The Bastard Takes a Wife (18 page)

At last the facial was over. I slid back into
my robe and all but jumped from the table to look in the mirror
near the door.

Holy shit. I looked worse than I used to when
I’d spend hours by the pool without sunscreen. My face resembled a
cooked tomato about to burst. The skin around my eyes was so puffy,
I could barely see them. And the pupils were bright red too. Not to
mention the bumps that looked like hives, which were springing up
along my forehead as I stared at my reflection.

“What…. what have you done to me?” I
spluttered. I wanted to cry but I knew the tears would sting my
skin so I held them in.

“You’ve had a mild allergic reaction.”

“Mild! I look like a raspberry with eyes. No,
actually, that would be an insult to a raspberry.” I couldn’t stop
the tears now. Big fat plops were running down my lumpy cheeks.

“It will settle.”

“In how long? I’m getting married in ten
days, in case you’ve forgotten. I can’t have my photo taken like
this.”

“I just don’t understand it,” the therapist
said as she ushered me back to the reception area. “Reactions like
this are so uncommon. I’ve only ever seen it once in my whole
career.”

That didn’t go far to reassure me.

“Look, if you pop to the chemist on your way
home, they’ll be able to give you a few anti-histamines. That
should calm the reaction down by tomorrow. And I won’t charge you
for today.”

Well, thank God for small mercies.

On the way home, Paige and I stopped by Sam’s
flat to drop off his shirts that had been at the cleaners. It had
been easier for me to pick them up ~ the drycleaners was only two
doors away from the Day Spa, after all ~ but in my current state of
physical disarray, I didn’t want to be doing errands or seen by
anyone. It had been bad enough having Paige slink along behind me
as we walked to the car. She was looking at me as if I were
shedding chunks of skin onto the footpath or something. Which I
wasn’t.

I went into the shop and dinged the bell for
service. The woman, Beverly, who usually served me, came scurrying
out from the back.

“Why hello, love,” she said, stopping
abruptly in the doorway. Her lips pressed together at my
appearance. It was clear she was trying not to laugh.

“I’ve come to collect Sam’s shirts.”

She looked me up and down, “Yes, of course,”
and raced back through the doorway. It was then that I heard an
almighty guffaw emanating from the back room. She was laughing at
my face. And not only that, she’d told her husband, Merv, the dry
cleaner, who came to have a look too. I could see his nose poking
from between the string curtains and there was a definite
snickering coming from the direction. This was too much. Had they
no sympathy for others? I was never coming back into this shop
again, that was for sure. Sam could collect his own dry cleaning
from now on.

At last, seemingly recovered, Beverly
returned with Sam’s shirts. Without looking at her, I handed over
my card.

“Have you been sick, love? You look awfully
red.”

I stared her in the face, hoping that she’d
feel guilty for laughing at me. “I had an allergic reaction to a
facial. Can I have my card back? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“You should get some anti-histamines for
that,” she called after me.

Everyone was a bloody doctor.

After dropping Paige at home, I drove around
to Sam’s and I let myself into the flat. I went into the bedroom to
put his shirts away for him. Sam had just got out of the shower and
was walking through the ensuite door at the same time. He looked so
handsome, standing there half naked and dripping. It was a pity I
looked like lumpy custard.

“Hey Babe,” he said, coming over to kiss my
lips. “Thanks for getting my shirts. I didn’t have time to pick
them up. This wedding shit is hectic, isn’t it?”

Obviously, there was something wrong here. I
know I had my huge sunglasses on but surely he could see my face.
Why hadn’t he commented? I decided to ignore his ignoring and act
normal.

“So you got to the shoe shop to try on those
shoes?”

“Yep. They didn’t have them in my size so I
picked a pair that’s similar and still shiny like you wanted. Is
that okay?”

“Sure.”

It was nice that Sam was taking a bit more
interest in wedding stuff now. It made me feel a little better.
Like we were in it together. Still, I couldn’t understand why he
wasn’t making a comment about my face. Maybe after everything we’d
been through he’d finally turned over a new leaf. Transformed from
‘Bastard Of The Century’ to ‘Sensitive New Age Guy’. Maybe he was
being nice because he knew I must feel embarrassed at the way I
looked. It was rather out of character but I was willing to take
any small scrap of kindness at this point.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. Johnny’s picking me up at five
and the only thing I know is that we’re going to the clubrooms
first to watch the
Force
play.”

“Make sure you have something to eat. You
don’t want to be drunk and disorderly before eight. Especially on
your Buck’s Night.”

Sam went over to the bed where his outfit for
the evening had been laid out. Dropping his towel, he pulled his
legs into his briefs then his jeans. He yanked a navy blue shirt,
buttons still done up, over his head and straightened it on his
chest. Then he ran his fingers through his hair making it stand on
end. “Will do.”

“Be careful tonight, Sam.”

Sam turned to face me. “It’s only a Buck’s
Night, Mill’.”

“Yes, but it’s also a night of boys with
alcohol and no women. And you know how rowdy you get when the girls
aren’t along. I’m not coming to pick you up from the Police
Station.”

Sam took me in his arms and placed a tender
kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be careful.” Then he pulled back
slightly, peering at me. His face got closer to mine as if he was
seeing me for the first time. Slowly, he lifted my sunglasses up
and put them on the crown of my head. That grin of his began to
grow. I could see him trying to suppress it.

“What the hell happened to your face?”

“I had a facial.”

“A facial transplant? You look like
Jabba
the Hut
only red.”

Then he began to laugh. Insensitive arse. So
much for sympathy and turning over a new leaf.

“Thanks.”

“Well, you do.”

“Apparently, I had an allergic reaction.”

“You don’t say,” he said, chuckling a bit
more. “Thank God, you’re not coming out with me tonight. People
might mistake you for my fiancée.”

“You bastard. A bit of sympathy would’ve been
nice. Do you think I like the way I look? How am I going to go out
tonight looking like this? I’ve already had Paige and the
dry-cleaning people laughing at my expense. I don’t want the rest
of Perth doing it too.” That nasty tear came back and rolled down
my cheek.

Sam took a step back. He swiped a tissue from
the box on the dresser and handed it to me, giving my arm a little
rub as he did so. “Don’t cry, Babe. I didn’t mean it. Really I
didn’t. It’s just that you’re so…. so red. I was a bit of a shock.
Is there anything I can get for you? A paper bag perhaps?”

“Very funny.” I sniffed away my tears and
punched him in the arm. Seriously. Sometimes I hated Sam.

Having decided that there was no way I could
be seen in public until my face returned to normal, I rang Alex and
asked her to cancel the plans for my Hen’s Night. I was annoyed but
what could I do? Nobody would believe I was a Bride to be unless it
was the Bride of Frankenstein. I wasn’t in the mood for
celebrations.

“Why don’t you move the party?” Adele asked
after I got off the phone. Of all the people I’d expected to be
appalled at my appearance, she was the surprise package. Completely
supportive. She confessed she’d had a similar experience in the
Swiss Alps a year or so before I started working for them.

“We have all this space,” she declared as we
sat over a late afternoon cup of green tea, “It’s perfect for a
bunch of women and I’m sure I can get the caterers to do some last
minute nibbles if I beg. It’s not like they don’t owe me something
with the money I give them.”

I was undecided. What I wanted was to crawl
into my miserable little bed and feel sorry for myself. But Adele
was insistent.

“Look darling, if you have the party here,
you can have fun but not go out. Besides your mother and
grandmother are looking forward to the evening. She’s been on the
phone to me three times already today running outfit choices by
me.”

I gave a sigh. There were a lot of people
looking forward to tonight and just because things hadn’t gone as
planned for me didn’t mean the whole evening had to be a flop. We
could have the party here, where I felt safe and nobody would laugh
at me. And the girls had gone to a lot of trouble with the
organisation. Why should we forgo our bit of fun? It was my last
hoorah as a single girl, after all.

I brightened. “Okay. I’ll ring Alex now and
tell her the plan. She’ll be able to get hold of everyone and let
them know about the change of venue.”

“Good girl.”

*****

Three hours later, looking as good as I could
in a new pair of jeans and sequined top, I stood at the door to
greet my guests. It seemed weird having a Hen’s Night at home but I
was positive that once we got going it would be like another night
down at the club ~ except there wouldn’t be any burping, farting or
porn. Well, I hoped there wouldn’t be any porn. My mother and
grandmother were coming. They were way too mature to be subjected
to that sort of thing.

Arriving en masse in the limmo they’d hired
for the evening and couldn’t see the point in cancelling, the girls
hugged me in turn and made appropriate noises regarding my face.
Having been first hand witnesses to my disaster at the day spa, the
red blotches and swelling were no shock to them. In fact, they were
very positive. Either that or they were good at hiding their true
thoughts.

“It, like totally, looks way better than it
did earlier on,” Kirby said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine by Monday. If
not, I can, like, get you some lovely Lancôme whitening cream.”

“She’s not fucking Michael Jackson, Kirbs,”
Mel laughed. “She doesn’t need any cream. Anyway, the swelling’s
gone down heaps.”

“Yes, I know. But it’s, totally, best to be
prepared. Just in case.”

I smiled and pulled her into a hug. Kirby was
a sweet friend. “Thanks Kirbs. But like you said, it’ll be fine by
Monday.”

“Yeah,” Sasha agreed. “And look on the bright
side… at least you’re not getting married tomorrow. That would have
been a bloody disaster.”

I supposed they were right. It wasn’t the end
of the world.

Chantelle, Diane and a couple of girls from
school and Uni were the next to arrive, along with a couple of
aunties and some old friends from my street in Nedlands. Having
been prepped beforehand by Alex regarding my face, they acted as if
I looked completely normal. I led them into the house and
introduced everyone around. Alex told the DJ to start the music ~ a
friend of her brother Con’s apparently, who owed him a favour.

A few minutes later, just as we had begun
with champers and nibbles and I’d been given my “Bride-to-Be” sash
and pink sparkly tiara, Patricia and Amanda swanned in the front
door. Both dressed in designer black from head to toe and with
Amanda wearing the most gravity-defying heels I’d ever seen, they
stopped in the living room doorway perusing the situation, like the
witches from
Hamlet
. Maybe, they thought of my Hen’s do as
more of a wake or funeral? They were certainly dressed for
that.

After casting a disapproving eye over the
group, Patricia’s gaze came to me. She stopped abruptly. Her hand
flew to her mouth and she tried to swallow a cough. “Oh my Lord.
What in heavens happened to your face?”

“Millie had an allergic reaction to a face
mask,” Alex explained, as she handed Patricia a glass of
champagne.

“Well, that’s what you get when you attempt
these cheap home treatments. They’re filled with rubbish.
Personally, I would never put anything that wasn’t reputable near
my skin.”

I glared at her and sucked in my lower lip.
How dare she? Couldn’t she be nice for one night?

“The girls were at Bodybliss Day Spa, for
your information, Patricia,” my mother said, arriving at my side
and holding her glass out to Alex for a refill. “It was not some
cheap home treatment. And while we’re at it I’d be much obliged if
you’d stop picking on my daughter.”

Patricia gasped again. But this time she put
her free hand to her chest as if she were going to have a heart
attack. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You’ve been nothing but catty
and mean to Millie since your arrival. You’ve sabotaged every plan
she and Sam had for their wedding and made it into your own. Poor
Millie has held her tongue and gone along with it to make you
happy. It’s time for the nonsense to stop.”

“I wouldn’t call a fourteen thousand dollar
cake going along with it.”

“You’ll never be satisfied, will you? Not
unless Millie turns into that, who-ever-it-was that Sam was engaged
to before. Well, I’ll have you know you’re lucky to be adding my
daughter to your family. She’s intelligent, kind and rather pretty
if I do say so myself. Plus, she has personality and spunk. I think
it’s time that you faced the fact that Sam and Millie are in love
and whether you like it or not, they’re getting married in a
fortnight.”

My mother walked to the living room door. She
swept her arm along the hall, her eyes locked on Patricia’s.
“There’s the door. If you can’t shut up and be nice, please use it.
We’re here to celebrate my daughter’s wedding and if you don’t like
it you can suck eggs.”