Capgun Wedding

I didn’t want to get out of the taxi. His shoes were the pointiest winkle-pickers I’d ever seen.

State. Where did he get them from?

He’d had his hair cut. State.

Looked like that John Mills in Hobson’s Choice.

I had a choice. Gett out of the taxi and marry him or else... Or else. The Or Elses didn’t bear thinking about. They never did.

1963. Liverpool. Home For Unmarried Mothers.

Catholic bitches.

Story by:

Phil Doran

submitted at 10:52pm

12 October 2009