The Bastard Takes a Wife (2 page)

“But we want to get married in Kings Park,” I
repeated.

“Hmm. We can come back to that later.” He
ticked off the first of what appeared to be a long list and looked
to me again. “Now. Press releases. I’ve organised a few to go out
to the major papers. We’ll need to have the official photos done as
quickly as possible to go with it. I’ve lined up a photographer for
tomorrow and I’ve also taken the liberty of contacting
Woman’s
Day
and
Sixty Minutes
. After the ratings boom of Kate
and Wills, they’re eager to jump on the bandwagon for our own
Australian royalty. It won’t be quite the spread that Princess Mary
got, mind you, but we should be able to get you a nice piece and a
ten minute feature story.”

He paused for breath and looked me over with
a critical eye. His eyes stopped at my feet. I was wearing
fluorescent pink polish on my toes that day.

“You might want to thinking of engaging the
services of a personal trainer and stylist.”

“Why?” I asked, a little offended. I’d
thought my floral knee-length dress and silver glitter sandals
perfect for a first meeting.

Angus shoved a hand into his pocket and
withdrew a business card, handing it to me. “Sophia Blundstone. She
used to style Elle McPherson and Kylie. She’ll fix you up.”

I placed the card on the side table.

“I don’t mean to sound ignorant but why are
Sam and I having a feature in
Woman’s Day
?”

“I know, I know. I tried for
Women’s
Weekly
but they’d exhausted their entire budget on the winner
of
Masterchef
. But don’t stress, WD will do a super piece.
The features photographer is a personal friend.”

I could feel my leg beginning to shake under
my skirt. “No. I mean, why are we being interviewed? I’m a nanny.
I’m not famous.”

“You may not be, but Sam’s family are.
They’re the Brisbane equivalent of the Murdochs or the Packers.
There are expectations that must be met.”

Expectations.

“Does Sam know about this interview?” I
enquired.

Adele clapped her hands with glee. “Of
course. He okayed it.”

“Was he watching the rugby when you
asked?”

“I don’t see what that….”

I collapsed into the plumpness of the back of
the sofa. I could have asked for anything when the rugby was on and
Sam would have given it to me to shut me up. “I think I’d like to
have a word with Sam before you confirm anything.”

“You’ll have to get back to me, ASAP. They
won’t hold your spot forever, not with that couple from
Neighbours
getting divorced and him off around the town with
a sixteen year old.”

Angus picked up his coffee and took a sip,
returning it to the saucer. “Now. Reception. All three families are
members of the Royal Yacht Club. That’s a perfect venue. You’ll die
for the views.”

I had been there with my parents and Adele
and Brian on a number of occasions. The views were nice but the
only thing I was dying for was for this man to shut up and listen
to me.

“I think you’re misunderstanding me. We want
a simple wedding. The big formal reception is definitely out.”

“The cars will, of course, be vintage,” he
continued. “I have excellent contacts there and you’ll be wanting
photographs in Parliament House gardens and five courses for the
sit down. Or maybe four? It depends on the length of the speeches
and how much dancing we want.”

I repeated my previous request, which Angus
ignored again.

“The cake will be a three tier traditional
fruit cake.”

My lips pressed together. The stress headache
of my nightmare was fast becoming a reality. We were being
railroaded.

“But I want a white chocolate cake with a
kitsch little bride and groom on the top. Simple. White. Plain. Yet
elegant.”

Angus looked up from his notebook. At last,
he seemed to have heard. “Simple doesn’t always equate with style.
A cheap dress and a bunch of gerberas do not a wedding make.”

Oh for Pete’s sake. I shrugged and tuned out
while he blithered on about colour schemes and themes and showers
and gift registries and hen’s nights. It wasn’t until he mentioned
bridesmaids that I finally woke up.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, positive that
he could not have questioned my choice of Alex as a bridesmaid.

Angus looked at me. Cautiously, he slipped
his pen into his diary and closed it, sliding it to the side. He
faced me, clasping his hands on his knees like an old spinster.
“I’ve had a look at the photos you submitted and…”

“What photos?”

“The ones Patricia emailed through with the
gown options and the girls chosen to wear them.”

“What’re you talking about? I don’t have any
options and I only want one bridesmaid, Alex, with Paige as my
junior. And she has to have a tiara.”

Angus shuffled a little. “Well of course,
Miss Paige, Miss Tori and Master Michael are natural choices but
I’m a tad worried as to how the little Greek girl will appear in
the photos.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again in
astonishment. I could barely find words. “Are you saying my friend
is fat?”

“Oh no. No. Heavens. She’s simply a little
vertically challenged and the male attendants are so tall, you
see.”

“What male attendants? Sam’s having Johnny.
That’s it.”

Angus consulted his notes. “Ah no.” He tapped
his finger on the page. “Three attendants. John Jones, Alan Simpson
and someone called Rambo?” His eyes appeared to glitter at the
thought of the big burly man he envisaged to match the name.

“His name’s Ryan Waters and believe me he’s
no Rambo.”

“Yes, well, he’s the third groomsman.”

I couldn’t understand it. It had only been a
few nights ago in bed Sam and I had discussed the wedding party. I
was happy to only have Alex. At the time Sam had seemed to want the
same. Had he agreed to make me happy? Or did he have some secret
yearning to have a massive wedding? I couldn’t imagine it. Not
after he told me he’d rather have all his teeth pulled without
anesthetic first.

On the other sofa, Angus was still rambling,
oblivious. “The other options would be far more suitable.” He
tossed some photocopied shots of Kirby, Sasha and Mel onto the
coffee table.

“For what?”

“Bridesmaids.”

That was it. I’d had enough of this silly
little man with his dinky bow tie and paisley notebook. There would
be no more planning unless I got what I wanted. Tears stung the
back of my throat. I couldn’t swallow. “Get. Out.”

“But we need to…”

“No. We do not. I’ll organise my own wedding.
Thank you.”

Adele reached over, resting a hand on my
forearm. “Millie. Calm down. Think of the photos. In twenty years
time, when you look back, you’ll be glad you listened to Angus.
This is his job. He knows what works.”

My mouth fell to the floor. Adele was siding
with the planner. I stood up, handing Angus his jacket on my way to
the door.

“You heard me, I said get out. And if you
don’t get out now, I’ll call Sam to throw you out and believe me,
he can throw men who weigh twice as much as you.”

I’d never seen a man hoist a purse and run to
a door as fast.

“I guess that’s about it for today, then.
Don’t forget - one o’clock tomorrow for the engagement photos. I’ve
booked you in for a fitting at Mode for Brides on Thursday as well,
so you can make a final decision on the dress,” he called across
his shoulder. “Your options are being flown in. Make sure you take
the rest of the bridal party with you so we can start sourcing
dresses for them, too. I’ll be on hand to organise alterations,
shoes and accessories etc. So you won’t have to worry about
that.”

Oh joy. I couldn’t wait.

Outside on the terrace, Sam was deep in some
sort of business conversation on the phone. I could hear him
talking about staff training and incentives. For someone I’d
believed had never conducted business before, or even had a proper
job when we met, he’d made quite a smooth transition into ‘boss’
mode. Even though I was ready to wring his neck, the fact that he
was so clever made me feel quite proud.

Seeing me approach, he waved his hand in the
air and gave his usual cheeky grin. Then he hung up his phone and
put it between his thighs. “How’d the meeting go?”

I stood over Sam’s deck chair, hands on hips.
I know I’d agreed to let him off most of the wedding preparations
because ‘girlie flowers and stuff’ wasn’t his thing but if he’d
been interfering from the sidelines he could suffer the
consequences. So much for only wanting to ‘rock up on the day’ and
have a great time.

“Did you tell Angus you were having three
attendants?”

Sam frowned as if digging through the mud in
his memory. “Don’t think so. Mum was raving on about something the
other day and I told her we wanted a small wedding in King’s Park.”
He beamed up at me; seemingly chuffed that he’d even remembered
that detail.

“Then why did Angus reel off the names of the
rugby boys? And why’re Simmo and Rambo in our wedding party?
They’re not exactly poster boys for making a relationship
work.”

Sam looked worried now. “Ah, ‘cause I sort of
asked them.”

“But we decided.”

“I know we did but listen, please, before you
fly off the handle…..” He looked up at me and did his best
impersonation of a puppy wanting more dinner. “Mum made the point
that we have a bit of an expectation on us, given who my family
are.”

There it was again. That word.
Expectation.

“But we agreed. Together.”

“I know and I didn’t mean to ask the boys. It
sort of popped out after I’d had a couple. Simmo was the first
person I met when I came to Perth. And Rambo’s saved me on the
pitch more times than I can count. I feel indebted to him. Anyway,
they looked so upset when they heard Johnny talking about planning
the Buck’s night, I didn’t have a choice.”

I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or happy
that Sam appeared to have developed an empathy gene. But after all
the ‘little talks’ we’d had, why did he have to choose this moment
to use it?

I groaned. “So you were drunk?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you decided to increase the size of the
wedding party without talking to me first?”

“I can un-invite them if that’s what you
want.”

Now he was taking the piss. As if you could
un-invite someone from your wedding party. It was very bad
manners.

“I guess it’ll be okay,” I sighed. “I’ll have
to ask the girls to stand up too. And you’ll have to choose someone
else to be a groomsman because if I ask them we’ll have an uneven
number with Alex already in.”

I didn’t care what that fool Angus Adams
said. If I had to ask Kirby, Sasha and Mel to be my bridesmaids I
was having Alex as the Maid of Honour.

Sam gave a small grin and reached up to
squeeze my hand. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d wanted this all
along. “Don’t stress about it, Mill’. In the scheme of things a few
more sitting at the table is no big deal. It’s not like we’re
paying for it.”

Well, that was a relief.

“Can you believe the cheek of him?” I said to
Kirby as we reached the door of Mode For Brides a couple of days
later. “He wanted me to dump Alex from the bridal party because
she’s a bit tubby.”

Kirby’s head shook in disbelief. Her golden
highlights sparkled in the afternoon sun. “Like, what a dick! I
hope you, totally, told him to stick his head up his bony little
bottom.”

“I told him to get out.”

“O.M.G! You, like, sacked the wedding
planner?”

“Well, yeah, but then I had to reinstate him.
I’ve got no idea how to organise a wedding.” The whole thing was a
nightmare and we hadn’t even begun. I was going to be grey before
the day arrived at this rate.

I held the door open for Kirby and followed
her inside. “Angus wants me to employ a stylist.”

“What? For Alex?”

Oh God.

“No. For me.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with you. I mean,
I know the Boho look isn’t for everybody but that ‘just got back
from a love-in’ thing, like totally, suits you. If you dropped a
few kilos you could, totally, be Mary-Kate or maybe even Nicole
Richie. Like, take your pick.”

“Um. Yeah. I don’t think I’d like to be that
thin. Even if Angus said bulges on brides are bad in photos. He’s
coming today, by the way. To give his approval on dresses. So I
hope you haven’t eaten. We wouldn’t want a paunch.”

“What would he know?”

“He probably does know something. He’s quite
a celeb in Wedding Planner world.”

Kirby’s hand reached out to knock on my
forehead. “Ah, hello? He’s, like, a man. I’ve never met one yet who
could give an opinion on a dress that didn’t begin with ‘your tits
look great in that’.”

“He’s gay.”

“Oh. No wonder he’s on to you about weight
then. I’ll bet he’s man-orexic.”

I didn’t bother to ask what trashy magazine
she’d read that in. Instead, I immersed myself in wedding
heaven.

Mode For Brides was a frosted wonderland. It
was as if crystals of snow had been sprinkled on every surface and
frozen for posterity. Glass cases sparkled with all manner of
tiaras and jewellery. Row upon row of satin slippers adorned the
walls and the dresses ~ white, cream, ivory, lace, satin. How would
I ever choose?

“I think my lungs have stopped functioning,”
I whispered, suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed by it all.

Kirby gave my hand a tiny squeeze and led me
over to the shabby chic chaise where Alex was perched, twittering
like an overexcited sparrow.

“It’s like, totally, okay. I was like that
the first time I came here, too.”