Cora and Thomas posed to cut their wedding cake, blinking in the flash of cameras and good wishes.
Mother – proud in heather tweed and pill box hat – rushed forward once the cutting was done, levered off the top layer of cake, icing swags calving on the Axminster.
A box was ready, lined with crisp white tissue. ‘For the christening,’ said Mother, beaming.
Decades later, when clearing her great aunt’s house, Cora’s niece found a tier of greyed cake nestled in yellowed tissue.
It was tossed in the bin with other items of little value.
***
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See here to join in the fun.
I couldn’t think of a story concerning plastic boxes, but the swagged curtains reminded me of white icing on a wedding cake, so that’s where I went.
Notes
Wedding Cake Tradition. Not sure if it still is, but it was once the tradition for couples to save the top tier of their wedding cake for their first child’s christening, see here.
Axminster is the name of the oldest surviving carpet manufacturers in the UK. When I was a kid, we could only dream of a real wool Axminster carpet. It was nylon all the way for us!
Word Shamble 
Once again you have created a masterpiece, Lynn, depicting life’s great joys and lasting disappointments in just 100 words.
Marvellous.
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Aw, thanks so much C! You’re very kind. And isn’t that just life? I suppose if we didn’t have a mixture of these elements, we’ve note really lived at all. Thank you so much for reading
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A most imaginative take on the prompt, Lynn. And I loved “icing swags calving on the Axminster” – that’s a wonderful description!
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Thanks so much Penny. I read that expression somewhere recently in relation to icebergs – they ‘calve’ chunks of ice as they melt. It felt fitting for the cake shedding its icing. Thank you so much for reading and the kind comment
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To hoard is a human frailty. To throw away other people’s treasures? Now is that a strength? You captured this well, Lynn
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It’s a difficult thing, sorting through other people’s possessions after they’re gone, when the significance passes away with the owner. Thank you for the kind comment, Neil
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Such a poignant story, Lynn. I well remember the tradition of saving the top tier for the anticipated christening. Also loved the line: icing swags calving on the Axminster.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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This was absolutely brilliant, Lynn. The descriptions, the emotions, the whole lot. So much said in 100 words.
Methinks that cake should at least have been in the freezer 😉
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Sad story, excellently told. As ever.
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Axminster sounds sinister. Perhaps it’s the ax.
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I like how this started with uplifting expectations, but ended with a sad realisation; there were no children from the marriage. Well written.
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Dear Lynne,
The tradition here is to keep the top layer for the couple’s first anniversary. Ours tasted like freezer.
As always beautifully rendered. I could see where the scalloped curtain and the stacked bowls would bring to mind a wedding cake. So much story layered between the tiers.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Certainly, my favourite read of the week. Simply brilliant Lynne.,
Here’s my contribution!
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Never has an old mouldy piece of cake said so much. Beautifully done Lynn.
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Mother did not really approve of the wedding or did not like the cake?
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This was a perfect story… telling so much more once I really understood the tradition.
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Thank you very much Bjorn 🙂
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Sad but true. Great mementos, now rubbish.
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Happens to us all. Thank you Dawn 🙂
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It is what isn’t said in the story that makes it so good.
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Thank you so much 🙂
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You are very welcome.
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So much in between the lines that actually told the story. I’m guessing they never had a child. A very masterfully told story.
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Thank you Fatima. No, no children and that’s something that must have stuck with them or the cake would have been long gone. Thanks for reading
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Oh dear. Made me think of Miss Havisham in “Great Expectations.” Must not have been a baby to christen, which may or may not have been a greater tragedy.
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Sadly, no baby. And you’re right it is rather like Great Expectations. Love that Miss Havisham imagery – Dickens hit something wonderfully Gothic there! Thank you for reading
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