by Heide Goody
That gave Ella pause for thought. A picture of shattered pottery shards on a rock appeared in her mind’s eye.
“Found it, lost it again,” she said flatly.
“Shame. And Dainty was okay with that?”
She laughed coldly. “Does it matter? I’m here now.”
“In time for the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” said Ella.
“You’ve certainly dressed up,” said Gavin, standing back to admire Ella’s dress. “I bet Myra will be thrilled to see that you’ve taken the wedding theme so much to heart.”
“Listen Dad, there’s a good reason why I’m dressed like this. Roy and I are… Roy.”
Roy, who was standing to the side, shimmying his shoulders, snapped to attention.
“Yes, dear.”
“We’re getting married,” said Ella.
Her father’s face went through a variety of expressions. Ella saw delight and confusion jostling for final position.
“Well that sounds lovely, sweetheart, but surely you remember that Myra and I are getting married today?”
“A double wedding, dad.”
“Oh, yes?”
“It’ll be so special, don’t you think?”
Gavin nodded slowly, digesting the idea. “Yes. That does sound nice. I wonder what Myra will—”
A howl of rage rang out from the marquee’s entrance.
“Oh. My. God. You’ve finally gone too far, girl!”
“Yes, I wonder what Myra will make of it,” said Gavin timidly.
Natalie lifted a flap of tent wall and ushered Rose and the wolf into the back of marquee.
“Right, let’s just lie low in here and wait for… Blimey!”
The interior of the marquee was stunning. Decorated silks hung down the walls, vibrant with exotic birds. Small trees in planters were spaced at intervals, heavily jewelled model birds nestled in their branches. Across the canvas ceiling, vines carried more birds and brightly coloured lanterns. At one end, a huge disco and sound stage had been set up. It was from this that the subsonic and obscenely pleasurable beat was emanating. A sequinned head bobbed around the turntables but paid them no mind. At the other end of the marquee, beyond a hundred or more white garden chairs was a glossy arbour, an ideal platform for any couple ready to take their vows.
“This must be where they’re doing the ceremony,” said the wolf.
“Is this a tent or a church?” said Natalie.
“Tart’s boudoir, more like,” said Rose with a sniff.
The wolf chomped a jewelled bird off one of the trees, but pulled a face. “A wolf could starve around here, seriously.”
They walked past rows of chairs to the other end and the wedding arbour. A huge cake was displayed on a table nearby. Natalie pointed out the four tiny figurines on top of the cake.
“Looks like we’re on for a double wedding,” she said.
“Attention to detail,” nodded Rose. “She wants everything perfect, that blummin’ fairy. Let’s make sure we’re well placed to mess things up for her.”
Rose hefted the shotgun in her hands and indicated the table that supported the cake. A cloth hung to the floor, making a useful space, just about the right size to hide two women and a huge wolf.
Angry Myra was a sight to behold and a sight Ella had witnessed before. Angry Myra in a leopard print wedding dress was something remarkable and new.
“I’ve put up with enough of your antics!” she growled as she strode over. “You’ve been disappearing here there and everywhere, keeping your father from preparing for his wedding.”
“Things have kind of cropped up,” said Ella gently.
“You’ve spread horrible vicious lies about your…” She glanced at the mostly oblivious Gavin. “… about your you-know-who not being you-know-what in a spiteful effort to disrupt our plans and now this.”
“This?”
“Who turns up to a wedding wearing a bridal gown? Only someone who seriously wants to piss off the bride!”
Ella heard a small officious voice protesting that the groom should not see the bride before the wedding, but she tried not to let it distract her. “Actually Myra—”
“Don’t actually Myra me. You go and get changed this instant!” Myra’s face was turning an unappealing shade of beetroot and Ella could hear an obsessive-compulsive dwarf somewhere complaining that the photographs would be ruined.
“Darling,” said Gavin, swiftly downing the wine that remained in his glass, “there’s to be a double wedding.”
“What?”
“Ella and Roy will tie the knot at the same time as us. Isn’t that going to be lovely?” He balked at the look of fury on the face of his intended. “Isn’t it?”
Myra’s face clouded with fresh indignation. “You mean that she’s so determined to steal my thunder on my wedding day that she’s going to join us at the bloody altar? Can’t you see that this is just attention seeking of the highest order, Gavin?”
“No, love. Ella will marry Roy and then come and live here with him at The Bumbles.”
“You mean…?
Roy took hold of Ella. “Mi casa es su casa, mi amor.”
“See?” said Ella.
“Hace calor aqui, o eres tu?”
“Yes, enough of that,” said Ella.
Myra’s hostility visibly softened.
“Well,” she said haughtily. “I must say it would be nice for us to have the house to ourselves, Gavin. Have you sorted out the paperwork then, Ella? Got a licence and so on?”
“A licence, yes, we’re going to need one of those,” Ella said loudly. She knew that any wedding-blocking problems would be magically removed, but she was pretty sure that no licence existed, unless the dwarfs were creating one right now.
Natalie and Rose were positioned under the cake table, but it really wasn’t as roomy as it might have been with a huge wolf breathing foetid breath over their shoulders as they tried to peek out between the table covering. Natalie put her hand in something sticky. “Is this icing? Have you been at the cake?” she asked.
“Not where anyone will see, no,” replied the wolf, licking his lips.
Through her gap in the tablecloth, Natalie watched the guests entering and taking their seats. Up on the stage, the tiny DJ was keeping the subliminal beat going.
“That’s Disco,” said Rose.
“The music?”
“The dwarf.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed as she considered the seventh dwarf. He was standing on the stage, like a cross between Elton John and a Christmas tree decoration.
“T’others said he was on a secret mission,” said Rose.
“What secret mission?” said Natalie.
“Does it matter?”
“It does if we can’t enchant Carabosse back into this jar.”
“Well, then we’ll have to go with Plan B.”
“Which is?”
Rose unwrapped the shotgun and took a handful of shot cartridges out of her pocket. “Put a bowling ball-sized dent in any fairy tale creature as ‘as the gall to show up.”
The wolf behind them went very still in an apparent attempt to look less like a fairy tale creature and more like part of the table.
Ella turned at the sound of muffled cursing. A strange figure wobbled towards them across the lawn. It bore a superficial resemblance to a man wearing a suit, but it was all too obvious to Ella’s eyes that it was a stack of three dwarfs standing on each others’ shoulders wearing stolen clothes. Psycho’s red hat was pushed into the top pocket of the suit, and surely that was Inappropriate who was waggling his finger out of the trousers’ fly opening.
“Don’t suppose I get a speaking part this time,” came a small whining voice from the centre of the stack, “not that anyone ever listens to me anyway.”
“Bastard rumbling stomach,” said the tall uneven stranger, thumping his mid-section forcefully with his tiny arm. “I’m the registrar for this double wedding.”
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“Where’s the real registrar?” Ella asked.
“What do you mean?” said Gavin.
“Nothing. Clearly.”
“Shall we get this bastard ceremony over with?” said the registrar.
“Guests are still arriving. They’ll want to enjoy a relaxing drink first,” said Gavin, picking up another glass to illustrate his point.
“I’m not sure we have a marriage licence for this second, impromptu wedding,” said Myra. “There must be paperwork needed to—”
“All taken care of,” shouted the registrar, who took the glass that Gavin offered. Was Ella the only one who noticed that another two glasses disappeared, taken by arms that squeezed out at the trousers’ waistband?
“There’s the grooms,” said Rose as Gavin and Ella’s would-be husband, Roy, entered the marquee.
“I can’t believe he looks as old as he does,” said Natalie softly.
“Tha Gavin? What did tha expect?”
“I didn’t expect thirty years to hit him like a ton of bricks. God, mum, he looks like my dad.”
“Love is supposed to be blind,” said Rose.
Natalie made a deeply philosophical noise.
“Well, my love appears to be drunk rather than blind.”
“I do believe he always enjoyed a drop of t’good stuff.” Rose pointed. “Has tha seen yon pair of silly buggers?”
A pair of young bridesmaids were trying to touch up their makeup with small hand mirrors. It was clear that their makeup was peeling off their faces, so one of them delved into a handbag and came out with a reel of flesh-coloured sticking plaster. She ripped off a long piece and strapped it under her chin and up her cheeks. She dabbed it with a powder compact and nudged her companion who took the reel and started to tape up her own face.
“That’ll be Myra’s daughters,” said the wolf.
“How do you know?” said Natalie.
“Ugly step-sisters. Stands to reason. All part of the tale.”
“And is a weird vicar part of the tale an’ all?” asked Rose.
Three figures stood in front of the arbour, waiting for the brides to arrive. Gavin had an even rosier glow to his cheeks than before, undoubtedly due to downing a few more glasses of wine. Roy, who looked harmless enough but who couldn’t seem to keep his hips still stood to the side. Rose was right, the oddly shaped individual who stood with them was just… all wrong. His body wavered, and his ridiculously stumpy legs staggered to and fro constantly.
“It’s the dwarfs,” said Natalie. “Three of them on each other’s shoulders.”
Rose leaned forward. “Well, I’ll be —”
She reached for the shotgun but Natalie stayed her hand. “We need to wait. We’ll know when Ella needs our help. Hopefully the jar’s our best weapon anyway.”
Natalie’s words were nearly drowned out by music blaring from the sound stage at an ear shattering volume. Myra had chosen Ride of the Valkyries, and she stalked imperiously into the marquee, every bit the Norse battle maiden, holding a large bridal bouquet as though it was a double-handed axe. The considerably more demure Ella was by her side. Now, whereas Ella was wearing something very traditional, Myra had plumped for a dress that combined the aesthetics of Cruella de Vil, the Third Reich and a buxom barmaid. It was a figure-skimming fishtail dress with a high collar and a plunging neckline. The entire dress was made from a leopard print lycra. Myra swung her hips provocatively as she walked, winking at Gavin as she approached.
The music was too loud to speak over, but Rose pointed at Myra’s dress and rolled her eyes. Lily and Petunia followed Ella and Myra up the aisle, their mouths set and their eyes directly ahead in an effort to keep their makeup from falling off.
Ella looked up at Roy as she drew near to him. She was happy that walking very slowly was called for, as the shoes were causing her a lot of pain. She smiled, and he returned a soppy, glazed look. If Carabosse didn’t make her move soon, Ella would have to actually marry him, which might make things awkward later on.
They all stood under the arbour that Myra had designed herself. (Ella had seen the sketches.) It was woven with flowers and their heavy scent made Ella’s eyes twitch.
Or was it the pomander Lily and Petunia had given her that smelled so strange? It hung from Ella’s wrist as a good luck charm, but she’d worried at one point that it might be on fire as it hissed slightly and emitted a visible puff of vapour. Lily had laughed and said that it was an invention they’d been working on for the shop, and was to keep everything fresh. Ella suspected that it was one of those air fresheners designed to squirt doses of scent in a little gift bag and planned to abandon it at the earliest opportunity.
The registrar didn’t look any more convincing when he stood to preside over the weddings, and Ella marvelled at the way all of the wedding guests simply stood and smiled.
The registrar extracted a set of notes written on cards and held them out with his tiny arms.
“Right, you lot,” he declared loudly. “We’re gathered here today for a bastard wedding between two loving couples.”
Ella kept her eyes forward, but she knew, she simply knew, that everyone was ignoring Psycho’s sweary additions to the script because they were English and would assume that they had misheard.
“My name is Superintendent Registrar Tallman and the fire exits are to your— bollocks to that.” He threw the card over his shoulder. “Right let’s move on and talk about who’s who. Keep up now, or you’ll marry the wrong bastard person.”
“Lovely isn’t it?” said a voice behind Ella. It was the voice of the cat that had got the cream, oily and so very pleased with itself.
Ella froze, knowing that somehow Carabosse was standing directly behind her. She managed to turn her head enough to see out of the corner of her eye that there were now three bridesmaids standing behind her. Had nobody else noticed?
“This is all I’ve dreamed of for you Ella,” Carabosse continued quietly while Psycho addressed the rest of the audience. I’ve worked very hard for this. You’re about to realise exactly what I’ve managed to achieve.”
“You’ve arranged a wedding. Hup-di-do. People do that every day.”
“Not like this one, they don’t, dearie. This is the perfect wedding.”
Ella looked pointedly at her soon to be step-mother’s wedding dress, the two bridesmaids who had mummified their own heads and the three-dwarf act that was the registrar and then at Carabosse.
“Perfect.”
Your Prince Charming is the genuine article. He’s royalty, Ella.”
Ella snorted. “Four-hundred-and-something-th in line to the throne.”
“Not for much longer,” said Carabosse. “He’s about to become king and you will become queen.”
“But the others?”
“Aren’t I the best fairy godmother? I am very good at my job.”
“What did you do?” hissed Ella, as quietly as she could.
Carabosse laughed. “My small friend Disco has been extremely helpful. You’ll have observed his talents when it comes to bending people to my will?”
Ella glanced sideways at Roy who was still bopping gently to an unseen rhythm, his eyes unfocussed. Yes, she understood what Disco could achieve.
“So those other inconvenient souls who stood in the way of your fairy tale happy ending have been collected up, Pied Pipered away by Disco to a single location.”
“Where?”
“A mountain cave.”
“Where?”
“It doesn’t really matter. The cave did not exist until recently, and when I say the word, it will cease to exist. Solid rock will tidily replace those four hundred and something people and you will have everything that you ever wished for.” Carabosse sighed with contentment and it took all of Ella’s willpower not to spin round and thump her.
“But I didn’t wish for this,” said Ella.
“Pish-posh. What do you know? You are going to be married to a king and then you will be queen and live happil
y ever after.”
“No one lives happily ever after.”
“Leave it to me, dear,” said Carabosse. “It will be a perfect moment in time, Ella. It’s what I’ve worked so hard to achieve. Everyone will be happy.”
“And then?”
“Then? Then the time will be right to put everyone to sleep so that it can never, ever be ruined.”
Ella stared.
“When you say everyone...”
“Everyone,” said Carabosse. “Everyone in the land.”
“But you can’t…”
“Oh, there will be loose ends, but I can sort those out, tidy them away.”
“Has t’dwarf lost his ruddy mind?” Rose said, under the table. “Surely to goodness people’ve noticed every other word he says is a cuss word? And if that’s not enough, that long thin balloon coming out of his flies is going to make people talk.”
The wolf coughed. “You might want to take a look at the bridesmaids,” he said.
Natalie stared at the bridesmaids. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was the matter.
“Try looking away. Use the corner of your eye,” said the wolf.
Natalie stared at the two bridal couples. Myra glared suspiciously at the registrar as though she was not entirely certain that he was behaving badly. Gavin gazed happily at his bride. Roy was still unfocussed on anything but the inaudible groove. Ella looked extremely worried because — there!
Right behind Ella was another figure, somehow blended with the bridesmaids. Natalie gave a small low growl at the sight of her.
“I seen her an’ all,” whispered Rose. “Do we go now?”
“Let’s wait for the I dos,” said Natalie. “When she’s most distracted.”
The wobbly registrar tried to bat away the swelling balloon penis that swayed from his trousers but found that his arms were too short. He continued with the service.
“If anyone knows of any bastard lawful impediment —”
“Yes!” yelled Ella. “The wicked fairy Carabosse is manipulating us all and she’s right here!”
“Or we go now,” said Rose.
Natalie leapt out from under the table.
“Do it, mum!” yelled Ella. “Do it now!”