by Nigel Smith
It was a story from Texas. Four huge men in dark suits and dark glasses were shoving someone into a car.
“He looks a lot like your dad,” said Dad coming back with the tea.
Nat sighed; Tiffannee’s wailing got louder.
“Oh,” said Dad, realising it was Tiffannee’s dad.
The pictures changed to a big oil well, spewing oil all over the place.
“They’re saying he might go to prison now,” said Tiffannee, “he’ll miss my wedding altogether unless he walks me down the aisle when I’m a hundred and six.”
“Right. Kind of takes the pressure out of ordering these wedding centrepieces,” said Dad.
Nat kicked him.
“No, that’s it, I simply can’t get married without Daddy being there,” said Tiffannee. “So you might as well cancel it all… the venue, the food, everything. It’s no use to me any more.”
Nat saw Dad’s eyes light up. And even though this was her dream come true, she had a horrible feeling she knew what he was now thinking.
“Oh dear,” said Dad, trying to look sad but actually looking massively relieved, “never mind. But what a terrible waste. Such a shame nobody else could use them.”
Nat was right. She DID know what he was thinking. Oh dear.
The next day Dad insisted they should ‘Strike while the iron is hot’ and tell Oswald and Fiona that they had finally found a venue for their wedding!
“Dunno what’s so special about a hot iron,” grumbled Nat, tumbling out of bed, “clonking someone with a cold iron is just as good.”
“The Country Club won’t know it’s a Bagley wedding until it’s way too late to cancel,” chuckled Dad, when they were in the Atomic Dustbin, “ooh and I must remind Fiona to pretend to be called Tiffannee.”
“This is insane,” said Nat, “you do know that?”
“So’s being in Oswald Bagley’s bad books,” said Dad, “remember the chainsaw?”
“You’ve got a point,” said Nat.
“Brilliant,” said Dad, totally cheerfully, “that’s literally all the problems solved, it’s a perfect plan.
“NOTHING CAN GO WRONG.”
I wish you hadn’t said that, thought Nat, it always makes me nervous when you do!
Then they went over to the Bagley house to break the good news.
Fiona was overjoyed when Dad told her about everything he’d so cleverly arranged for them at the posh country club.
“I’ve organised flowers and cars and food and entertainment and the lot,” said Dad proudly. “I’m not saying it was easy, in fact most people couldn’t do it, but I couldn’t let you down.”
He looked at Oswald when he said that. Oswald was sitting on his favourite chair in front of the telly, picking his teeth with a flattened beer can. He spat out the ring pull.
“Oh look, he’s ever so grateful,” said Fiona, smiling. “And so am I.”
She threw her arms around Nat, who felt several of her ribs creak and groan under the strain.
“You and your dad have been so brilliant,” she said. “Now Buttf— sorry, I mean Nathalia, I wanted to ask you something.”
Nat feared the worst, quite rightly.
“You see, I never had a little sister, and all my friends are coppers and no good at this girly sort of thing, so I was wondering if you would consider being my… maid of horror.”
“Honour,” corrected Nat with a sigh, “it’s maid of honour.”
“Not at my wedding it’s not,” said Fiona. “Merlin says that people need to embrace the darkness more. We need to cuddle our inner gloom to be truly happy.”
“He’d like my mother,” said Dad, “she’s been cuddling her inner gloom for ever. Problem is, she keeps getting her inner gloom out to show everyone else as well.”
Nat looked at Darius for help, but he just shrugged and made that twirly gesture with his finger next to his head, which meant: dunno, she’s bonkers, your call.
“Would I have to wear anything weird?”
“What do you mean by weird?” said Fiona. “Are you saying we’re weird?”
“Of course not,” fibbed Nat, “not weird weird, just different. Am I going to have to wear anything different? The sort of different that some people – you know, some less ‘New Age’ people – might think was weird?”
“We believe in freedom,” said Fiona. “Wear what you want. As long as it’s black.”
Nat broke into a huge grin. “I’ll do it!”
“Wonderful,” said Fiona, kissing her on the cheek. She let go of Nat who collapsed on the sofa, ribs aching.
Nat was actually looking forward to this wedding. Dad didn’t like her wearing all black, he said it made her look like a fountain pen, but she thought it was dead cool.
“Now,” continued the bride to be, “you do know everything has to be black, don’t you?”
“That’s easy, just tell all your guests to wear black,” said Dad.
“Not just the guests,” said Fiona, “I mean everything. Merlin was very clear about the black.”
Flowers, cars, drinks, napkins, tablecloths, plates, even the food.”
“Food?” said Nat, puzzled. “I’ve done a suggested menu,” said Fiona, handing her a note.
“Oh, er – I suppose so,” said Dad, scratching his head.
Just then the doorbell rung, and a moment later Merlin Tolpuddle – wizard, astrologer, keeper of mysteries and dry-cleaning expert – entered. He was one of the most extraordinary looking men Nat had ever seen.
And that’s saying a lot, she thought. My life is full of nutters.
She looked at Dad, who was wearing an old jacket and a ratty T-shirt with
I’M A TOP DAD
on it. Except there was a big tea stain down the front of it and some letters had come off in the wash so it read:
I’M A TO AD
Merlin looked worse. He was clad in black and purple robes, with a long white beard, which he’d tied into a plait. On his head was a big floppy hat. He came into the sitting room and immediately sat down cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, mumbling.
“Whoooooa…” moaned Merlin.
“He’s checking out your aura,” whispered Fiona.
“My WHAT?” said Nat, who didn’t like the sound of that.
“Everyone has an aura; it’s like energy,” said Fiona. Nat giggled.
Fiona pursed her lips.
“It’s no laughing matter,” she said. “This is very important for my wedding. You are my bridesmaid of horror, don’t forget.”
“When you say ‘horror’,” asked Nat, suddenly feeling a bit nervous about the whole thing, “what exactly do you mean?”
Surely it can’t be worse than fairy princesses, she thought.
“Oh, it’s just an expression,” laughed Fiona. “It’s actually a nice thing. Merlin says we have to understand horror to understand loveliness. Like Oswald here.”
“It’s very deep,” said Darius, “so deep some people think it’s totally stupid and pathetic and all made up.”
“THEN THEY WOULD BE WRONG!” intoned Merlin, in a loud booming voice. His eyes were shut tight.
“Everyone be quiet, he’s in a trance state,” said Fiona.
“He’s definitely in a state,” said Dad, quietly. Fiona shot him a sharp look.
“Sorry,” said Dad.
Fiona carried on: “Merlin has created this wedding ceremony especially for me and Oswald. It’s all about who we really are.”
Should be interesting then, thought Nat, ’cos you’re both really loopy.
Merlin started chanting very loudly indeed.
“Hmmmm. Can I just ask, is this a wind-up?” asked Nat. “Only I’ve had a really bad time with a so-called joke at a bridal shower already and I’m not in the mood for any more teasing.”
Fiona smiled and produced a huge shiny, silver wedding ring, engraved with strange writing. She handed it to Nat.
“Wow, Fiona, this is actually really pretty,” said Nat, turni
ng it round in her hand. “What’s it made of, silver? Or is it white gold, or platinum?” It shone beautifully in the light. “I bet it’s platinum.”
“Nut tappets,” said Fiona, showing Darius a similar ring.
“Ask a silly question,” said Nat.
“They’re from his bike engine,” said Darius.
“Merlin says the rings should be made from something important to you,” explained Fiona.
“Let’s hope they’re not important to the bike engine,” joked Dad.
“Oh he won’t be riding it any more. Oswald sacrificed his best, biggest and baddest bike for me,” said Fiona.
“The beast?” said Darius. Nat saw even he was surprised. Blimey, Fiona, Nat thought, you’re tougher than you look.
“Would you look after them for me, Nathalia, till the day?” said Fiona, almost shyly.
Nat felt surprisingly touched. “I’d be honoured,” she said, and meant it.
Then Merlin stood up and poured a jug of cold water over her head.
“Hey, what the flip did you do that for, you big beardy weirdy?” she yelled, hopping up and down. “I’m soaked through. Its running down my neck and it’s on my jeans and AAARGH my pants are wet now!”
“The water stands for purity,” said Merlin. “You are the ring bearer and must be pure.”
Darius was chuckling like a baboon until Merlin took out a big fly swatter from his cape and started thrashing Darius with it.
“You are the Prince of Misrule and must be made pure,” said Merlin, chasing Darius around the room.
“Can’t I have the water?” he yelled. Now it was Nat’s turn to chuckle.
“I must say, these new age weddings are pretty entertaining,” said Dad, “you don’t get this sort of thing at St Matthews.”
Then Fiona darted towards Darius and gave him a heavy pair of rusty iron handcuffs to hold.
“Your job is to look after the cuffs of togetherness,” she said, over the sounds of walloping. “Those were my grandfather’s handcuffs,” she added, proudly.
“I’m pure now,” shouted Darius, “stop swatting,”
“Was he a convict?” asked Dad.
“No,” said Fiona, crossly, “he was not. He was a copper. We’ve always been coppers, us Sweetlys.”
“We’ve always been in show business,” said Dad. “You know, entertainment runs in the Bumole’s.”
Nat winced.
“My grandad was in the movies,” said Dad.
“Shuddup, Dad,” said Nat, “he was not; he just worked at the Odeon.”
“He was a cinema usher, OK, but he had his own torch and everything.”
Fiona didn’t seem very interested.
“You’ll never guess who Grandad Sweetly arrested first,” she said. “Go on, guess.”
“Was it a Bagley?” said Nat.
“Oh,” said Fiona, disappointed, “how did you know?”
“Wild guess,” said Nat, quickly. “I picked a name at random.”
“Ow ow ow,” said Darius. Although less frequently as Merlin’s arm was getting tired.
“It was Fingers Bagley,” said Fiona, proudly. “Grandad caught him carrying a safe down the high road at midnight.”
“Carrying it?” said Nat.
“Yeah,” said Fiona. “Apparently he needed the money to buy a getaway car.”
Nat thought about this for a minute. Then gave up. “Now, don’t lose those rings,” warned Fiona, “they mean everything to Oswald. I can’t imagine what he’d do if you lost them.”
Nathalia automatically fingered them in her pocket just to check they were still there. “I can imagine,” she said nervously. Then a thought struck her.
“Fiona,” she said, “you can’t let Darius look after those handcuffs for the next two weeks. He loses his pencil case during a lesson. He once lost his shoes, his jumper and his coat while Miss Hunny was taking the register.”
“Let darling Oswald worry about that,” said Fiona.
Nat looked over at Darius. Oswald had a huge hairy arm around him. Then he put the big iron handcuff around his young brother’s grubby little wrist and snapped it shut. Before swallowing the key.
“That oughtta do it,” said Nat.
At school the next Day, Darius reminded Nat of their deal.
“You’ve escaped fairy princess bridesmaid doom,” he said, “so you owe me a favour.”
Nat was watching him pick up litter behind the science block. Wisps of smoke were still drifting from the science block, which was why he was picking up litter.
Something small and trapped scrabbled about in a bin. That’s probably my soul in there, she thought, glumly.
“Favour time,” said Darius, grinning.
“No way. You didn’t get me out of it. You didn’t cancel Tiffannee’s wedding,” she said, tartly. “Tiffannee cancelled it herself, so no deal.”
“You shouldn’t double-cross me, Buttface,” said Darius.
“Get lost,” she said. “Besides, your brilliant plan has got me tangled up in flipping Fiona and Oswald’s weirdo wedding, which sounds almost as mad. Even if I can wear black for it.”
Darius stood silhouetted in the smoke from the science block window, his scruffy hair sticking up from his head, like horns. He lifted up his litter-picking stick. It had three prongs, like a fork.
“Are you going to owe me a favour or not? Last chance.”
An eggy smell, rather like sulphur, tickled Nat’s nose.
“NO I AM NOT,” she said, “so there.”
Something like a clap of thunder shook the air.
Nat jumped in fright. But then she realised it was only the Atomic Dustbin, pulling up in the car park.
“Ha. That the best you can do? That’s not very frightening,” she said, going off to see why her dad was here.
It turned out that things were starting to get frightening after all. VERY frightening.
“What are you doing at school, Dad?” said Nat, bounding up to him in the car park. “You know I hate it when you come to school, you always embarrass me.”
“It’s nothing to do with you, young lady, stop worrying,” said Dad cheerfully. Nat noticed he had his ukulele case under his arm.
Uh oh, she thought.
“We’re rehearsing.”
AAAAAAGH, she thought.
“Is this your stupid band?” she said. “Dad, I know you like to play and everything, but please just hire a real band for the Bagley wedding. Penny Posnitch’s auntie got married and I’ve seen videos of that band and they were ace. They knew proper songs. Songs that everyone likes. Songs in tune too.”
“I couldn’t hire a band even if I wanted to,” said Dad.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been adding up the figures, you know, the costs of this wedding. Thing is, Fiona and Oswald haven’t got as much money as Tiffannee, seeing as they haven’t got an oil well, so by the time they’ve paid for hiring the Castle Country Club, there’s nothing left over in the kitty for the little extras Tiffannee could afford.”
“Little extras like what?”
“The cars, the flowers, the food, the photographer, that kind of thing,” said Dad. Nat looked at him in horror.
“That’s not little extras, Dad,” she said, “that’s massively lots of the wedding. What are you gonna do? You promised them a big wedding.”
A few drops of rain fell.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been thinking and I reckon we can do most of it ourselves.”
“Well, you need to get started,” said Nat, panicking.
“That’s why I’ve called for an emergency band rehearsal,” said Dad, happily. “You can play on a couple of songs if you like.”
“I don’t like,” said Nat, “I don’t like one tiny bit.”
“The head has given me permission to rehearse in the music room,” said Dad. “We have to practise right away. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of all those wedding guests.”
“You are not going
to play in the wedding band. Even if you rehearsed for ten years it’s way too embarrassing and you’re way too old and rubbish.”
“There’s nothing embarrassing about ‘The Hunnypots’,” said Dad. “We were the stars of our college, let me tell you.”
“Please don’t tell me…” said Nat.
“I would describe our sound as classic rock with a comedy twist,” said Dad, walking towards the school entrance and smiling at the memories.
“Of course, we didn’t start out with a comedy twist, but everyone used to laugh when we played, so we realised we were just naturally funny.”
“You were naturally rubbish,” argued Nat. “Mum told me that people used to throw bottles at you.”
“Oh yeah, but the joke was on them because we got money back from the empties,” said Dad cheerfully. “So who won, eh?”
“Even your name was stupid,” said Nat. “I mean, ‘King Ivor and The Hunnypots’?’
“It was clever,” said Dad, “because Dolores Hunny was the lead singer.”
An icy hand of doom crawled up towards Nat’s heart. Dolores Hunny was the name of her English teacher. Who was also by some horrible twist of fate Dad’s old college friend.
She knew this but what she hadn’t known was something EVEN MORE HORRIBLE.
Her dad and her teacher were in a band together.
And now they were going to play at a wedding. In front of real-life people she knew. Could anything in the world be more embarrassing? thought Nat.
The icy hand grabbed Nat’s heart, and gave it a proper old squeeze. In the back of her mind, she could hear Darius Bagley, cackling in triumph.
For the rest of the day, Nat told herself off for being silly. Of course it wasn’t Darius’s fault that Dad was at school trying to ruin her life; that was just silly. It was just a spooky coincidence.
A spooky, terrifying, coincidence.
She was so rattled that even dreamy Penny Posnitch asked her if she was feeling all right. And Penny never noticed anything. She never even noticed that time when Darius super-glued her plaits together.
“One more chance,” said Darius, coming up behind Nat suddenly as she hopped into the Atomic Dustbin at hometime, and making her jump.
