Helen agreed to be a witness at her nephew’s wedding because he said she would only need to sign her name.
“No speech?”
“No speech.”
“No organising?”
“Just be there.”
Helen bought a blue dress and put a good pen in her handbag.
A week before the wedding, her nephew called.
“Could you keep the rings until the ceremony?”
Helen agreed.
Two days later, the bride asked whether Helen could collect the flowers.
The florist was near her house.
Helen said yes.
Her sister asked whether she could check that their father had brought the right shoes.
He owned three similar black pairs and usually selected one shoe from each.
Helen said yes again.
She began writing each favour on a card, believing this would prevent any expanding unnoticed.
By Wednesday, the cards required a clip.
By Thursday, the clip required a folder.
Her nephew asked whether she had everything ready.
Helen asked whether that included her own dress.
He sounded surprised that she had one.
By Friday, her handbag contained the pen, ring box, flower receipt, spare tights, two safety pins, and a list of emergency phone numbers.
She telephoned her nephew.
“You said I only needed to sign.”
“You do. These are just little favours.”
Helen asked whether little favours came in larger bags.
On the wedding morning, she collected the flowers.
The florist asked who was organising transport.
Helen said she was not the organiser.
He gave her the driver’s number anyway.
At her sister’s house, she matched their father’s shoes and found the bride’s father holding a shirt with no cufflinks.
She lent him a spare pair from her handbag.
Her sister stared.
“Why have you got cufflinks?”
“I began anticipating.”
At the venue, the registrar asked for the witnesses.
Helen stepped forward.
Her nephew said she was the reliable one.
That description immediately travelled through the room.
A guest asked her where to put a gift.
A waiter asked when the group photographs would begin.
The photographer asked which relative could identify the family.
Helen said she had come to sign her name.
“Perfect,” the photographer said. “You know the names.”
She arranged three groups, found a missing uncle, and prevented her father from changing into a more comfortable pair of mismatched shoes.
At last, the ceremony began.
Helen sat down with the rings ready.
Her phone remained silent.
For the first time that morning, nobody needed her.
Then her sister whispered that the flower girl’s sash had come loose.
Helen handed over a safety pin without turning her head.
When the time came, she signed carefully.
Her good pen worked.
Her nephew thanked her.
“You were wonderful.”
“I was extensively deployed.”
At the reception, Helen left her handbag beside her chair.
A cousin asked whether she would hold his car keys.
A bridesmaid asked whether she had tissues.
The best man asked whether she could read his speech and remove anything dangerous.
Helen took a sip of water.
Then she reached into her bag and removed the registrar’s programme.
It described her role in one short line.
WITNESS.
She placed it in front of the cousin, bridesmaid, and best man.
“Evidence,” she said.
Her nephew came to find her.
“Is everything all right?”
“Certainly.”
“Could you just help with the cake?”
Helen handed him her good pen.
“Why do I need this?”
She took a clean card and wrote a heading.
FURTHER DUTIES ACCEPTED.
Underneath, she added space for a signature.
Her nephew looked at it.
“I don’t understand.”
“You sign. I witness.”
He signed.
Helen sat back.
“Finally. My job.”