The Bastard Takes a Wife (3 page)

“You’ve been here before?”

She waved a blasé hand. “Of course. I used to
come here all the time when I was with Rambo. I used to, like,
dream of a Collette Dinningan wedding gown with matching
hand-stitched underwear and Christian Louboutin pumps with custom
pink soles. Like, thank freakin’ God I got rid of that sorry excuse
for a man. He’d never be able to afford the wedding I deserve.”

“Have you heard from him since he got back to
Perth?”

“No. I don’t think he was totally with me
over the whole wine thing.”

I smirked at the memory of Kirby’s division
of assets strategy. She’d been the talk of the club for weeks after
she’d tipped out half of every expensive bottle of wine Rambo had
owned and freighted the remains back to him. It taught him not to
underestimate her blondeness that was for sure.

“Okay, let’s pick a fucking dress and get
this show on the road.”

A long, dark haired girl swung through the
glass doors and walked towards the chaise. Gently curled locks
swung in time with her hips and she wound them around her hand and
flicked them over one shoulder to partially cover her chest. If it
weren’t for the hair I would have sworn…

“Fucking hair,” she muttered as she dumped
her handbag at my feet.

“Mel?”

“Who the fuck else do you think it is? Jesus,
how many bridesmaids are there going to be in this circus?”

“Your hair…”

Mel straightened, stopping her tirade. “Do
you like it? I blame Kirby if you don’t. She talked me into getting
extensions after you asked us to be in the wedding party. She
ranted so much I did it to shut her up. Cost me four hundred
dollars so I’d better be getting a shag at the reception.”

“I only said it would be, like, nice if we
could all put our hair up in the same style. I was thinking sort of
Audrey Hepburn in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.”

“Oooh, I love that movie,” said Alex. “Are we
wearing black, Millie?”

I hadn’t thought of colours ~ possibly
because I hadn’t thought of having twenty bridesmaids either ~ the
original plan had been for Alex to choose her own gown and we’d
work a scheme in with it. I wasn’t that fussed.

“Black would be very chic,” Kirby commented.
“It’s not done often and I look, like, totally hot in black. Goes
with my hair.”

Mel walked over to a selection of dresses.
She flicked a few across the rack and pulled one out, holding it
against her body. “You won’t get any argument from me. And Sasha
was Queen of Black a couple of seasons ago, so she’ll be up for it.
Speaking of which, where is she? I’d have thought she’d have been
the first one here. We all know how much she loves a good fucking
romp in a gown.”

“She had to do an afternoon shift,” I said.
“But I’m going to message her any of our selections so she can
choose too.”

“Cool,” Mel said, hooking the dress back on
the rack. “Now, do we get free drinks in this place? If I have to
spend an afternoon frocking up, I’m going to need a champagne or
two to loosen my bra straps.”

And as if by magic, the shop assistant
appeared from a back room bearing a tray of bubbles. Lovely.

About half an hour after that Angus arrived.
He put his man-bag on the floor next to Mel’s tote and handed me a
‘sorry’ posy of daisies before taking a glass of champagne from the
shop assistant.

“So ladies, how far along are we?” he asked,
pulling his paisley diary out of his bag.

Mel, Alex and Kirby stood before me wearing
three different black gowns. Poofy, swirly, tight at the knee,
taffeta and even feathers - we’d tried them all before he
arrived.

“I gather the theme is black?” he asked,
adding, “Please don’t tell me you’re putting silver with it. Black
and silver is so last year. Damask is a little passé also.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This is a rugby
wedding, Angus, not freaking
Cirque Du Soleil
,” Kirby
squawked. “We have standards.”

“We were thinking a simple black and white
theme,” Mel explained. “Attendants and Sam in black, boys with
white ties and Millie in ivory with a huge ivory bouquet. No
fucking silver. Silver is for people who do craft and make their
own centrepieces. God.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“The black could work,” Angus said. “If you
keep the attendants bouquets small and have the jewellery in pearl
it could be very glamorous. Almost Audrey Hepburn.”

“Exactly.”

“We could, like, even do black evening
gloves,” Kirby offered.

“Possibly. Flowers?”

“Lilies, orchids and roses. All Millie’s
favourites with like, maybe even a hint of Baby’s Breath.”

Angus’s eyebrows shot to the top of his head.
I think he stopped breathing for a second. Baby’s Breath hadn’t
been done since the wedding of Fergie and Andrew.

“It’d be retro but not tacky. My mother had a
bouquet like that in the 70’s and it was divine.” To further
justify her claim, Kirby raced to her handbag and fished out a
wedding photo of her mother. She handed it to me. The dress was a
hideous seventies creation but she was right. The flowers were
divine. And timeless.

Over my shoulder, Angus nodded. “Yes. Yes, I
can see that. Very nice.” He took a photo with his iPhone. I’ll get
onto some florists for mock ups for the bridal party when I get
back to the office.”

*****

We stayed in the shop another two hours by
which time, I was becoming convinced I would never find the dress
of my dreams. The girls had been easy once we decided on the
colour. Tired and emotional, I flopped down on the chaise beside
Alex, who had taken up residence after trying on twelve bridesmaid
outfits and declaring herself knackered.

“None of these are the one,” I moaned.

“What’re you going to do? The other boutiques
have nothing like quality and range of the dresses here and I don’t
think I have the energy to go through this again without a few
shots of Ouzo.”

Angus’s brow gathered. He pulled out his
iPhone and consulted the calendar. “We don’t have time for custom,
with only fifteen weeks up our sleeve.”

“I might have a solution…..” The young shop
assistant stepped forward. She looked all of sixteen and possibly
related to that swimming instructor I’d encountered a few months
back ~ the one who’d called me ‘Mummy’. What could she possibly do
that would help apart from shoving me into a few more revolting
dresses?

“Yes?”

Her mouth turned up at the corner in the
tiniest of smiles, as if she were sharing the biggest secret in the
world. She leant towards me. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but
Lisa is coming across from Sydney next week.”

“And?”

“She’s doing the final fitting for my
sister’s wedding.”

I stared at her. Some skinny girl’s sister’s
wedding wasn’t my concern. I had enough trouble trying to control
Angus and his crazy plans.

But Kirby had begun to quiver with
excitement. Her face lit up brighter than the time she’d scored the
latest Mac lip-gloss before the rest of the populace. “O.M.G! Lisa
Ho is, like, making your sister’s wedding gown?”

She grabbed Angus by the hand and together
they jumped up and down like two six year olds on a trampoline.

“Lisa designed it and the seamstress here is
making it up. She pops over every month to check progress. She
knows my mum.” The girl waved her hand in the air nonchalantly as
if everyone was B.F.F with famous Australian designers. “Maybe
she’d do one for you?”

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God! Yes.
Please,” Kirby squealed.

Angus stopped jumping. He opened his diary
and began to froth at the mouth as he double-checked dates.

“Do you think she’d have time?” Four months
wasn’t long in custom wedding dress land.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask. Give me a sec’.”

And with that she dashed off into the back
room.

Angus and Kirby stood with their mouths
agape. I shook my head in bewilderment. Only Alex seemed coherent,
though even she looked visibly shocked. “Lisa Ho is going to design
your wedding gown,
Chica
. Wow.”

“I have to text Sash’,” Mel said, scrambling
for her phone. This was clearly a bigger deal than I realised. She
never broke a sweat except to get angry with the boys for acting
the fool.

“We don’t know yet.” I held up my hands with
all my fingers crossed.

“I’ve, like, got my toes crossed too,” said
Kirby. “You just can’t see it through my shoes.”

After a minute or two, the assistant emerged
from behind the curtain. She was nodding enthusiastically, the
smile on her face growing wider by the second as she came towards
us, her ear still glued to her pink, sequined mobile. Removing it
from her ear, she put her hand over the mouthpiece.

“She said she’d do it. She has an opening.
And the seamstress will put you on the priority list. This is for
the Brockton wedding on April 29th, right?”

“Yes.”

Beside me I could feel another squeal
building in Kirby’s lungs. Her body, rigid with nervous tension was
unmoving next to mine but her foot was tapping faster than a mouse
could run on an exercise wheel.

“Cool,” the assistant said. “I thought so
because that’s the only reason she agreed. Anyway, she says she’d
be honored and will meet you here at 10 am this Saturday. Any ideas
you’ve got, you’re to bring.”

Kirby began to hyperventilate. Anyone would
have thought it was her wedding. “Really? Like, seriously?”

“Yep. I’ll pencil you in now. Oh and just as
an aside… when you said Brockton, did you mean, like, Sam
Brockton?”

I frowned at her. Surely Sam hadn’t hooked up
with this pretty little pipsqueak in the past, too? Though knowing
what he used to be like, I wouldn’t have put it past him. She was
cute, in an underfed sort of way. “
Yeeesss
.”

“Wow, that’s cool. I saw him in some magazine
or other recently. I mean like, he’s hot for an old guy. And super
rich, too. You’re so lucky.”

“Old?!”

“Well, he must me at least thirty, right?
He’s old enough to be my dad.”

God help us, let’s hope not. Children of any
age were not on the agenda for a long time.

*****

Later that evening, I sat on the bed reading
Paige a story before she went to sleep. The twins were tucked up
with their teddies and Adele and Brian had gone off to a business
dinner so I was back to nanny duties for the night. Since, I’d come
back from Lombok, I’d been living with Sam. Even if I did seem to
spend almost as much time at the Richard-Shaw’s house as I did
before I left.

The house was very quiet. I leant against the
headboard with my bottom half warmed by Paige’s Justin Bieber doona
cover. Her little body pressed in to mine as she listened.

“Millie?”

“Yes, Blossom?”

“When you go to live with Sam in a real
house, not his flat, can I come and stay? I miss you not being
here.”

“Of course you can. I’ll even let you pick
out a room that will be yours. It might not be for a while though.
We have lots of things to do first.”

“Can I have Justin Bieber curtains?”

“Possibly not, but you could have your
favourite colour. We’ll ask Sam.”

She cuddled further into my side, her fingers
playing on my forearm. “Mummy said Lisa Ho is making your wedding
dress. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Her spring-summer collection was nice this
year, I thought.”

I should have been shocked but frankly, Paige
knew a great deal more about everything than me, so being couture
savvy was par for the course.

“And?”

Paige bit her lip.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well, I was wondering if she’d have time to
make something for me. I’ve picked out the look. It was in one of
your bride magazines.”

“Paige, you’re six.”

“And eleven months!”

“I don’t think you need a designer bridesmaid
dress.”

“But Jennifer Brayshaw-Jones had that man
from
Project Runway Australia
make her flower girl dress and
she was only five.”

Oh my God. The one-upping had started
again.

The weekend of the official engagement party
was hot. It was so hot we could have put bread out on the terrace
and turned it into toast. Everything had fallen into place with
Angus’s help and Adele and Brian’s entertainment zone looked
fabulous. I had been upset all week that Mum and Dad wouldn’t be
back from their round the world cruise in time for the party but as
Sam said, they had their whole life to meet him and they were going
to be back to help with the final preparations and attend the
wedding. The engagement was a formality. And seeing as how I hadn’t
wanted a massive party, it didn’t matter either way. I suppose I
agreed.

I met Adele in the family room late that
afternoon, and we stood amidst the bustle of people going this way
and that. A florist was arranging flowers on a side table and out
on the grass, the caterers were making the last minute tweaks to
the positioning of the buffet so that it didn’t block the view to
the pool area.

“Everything’s almost ready,” she said, as she
lowered her clipboard to direct one of the wait staff to the
bar.

“Thank you so much for letting us use your
house, Adele. We could never have done this at Sam’s
apartment.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re part of
the family.” She looked me over, her glance stopping at my gem pink
sandals. My mind flew back to a time when Sam and I had first begun
going out and she’d stressed over my outfit choices. “You’re not
planning on wearing that are you?” she asked. “This isn’t a pool
party.”

“My dress is upstairs in my old room, with
Sam’s stuff. I thought I might as well get ready here, if that’s
okay? Then I won’t be late.”