‘That’s exactly what we were thinking, Ms Hathaway.’
Bruce’s voice gave me a fright, but not half as much as other frights I’d had lately. Bruce and Terry were sitting on two old chairs that clearly needed re-upholstering.
‘Oh, hello, you two,’ I said, just as I found Granny Carmelene’s locket. ‘I thought I could clean this up a bit and wear it to the wedding. Maybe I could even wear one of Granny’s dresses too.’
Terry cleared his throat and said, ‘Sunny, we need to have a little talk. Don’t we, Bruce?’
‘Terry’s right,’ said Bruce, looking uncomfortable. ‘It’s just that, well, we’ve been feeling a little under-utilised lately. And well, it’s like this …’
Terry stood up, being careful not to bang his head on the low sloping ceiling. ‘It’s like this, see, Sunny?’ he continued. ‘We’ve been offered what you might call another assignment and all things considered …’
‘Are you sacking me?’ I asked. ‘What about the Woe-Be-Gone grief repellent?’
‘We’ll be taking that too,’ said Bruce. ‘Like I said, we’ve been offered a new assignment. But it’s, ah, confidential.’
I’d never considered being sacked by a figment of my very own imagination, but Bruce and Terry seemed dead serious. ‘What about if I need you back again?’ I asked, just to make sure I could still have a little control.
But their answer came back all muffled, as if they were talking under water, and I couldn’t understand a thing. And at the very same time, Bruce and Terry went all fuzzy, like when there’s no aerial in the TV, and soon I could hardly see them. Then they became just an outline before disappearing completely.
‘Guys?’ I said, just to be sure. ‘Hello!’
I switched off the light and went downstairs to polish up Granny Carmelene’s locket. Bruce and Terry were right. I really didn’t need them any more. And I was even a little relieved that they had sacked me, because, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m really not very good at saying goodbye.
I was woken the next morning by Flora noises, so I hopped straight out of bed and headed for Steph’s room. Flora had a brand-new formal baby-dress especially for the wedding, with tiny little flowers embroidered along the front.
‘When can we put it on her?’ asked Saskia as Steph was changing Flora’s nappy.
‘Let’s wait until just before the guests arrive,’ said Steph, checking her watch. I could tell she was feeling a little nervous because Dad wasn’t home from the airport yet and I guess she was worried he’d be late and miss the wedding.
‘It’s only ten o’clock, Steph,’ I said, hoping to make her feel better. ‘He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.’
I was excited for Dad to get home too, because Steph was seeming more herself than ever, more like the person she was before Flora was born and she somehow forgot who she used to be. (Privately I thought it was probably because of the rose-petal medicine.) Nothing seemed to matter to me quite as much as making sure Steph was feeling okay. It was as if she was at the top of the family food pyramid. Steph had to be okay for Flora to be okay, and Flora had to be okay for me and Dad to be okay, and for everyone else in our little odd-bod world to be okay.
Carl was blasting Nat King Cole music (in Spanish) while the catering people and the linen people and the flower people and the bar people traipsed in and out of the house.
‘We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day,’ he said, whizzing through the kitchen in his bathrobe. ‘Just glorious!’
Saskia bounded in carrying a shoebox full of place cards she’d made for the table. ‘Finished!’ she said. ‘Look, Dad!’
Carl managed to slow down for a millisecond to pick a tag out of the box.
‘They look wonderful, darling, but I’m afraid this one has a slight spelling error. You seem to have your ‘p’s and ‘b’s a little mixed up.’
Lyall looked up from his bowl of cereal.
‘Gee, Saskia,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘Isn’t that just what dyslexic people do?’
Carl pulled a handful of cards out of the box and spread them on the table. Sure enough, practically all of them had mistakes.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Saskia, holding up a card saying puster conroy. ‘They look perfectly normal to me.’
Just then Mum appeared looking frantic. She had a mud pack all over her face which was at various stages of drying and cracking. I wondered how she could let Carl see her like that. On her wedding day! I mean, what if he changed his mind and unproposed?
Lyall must have been thinking the same thing. ‘Hey! I didn’t think you guys were meant to see each other until the ceremony,’ he said, shovelling down some more cereal. ‘Isn’t it, like, bad luck or something?’
Mum chuckled (as best she could with her dry-mud skin.) ‘Second time around you kind of free-form it a little more. Lyall, did you empty all the bins? And I want you kids to stay out of the caterers’ way. They’re going to need full reign of the kitchen soon.’
Carl swept the place cards back into the box before Mum could see them.
‘They’re perfect,’ he said to Saskia. ‘Thank you for all your hard work.’ Then he turned to Mum and gave her a hug and said, ‘I’d still marry you even if you did turn up to the wedding like that, darl.’
Mum tried her best to smile, but she couldn’t move her face. ‘That’s very sweet of you, Carl,’ she said, keeping her lips as still as possible.
All three of us kids took the hug as a cue to immediately leave the room. Even Willow leapt at the chance to follow me upstairs.
But we’d only made it halfway up when Dad arrived home, causing us all to run straight back down again.
‘Hello!’ he shouted, trying to contain Willow.
I ran and gave him a big hug. ‘You made it!’ I said.
‘Hi, James!’ squeaked Saskia. ‘I’ll go tell Steph!’
Steph had taken in a beautiful dress of Granny Carmelene’s until it fitted me perfectly, and Granny’s old locket was gleaming like new. I hoped Granny didn’t mind me taking out the photograph of Grandpa Henry, but I really wanted to replace it with one of Flora (and maybe one day I’d even have one of Finn too). I also hoped Granny didn’t mind me wearing her dress with my chunky lace-up boots and just the right amount of stripy sock. I mean, when you’re wearing a dead person’s outfit, sometimes you just have to mix it up a little.
The doorbell didn’t stop ding-donging all morning. I had just finished doing my hair when Mum called to me from downstairs.
‘Sunny, Finn’s here!’
‘Coming!’ I shouted.
Mum and Carl had been a little frantic because Croque Monsieur, their favourite gypsy band who were playing at the wedding, were running late. But just as I reached the landing, the doorbell rang again and thankfully it was them. Mum ushered the band into the library. I was relieved to see that she had washed off her mud pack before answering the door to Finn.
I had my hair all plaited into a Frida Kahlo styles, and I’d even put on a little eye stuff and lip gloss from the make-up kit Claud had bought me for my birthday.
‘Wow, Sunny Hathaway,’ said Finn. ‘Don’t you look good? Mad boots.’ Finn had a fresh flower in the lapel of and was wearing his pin-striped jacket, and matching suit pants and a tie as well.
‘You look really good too, Finn Fletcher-Lomax,’ I said. ‘What’s that stuff in your hair?’
‘Brylcreem,’ he said, running one hand through his slicked-back hair. ‘Just like Elvis Presley.’
‘Did you bring the pigeons?’
‘Yep. Did you make the box?’
‘Saskia did, actually.’
Finn and I had planned for him to bring the three pigeons from his house so that we could release them all after Mum and Carl had said their vows. (Releasing a box of pigeons would also be the perfect distraction if Mum and Carl cringed us all out by doing one of those really long kisses.) Saskia had made a special box and painted it all pearly white and silver.
‘I was going to bring some rice too,’ said Finn. ‘But the birds might just hang about and eat it instead of flying off.’
‘Hardly very dramatic,’ I said.
‘Exactly,’ said Finn.
Just before twelve the guests (including Claud’s family and Buster) started arriving and Carl asked Lyall to make a sign for the front door saying, Please Come Around the Back. Carl was all dressed up but in a smart-casual linen-shirt-and-pants kind of way.
‘Now you kids better go out and entertain our guests. Alex and I won’t be coming out until the ceremony.’
‘And you can all help the bar staff hand around drinks too,’ added Carl.
‘Jeez, Dad,’ said Lyall. ‘Is there ever a time we don’t have to do jobs?’
Outside everything looked absolutely perfect. There was one huge long table with a long stripy canopy over it in case it rained. There were flowers from the garden running all the way down the centre of the table, and arrangements of fig leaves, ivy and grapes. Even Saskia’s funny place cards looked perfect. And when Croque Monsieur started playing their gypsy music, it really did make everything feel like the most jubilant and grand of special occasions
It was a weird feeling, though, being a guest in your own home and standing around the garden just chatting. Pretty soon, all us kids were huddled together and Buster had plotted a potential escape plan up the river by boat if things became drastically dull.
‘No one would even notice,’ said Buster. ‘If we wait till after lunch and all. We could just sneak off on Queenie while everyone’s dancing.’
Claud and I rolled our eyes at one another.
‘Ah, I hate to break it to you, Buster,’ I said, ‘but I’m pretty sure Mum and Carl actually would notice if I was suddenly to disappear from their wedding.’
‘Dad would definitely notice,’ agreed Saskia. ‘We’d be grounded for life.’
‘Maybe another day?’ said Finn hopefully. ‘It’s a nice idea.’
Croque Monsieur, who had been weaving their music all around the garden while the guests were arriving, suddenly appeared at the top of the back steps and burst out another gutsy tune. Then they formed a line with the accordionist in front and led the way down the stairs towards the arched gateway to the orchard, which was where the actual wedding part was going to take place. It was fully covered with roses.
And then Mum and Carl appeared at the back door. (I could tell Mum was doing her best to keep a straight face, because she has a tendency to giggle right at the moments you’re not meant to.)
I have to say that for a middle-aged person, Mum looked as special as anything. Maybe it was becuase of the mud pack?
‘Alex looks really pretty,’ whispered Saskia, and the whole crowd grew quiet as Mum and Carl made their way to the arch.
Finn had stashed the pigeon box under one of the tablecloths at the bar, so it wouldn’t get in anybody’s way.
‘You better go get it now,’ I whispered. ‘Imagine if right in the middle of the ceremony, Willow found them and caused a scene.’ Finn’s eyes grew wide in agreement and he slipped through the crowd towards the bar.
I have to be honest, I was thinking the next part would be dead boring. The actual wedding part, I mean. I was kind of just hanging out for And now you can kiss the bride, which of course was our cue for pigeon-releasing and rose petal throwing. But I was wrong about the ceremony being boring. Mum and Carl’s celebrant actually cracked the odd joke and all the things he spoke about were really interesting. Lyall and Saskia and I each had small roles. Lyall had to produce the rings and Saskia and I were in charge of everything to do with flowers. Saskia had even put flowers around Willow’s collar.
Very quickly it was crunch time, and you could tell Lyall was super-relieved to hand over the rings so that he no longer had to worry about losing them. The photographer was down on one knee hoping to get just the right shot, and other people in the crowd got their cameras ready to snap away at the very moment that Mum and Carl officially transformed from divorcee-defacto crossword freaks to Husband and Wife.
Finn and the box of pigeons were in position just as Mum and Carl started kissing and Croque Monsieur burst into another tune over the clapping and cheering.
Saskia and I threw rose-petal confetti high up into the air over Mum and Carl, and Finn opened the lid right at the perfect time. All six birds flapped away, their wings whistling loud enough to make Mum and Carl pause from their kiss and look up. And I tossed some more confetti right at the perfect time for the photographer to capture the whole thing. (I was hoping like crazy that those birds didn’t do anything disastrous like poo on Mum and Carl, even though that photo might make a really good one for the bloopers section of the wedding album.)
The whole crowd clapped and cheered as the birds flew out of sight, and Mum and Carl looked as thrilled as can be.
Croque Monsieur broke into one of those songs that you couldn’t help clapping along to, and pretty soon the whole crowd were clapping in unison and it seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do to form a circle of clapping around Mum and Carl. Then the music sped up a little and there was no choice other than for the circle to dance around them.
Smaller circles formed in the bigger circle and broken circles joined up again to make new circles as everybody grabbed the hand of whoever was next to them. I tell you, if Croque Monsieur can make weddings so much fun it made me wonder if they shouldn’t also be booked for funerals. Maybe if I’d had Croque Monsieur around I wouldn’t have needed Bruce and Terry or any Woe-Be-Gone fast-knockdown grief spray.
Mum and Carl were the first to sit down for lunch and the band mellowed out a little while all the guests found their places. When everyone was settled, Mum and Carl stood and thanked everyone for coming. The waiters had made sure everyone had a fresh glass of champagne (except us kids who got fruit punch) and Carl held his glass high and said, ‘To our blessed family and friends, Alex and I would like to welcome you and thank you for all your love and support. Now, please make yourselves at home and help us enjoy our wedding feast!’
Then Lyall stood up, held his fruit punch high and said, ‘To Alex and Carl’.
At which, the whole wedding party stood and answered in chorus, ‘To Alex and Carl,’
It was a feast all right. There was something for everyone (although Settimio did miss out on his pigeon pie).
‘Yum, this is like one of those all you can eat joints,’ said Buster, adding another prawn tail to the pile on his side plate. Claud looked a little embarrassed. Maybe she was finally losing her fascination with bogans.
‘But then again,’ said Claud, ‘you don’t have to eat all you can eat you know, Buster. It’s pretty …. um …’
‘Pretty bogan,’ said Saskia, looking Buster straight in the eye as he licked his fingers one by one.
I blurted out the first thing I could think of to change the topic. ‘Come on, Buster,’ I said. ‘Let’s all do some more dancing.’
‘Na, too full. I’d chuck for sure,’ he said, leaning back on his chair and undoing the top button on his pants.
‘Eeew!’ Saskia squeaked. and then, ‘Eeew grooossss!’ as Buster let out a huge gassy burp.
‘Let’s dance then,’ suggested Finn, trying to take the focus away from Buster’s bodily functions.
‘Yes, let’s dance!’ said Saskia. ‘Dad and Alex are dancing again too!’
‘Come on, Lyall,’ I said, tugging his jacket sleeve. ‘Look, Ritchie and Kara are even up!’
After a while even Buster and Claud joined in, and I took some time out to grab Carl’s camera and get some good footage of the dance floor. It was then that my eye was caught by something down the other end of the table.
I zoomed in and focused the camera on Steph
For a moment I thought she was crying, but on closer inspection I realised she was actually heaving with laughter.
‘What do you think Steph’s finding so hilarious?’ I said to Finn.
She and Settimio wer
e deep in some sort of a conversation. The sort of conversation that made them lean in toward one another, like they were swapping secrets in class, then both pull back and roar with laughter.
‘Let’s go find out,’ I said to Finn. ‘I’ve hardly spoken to Steph all day.’
‘Oh, Sunny,’ said Steph as we walked up, wiping a tear from her eye and trying to compose herself. ‘I haven’t laughed so much in years.’
Finn and I shared Dad’s empty chair and waited patiently for Steph to fill us in on the joke.
Lyall plonked himself down on one of the empty seats opposite Settimio and Steph. Saskia was close behind.
Settimio was still giggling and looking very red in the face, and I noticed Dad making his way over with Flora, who had finally fallen asleep.
‘Can you tell the story again, Settimio? said Steph. ‘That’s if you’re comfortable to, of course.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Buster.
‘Gosh,’ said Steph. ‘Suddenly we have a whole audience.
‘I was just telling Stephanie how I brok-ed my leg.’
Steph burst out laughing again. ‘I’m sorry, Settimio,’ she choked.
‘Tell us!’ we begged. ‘Pleeease!’
‘Okay, I will tell. But you have to promise not to laugh.’
‘We promise!’ I said, wondering why he was asking us not to laugh when he and Steph looked as if they were possibly about to die laughing.
Settimio took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye.
‘Okay … It was just after your grandmother die and I am in my cottage and I am alone. Very sad time. So I am lying in bed and it is the middle of night and I wake to go to the bathroom. It is very dark, but I don’t turn on light because I am very sleepy. So I walk very slowly looking for door. Like this.’ Settimio held his arms out in front of him the way people do when they are pretending to be Frankenstein or a zombie.
‘So, I am walking in this manner, trying to find door, but I walk straight into edge of door headfirst. Bang! It hit me right here on my nose!’
Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms Page 18