‘And don’t get sucked in by those counsellor types—mostly they’re nut-jobs themselves,’ Aronda warned me.
‘You’re like a little sister to me,’ Aronda purred, ‘I want to see you happy.’ Beau didn’t say much, he just gazed at Aronda and nodded in agreement every now and then. He seemed so understanding. I liked him immediately. I thought that for sure they would have a happy marriage. Maybe I could even visit them from time to time? All sorts of fantasies went through my mind.
When I told Zoë about these cosy sessions with Aronda, she said it made her wonder why I hadn’t been asked to be one of the four bridesmaids. But Aronda had already explained why.
‘I hate to say this, Di, but if I’d known how thin you are now … Look honey, last time I saw you … honestly if I’d known, I’d have had you for my bridesmaid like a shot.’
Zoë said this was disgusting which I thought was a bit rough on Aronda. Zoë didn’t seem to understand … Aronda kept calling me her little sister and it made me feel important, bridesmaid or not.
There was only one problem with the trip at that point. Ingrid still hated me. Her dislike for me was so obvious whenever I was near Graham and her that I kept as far away from both of them as I could. I hung out with Aronda instead, and I wasn’t simply happy to do anything she asked, I suggested things I could do for her and Beau.
I grabbed coffees, I re-ironed dresses, I brushed her hair. She even let me rub her back, ‘something Beau simply loves doing’, when she had a backache after a long stint at the hairdresser. And then she helped me with my wedding outfit.
‘Cute little dress but definitely not those shoes, sweetie. They’re dodge. You need really high heels to show off your great legs. I’m pretty sure I have a pair that’d be just right.’
I wobbled a bit in Aronda’s high-heeled shoes because they were on the big side. I knew I didn’t really have great legs but Aronda raved so much, I eventually agreed to wear them.
‘My darling little sister,’ she cooed at me.
Aronda seemed to want a little sister so badly it made me wonder why Ingrid hadn’t offered to take me in when Mum died. But then the thought of Ingrid replacing Mum! Ugh!
The church ceremony was gorgeous, with the four bridesmaids—none of them as pretty as Aronda, of course—leading the way with four handsome groomsmen. Then there was a collective gasp of admiration as Aronda came down the aisle on her mother’s arm. I had such a feeling of love and belonging at that moment that I even included Ingrid in my waves of affection.
That all changed at the wedding breakfast, though. I soon found myself on the outside again. Spotted by Ingrid lurking behind some palm trees, I was prodded into action. I tried my best and did manage a couple of long, boring conversations with some of Aronda’s old aunts and uncles.
‘Yes, Cherie’s daughter, Diana. Unbelievable isn’t it? Must take after her daddy,’ Ingrid said, with that dazzling smile of hers. I was tired of balancing in Aronda’s uncomfortable shoes and out of my mind with hearing about cousin’s cousins, new babies and long-gone rellies. Finally I found a seat behind some greenery where I could hide out for while.
It was Aronda’s lame-o uncle Tarquin, the one she’d warned me about, who found me. He was a funny old guy, a bit dishevelled-looking, wearing a red, slightly crooked, bowtie. He had a friendly face with the bluest eyes and a shock of iron-grey hair. He parted the palm fronds and found my secret seat.
‘I’m quite frightened of that flower you’re wearing, Cherie’s lovely daughter,’ he said, and I couldn’t help laughing.
I was wearing a gardenia that Beau had given me and Aronda had insisted on pinning to my dress.
‘It’s so old-worldly darling—quite your look!’ I wasn’t sure what to make of his comment but I was stuck with the flower for now.
‘I have a lifelong fear of gardenias, you know,’ he continued. ‘Childhood trauma—bashed to the floor by a gardenia I was.’
He sat down beside me, parting the untidy fronds so that we had a better view of the wedding throng. And though I hadn’t asked, he told me about his near-death experience with a gardenia.
‘Flowers have played an important part in my life. My mother was a botanist, you see,’ he said. ‘Well, not really a botanist. She botanised as well as bred, as young English women did in those days. Botanised me, you might say, when I came along to spoil her fun!’ And he laughed at some obviously odd memory.
‘Frightful girl, that Aronda! But how could she help it with a name like that?’ He said. I felt unfaithful to Aronda because I laughed loudly at this remark.
‘My mother began early with me,’ he went on, ‘Proper botanical names for common flowers and all of that. She showed me the first daffodil that came into bloom in our garden when I was knee-high to the damn thing. She pointed, smiled at it and obviously expected some response so I picked the thing and ate it. I got a good whack over the head for that one! I run when I see daffodils in bloom now, you know!’ I don’t know why I liked his voice or laughed so much at his jokes but Tarquin was the most appealing person, after Aronda, I’d met at the whole wedding.
‘I must have been about four when I decided to get my mother’s attention, hard to do, you know, by taking her a present,’ Tarquin babbled on. ‘Flowers seemed to work. One day I spotted the first gardenia of the season. We had a cook and she turned with a pot of boiling water just as I barged into the kitchen and held up the flower, yelling its name to impress my mother. Mother took the flower from me and used it to punch me to the ground. Punched to the ground by a gardenia! Imagine! She’d saved me from a scalding but I’m still frightened of gardenias to this day. I’m frightened of mothers too, for that matter. And look what I see, one of them coming this way right now.’ It was Ingrid, who stared down at me with a look of fury.
‘Mustn’t bore Uncle Tarquin like this,’ she said in her crisp, disapproving tone.
‘Quite the contrary, dear Ingrid. The girl is refreshingly silent,’ he said, winking at me.
Left alone again, I was thinking how I’d describe all that had happened so far in a letter to Princess Diana, when I noticed something I wished I hadn’t seen. Aronda was staring longingly at someone and it wasn’t Beauregard, her new husband. It was Rob, the man I’d met in the café yesterday. Next thing, she was over by my side, smoothing my hair, smiling into my eyes.
‘I desperately need a favour, my darling cousin,’ she said in that winning way of hers. ‘Look, dear one, I really need some time alone with Rob. He’s very upset about things. I’ll explain later but it’s one of those girlboy things. You know!’ I didn’t know but I nodded my head dumbly. ‘And he’s likely to do something, well, a bit silly if I don’t talk to him alone. He could even spoil the reception and Ingrid would be devastated by the scandal. I’d like to take him to your room for a moment, honey. But I don’t want Ingrid to know. So would you cover for me? Have a long dance with Beau maybe and just say I went to the Ladies. Now, give me your key. There’s a pet. Quickly!’
I gave her the key, so happy I could help this ravishing bride-cousin-big sister in some small way. But my happiness was short-lived. She hadn’t been gone two minutes when Beau joined me.
‘Hey sweetie, has Aronda gone up to your room?’ he asked, indicating he’d already seen me giving her the key.
‘Yes, no!’ I knew I sounded guilty. I didn’t know what in the hell was going on between Aronda and Rob but I knew that Beau didn’t need to know. Not on his wedding day. Plus I’d said I’d cover for her.
‘I’ll go see her,’ he said and was already out in the hallway before I could stop him. What to do? I had to think quickly. I ran after him and grabbed his sleeve. He turned to me and my heart lurched to think this lovely smiling guy, this simple Beauregard Whitney, would go up there and maybe, who knows, be shattered by what he saw. And then Aronda would be shattered in turn and it would be my fault! If I was going save the situation I had to act quickly!
‘Beau!’ I said, clinging on to his
arm and wobbling a little.
‘What is it Di, are you okay?’
‘Not really. I mean, I need something. Beau, I feel woozy!’
‘It’s okay sweetie. Let me help you. Maybe something to eat too. It’s kinda hot in here.’ He led me back to a table and put me in a chair as if I were fragile. He poured some soft drink. ‘You should eat something,’ he said. ‘I’ll get Ingrid.’
‘No no!’ I blurted. He hesitated. All around me were piles of food; mounds and castles and pyramids of food. I don’t know what came over me but when Beau started heaping food onto my plate, I went bananas. I pushed it away so hard the plate and the food hit the floor and I began weeping noisily and clinging onto him for dear life. People stopped and looked. Each time he tried to extricate himself, my register would go higher and my volume louder. It brought Ingrid and Graham over on the double. If Beau had to explain the situation, he would be delayed for longer. So I put my head down on the table and sobbed noisily while he tried to tell them what was going on.
‘Stop it! Stop this act at once!’ Ingrid demanded, poking me in the back with such force that I gulped. I was shocked. How did she know it was an act? I shut up and dabbed at my face with a table napkin. From the corner of my eye I saw Aronda come back into the room. At least I knew she’d be grateful to me. I’d done it, I’d covered for her. But suddenly I was aware that I was getting a lot of unwanted attention. I was longing to just slink away.
I waited for Aronda to come over. She would make it okay; make some joke about it, put her arm around me, tell the others something light-hearted. It’d be all right. But she didn’t come anywhere near me. Graham was handing me napkins and apologising to people as they drifted away, some staring at me as though I had something contagious. Ingrid looked like she wanted to punch my lights out. She kept making comments about my ‘mental condition’.
I didn’t know what to think when Aronda, with her arm linked through Beau’s, made a sign with a slight shake of her head not to come near them. The full impact of my behaviour must have hit me then. I just wanted to sink through the floor. I’d made such a fool of myself. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Tarquin I don’t know what I would’ve done. He took the time to stop and talk to me as he was leaving the reception.
‘Well done, Cherie’s little daughter! I couldn’t have got through the night without you. And nor, it seems, could Aronda.’ He gave me a kiss goodnight. ‘I hope to see you again, Diana, if you and Graham ever come back to Victoria.’ He gave me a card with impressive raised lettering and I shoved it gratefully into my handbag. At least Tarquin didn’t think I was a complete loser. And I liked him. He wasn’t the ‘old fart’ that Aronda had described.
Not five minutes later I saw Rob walk back into the room. He immediately started an animated conversation with a blonde woman who was standing by the band. The dancing began and he cuddled up to the blonde woman big time. Meanwhile, Aronda was flying around the room in the arms of her loving husband. Her laughter was rising and I noticed for the first time that it had that annoying fake tinkly sound I know so well from Ingrid. When the dance ended and I tried to approach Aronda, she glared at me as if I were an insect.
I felt betrayed by her big time. I wanted to shout out, ‘Hey, I went out on a limb for you bridie! I even fooled your mother!’ But of course I didn’t. I was left looking the fool, as usual, and all because I’d been a fool for Aronda. I suddenly felt horribly, horribly sick. My mouth started to water and I threw up into the potted palm right next to the main wedding table. I had to be hauled out past clusters of people making sympathetic noises but keeping right away from me. Graham was furious but Ingrid more so.
We stood a miserable threesome waiting for the lift. Graham and Ingrid kept their distance from me.
‘The girl’s not stable,’ I heard Ingrid say. ‘Look how she draws attention to herself. Look how she spoils things. I knew I shouldn’t have asked her to come. I thought I was doing the right thing but really I should have known Cherie’s daughter wouldn’t know how to act … talk about attention-getting behaviour. Monopolising Tarquin like that when she was expressly told not to … manipulative little number. And I hate to say this, Graham, but her mother could be a bit like this sometimes too—anything to get her own way …’
She went on and on in that grating voice until I felt like screaming, but I felt too weak and dizzy. Where was the damned lift?
‘Aronda says she has strange ideas. Quite desperate for affection. Well, I can understand that to a certain extent, but really. She’s obviously a terrible problem for you Graham … may need some intensive help … perhaps find somewhere for treatment. A terrible problem!’ Her words were still ringing loudly in my ears when I finally entered the lift.
‘She’s right,’ I thought after I’d sobbed in real distress, this time on the hotel bed, the sound of dance music drifting up over the balcony. I lay still and quiet thinking the whole thing through. Suddenly I jumped up. Aronda’s clothes were no longer laid out on the bed. They were hanging neatly in the wardrobe. And that’s when it really hit me. I’d been well and truly duped! Aronda and Rob! I sat up angrily, thinking about the way Aronda had motioned me to keep away from her and Beau, the perfect bride and groom. And then I thought about how Ingrid had used me to get Graham here to the wedding so she could be all palsy with him.
‘Ingrid’s not bloody right about me at all. I’ve been set up!’ I thought. That was when I made sketches for Zoë of all the dresses hanging in the wardrobe, as well as the wedding dress from memory. To hell with Aronda’s ‘secret designs’.
Not long after that, I was interrupted by a maid who came to take Aronda’s clothes out of my room. I guess everyone was afraid I’d puke all over it. That made me laugh and think of Zoë so I called her, and I didn’t bother to make it a short call either.
‘To hell with the phone bill,’ I said as I gave Zoë a blow-by-blow account.
‘It could only happen to you, Di-Di,’ Zoë laughed at my vomit story, but in a sympathetic way. ‘And what a prize bitch that Ingrid continues to be!’
But it was Aronda’s secret meeting with Rob that really fascinated Zoë.
‘You say they met in your room. Oh my God! Is the bed rumpled? Talk about a two-timing bitch, and on her wedding day! That takes the cake! The wedding cake, get it?’
‘Well it’s funny you say that about the bed because all the clothes were hung up in the wardrobe when I got back here …’
‘Di, you saved the bride’s hide—just as she knew you would. No wonder you were sick. Quite frankly, she isn’t worth all your effort. You are just being used and abused, girl!’
‘The worst thing is that Aronda wouldn’t speak to me. Not a thank you, not a wink, a nod, nothing. She just kept giving me dirty looks. She didn’t come to say goodbye or send me a message or anything! I thought Aronda would at least speak to me.’
‘Oh well, it’s her wedding day, and she’s pretty busy it seems. What did you expect?’
‘And now Graham’s just about convinced I’m a real nutcase. You know my worst fear about all this? That Graham’s falling for bloody Ingrid! She has her claws into him, that’s obvious. I don’t care about her except that she’d like to see me locked up somewhere, that’s for sure. But you know, Zo, I thought Aronda really liked me …’
‘Di, you always fall way in it. You’re just too soft-hearted, you know.’
‘Soft-headed,’ I said. I felt heaps better after talking to Zoë so I rang for room service and ordered the most expensive thing on the menu—a crab dish that I couldn’t eat and a fancy cocktail that I could certainly drink. Even though I knew it would be poor old Beau who’d pick up the tab, it gave me some sort of satisfaction.
I turned on the telly and felt quite cheerful until Graham called me. I couldn’t think straight as he discussed our plans for the airport the next day. Then he sighed and said, ‘We have a bit of talking to do, Diana.’ That made me see red. Maybe I’d tell him the whole truth. But just like
it was with Marcus over certain events in our household, he’d never believe my version. I’d probably have to listen to Ingrid’s suggestions for my ‘wellbeing’. I wouldn’t take any of them, I knew that much.
7
Sometimes Zoë acts like a fool but she can also be a genius. The Monday after the wedding, she happened to be having a genius episode. She came tearing across the quadrangle looking like she’d won the lottery.
‘Hey Di, we don’t have to go to English tomorrow arvo. We’re outta here!’ she announced.
‘But you said we wouldn’t jig anymore,’ I protested. ‘Not after all that trouble last year …’ It was going to be another of Zoë’s hare-brained ideas.
‘It’s all legit, Di. Absolutely! Tomorrow afternoon we’re going on a little excursion!’ She waved around some papers. ‘Our major Journalism assignment, thanks to me, will now have an absolutely fantastic spin on it! I’ve talked Miss P into letting us go to fairyland. Well, you’ll think it’s fairyland. Can you guess what, Di?’ she sounded so excited I knew it had to be something to do with a certain princess’s visit.
‘An exclusive interview with Princess Diana?’ I joked.
‘Good as,’ she responded. ‘Listen to this! You know how Selma Fitzsimmon’s father is going to do an interview with the Princess—not exactly an exclusive interview but almost?’
Everyone knew Selma’s dad Lionel worked for the Telegraph because Selma never stopped bragging about it, especially when he got to interview celebrities. We saw every single article and sometimes she’d bore us solid by reading them out loud. Selma had already bragged that her dad was going to interview the Princess and ask about her new boyfriend! Zoë and I had been pretty envious but now Zoë, it seemed, had done something about it.
‘Well, I thought if Selma’s dad could interview her, then why not us? So I put the hard word on Miss P about how we wanted to do well in Journalism and about our plan to go to the Carven Building to see Princess Di and blah blah! She approved, even if it was grudgingly! Oh Di, it mightn’t be an interview exactly, but we are going to be there and on the inside at the same time as the Princess!’
Letters to a Princess Page 4
