The Wedding Next Door

 “Mama asked me to give you this.” The boy from next door was holding out a stiff envelope. 

Dotty looked into his dark brown eyes. They were really serious today. His eyebrows were raised as if asking a question. 

“What is it?” 

“You will have to open it and see, Mrs Fellows,” said the boy. 

Dotty slid the card out of its envelope. It was so colourful it made her eyes smart. There was a picture of a young Pakistani girl dressed in a very elaborate dress. There was a lot of yellow in it. The girl had reddish brown patterns all over her hands and arms. The strange squiggles on the card meant nothing to Dotty. There were obviously some letters printed there but she couldn’t make out what they were, let alone what any of the words might mean. “So, what’s this then?” 

“It’s an invitation to my sister’s wedding.  Mama wants you to come.” He bit his lip and looked away from her slightly. “You will come, won’t you? Mama is worried that it might be noisy. There will be drums.” 

“When is it?” 

“Saturday. This Saturday.”

“I don’t know.  I think I’ve got something else on.” Perhaps she could go and see her daughter. Get away from the noise that way. 

“Please come. We’d like you to be there.” He waved and scampered back up the garden path.  

He wasn’t a bad lad. He had a strange name, though. Majid. Like “magic” but with a d at the end.  At least he could speak English. His grandmother only spoke Urdu. His mother tried her best, but she spoke so fast and with such a heavy accent that Dotty couldn’t understand her. The two girls were so shy that they never talked to anyone. Which one was getting married, she wondered? The tall thin girl. Or the shorter one who wore glasses? She had no idea which one was older. She supposed it was an arranged marriage. That’s what they did, didn’t they?