by CJ Morrow
‘The original date was a month from now. Then it got changed. CEO’s daughter’s wedding is next month. Fucking typical, doesn’t matter that my wedding is this weekend and I’m the one who’s supposed to schmooze the clients and get the business. Michael will fuck it up. If he does, he’s going, CEO’s nephew or not.’ He plonks himself at the table while I fuss about checking on the pie and nuking up some peas in the microwave to go with it.
‘Me and Mum are getting our nails done tomorrow.’ I smile at him and hope it’s not too obvious I’m trying to change the subject.
‘What about my mum? Is she coming too?’
‘No, I don’t think she could get the time off work,’ I lie. We haven’t even asked her; to be honest it never crossed my mind. We’re not exactly close, Jayne and I, not like her and Suzi.
‘She gets ‘em done every week anyway,’ he says. ‘That looks good, I’m so hungry.’ His face lights up as I put the pie on the table.
He eats his in super-fast time, I don’t know how he can, it’s so hot and I swear that the several days it’s been in the fridge has increased its spiciness too.
‘That was good. Anything for pudding?’
‘Yogurt or ice cream,’ I offer pathetically.
‘Nah, won’t bother.’ He looks at my plate. ‘And neither should you if you want to fit in that dress on Saturday.’
I smile, but inside I feel really cross about that remark; there’s plenty of room in my dress.
‘I gotta go.’ Leeward pushes his chair back and stands up.
‘Go where?’
‘Work. I can’t leave everything to chance or in the idiot nephew’s hands. Gotta freshen up first, though.’ He harrumphs as he stomps upstairs.
I’m clearing the table – having forgone my yogurt or ice cream – when he comes back.
‘Sorry I’m such a grump,’ he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and kissing the back of my neck. ‘I won’t be late.’ And he’s gone.
Just me and the remote control again this evening then.
∞∞∞
Friday morning and Leeward’s up early, he wakes me with his banging and clanging of the bathroom cabinet doors looking for his electric toothbrush. He does this almost every morning, as if someone has hidden it overnight, even though it’s always in the same place. He’s found it, I can hear it buzzing.
By the time he switches the shower on I am fully awake and sitting up in bed contemplating my day and admiring my wedding nails – they look amazing. I’m going to Mum and Dad’s this morning, and staying overnight, so I need to make sure I take everything I need with me.
I can hear Leeward singing in the shower, that’s nice, his voice is deep and dark. I haven’t heard him do that before. Hopefully all the work worries are sorted and we can just enjoy our day tomorrow. I listen harder to try to work out what he’s singing but don’t recognise the tune.
‘He’s talking,’ I muse aloud, straining to hear him. Is he practising his speech? I can’t hear his words but the cadence of his voice suggests he’s talking to someone. Is he on the phone? I lean over and see that his phone isn’t charging on his bedside table as it usually is. God’s sake, he’s taken his phone into the bathroom. Bloody work.
‘You’re awake,’ he says, seeing me sat up in bed. He drops his phone on the bedside table.
‘Were you speaking to work while you were in there?’
‘Could you hear me?’ He looks alarmed.
‘Yes, no, just your voice.’ Maybe he’s been arranging some sort of surprise for tomorrow. Oh, I wonder what it could be?
‘Yeah,’ he says, his back to me as he hunts through his wardrobe before pulling out one of the shirts that I spent ages ironing yesterday, then discarding it.
‘What’s wrong with that one?’
‘There’s a mark on the collar. I’ll put it in the wash.’ He doesn’t, just leaves it flung on the chair.
‘I never noticed…’ I say, sounding casual but feeling irritated.
He doesn’t answer, just gets dressed in silence. He’s got a good body, all that time in the gym has certainly toned him up and built him up. His shoulders are strong and wide, so are his thighs. I don’t think he realises how good he looks, he’s so touchy about his lack of height – not that he’s short, just the shortest of his brothers – that he doesn’t focus on the good bits, the very good bits.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then,’ I say as he has his hand on the door knob.
‘Yeah.’ He looks at me and for a moment I don’t know who he is and he doesn’t seem to know me either.
‘At our wedding,’ I offer with a smile.
‘Of course.’ His face lights up. ‘I was forgetting that you won’t be here tonight. I’m going to miss you squirming about in bed.’ He comes over and kisses me on the cheek; I suppose I have morning breath.
‘Not for long. Just one night.’ I wrap my arms around his neck but this time it’s him who squirms.
‘Don’t crease me.’ Then, in response to my frown, ‘Until tomorrow, my love.’ And he’s gone, no coffee, no breakfast, just down the stairs and out the front door.
I stay in bed for another ten minutes but cannot get back to sleep. Once up, I tidy our room and pick up Leeward’s discarded shirt from the chair. After careful inspection – no mark found on the collar – I give it a good shake and hang it back in the wardrobe, putting it in the middle of his shirts so as not to arouse suspicion. I washed and ironed fifteen of Leeward’s shirts yesterday – he seems to be wearing two a day at the moment what with going back to work most evenings – and I’ve no intention of making more work for myself.
∞∞∞
Mum helps me pack everything into her car, there is so much.
‘It is just the one night you’re staying,’ Mum says, laughing.
‘I know. Sooo muuuch stuuuff,’ I yell out, throwing my arms about. ‘I’ll be glad when tomorrow comes.’
‘Do you know where you’re going for your honeymoon yet?’
‘No.’ I pause. ‘Do you? Has he told you?’
‘No, no, not a word. Anyway, even if he had I couldn’t tell you, could I?’
‘He's told you, hasn’t he? Where is it? Is it New Zealand? I hope it’s New Zealand.’
‘He hasn’t told me.’
‘I hope it’s New Zealand.’ I watch Mum to see if her face gives anything away, but it doesn’t.
‘New Zealand’s a long way to go for two weeks,’ she says.
‘I suppose.’ I hadn’t really thought about that. ‘Doable though, isn’t it?’
Mum just grimaces her answer and shrugs.
‘Or Canada, that’s not so far. Always wanted to go to Canada.’
‘That sounds nice.’ Mum stuffs the last of my bags into her boot.
‘Are you sure he hasn’t told you?’
She smiles. ‘Quite sure.’ Then she winks; she’s teasing me, isn’t she? ‘All I know is what you’ve told me, that you’re leaving at stupid o’clock on Monday morning.
‘Yeah, that’s all I know too.’
∞∞∞
Grimmy is in her usual place in the corner of the kitchen, watching with her hawk eyes as we bring everything in from Mum’s car.
‘How long are you coming for, then?’ She growls from her chair, like a dog that has just been woken up.
‘Just tonight.’
‘Brought enough with you?’
‘I bet I’ve forgotten something,’ I mutter, grabbing some bags and taking them upstairs to my childhood bedroom, where my dress is still hanging on the hook behind the door.
‘I’m having my hair done today,’ Grimmy says when I come back for more bags.
‘No, it’s tomorrow, with the rest of us. Paula can fit you in, she doesn’t mind.’
‘No. Today,’ Grimmy says, glancing at the clock which is rapidly ticking towards her lunchtime.
‘No, it’s tomorrow morning. She’s coming at six.’ Six. Six! Because for some insane reason I agreed with Lee
ward that the wedding would be at twelve noon, even though there’s Mum, Grimmy, the bridesmaids, oh, and me, all to have our hair done tomorrow morning.
‘No, today.’ Grimmy glances at the clock again.
‘Mum?’
‘What’s that?’ Mum has been ticking things off a list and not paying attention.
‘Grimmy says she’s having her hair done today.’ I raise my eyebrows, waiting for Mum to correct Grimmy.
‘Oh yes. We rang Paula. She doesn’t mind.’
‘Oh. Right. Okay.’ I think of Paula dragging her hairdressing stuff right across town twice in two days. I know she’s a mobile hairdresser, but I think it’s a cheek. And she’s got two small children she’ll have to make arrangements for. Twice.
‘She says you can pay her all in one go tomorrow.’ Grimmy smiles at me, a rare exposure of her dentures.
‘Thanks.’
‘She’s coming at one,’ Grimmy adds. ‘Here. Not at mine. I don’t want all that mess in my home.’
I glance at Mum who just smiles her usual non-combative smile.
‘She’s perming it for me.’ Another Grimmy smile. ‘And colouring it. What colour should I have? Blue, pink, brown?’ Now she grins.
‘Whatever you like, Grimmy. It’s your hair.’
‘It’s your wedding. Should I go blue to match the theme? It’s only a rinse. She says it’ll fade out in a few washes.’
‘Blue. Why not?’ I picture Jayne’s face when she sees Grimmy’s hair, she’ll be annoyed she didn’t think of it herself, unless, of course, she has. Jayne is fond of a striking colour, I’ve seen it purple, black and red in the last year alone.
‘Probably blue then. Is it lunchtime yet?’ Grimmy sighs.
I wonder why the day before my wedding has turned into the Grimmy hair show.
∞∞∞
Paula is a patient soul, Grimmy changes her mind about her hair colour three times. In the end she goes for nothing, yes, nothing, aka natural white, the colour of any sane nonagenarian.
‘Maybe I should have gone for the blue,’ Grimmy says as Paula is packing up her hairdressing paraphernalia. I watch Paula freeze mid-air.
‘No, Grimmy, it looks good as it is,’ Mum soothes. ‘You don’t want to look silly.’
Grimmy considers this for a moment. ‘Yes, you’re right. There’ll be plenty there to do that.’
Mum and I exchange glances, Paula supresses a smirk and we all busy ourselves with other things rather than rise to Grimmy’s remark. Mum has made a cake and now that the hair saga – well part one anyway – is over, and she’s cleared up, she’s going to ice it.
‘When can we eat that?’ Grimmy calls over. ‘All that hairdressing has made me hungry.’
‘Later, when everyone else comes round.’
We’re having a sort of high tea tonight, with all the members of my family, it’s to ensure that everyone knows what they’re doing tomorrow; my nephews, the older ones are ushers, my nieces are bridesmaids. Once they’ve gone home it’s early to bed for everyone, because it’s early to rise tomorrow.
∞∞∞
I haven’t slept well and not just because I’m sleeping on my old single bed. My mind is full of everything wedding, everything that must be done before we leave, wondering where my honeymoon will be, hoping that Leeward likes my dress – Mum assures me he will – and hoping that the day is everything that Leeward wants.
When Paula arrives she looks as tired as I feel, but she’s cheery and smiley and excited on my behalf. She starts on my hair first, before the little bridesmaids arrive with my sister. I washed and dried my hair myself before I went to bed, because it’ll be easier to handle today. I’m wearing it half up and half down in a bunch of twists and curls. I hope Leeward likes it, it’s inspired by Lord of the Rings meets Game of Thrones, his favourite entertainment.
Paula is pulling and twisting and tonging and making sure the extensions stay safely put when my sister bursts into the room and plonks herself down on the bed. Today, we’re using one of the spare bedrooms as the hair salon; Mum had enough of the kitchen being commandeered yesterday by Grimmy. It suits me, I don’t want this beautifying to be too public.
‘Are you on your own?’
‘No. They’re all downstairs running around like lunatics, I thought I’d let them get it out of their systems.’
‘I bet Grimmy’s enjoying that.’ I think of our great-grandmother wincing as the racing about is accompanied by squeals of delight.
Cat laughs. ‘She rang to say she’s not coming over.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Yeah, Dad went over to check. She just wanted him to make a fuss of her. He doesn’t mind, he’s not doing anything else. He says he’ll put his suit on just before we leave. Mum will get Grimmy when they’re ready to go.’
‘Okay. Paula’s nearly finished me, are you next?’
‘No, Mum is. Oh and I’ve had a text from Jayne,’ Cat says, kicking off her shoes and lying down.
‘Why?’ I feel a little tingle of irritation coupled with anxiety.
‘She’s sending Suzi round to do your makeup, and mine, apparently.’ Cat makes a face that suggests she doesn’t understand why anyone needs makeup. It’s true that Cat never wears makeup, she is blessed with the kind of skin that just doesn’t need it. I’m not.
‘Oh. Can you message her back and say there’s no need?’
‘I did. She’s not having any of it, little sis. So it’s full on face slap for you and me. We can look like a couple of drag queens.’
‘Don’t say that. This is my wedding day.’
‘Sorry. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Neighbour’s dog barked all bloody night.’ Cat rolls onto her side and plumps the pillow before pushing it under her head.
‘There, you’re done. I’ll just check you and make good once you’re ready to go.’ Paula steps back to admire her work while I look at myself in the mirror.
‘Wow, it’s amazing. Thank you.’ I hardly recognise myself, and Leeward will love it. I hope.
There’s a little knock on the door before my brother, Sam, sticks his head in.
‘Wow, look at you, bring on the dragons.’
‘What?’ Cat snaps, sitting up suddenly.
‘You look amazing,’ Sam says to me. ‘Just like Daenerys.’
‘Urgh.’ Cat falls back onto her pillow at the Game of Thrones reference.
‘Do you think Leeward will like it?’ I hope he does; it was his idea to have my hair super blonde.
Sam smiles. ‘Course he will, why wouldn’t he?’
∞∞∞
By ten-thirty everyone’s hair is finished, their clothes are on and I’m being laced into my dress.
‘Your waist, just look at it,’ Cat says. ‘I remember when I had a waist.’ She sighs.
‘You’re joking, aren’t you? There’s nothing of you.’
It’s true, Cat is a sleek size eight on a fat day.
‘That’s what I mean, I used to have hips, then they slid down my thighs and onto my knees.’ She stands back to admire me. ‘You look fab.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Ten minutes,’ Sam’s voice comes booming up the stairs. ‘In the cars in ten minutes. Everyone, go to the loo now,’ he bellows.
‘He’s got so bossy in his old age,’ I say, laughing.
‘Less of the old, he’s younger than me.’ Cat smooths her hair down; it’s dark and glossy and she’s had minimal hairdressing done to it. Unlike her face which Suzi has covered in thick foundation. I too have no real skin visible at all; I feel as though I’m wearing a mask. I do quite like the way she’s done our eyes though, cat flicks, or something, we’d never have been able to do that ourselves.
‘But he’s older than me,’ I snigger.
‘Just,’ Cat says, patting my dress down. It’s true there’s just eleven months between me and Sam, he was always my partner in crime, or was it the other way around, when we were kids and especially when we were teenagers.
‘I don’t think he’ll be surprised. Well, I’m not. I thought Jayne would do that. She just loves Suzi, that’s why she sent her round here to be part of everything.’
‘What, so she could drag queen us up?’
‘Shut up.’ But I can’t help laughing, because between the hair and the makeup I look quite unlike myself.
‘Five minutes,’ my other brother, Mark’s voice yells.
A little knock on the door and Dad enters. He looks so smart in his grey tails.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Of course,’ says Cat.
‘You look smart, Dad,’ I tell him.
‘Yes, I’m rather liking the corset effect of this waistcoat.’ He pats his belly, clad in dark blue paisley. ‘I think you’re wanted downstairs now, Cat. Natalia’s doing her best to organise everyone but…’
Cat sighs, kisses me good luck and pats Dad’s arm on her way out. ‘I suppose I’d better go and round up the rabble,’ she says, laughing.
Soon, the house is silent, just me and Dad left. We’ve got another ten minutes before we need to leave.
‘You look lovely,’ Dad says. ‘He’s a very lucky man, your future husband. Shall we go downstairs?’
‘Yeah, just got to put my shoes on.’ I start looking around the room for them. I wish I’d got Cat to find them before she left, bending in this dress is not easy.
Dad waits patiently, a smile on his face.
‘Could you check that bag?’ I point to a bag on top of a chest of drawers.
‘No shoes,’ Dad says after peering in. He starts to ferret around in other bags. ‘What do they look like?’
‘They’re cream silk. Pearl encrusted toes.’ That’s what it says on the box.
He shakes his head.
‘They’re in a box,’ I say, my heart sinking.
Dad glances around the room searching for the box.
‘No, they’re in a box at my house. I remember seeing them in the bottom of my wardrobe before we left but I don’t remember bringing them with me. Oh Dad…’
Three