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She was wondering what had happened. She was still wearing her wedding dress – it was uncomfortable – the waist was too tight, the straps cut into her shoulders, the cold was giving her goose-bumps wherever her bare skin was showing. But where was everybody? The bridesmaids, the best man, the minister, the wedding guests – her husband! And what was she doing out in this empty field? Where was the marquee, the tables, the food, the glasses, the wine? The field was still the same, the sun was still shining, there were a few fleecy clouds in the sky, though it was a little cold – witness the goosebumps - but all she could see was grass, and a few cows down in a distant corner. A car was parked on the dirt road running along the side of the field. She remembered the wedding car had needed to leave the tarmac and drive along this road for miles before they arrived here. But she had to admit it had been worth it - the whole area was serene, pastoral, beautiful – the perfect place for a wedding. But this was a very ordinary car, small, somewhat old and battered. No sign of the limousine that was as much a part of the wedding as everything else that was somehow missing. A woman inside, winding down the window and beckoning to her. Hardly knowing what she was doing, and not having anything else to do, she walked over to the car. Perhaps this could be a key to the mystery – heaven knew, she needed some explanation right now – her thoughts were spinning through her head and she needed some stability, something to hold onto, to convince her she wasn’t going mad. The woman looked up as she approached and smiled. She looked strangely familiar. ‘Hi!’ she said. ‘I expect you’re wondering what’s going on.’ ‘That’s for sure. I’m really confused.’ ‘You probably think you just got married, right?’ ‘I did get married.’ ‘Um . . . not any more.’ ‘What are you talking about? I know I got married – just a few moments ago. There on the field, just near the marquee.’ ‘The one that isn’t there.’ ‘Well, not now. But that doesn’t make any sense either. Am I going mad? Have I lost my memory? But if I am, why am I wearing a wedding dress? And who are you? Do you have anything to do with this?’ ‘In a way, yes. I’ve come back to warn you.’ ‘Warn me? What?’ ‘It’s complicated. Get in the car and I’ll explain it as we drive.’ ‘I’m not sure I should. I don’t know you at all. I don’t know what you’ve got in mind.’ ‘Oh, you’re safe; don’t worry about that. But face it – you’re miles from anywhere, you have no transport to get back to civilisation, and I’m here offering you a lift. You can at least get in and give me a hearing. I promise I’ve got your best interests at heart.’ She felt she probably shouldn’t have entered the car. But she was confused and in shock. Her whole world was reeling about her. One moment she was a new bride, her husband by her side, surrounded by family and friends, the happiest day of her life. She had looked up into his face and realised that from now on her life was going to be perfect. Now – what? The car door was not really big enough to squeeze through with the voluminous skirts of her wedding dress. She had to force it through the opening – she shuddered to think what she was doing to the expensive fabric and embroidery and appliqué pearls. Finally she managed to pull the skirt into the car and bundle it up somehow, though she felt cramped and could barely move with all the layers of fabric bunched up around her. ‘Settled?’ asked the other woman. ‘Not very. I’m not comfortable. But that’s as good as I can get it.’ ‘Well, let’s get going.’ She put the car in gear – it must have been an old car – and they moved off, stirring up a cloud of dust on the rough dirt road. ‘Well?’ said Judy. ‘What’s this all about?’ ‘This is going to be a bit hard to explain. Did you ever see the movie about the man who discovered he was the only one who remembered the Beatles? That suddenly they’d never existed?’ ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ She paused. She didn’t know where this was leading, but what the hell. ‘Yes, I remember it. Good movie, I thought.’ ‘Good. Keep that thought in your head. What happened to your wedding is something like that.’ ‘How? That doesn’t make sense. This isn’t a movie, this is the real world.’ ‘Well, sort of. I told you it’s a bit hard to explain. Once upon a time there was a book - it was science fiction, I suppose. The hero becomes aware that he’s a character in a novel, not a real person. And everything he does and says is just part of a story that someone’s writing.’ ‘So?’ ‘I’m afraid it’s true – at least in your case. You’re the heroine of a romance novel.’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ ‘No, really. When you think about it, doesn’t it explain the illogical things in life that happen, things that just don’t seem to make sense? Like how sometimes you can pack a huge amount of events into a tiny amount of time, and other times months will go by with nothing happening? Or how you don’t remember how you got somewhere? Or when people act completely out of character without reason? You have a good author, but she’s got a fair bit to learn. And this is the first draft. She’s still sorting out her ideas and she’s left in quite a few contradictions and plot holes. But don’t worry, she’ll start sorting those out in the second draft.’ ‘That’s nuts! Do you really expect me to believe a story like that? I may be confused, but not confused enough to get sucked in by that kind of nonsense. This has to be some kind of trick. Or I’ve somehow lost my memory. Or maybe I’m in hospital – something’s happened – an accident on the way back from the wedding – and this is just a dream caused by the medication.’ ‘No, I’m afraid it’s true. But don’t worry - you’re in a very good position. You’re the heroine of the story. You’re a combination of all the author’s ideas of what a heroine should be. You’re Romeo’s Juliet, you’re Éowyn, Susan Sto Helit, Tiffany Aching, Sarah Connor, Dante’s Beatrice. But most of all you’re her – with all her thoughts and hopes dreams and aspirations – and faults. You’re everything she always wanted to be, but you’re also everything she is and has been, now and in the past. And if she’s skilled enough and honest enough and willing to be vulnerable enough, you could be the kind of heroine who stays in people’s minds, someone they remember all their lives, who inspires and uplifts them and brings them comfort when life makes them feel small, and hope when all seems black.’ ‘I don’t believe this. If that’s the case, who are you?’ ‘Oh, I’m Cinderella’s fairy godmother and Galadriel, Gandalf, and Mentor of Arisia, but mostly I’m the author’s fifth grade teacher, who encouraged her and saw something worthwhile in her, and inspired her to write. Who told her she had potential, that she was clever and capable, and had a mastery of language which could be developed, who gave her hope that she could be successful and share her wonderful ideas with the world.’ ‘And don’t worry – you are the heroine of this story, and it’ll all turn out well. You’ll go through some hard times – it’s necessary to the story – but it’ll all turn out alright. Your author believes in happy endings. She’s a great believer in love. She’ll replace Greg with somebody better, you can be sure of that. Your hero will be Romeo without the wimpiness, he’s Aragorn, Faramir, but most of all he’s her husband, the man she fell in love with when they were both eighteen, then broke up with after a year and always regretted it. Who she never found anyone to compare with, and who she met again by accident ten years later and married and has been with ever since. He’s kind and strong and gentle and cares deeply for her. She’s his princess. That’s what you’ve got to look forward to.’ ‘But what happened to my wedding? Where did it go?’ ‘She changed her mind. She decided the groom she’d written wasn’t good enough and she deleted the marriage scene. But she forgot to delete your wedding dress and the field the wedding was to be held in – and you travelling to it - they were in an earlier scene. Which is why you found yourself there in your wedding dress all by yourself. So I decided I’d better do something about it. Don’t worry, she’s working on that at the moment – you’ll notice the wedding dress is gone and you’re just wearing your ordinary clothes.’ Judy looked down. The woman was right. She was in slacks and a top. Not only that, but she always had been – she remembered the wedding dress, but she also remembered that she’d always been wearing slacks and top. ‘Oh, and she’s thinking about changing your name. She doesn’t think Judy is romantic enough. Do you have any preferences?’ She couldn’t believe she was going along with this, but she found herself saying ‘Well, I’ve always liked the name Felicity – it means happiness.’ ‘Felicity it is, then. You’ve got a lot to look forward to.’ The car came to a stop. A loud backfire shook its grubby fabric. Yes, it was an old car. Why had that been included in the story? ‘Here we are at your home. I’ll drop you off now – I’ve got other things to do. Your family will be here – your mother and father, your brother and sister. Don’t be surprised if they ask you where you’ve been. They won’t know anything about the marriage – it never happened, remember? And don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to have a wonderful life – some struggles in between, but they’ll all turn out well in the end. And you’ll live happily ever after. I told you – the author’s a big believer in happy endings.’ Felicity walked into the house, and sure enough, there was the whole family. ‘Where have you been?’ asked her father. ‘You just vanished!’ ‘Oh, I met somebody I knew and we went for a drive out into the country. Very pretty out there – grass, cows, you know. Very peaceful.’ She looked around. ‘Where’s Greg?’ ‘Who?’ ‘Greg. You know, Greg.’ ‘Nope. Never heard of him.’ Oh. Of course. Greg had ceased to exist - simply been written out of the story. ‘Don’t worry about it. Just someone from work. He said he might come and visit today.’ ‘You’re sure you’re all right? You sound like you’re off with the fairies.’ ‘I’m sorry. I think I’m just still thinking about the countryside. I really need to get out more.’ ‘Maybe you’re just by yourself too much. I worry about you, Felicity. You work too hard. You take life too seriously. Maybe you need to meet some nice guy. How about this Greg?’ ‘No, I don’t think I’d ever have a future with him. But maybe someone will turn up. I have a feeling that might be very soon.’ She smiled. ‘In fact I’m certain of it.’

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THE CANCELLED BRIDE

egfroth

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THE CANCELLED BRIDE

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Steven Lowe

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