by Lindy Dale
I frowned at her. Surely Sam hadn’t hooked up with this pretty little pipsqueak in the past, too? Though knowing what he used to be like, I wouldn’t have put it past him. She was cute, in an underfed sort of way. “Yeeesss.”
“Wow, that’s cool. I saw him in some magazine or other recently. I mean like, he’s hot for an old guy. And super rich, too. You’re so lucky.”
“Old?!”
“Well, he must me at least thirty, right? He’s old enough to be my dad.”
God help us, let’s hope not. Children of any age were not on the agenda for a long time.
*****
Later that evening, I sat on the bed reading Paige a story before she went to sleep. The twins were tucked up with their teddies and Adele and Brian had gone off to a business dinner so I was back to nanny duties for the night. Since, I’d come back from Lombok, I’d been living with Sam. Even if I did seem to spend almost as much time at the Richard-Shaw’s house as I did before I left.
The house was very quiet. I leant against the headboard with my bottom half warmed by Paige’s Justin Bieber doona cover. Her little body pressed in to mine as she listened.
“Millie?”
“Yes, Blossom?”
“When you go to live with Sam in a real house, not his flat, can I come and stay? I miss you not being here.”
“Of course you can. I’ll even let you pick out a room that will be yours. It might not be for a while though. We have lots of things to do first.”
“Can I have Justin Bieber curtains?”
“Possibly not, but you could have your favourite colour. We’ll ask Sam.”
She cuddled further into my side, her fingers playing on my forearm. “Mummy said Lisa Ho is making your wedding dress. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Her spring-summer collection was nice this year, I thought.”
I should have been shocked but frankly, Paige knew a great deal more about everything than me, so being couture savvy was par for the course.
“And?”
Paige bit her lip.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well, I was wondering if she’d have time to make something for me. I’ve picked out the look. It was in one of your bride magazines.”
“Paige, you’re six.”
“And eleven months!”
“I don’t think you need a designer bridesmaid dress.”
“But Jennifer Brayshaw-Jones had that man from Project Runway Australia make her flower girl dress and she was only five.”
Oh my God. The one-upping had started again.
Chapter 5
The weekend of the official engagement party was hot. It was so hot we could have put bread out on the terrace and turned it into toast. Everything had fallen into place with Angus’s help and Adele and Brian’s entertainment zone looked fabulous. I had been upset all week that Mum and Dad wouldn’t be back from their round the world cruise in time for the party but as Sam said, they had their whole life to meet him and they were going to be back to help with the final preparations and attend the wedding. The engagement was a formality. And seeing as how I hadn’t wanted a massive party, it didn’t matter either way. I suppose I agreed.
I met Adele in the family room late that afternoon, and we stood amidst the bustle of people going this way and that. A florist was arranging flowers on a side table and out on the grass, the caterers were making the last minute tweaks to the positioning of the buffet so that it didn’t block the view to the pool area.
“Everything’s almost ready,” she said, as she lowered her clipboard to direct one of the wait staff to the bar.
“Thank you so much for letting us use your house, Adele. We could never have done this at Sam’s apartment.”
“It’s the least I could do. You’re part of the family.” She looked me over, her glance stopping at my gem pink sandals. My mind flew back to a time when Sam and I had first begun going out and she’d stressed over my outfit choices. “You’re not planning on wearing that are you?” she asked. “This isn’t a pool party.”
“My dress is upstairs in my old room, with Sam’s stuff. I thought I might as well get ready here, if that’s okay? Then I won’t be late.”
Adele nodded. She appeared a little relieved. “Of course. You know, you should think about moving back in until the wedding. I know you love Sam but that flat is far too small for a couple. Besides, if you’re here, consulting on the wedding planning will be so much easier.”
I tried not to wince. Apart from the fact that I was no longer their nanny, the wedding was the exact reason I’d decided to move in with Sam. I didn’t want to be consulted every minute of the day.
“Who are those people?” I asked, evading the question.
A band of fire-eaters, jugglers and men on stilts had appeared on the lawn and seemed to be getting ready to perform.
“The entertainment. Angus suggested them. They’re going to serve the canapés and then do tricks by the pool for an hour or so until everyone is here. I’ve never seen it done at a party before.”
There could be good reason for that.
“Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted them?”
“You were busy with the bridesmaids dresses.”
I could feel my body tensing. “This is getting out of hand. I mean, I’m not being ungrateful but Sam and I wanted a small celebration, not …” I waved my hand around the lawn, “….not this. Look, if I move back in will you promise not to make any more decisions without me?”
“Well, erm, yes, of course.” Adele’s face broke into a nervous smile.
“You haven’t ordered any other entertainment I should know about, have you?”
“I wouldn’t count that Australia’s Got Talent child singing the theme song from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ entertainment. More of surprise Engagement gift.”
Oh God. Sam was going to freak.
“Right,” I said. “I’d best go and start getting ready.” And warn Sam to smile and play nice. He loathed Australia’s Got Talent only slightly less than he did the remake of Romeo and Juliet which he’d deemed ‘bloody ridiculous’ declaring it was ‘two hours of his life he’d never get back’ after I made him watch it with me. There was no way he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it if I didn’t prep him first.
“Millie! Woohoo!” Paige came flying into the room, curls springing free of her pigtails, her new Justin Bieber t-shirt displayed proudly on her chest.
“So you went to the concert?” I asked, bending down to give her a huge hug.
“Mrs Brayshaw-Jones took us for Jennifer’s birthday. And instead of party bags we got these.” She pulled at the bottom of her t-shirt to allow me to admire it. “He’s so hot,” she sighed.
“Paige. Language,” Adele admonished.
Paige ignored her mother’s stony glare. “Did you bring your party dress, Millie? Mine’s upstairs. It’s very pretty.”
“Yes,” I said as I swung her around in circles.
“Great. Can we get ready together?” she puffed.
“Sure. I might need a little longer than you though. I have to put my makeup on.”
“Well, don’t wear too much. You don’t want to look Mrs. Jennings over the way. Mummy said Mrs. Jennings wears so much makeup she’d need a shovel to put it on. I think needs it to hide her wrinkles but it doesn’t work.”
I ignored the statement and swung her harder. At last, she begged me to stop and so, coming to a halt, I put her down. She wobbled, attempting to right herself. Her cherub face looked up at me with a wide smile. “That was fun.”
“Mmm. Would you like a drink? I’m getting one.”
I took Paige’s hand and we strolled to the bar, where one of the catering crew was busy unpacking supplies for the evening ahead. I took a small bottle of water from the fridge and poured a glass each for Paige and myself.
“Your hair is getting very long,” I remarked, as Paige and I walked to a sofa. I sat and Paige perched herself on the arm n
ext to me, leaning into my shoulder. “Do you want me to take you to Paolo’s for a trim next week? I’m going to have one.”
Paige shook her head. “No. I’m growing it for the wedding. Jennifer had long hair when she was a flower girl and I want mine to be longer.”
“What if you wear it up? People won’t know how long it is if you have it up.”
“Will the other girls have their hair up, too?”
“We haven’t decided yet, but possibly. And tiaras look nice when you have your hair up.”
Paige shrugged. “Guess I’ll go with the flow, then. Don’t want to upset the apple cart.” She jumped down from her position, handed me her empty glass and ran out of the room.
“Honestly, that child,” Adele muttered, as she walked past. “’Go with the flow.’ Does she think we’re hippies? What are they teaching her at that school?”
“I think they’re doing a unit on colloquialisms,” I replied.
“Ridiculous rubbish. She’d be far better learning the times tables.”
“At least she’s not saying ‘skanky’ any more.”
“That’s one small blessing, ” Adele replied. She stopped at the bar where the caterer had left a pile of unopened cartons, filled with every nameable alcoholic beverage. “Now, where did that boy put the Moet? If that’s not chilled to perfection, it tastes like cat’s piss.”
I laughed, thinking that sometimes Adele could do with some language lessons. She and Paige were more alike than she cared to admit.
*****
By seven-thirty that evening the outdoor area was teeming with people. The carefully placed fairy lights twinkled around the garden and the pool was lit up with floating candles. Strings of white ball shaped lanterns marked the perimetre of the garden. In the marquee down on the lawn, the circus performers were serving hors d'oeuvres of smoked salmon, caviar and oysters along with bite sized sausage rolls and party pies. Adele had almost given birth to kittens when I asked to have them included on the menu. Apparently, things wrapped in pastry were only for people who didn’t care about their reputation. I knew twenty or so boys who were attending the party that didn’t give a fig for reputation and as I watched them from the window in Paige’s room, they were emptying those particular trays faster than they could appear from the kitchen.
“Time to meet and greet,” I said, taking Paige’s hand.
“Where’s Sam? We can’t go without him.”
“He’s getting changed. He should be ready in a minute.”
“Will he be wearing his clown suit? Clowns are fun at parties.”
I smiled down at her and we headed for the door. “Let’s hope not. There’s enough clowns at this party already. Let’s go see, shall we?”
We headed out the door and along the corridor to the guest room. Sam was coming towards us, looking very handsome in a pair of charcoal trousers and a crisp white open neck shirt. His dark hair was gleaming under the hall light and I was reminded of the first time I went out with him ~ the day at the rugby club when he told me he wanted to kiss me. A surge of warmth enveloped me and I greeted him with a huge smile.
“You scrub up okay.”
“You don’t look too bad either,” he replied, as he stepped forward and put his lips to mine. Then his head tilted to the small person beside me. “And Miss Paige, you can’t possibly get any prettier. I think I’ll have to keep an eye on you. The boys are going to be chasing you down the street before long.”
“I don’t care what they do. I have ‘Bieber Fever’.”
“Oh?”
“Paige went to see Justin Bieber last night,” I explained.
“And he was good I take it?”
Paige’s face was filled with the type of unrequited adoration I used to feel for houses by the beach. “Freakin’ awesome. But don’t tell Mummy. She hates it when I say that.”
Sam locked my arm through his and took Paige’s hand in his other. “Right. Well let’s get this party started. I’ve got my two best girls… Time for action.”
*****
Outside by the pool, Sam and I wandered hand in hand through the crowd greeting our guests and thanking them for coming. We stopped to talk to Johnny and Mel, who had arrived together, much to our surprise.
“Don’t go reading anything into this,” Johnny warned us. “We were at a Law Society lunch and thought it’d be easier than getting two taxis.”
“Besides, I had to save the degenerate bastard from making a fool of himself,” Mel added. “He was about to invite the Hon. Maria Jankovich to be his bloody date. God help me, I’d rather slit my fucking wrists than have to listen to her spew her ‘green’ policies at us all night.”
“She’s a very intelligent woman, Mel.”
“She’s a fucking idiot and we both know it. And she looks like a horse. You were only after a shag. ”
Sam and I grinned at each other and left them to it. Nothing had changed.
We skirted the edges of the paved area and stopped to receive last minute instructions from Angus. He was wearing a pastel pink checked bow tie that matched the colour of the floral arrangements and a pair of casual pants in cream with a shirt of the same colour. His neutral pink lipgloss glowed in the early evening light. His hair was immaculate, as usual, and from his left ear, he sported a headset into which he stopped every thirty seconds and barked a soft but firm orders using code names such as Mother Goose and Georgie Porgie. It was easy to see why he was regarded as the best in his field. He had this party running like clockwork.
“Good. You’re here,” he said with a glance at his watch that signified we were ten seconds late. “Now. You have ten minutes to do the introductions with Sam’s parents and then we’ll go to other important guests. At eight we’ll have official photos and then at eight thirty, cake cutting followed by speeches and gift opening.”
“Isn’t it a little rude to be opening gifts in front of the guests?”
“Oh, you’re not doing that, I have you and Sam scheduled for a spotlight dance then.”
“A what!!!?” Sam looked appalled. Every one knew he didn’t dance unless he’d had at least two bottles of red wine beforehand.
“You and Millie will be treading the boards followed by the family members while the bridesmaids and Paige are opening gifts and making notes on the cards as to who sent what. Sasha will be supervising. Seeing as she’s been a bridesmaid eight times, I thought it prudent to let her guide the other girls.”
Sam held up a hand. “Just back it up there, Angus. There won’t be any spotlight dances. I don’t dance.”
“It’s true,” I acknowledged. “In fact, I can’t remember the last time Sam danced. He hates dancing.”
Angus’s face collapsed. “I suppose I should have checked. I assumed that like all couples, you’d be doing the dance.”
Sam seemed to relax. “I think it’d be safer if you don’t assume in the future. But it’s okay. All’s not lost. I’ve got a few backups here. They love to dance.”
Now Angus looked bewildered.
“My mates from the Reserves team. I pay them to dance with Millie so I don’t have to.”
“You what?” It was my turn to look appalled.
“I thought you knew.”
I’d always harboured the assumption the boys danced with me because they liked me, or dancing, or both. “I didn’t. And you can’t ask Woody to stand in at our Engagement party. People will wonder what’s going on.”
“It would be inappropriate,” Angus confirmed.
“What about Johnny, then? He’s Best Man?”
Oh God.
“NO!”
“So I have to dance?”
“Yes.” Sam may have paid people in the past but now he was going to pay. I rubbed his forearm in a pseudo-sympathetic manner. “Just think of it as Strippers Night at the club. You danced with a pole then.”
Angus coughed. “I think, in this scenario, if that’s what gets you through Sam, do it. Either that, or I can give you a Xanax.”
Sam was stony. “I think I can cope. Thank you.”
Crisis averted, Angus consulted his clipboard. “So, after the dance, you have half an hour scheduled to do another round of social chitchat with the VIP guests. We need to get a few informal shots for the social pages of The West at some stage. Then your evening is yours.”
The evening was ours? It’d be over by then. All I’d wanted was a nice, simple informal party with some friends and family. Instead I’d ended up with a re-enactment of every horrendous wedding movie ever made. A couple of wedding crashers and an ice sculpture would complete the picture. Desperate, I looked around for a waiter-slash-circus person.
“Someone get me a champagne please. I think I need a drink.”
“Just bring the bottle,” Sam called.
Angus seemed happy. “Good idea. Calm the nerves. Then we’ll go and meet the parents.”
God help me, lets hope that wasn’t going to be like the movie.
*****
Sam’s parents, Kent and Patricia, and his twin sister, Amanda, were standing on the lower terrace between the pool and the gardenia hedging. Angus had placed them there in order to catch the light from the setting sun. He wanted the staged photos to look as informal as to be real, so he’d given them specific instructions not to move.
Patricia didn’t look to me like the type of woman who took instruction well. She had rather a hard face and blonde hair that was twisted into a Margret Thatcher-esque chignon at the back of her head, possibly to keep her wrinkles from re-forming, though I had no doubt she employed a truckload of botox for that very purpose. As we walked over to them, I wished I’d had more than one glass of champagne or at least brought one with me. Not that it would have made the short journey. My knees were knocking so hard, I could barely walk a straight line.
Kent Brockton, though a little shorter than Sam, was still tall, and while he appeared serious there was a hint of the rogue hidden behind his eyes that I would have laid odds had caused more than Patricia’s fair share of grief in their younger days. Sam looked like an exact, albeit younger, clone. Kent’s hair was smattered with flecks of silver. His skin was tanned and weathered but it didn’t make him look old as it did with some, rather it provided a perfect backdrop for his dazzling green eyes. He would have been very handsome in his day.
