Posture. It’s a strange thing. Drastically improves when you’re in someone else’s house. The less well you know them, the straighter your spine will be.
There are four people in the room each looking equally awkward. A sad looking lop-sided Victoria sponge remains untouched. The furniture is old fashioned but tasteful; the pale pink floral curtains clash slightly with the blue striped wallpaper.
The older man, smartly dressed, is sat next to a woman around his age. Her hands are clenched so tightly around her teacup her knuckles are white.
The younger man and woman are both staring at the floor. The only noise in the room is her shoe nervously tapping the coffee table. The atmosphere is tangible. The awkward silence cannot last forever.
‘So, is it serious?’
‘We’re getting married.’
‘Is she pregnant?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘Well, I failed to see what the rush is…’
‘Oh and that means what?’
‘Look, me and Lesley are in love and we’re getting married. I’m sorry if this upsets you and your sister, but your mother and I have been divorced for ten years!’