Sam Skye Lee - Gypsy Bride: One girls true story of falling in love with a gypsy boy

I felt like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and all the other fairy-tale princesses, and Pat was my Prince Charming.

Sam Skye Lee had often thought about getting married, but never imagined that her dress would be bright pink with flashing lights and weigh a staggering 20-stone. But then she didnt count on having a gypsy wedding

Its rare for a gorger, or non-traveller, to marry into the gypsy community. But after a shocking childhood tragedy, Sam found the comfort she needed from an unexpected source - Patrick and his family of travellers.

Gypsy Bride is the heartwarming true story of how an ordinary girl finds herself discovering an extraordinary world. A place where grabbing is a sign a boy fancies you, six-year-olds get spray tans, and christenings, weddings and funerals are jaw-droppingly flamboyant.

This love story is more than boy meets girl. Its about a girl who falls in love with a whole race of people and their wonderful ways.

Wheres my husband?

It was the first time that I had said the H word in relation to myself and at first it felt alien in my mouth.

I rolled it around on my tongue again.

Husband, I repeated quietly under my breath. A faint smile flitted across my lips, like one of the delicate crystal-encrusted butterflies sown carefully on to my dress. I was a married woman at last and, although it had only been an hour or so since Id said my vows, I felt a sense of peace and belonging that, now I had found it, I didnt even know had been missing from my life. Even after such a short period of time, being a wife already seemed to suit me. It was meant to be.

I was now Mrs Samantha Skye Lee, newlywed. But at that particular moment I was missing the most important man in my life, my new hubby Patrick. Wed been together just a few minutes ago but hed disappeared just as one of the most important parts of the day was approaching. For months I had kept what I was about to show him a secret and I wanted Pat to be bowled over when I revealed it.

I was squirming with anticipation. Where is he? I asked his mum Karen urgently.

She shrugged and hurried off to find him while I crept into a side room to prepare with the only people in the room who knew my secret Thelma the dressmaker and her two assistants.

I looked through a small window in the door at the room outside. It was full of loved ones: my family and friends, my new family, and the exotic cast of characters that had welcomed me into their strange community. I was 17 years old, my future was stretching out before me, and I knew that I would be walking towards it arm in arm with Pat.

The room was a whirl of activity and excitement but at that moment time seemed to slow down. I had been told that wedding days are so hectic and so emotional, they often pass in a blur with only one or two moments of clarity where you get the opportunity to take in everything and appreciate what is happening around you. You wake up a bundle of nerves in the morning and somehow, before you know it, you are standing in a half-empty hall or pub, it is dark outside, most of the guests have gone home and the day is over. By that standard my day had been the same as many others. I couldnt believe that half the day had already gone. It had started with a family row and had progressed to a frantic race to reach the church on time. Getting to the altar had been no easy feat, and after the ceremony we had caused a traffic jam of over 100 cars on the way to the venue, thanks mainly to one aspect of my big day: my dress. With 105 rings of fabric puffing it out to over eight feet in diameter, the dress literally stopped traffic. And the glass carriage we travelled in allowed everyone to see it. But that wasnt even the real showstopper. I had yet to reveal the ace up my jewel-encrusted satin sleeve and before that happened I wanted to make the most of the lull in proceedings and drink in my surroundings.

I breathed deeply, consciously trying to still my racing mind. We were in a social club in St Helens, between Manchester and Liverpool. Behind the dance floor the karaoke screen was switched on and waiting for the first brave guest to start warbling away. The DJ had set up his decks and the lights on his mobile rig were flicking in coloured sequence.

Over in a corner there was my mum Linda, her blond hair almost white against her dusky pink-and-black outfit, and my dad Brian, his eyes twinkling with pride. Mum and Dad had separated when I was little but got on well. Dad was at the wedding with his partner Jamie; they had been together since I was five and had been engaged for many years but never married. Bouncing around excitedly were their children, my younger half sister and mini-me bride Tiffany with her brother Morgan. My older brothers Dean and Brian were enjoying a drink and chatting at the bar. Then there was my new family: Pats mum Karen, his sister Chantelle and brothers Levi and John Thomas. I took a moment to reflect. It wasnt just a special day because I was getting married. It was special because two cultures were coming together.