by Nigel Smith
“What do you think?” she said. “As it’s supposed to be a fairytale wedding, I was going for a ‘Queen of the May’ look.”
Queen of the Swamp, more like, thought Nat. Bad News Nan looked like a massive lump of snot, wrapped in pond slime.
“It’s different,” said Dad, stuffing a hanky in his mouth for some reason.
“Oh please, Daddy, is there any way I can get out of being a Perfect Fairy Princess Bridesmaid?” pleaded Nat in her best – in other words, most pathetic – voice.
“Well,” said soft Dad, wilting like Superman in a Kryptonite onesie, “not really, love. Oh stop making that face.”
“It’s Tiffannee’s big day,” said Bad News Nan, “and brides get what they want. Not like funerals. You’re at the mercy of the living. I’ve asked for six black horses and a Viking longboat but your dad won’t organise it, I know.”
Sniff, went Nat.
“If you didn’t do it, it would be bad luck and might cause family upsets for years to come,” said Dad, trying not to look at her.
Sniff, went Nat. Big fake tears plopped on to her jeans as she fixed her doleful eyes on Dad, who hid behind Nan.
“People get written out of wills,” said Dad.
“You might get an oil well one day,” said Bad News Nan, “his mum got a caravan, remember?”
“You’d like an oil well, wouldn’t you?” said Dad.
“Don’t care, not worth it,” wailed Nat, plonking herself down in misery and chucking six copies of PERFECT BRIDE MAGAZINE on the floor.
Nat was sure Dad was weakening when her dramatics were rudely interrupted by the doorbell, followed by a young woman’s voice shouting shrilly, “Ding dong wedding bells!”
It was blushing bride-to-be Tiffannee, with her usual – and annoying – greeting.
“Do you remember, before she moved to Texas and decided to become American, how she used to be called Rosie?” Nat whispered to Bad News Nan.
“Course,” said Bad News Nan, “Rosie Lee Jones. She was a pudgy little thing with brown frizzy hair and teeth like wonky tombstones.”
“She was also a lot nicer though,” said Nat, quietly.
The woman that now greeted them was NOTHING like the old Rosie.
Tiffannee was stick-thin and nut-brown, with bright blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a perfect, dazzling, super-white smile. Her pastel yellow summer dress was short and stylish and wrinkle-free. She rushed to hug Nat but stopped just as she got there.
“Don’t want to wrinkle the dress!” she said. “Air kiss, air kiss!”
She smoothed her dress out, just in case the air had wrinkled it.
“It’s one of Diana De Milano’s,” she said proudly.
“Have you borrowed it off her?” said Nat.
“She’s a very famous designer,” said Tiffannee, laughing. “She’s doing my fairytale wedding gown too, don’t you remember?”
Nat didn’t remember, because she didn’t care.
While Tiffannee went off to talk to Mum, Nat turned angrily to Dad. “I’m telling her I’m not doing it and you can’t stop me. I’m not gonna be in a bazillion family photos dressed like a ridiculous fairy princess with MASSIVE butterfly wings and a spangly tiara. I look like something even hobbits would make fun of.
Suddenly Mum dashed back in. “I just need my purse then we’re off,” she said. Nat stood up.
“This bridesmaid thing—” began Nat, summoning up her courage to say she wasn’t going to do it, no way no how, no ifs or buts.
“Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, good news – Tiffannee’s arranged for all her bridesmaids to go to a spa tomorrow!” said Mum.
“Spa?” said Nat.
“Yes,” said Tiffannee, coming back in, “that really a-maze-balls one that was in the paper. I want you all to get pampered and massaged and made-up and everything. The works, treat yourselves. It’s my little thank you to my fairy princesses.”
Nat paused.
“I’m so jealous,” said Mum. “It’s supposed to be a wonderful spa.”
Nat paused a bit more.
“Now, what were you saying about the bridesmaids?” said Dad.
“Nothing important,” said Nat.
“I think it was,” said Dad, helpfully.
“Shuddup, Dad,” said Nat firmly, “it definitely wasn’t important.”
I’ll get out of being a bridesmaid tomorrow, thought Evil Nat, who was always lurking somewhere in a grubby corner of Nathalia’s brain. AFTER the a-maze-balls spa…
The next day was a lovely spring day, sunny and warm. Nat hopped cheerily on to the minibus that was to take her and Tiffannee’s five other bridesmaids to the FABULOUS YOU! spa.
Nice one, Nat, she thought to herself. She walked smugly down to the end of the bus where the other five bridesmaids were waiting.
Like Tiffannee, the other bridesmaids were about ten years older than Nat. It was exciting to get to hang out with grown-ups. Even better, as Nat walked towards them, she could hear the other girls already hating on someone. Nat was looking forward to hearing all the wedding gossip while hopefully getting sparkly nail varnish on her toes.
“…little miss perfect, the pet fairy,” said the Chief Bridesmaid, who was called Daisy Wetwipe. She had a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder and a sharp nose that pointed upwards.
Oooh, thought Nat, girls are so mean! I wonder who they’ve got it in for. At least for once it can’t be me as they don’t even know me. This is waaay better than school.
“I should have been Third Assistant Bridesmaid,” said a girl with scraped back blonde hair called Tilly Saddle. Her hair was so tightly yanked back it pulled her eyelids up into a look of permanent shock.
“Yes, you should. Or me, at any rate. And now she’s taken that place, which should have been either me or you,” sniffed Erin Granule, who had a little moustache.
“She’s trying to climb the bridesmaid ladder,” said Annie Chicken, who exhibited a nose stud which looked like a fat spot.
“You’re in danger now of course, ’cos you’re Second Assistant Bridesmaid,” said Daisy to a girl called Bella Drench, who had black frizzy hair piled up like a loo brush, and had shaved her eyebrows and drawn them back on.
“Yes, she’ll be after your place next.”
“Not if we get her first,” whispered Bella, her eyes flicking darkly in Nat’s direction as she sat down next to them.
“Hi, I’m Nat, who we hating on?” said Nat, a little nervously.
Five pairs of bridesmaid eyes glinted angrily at her.
That would be me then, thought Nat, sliding down into her seat, it IS just like school, after all.
After a tense and embarrassing journey, with Nat catching regular unpleasant whispers behind her, the minibus at last pulled into a wide gravel drive that cut through beautiful green lawns.
They parked alongside a large number of big shiny cars in front of a huge old house. The house reminded Nat of a Victorian school. Or perhaps a Victorian prison, she suddenly thought, as she saw a bunch of people in grey tracksuits being marched up a hill and made to do press-ups.
That doesn’t look very relaxing, thought Nat. Then she noticed a big sign.
The full name of the spa was:
FABULOUS YOU! SPA, WELLNESS AND FITNESS… FOREVER.
Underneath, someone had painted the words:
OR ELSE.
Which alarmed Nat a little.
The bridesmaids were greeted at the front door by a trim woman in a blue tunic with thin lips and a clipboard. She had one of those tight smiles that people who don’t enjoy smiling have.
Her plastic name badge read:
Gertie Catflap.
“Welcome to your super fun-packed luxury spa day,” said Ms Catflap, handing each of the girls a form.
“Sign this, it means we’re not responsible if anything happens to you during a treatment.”
As they signed, she said: “The changing rooms are on the left. Please get into your swimming costumes.
Quick as you like now, you don’t want to miss a fun-packed minute. Go, hurry.”
Her smile got tired about halfway through, so by the time she said ‘fun-packed’ it looked like she was sending them all down for a ten stretch in the clink. Nat didn’t want to think about what Ms Catflap would do to anyone who DIDN’T have a super fun-packed time.
None of the other bridesmaids spoke to Nat in the changing rooms.
Be like that, Nat thought. I’ll just have a day of pampering on my own. See if I care.
She put on her bathing cossie and wrapped a fluffy spa robe around herself. She wished Penny Posnitch was here to enjoy it with her. She smiled and thought how much fun she’d have telling her friend all about her super fun-packed luxury spa day at school tomorrow.
Obviously she wouldn’t bother telling her friend Darius about it, because his idea of a super fun-packed day would probably involve tactical nuclear weaponry and a big red button.
The first treatment was in a large, brick-lined room, built around a massive mud bath. Gentle music was piped in from somewhere. The lighting was soft. The mud, however, smelled like farts.
Actually Darius WOULD like this, thought Nat.
The girls clambered into the big tub filled with the warm, gloopy mud. Close up, the mud smelt of perfume that didn’t QUITE mask the smell of rotten eggs.
Nat sank into the muck with a big, ploppy, trumpety noise.
“Hey, it wasn’t me,” she said, as the other bridesmaids pulled faces.
“Now ladies, you must wear shower caps,” said Gertie Catflap, popping her head round the door. “If this mud gets in your hair it’ll never come out,” she said, before disappearing again.
But just as Nat reached for a plastic cap, she felt someone’s leg slide sneakily around the back of hers…
And give it a deliberate, hard yank.
Before she could even yell, Nat was tipped right over and landed with a squelch, face-first in the sticky, stinky mud.
“Blech, you flup glupp cowpig,” Nat coughed, coming up for air. “You did that on purpose. Who was it?”
The other bridesmaids just laughed nastily and pretended to look innocent.
“It’s very slippy in here, little girl,” said Second Assistant Bridesmaid Bella Drench, who Nat reckoned had definitely done it.
“It’s dangerous, getting pampered,” said Tilly Saddle smugly.
“You might be better off sitting back in the minibus with some crisps and a fizzy drink,” simpered Erin, who had a tiny fleck of mud stuck on the end of a moustache hair.
“Nothing too greasy though… ” said Annie Chicken, nose stud quivering meanly.
“No, she doesn’t want to get MORE spots, does she?” cackled Daisy, as the others all joined in the laughter.
Not for the first time in her life, Nat wished Darius was lurking nearby. He might be a tiny evil ninja of doom, but he was HER tiny evil ninja of doom, and that’s just what this rotten lot needs, thought Nat, pulling lumps of sour-smelling mud from her hair and spitting great gobs of it back into the bath.
“Ew,” said the bridesmaids.
“Shuddup,” said Nat, in her best Darius/evil ninja of doom voice.
“Hardly perfect Third Assistant Fairy Princess Bridesmaid behaviour,” said Daisy, sharply.
“I don’t care,” snarled Nat. “I never wanted to be Third Assistant Fairy Princess Bridesmaid anyway…” she began.
“I told you!” said Daisy, looking at the others. “She wants to be Second Assistant Fairy Princess Bridesmaid.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Nat.
“No, she wants to be Chief Fairy Princess Bridesmaid!” said Tilly Saddle, gasping in horror.
“You’re bonkers,” said Nat, “and more than that, you’re all a bunch of—”
“OK girls,” interrupted Gertie Catflap as she burst back into the room, “time to get showered off. Follow me.”
Nat and the other bridesmaids were led to a small shower room decorated all over with blue and white shiny, tiny tiles. But instead of the usual shower nozzles on the walls, there was just one great big hose.
“This is a high-pressure hose,” said Gertie Catflap, “to help get all that sticky mud off. It is quite powerful though, so you do have to be careful. Do you want me to hose you down, or would it be more super-fun to do it yourselves?”
“Oooh let us, we just love super fun, don’t we girls?” said Daisy, grabbing the hose.
“No, can you do it?” said Nat, who didn’t like Daisy’s tone.
“All right, you can do it,” said Gertie Catflap not hearing Nat, “but do be careful, it’s very high pressure. Don’t go mad!” She closed the tiled door behind her.
“Of course,” said Daisy Wetwipe. “I’m not mad…”
She grinned at Nat.
“I’m furious,” she whispered.
“I’m actually quite clean,” said Nat, scraping bits of drying mud off herself as she tried to make a break for the door but discovered her knees were locked together with gloop.
Daisy was way too fast. Nat was backed against the wall as the Chief Bridesmaid pointed the hose at her and the other girls gathered round on all sides, hemming her in. With an evil grin, Daisy began to turn the big metal wheel with ‘WATER PRESSURE’ written on it, twisting it right round to:
FULL POWER – ONLY TO BE USED BY EXPERIENCED STAFF.
The other bridesmaids snickered as Nat looked frantically around the small room, trying to escape. But there was nowhere to hide.
“Enjoy your shower, you little creep,” said Daisy, and pressed the ON switch.
For a long moment nothing happened except a horrid gurgling noise, deep in the pipes. The hose trembled as the pressure built up.
“I’m gonna spray you to kingdom come,” cackled Daisy, gripping the hose tightly with both hands.
And then the water shot out like a rocket.
Now, Nat had done rockets at school, and Darius liked building them, so she was a bit less surprised than Daisy by what happened next. Instead of the water lifting Nat off her feet and shooting her across the shower room, the OPPOSITE happened.
“Aaaargh! Help!” squealed Daisy, as she was hurled into the air by the power of the water, shooting out of the wildly bucking hose.
“Waaaah!” she screamed as she was shot around the room in a big circle, sliding across the walls, like one of those motorbike riders on the wall of death at the circus.
“Let go!” shouted Bella.
“I can’t! I’m too scared!” shouted Daisy, the pressure lifting her six feet off the ground. “Turn it off, turn it off!”
She was now whizzing around at the top of the room, and gathering speed all the time.
“The wheel’s jammed!” squealed Annie Chicken, frantically trying to turn it off.
“You’re turning it the wrong way!” shouted Tilly.
“Now it IS stuck!” squealed Bella. “You absolute idiot – blaaaagh!”
The last noise was because she got hit, smack-bang in the mouth, by the water.
“I’m drowning!” shrieked Bella.
“If you were drowning, you couldn’t speak,” cackled Nat, dodging the watery jet. She was quite enjoying herself now.
Suddenly, Bella’s loo-brush hair shot off in a big black frizzy mass. She shrieked even louder. “My hair extension! That cost me a fortune. Someone grab it before it goes down the drain…”
All hell broke loose. Two bridesmaids tried to grab the flying Daisy, Annie struggled with the wheel and Bella scrabbled after her disappearing hair, which slithered towards the drain like a big soggy spider getting flushed down the loo.
Nat realised that all the spray had sloshed her clean as a whistle and she could move again. She saw her chance and dashed for the exit.
She slipped through and slammed it behind her in relief.
“Everything all right?” said Gertie, who had come over to check on the faint wails and squeals that were coming from behind the door.
“V
ery all right,” said Nat.
“Are you sure? I thought I heard screaming and the words: ‘HELP, HELP, I’m going to die’.”
“Oh, you know us bridesmaids,” said Nat. “We do like to scream. It’s all the excitement, waiting for the big day.”
Just then, the door burst open and Bella came hurtling through it, gripping her sodden, ruined hair extensions. She skidded on the floor like a rocket-powered fish and lay, panting, at Nat’s feet.
“You… you…” said Bella, pointing at Nat and coughing up water. “You are responsible…”
“For all the fun and good bridesmaid times? Too kind,” said Nat. She grabbed a nearby towel and began to help dry Bella off, making very sure she shoved the towel in her face, really firmly.
“You’re wiping my eyebrows off you little— mumph,” said Bella, but her words were muffled by the fluffy towel.
“Lovely spa you’ve got,” shouted Nat to Gertie, rubbing even harder.
“Gerroff!” said Bella.
Behind them, the wailing slowed down and eventually stopped.
The Second Assistant Fairy Princess Bridesmaid, now with short hair and no eyebrows, grabbed the towel and flung it across the floor. “I give up,” she said, bursting into tears. “Take my place! I can’t win. You are a bridesmaid MONSTER.”
With that, she ran off to the changing rooms.
The door to the shower room opened once more. Nat felt the glares of Tiffannee’s remaining fairy princesses boring into her back like hot fairy knives.
The rest of the spa day was just as horrid. Nat tried to talk to the other bridesmaids and tell them she wasn’t ACTUALLY trying to nobble them all, but they refused to listen. In fact, they all kept their distance, jumping a mile every time she tried to say anything. They looked at her the way very tasty gazelles look at very hungry lions.
The only reason Nat didn’t get more upset about the horrid bridesmaids was that she was kept too busy to think much about them. The rest of the day wasn’t so much a relaxing pampering spa experience – with warm fluffy towels and hot oils and foot rubs and gentle eyebrow-shaping – as a terrifying boot camp of pain.