Page 8 of Flowers Go Flying in Crumbleton

The ceremony was mercifully short – and Milly was chuffed to note that the flowers looked perfect. Everything had gone smoothly - with the I Dos happening in all the right places, accompanied by a few elegant tears (from the mother of the bride) and a giggle or two (courtesy of the hilarious celebrant who’d definitely missed her calling as a stand-up comedian.)

The only thing Milly found disappointing about the whole affair was the fact that Murray had kept his back to the guests for most of the ceremony. It was a very nice back though.

‘Well… that’s that then!’ said Caroline as they stood watching the newlyweds disappear from the room.

‘What’s next?’ said Milly, looking slightly distracted as she craned her neck, trying to catch sight of Murray through the forest of feathered fascinators that had reared up around her.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ came the celebrant’s voice. ‘Mr and Mrs Williams would like to ask you all to join them back outside for the tossing of the bouquet!’

‘That answers that, then,’ said Caroline, grabbing Milly’s hand and towing her towards the doors. ‘Come on – let’s get out there for the scrum!’

Milly shrugged and followed her friend… not that she had any intention of trying to catch the flying flowers. After all, she knew how much they weighed.

‘Why on earth is she so keen to get rid of her bouquet, do you think?’ puffed Milly, doing her best to keep up. ‘Surely that usually happens after food, and toasts… and bad dancing?!’

‘You tell me,’ said Caroline. ‘You made the thing. Did you spray it with stink-powder or something?’

‘No! As if I’d-’

‘Chillax, Mills,’ chuckled Caroline. ‘I was joking! I think they just wanted an excuse to get everyone outside so that they can get the room ready for the reception and get the disco set up in the corner.’

‘Oh!’ said Milly. ‘Is she really going to throw the flowers in the carpark? What about the gardens... surely that would be a better photo op?’

‘According to Kendra, the grass is too soggy after all the rain,’ said Caroline as they emerged back into the sun-drenched carpark. ‘They didn’t want to spend the rest of the day rescuing all the stiletto-wearers from ankle-deep mud.’

‘Well, that’s fair enough,’ laughed Milly. ‘Not much space out here for it though, is there?’ she added, squeezing down the side of a battered old Volvo. It was going to be tough to find a spot in the crowd where she wouldn’t be in danger of getting elbowed in the ribs.

On the other side of the carpark, near the snoozing horse, a gaggle of eager-looking women were already gathering, jockeying for elbow room as they prepared to fight for the bridal bouquet.

‘Get over there Mills!’ said Caroline, giving her a gentle shove.

‘No chance,’ spluttered Milly, doing her best to stand her ground in the thickening crowd. ‘What about you?’

‘No way!’ said Caroline. ‘Perks of being a reporter – I observe.’

Milly giggled as Caroline pulled herself up to her full height and did her best to look haughty and aloof. ‘Hope they get on with it, though – I could do with a glass of fizz,’ she added, completely ruining the effect. ‘Weddings make me thirsty.’

‘Mmm,’ Milly mumbled her vague agreement as she glanced around, trying to spot Murray in the throng. He had to be out there somewhere, didn’t he? She couldn’t see him – but then, she couldn’t really see much in this chaos.

There wasn’t room to swing a cat in the packed carpark. People kept stepping on Milly’s toes, and the photographer was busy making things worse by squeezing her way through the crowd – elbows first – clearly intent on reaching the action before she missed the photo opportunity completely.

‘Here we go!’ said Caroline, nudging Milly and pointing at the bride as she appeared bearing the bouquet. With some difficulty, she raised the flowers over her head and turned her back on the group of jostling women.

As the flowers sailed up into the sky, everything started to move in slow motion – or at least, that was what it felt like to Milly. It wasn’t a bad throw at all, considering the weight of the blooms and the fact that the bride’s movements were hampered by her bejewelled corset. Her eyes followed the bouquet as it flew in a high arc above the forest of waiting arms.

Then – out of nowhere – someone made a brave leap for the bouquet. The jump was worthy of the Olympics – but the woman’s fingers only just managed to clip the stems, sending the flowers spinning wildly in a different direction.

The horse tossed its head nervously.

There was a collective gasp.

A dull thud.

And then - complete silence.

It took a few beats before time sped back up again – but when it did, all hell broke loose.

‘Is there a doctor here? Do we have a doctor in the crowd?’ shrieked a woman’s voice. She sounded more than a little bit hysterical.

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