day, poor babe, being stuck in the States finalising the gruelling divorce procedure.
Next, again using about 500 words, re-tell the story using mainly dialogue, with only minimal narrative passages in between.
‘Janey, it’s me.’ Liz sat on the floral bedspread in her rural hotel room as her old school friend answered the mobile. ‘I’ve just arrived. Fancy a little G&T in the bar?’
‘We’re still an hour away, love. In a motorway greasy spoon. No ketchup for me, thanks Terry.’
‘Oh? Thought you’d be here already.’
‘Nah, got all day, haven’t we? Ruth’s about somewhere, though, with one of her bridesmaids, if you want to catch up with her.’
‘They might not want Aunty Lizzy cramping their style right now. I might have a cup of tea first, and hang my outfits in the wardrobe, then go and say hello.’
‘Outfits, did you say?’
‘Oh, I’ve brought four. Three backup ones, besides what I’m wearing.’
‘What are you like?’
‘You never know, I might spill coffee or my pen might leak. Or it might rain. Shouldn’t think so, though. This weather looks like it’ll hold for tomorrow.’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s such a gorgeous hotel anyway.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘Oh Janey, how can you be so blasé about all this?’
‘Wedding fatigue, my dear. You forget Terry and I have already married off four daughters, compared with your one.’
‘I’d have swapped any one of your girls’ days with our Helen’s bloody showpiece. A nice civil ceremony in a country hotel would have been grand. Instead she has to go scooting off to America for her gap year, falling for a guy who thinks he’s second in command to Bill bloody Gates and getting wed with the cream of Boston society in attendance but none of our family.’
‘You can’t really blame Helen, though.’ Jane swallowed a forkful of bacon and beans, rolling her eyes gently at her husband Terry. This was a timeworn topic, though she always humoured Liz. ‘It was all his lot, wasn’t it? They seemed to swallow her the minute she moved over there.’
‘Absolutely. The way they do things over there is such a performance. Everything was so choreographed, I thought I was at a Strictly Come Dancing recording. That massive church – like any of them are religious! Unless you count betting shops and bars as places of worship. And all those bridesmaids and groomsmen – our Helen hadn’t met some of them twice.’
Jane swapped phone and fork from hand to hand as Liz went on.
‘My money wasn’t good enough for them either. Despite losing Col, I had every intention of keeping up the tradition of the bride’s family paying. But they snubbed me, said they didn’t need my contribution. I ended up feeling like a charity case. Anyway, enough of me rabbiting. I’m so sorry Helen couldn’t come over for Ruthie’s day. I’m sure she’ll be thinking of everyone. You know how it is, though, it’s difficult at the moment, she’s had to stay over there to try and tie everything up.’
‘Yes, how is her divorce going?’
