Wedding Belles (16 page)

I call Mills to explain.

“I don’t think we’re going to be needing those place names after all,” I tell her. “So you may as well stay at home.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“We may have to cancel the wedding.”

“What? Cancel it? Are you serious?”

I explain about the hotel going bust. “It’s a catastrophe. It’s not just the venue and the food. The hotel had arranged loads of extra things — even the flowers and Mum’s hair.”

“Can’t you find somewhere else?” she asks.

“Clover and Dad are in the living room, ringing every hotel in Dublin, but it’s not looking good. Look, I’d better go. I have to ring the suit place and see if we can cancel the rental. I’ll ring you later, OK?”

“I’m so sorry, Amy. Let me know if I can do anything.”

“Thanks.”

Next I ring Stan at Good Grooming and tell him the news.

“Ach, Amy, that’s awful,” he says. “Not the first time a venue’s gone bust like this, I’m afraid.” He pauses for a moment. “I’d really like to help you out if I can. You seem like nice folks, and Brains really saved my bacon that day at the wedding fair. Plus, your aunt Clover has arranged for my shop to be featured in
Irish Bride
. Now, think about this before you say anything, but I may have a venue solution for you. What about a tent? If you have somewhere to put it, I’ll find one for you. I know all the wedding rental companies. They can also provide chairs and tables and a stage for your band. It’s worth considering. All you’d need then is someone to do the food. I’ll keep those suits on hold until I hear from you.”

“Thanks, Stan. I’ll talk to Clover and Dad and ring you straight back.”

I put down the phone and rush into the living room.

“Stan’s suggested a tent,” I say. “He said he could find one for us, and the tent company would also provide tables and chairs. Would Gramps’s garden be large enough for a tent?”

“Who’s Stan?” Dad asks.

“The wedding suit guy,” Clover says. “He’s a sweetheart. What do you think, Art? The lawn beside the house is pretty big.”

Dad nods. “I think you’re right. But we’d still need a caterer.”

“And a florist. And a makeup artist. And a hairdresser,” I remind him.

Just then the doorbell rings. Clover jumps up to get it. She comes back into the room with Mills’s mum, Sue, behind her.

“Mills told me about the hotel,” Sue says. “What a catastrophe, girls.” She gives me a big hug. She’s lovely that way. “My heart goes out to you all,” she continues. “Mills said the hotel was supposed to be providing the flowers. Now, I did a flower-arranging course last year. We covered bridal bouquets and corsages. I’m not professional or anything, but I know my way around a tea rose. If you find a new venue, I’d be delighted to get the flowers from the market for you and arrange them for the wedding. I love Sylvie to bits and I’d really like to do this for her. And Mills has offered to help me.”

“Looks like we now have a venue, seating, and flowers,” Dad says. “So how about it, girls? Do we go for it? Get this wedding on the road? There must be someone out there who could do the food. We can start ringing all the catering companies tomorrow. And I’ll happily order the drinks and the glasses.”

“And I can do Sylvie’s hair and makeup if we can’t find anyone else,” Clover says. “So I’m in. Amy?”

“Yes!” I say. “Let’s do it. I guess the wedding’s back on after all.”

As soon as Sue’s gone, Dad says, “Of course, we’ve forgotten something. Sylvie. Who’s going to tell her and Dave about the change of plan? We’ll also need to let the guests know. It might be best coming from you, Clover.”

“Once we have everything in place, I’ll talk to her,” Clover promises. “She’s the one who keeps saying that she wants a simple wedding. I’m sure she’ll love the idea of a tent in Gramps’s garden.”

“Let’s hope so,” Dad says. “Or else we really are in trouble.”

Later that evening, I get a phone call from Bailey. At least it’s Bailey’s number, but it’s certainly not Bailey’s voice.

“Amy, it’s Finn, Bailey’s dad. Remember me?”

“Of course I do.” How could I forget Finn Hunter, the Irish Surfing Chef? He’s always popping up on radio and TV chat shows.

“Mills has been talking to Bailey and I hear you need a chef for your mum’s wedding on Tuesday. I’d like to offer my services. You’ve been a really good friend to Bailey, Amy. I’d like to repay the favor.”

A celebrity chef cooking at Mum’s wedding? Things are looking up. And Mum adores Finn Hunter — she still kisses the telly screen when he comes on. She’s going to be over the moon! Maybe this wedding isn’t going to be such a disaster after all.

I turn out to be right. Mum is thrilled that Finn is doing the catering. “Finn Hunter? At my wedding? Are you serious? I love Finn Hunter!” is the first thing she says when Clover breaks the news about the change in venue and everything over dinner the following evening. She and Dad spent the whole day getting the new wedding details sorted.

It looks like wedding Mark II is a-go-go!

When I wake up on Tuesday morning — Mum and Dave’s wedding day — I jump out of bed, throw back my curtains, and nearly cry with relief. Clover and I have been checking out weather apps obsessively all week, terrified that Mum’s big day would be spoiled by buckets of rain. Or even hailstones or snow — the weather has been so weird lately. But it’s sunny, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Sun, in Ireland, in April — it’s a miracle! I sigh with relief. It’s a good omen — it just has to be. Plus, it’s also my birthday. Another good omen.

“Happy birthday, Amy,” I whisper to myself. We’re celebrating next weekend on account of the wedding, and I can’t help feeling a little down. It’s not every day that you turn fourteen. Fourteen! It sounds so much older than thirteen. Like the difference between seventeen and full-on-adult eighteen, the biggest jump there is. Still, it’s Mum’s special day and I don’t really mind waiting to celebrate my birthday. Well, only a bit.

I check my phone. Two “happy birthday” messages — from Dad and Mills. I’m glad they’ve remembered. Then I hear a scuffling sound and low, hushed voices outside my door, followed by Alex’s frantic giggling. He’s probably doing his hideous new naked dance, wiggling his bum, slapping it with his hand, and yelling “Yee-ha!” He saw the move in some music video on the telly and has been doing it ever since. He added the “Yee-ha!” bit all by himself, odd little troll that he is. The more we all tell him to stop, the more he keeps on doing it.

I put my mobile down, yank open the door, all ready to let him have it — and get the fright of my life when I find Alex, Mum, Clover, and Evie outside.

Clover yells, “Surprise!” and waves a huge silver helium balloon in my face. It has
14 TODAY
printed on it in rainbow colors.

Mum’s in her dressing gown with Evie in her arms and Alex at her feet. And, yes, as I suspected, Alex is naked. Evie, however, is wearing her fluffy pink sleep suit with the hood and the floppy ears. She looks all cute and cuddly, like a little pink bunny.

“Happy birthday, love,” Mum says, smiling at me, then leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. She smells just-out-of-the-shower fresh. Her hair’s wet, in fact, and is hanging down her back in a sleek wave. She had it highlighted and trimmed last week and the ends are still sharp. There are dark circles under her eyes, though, and her face is a bit pinched and tense. I guess it is a big day for her, and she’s probably been worrying all night about something going wrong.

Dave spent last night at his friend Russ’s house — apparently it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on the night before the wedding.

“Let’s go downstairs and have some breakfast together before the day starts to get even more manic,” Mum says, yawning. Which sets me off.

I yawn so deeply that my jaw cracks. “It’s not even eight yet, Mum.”

“I know, but it’s a busy day. There’s still a lot to do.”

“All you have to worry about this morning is being beautified, Sylvie,” Clover says firmly. “Gramps will be here any minute to take the kids off your hands. And my very able assistant and I have everything under control, don’t we, Bean Machine?” Clover checks her watch. “In fact, our fabulous hair and beauty professional will be here very soon.” Saffy was coming along to the wedding anyway, but when Clover asked her to recommend a last-minute makeup artist who wouldn’t cost the earth, Saffy offered to do it herself. She worked on the MAC counter in Brown Thomas department store during college and loves making people look their best.

“So let’s eat, people. Chop-chop.” Clover practically pushes me down the stairs.

I get another surprise when I walk into the kitchen. The breakfast table is beautifully set and decorated with table confetti: tiny baby-blue 14s wink up at me. Alex grabs a handful and throws them in my face. One of them nearly lands in my eye.

“’Appy birf-day, Mimi,” he says, giggling away to himself.

“Thanks, Alex,” I say, wiping away the confetti.

After popping Evie into her high chair, Mum wrestles a fresh diaper and Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas onto Alex. He’s not happy and squeals and wiggles so much that she has to scold him several times. He loves being naked; he’d spend all day in the nip if Mum let him. When he’s decent, she lifts him into his high chair and finally flops down on one of the kitchen chairs.

“If that child starts stripping during the ceremony, I’ll have a nervous breakdown,” she says. “Keep your eye on him, Amy, will you? And Alex, you have to keep your clothes on today, buddy, understand?”

Alex gives Mum one of his angelic smiles. With his blond curls and bright-blue eyes, he looks like a little cherub, but he’s more like a tiny Tasmanian devil.

“I love oo, Mummy,” he says.

She laughs and pats his head. “I know you do, you charmer, but none of your tricks at the wedding, got it?”

Alex nods and says, “OK, Mummy” with such a serious little face that we all start to laugh. He grins, lapping up all the attention.

“Take a pew, Beanie,” Clover says, pointing at a chair with a pink helium
BIRTHDAY GIRL
balloon attached to the back of it. There’s a pile of wrapped presents and envelopes on the table. I’m so pleased that I almost start to cry. I thought everyone would be too caught up in wedding fever to remember my birthday. Clover’s eyes are twinkling, and I realize that she must be behind the extraspecial treatment. Mum and Dave always remember my birthday, but I’ve never had table confetti or balloons before.

“Go on,” Clover says. “Open your presents.”

“I think I’ll wait until after breakfast,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. Clover has no patience whatsoever when it comes to presents. She always tears into the wrapping paper, ripping it off like there’s a bomb inside that will explode if she doesn’t extract the present within three seconds flat.

“Beanie!” she groans.

“Only kidding.” I pick up the first present in the pile, a large square one covered in red-and-gold Christmas paper.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find any birthday paper in the house,” Mum says sheepishly. “I did buy some, but Alex used it as a sword, and it unraveled and ended up all over the garden.”

“That’s OK,” I say with a smile. I tear off the paper to reveal a white shoe box. I open the lid and peer inside. Brand-new Converse — black high-tops covered in shiny black sequins. Mum has also tucked a Benefit eye shadow compact into one shoe and an iTunes voucher into the other.

“Thanks, Mum.” I beam at her, delighted. She has been known to buy me the oddest presents, like a cricket set (and I don’t even play cricket — she said the point was that I could learn) and bed linen. I mean, come on, who wants bed linen for their birthday? No, this is pretty much the best present Mum has ever given me. “Can I wear the Converse today?”

“I’m glad you like them, Amy, but I’m not sure they’d go with your bridesmaid’s dress.”

The second present is from Alex and Evie — a summer scarf in light-gray cotton with black butterflies printed all over it. Again, pretty cool. Dad has given me a card with money tucked inside as usual — 100 euros this time. Yeah! And, for once, Mum doesn’t sniff and comment on it being a “cop-out present.”

There’s a gift card from Gramps and, surprisingly, a pretty photographic card with a beach scene on it from Pauline, Shelly’s mum. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, Pauline and I, so it’s nice that she’s remembered my fourteenth.

The last envelope, a plain white one, is much bigger than the others. My name is written on the outside in shiny pink letters. I look over at Clover.

She nods. “That’s from me, Beanie. Part one of your present. I’ll give you part two later.”

I open the envelope. Inside is a single sheet of paper with “Look in the living room” written on it.

“Go on,” Clover says. “It’s waiting for you.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” I grin at her, then Clover and I march off to the living room. I hear Mum tell Alex to stay put, that she’ll only be a second, and then she joins us. There’s a huge rectangular present, the size of a car windshield, resting against the sofa. It’s covered in red paper dotted with white hearts. I make a careful rip in the paper and laugh as I realize what’s inside: a montage of photographs of me and Clover printed on glossy canvas.