On White Sands

Celia Kay Andrew’s sparkling short story is set in the Caribbean.

It was going to be a beautiful wedding, in the most beautiful location . . .

- Celia Kay Andrew’s

I WATCHED my beautiful daughter practising for her wedding. She was down on the deserted beach, standing under the canopy by the gently swaying palms, murmuring words from the service to herself.

Rows of white chairs had been set up in a sort of fan formation in front of the canopy, and there was an aisle and a stretch of carpet running up to it.

Garlands of flowers had been draped on the chairs and plaited up the posts of the canopy where Julia and Gregory would stand in a few hours’ time to exchange their vows on this beautiful exotic island.

The priest would bless them against the backdrop of the Caribbean Sea and the endlessly blue sky – no excuse for anything other than perfect photographs.

This wedding had been a long time in the planning. It had been choreographed by Julia and her bridesmaids so that everyone knew exactly where they should stand, sit or kneel at the correct times.

We – both sets of parents – had hired several luxury beachside cabins at the resort, thanks to a timely windfall (a win on the pools), and a number of friends and relatives had had their flights paid for. It was going to be the perfect day.

I watched my daughter now, going through the motions: walking down the beach to the canopy, glancing up at her imaginary husband, dropping her head in a bow to an imaginary priest.

She looked so young, so fragile. Her off-the-shoulder dress showed off her porcelain bone structure and elfin figure.