The Bastard Takes a Wife

by Lindy Dale

  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.

  Chapter 18

  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.”

  “Here, fucking here,” Mel said, raising her glass in a toast.

  Patricia and my mother faced off like two women vying for the last size eight cardigan in the David Jones Boxing Day sale. Nobody moved. The room was so quiet I was scared to take a sip from my glass in case I made a slurp. The DJ fiddled with the knobs on his deck, trying to ignore the situation. Amanda looked at her feet and shuffled.

  Then behind us, I heard Kirby whisper, “We should totally get Millie’s mum to come to the club with us. She’d, like, pulverize that-slut-Courtney.”

  *****

  The next morning, Sam and I were due to meet the rest of the gang for brunch at our favourite East Perth café, Toast. I felt rather pleased with myself on a number of accounts. Firstly, it was only thirteen days until I married Sam and after the way my mother had stood up to Mrs. Brockton the previous evening, I was somewhat consoled that everything would indeed be alright from now on. Knowing that someone was in my corner relieved a great deal of pressure. Secondly, my face was almost back to normal. Apart from a couple of red blotches that I’d hidden beneath foundation, the swelling had gone and I looked like me. And lastly, I’d had the best Hen’s night in history that had ended with the girls and I doing laps of King’s Park in the limmo ~ the culmination of which being the stripper giving my mother and Adele lap dances for free. My mother hadn’t batted an eyelid at his silver spangled g-string. She was cool as a cucumber and seemingly experienced in male stripper etiquette but Adele, on the other hand, had gone a little pink and declared the whole event in very poor taste. She didn’t know that I’d seen her winking at him and surreptitiously shoving fifty-dollar notes into his excuse for underwear. Not that I could blame her. He was rather hot.

  When I got to Toast, the place was full. It was always like that on a Sunday. If you weren’t an early riser you had to wait for hours for a table. After telling the girl how many I required seating for, I took my rubber duck marker and stood rather conspicuously with the other people who hadn’t bothered to get out of bed before nine or reserve a table.

  That was when I saw Sam. He was strolling along the dock with Rambo and Johnny. They had a sort of swagger up, the kind they got after a particularly good pilfering raid on a road trip ~ the kind that usually manifested itself in stolen bears and statues. God help me, what had they done last night?

  As they drew closer, I noticed that Sam’s arm was bandaged on the elbow. Not only that, he appeared to have a rather nasty blue tinge to the socket of his left eye. So did Johnny. Rambo was the only one, it seemed, whose face had escaped unscathed.

  The boys approached me, all smiles.

  “Hey, Jabba the Hut,” Johnny said. “Sam told us about your face incident. How’re you feeling?”

  “What happened?” I didn’t know which of them to glare at first. My face was the least of my worries.

  Sam let out an easy chuckle. He reached across and placed his lips on my mouth. “It’s nothing. We had a bit of an altercation with a fence, that’s all.”

  “And the fence had arms, I take it? So it could throw a few swings at your face?” Honestly, I couldn’t trust this lot to go anywhere unaccompanied. I’d given Sam specific instructions to stay out of trouble and this was what I was greeted with.

  “Did you forget that we’re meant to be having an extensive wedding album shot in thirteen days? Or are black eyes the new black?”

  “It’s fine, Mill’, the bruising will be gone by the wedding. Chill.”

  I hoped so.

  At that moment, my mobile rang. I was tempted to let it go to message bank so I could get to the bottom of this debacle but seeing Mum’s name come up on the screen, I felt I had to take it. She had been my saviour after all.

  “Mum.”

  “Hello, darling. Are you alone?”

  Why would she ask that? “Um, no. I’m at Toast with Sam and the boys. Is there something wrong?”

  An ominous silence filled the other end of the line and I knew this was bad. And also that it had something to do with the fact that the boys had black eyes. I prayed they hadn’t been arrested or something.

  “Your father has a black eye.”

  Oh my God. I glowered at Sam. What had he been doing last night?

  “Look, I know I stood up for you against that Patricia woman last evening but I think you should reconsider this wedding. It’s not too late.”

  “What?”

  “It appears that Sam may have a bit of a dark side. He punched your father in the nose. I don’t know why and I don’t want to know but those boys are animals and for your own safety you should get out while you can.” Her tone was clipped. Clearly this
wasn’t a radio prank call.

  “Can I call you back, Mum? They’re all here. I’d like to get to the bottom of this if I could.” Surely, Sam wasn’t some sort of thug? He’d never punched anyone before. If anything he was more the type to sort people out with a few choice words. But the evidence spoke for itself. His eye was swollen and blue.

  I slid my phone into my pocket. Then I gave him a cold calculated stare designed to elicit truth. “So. You punched my dad. Care to explain that, Rocky?”

  As it turned out ~ and I knew it would ~ the whole thing had been a misunderstanding. Towards the end of a rather successful evening, Josh ~ who had somehow become Sam’s new best friend while I’d been out shopping ~ had decided to leave the beer garden at the Brisbane Hotel by climbing over the wall and being the fool that he is, had got attached to the top of the fence by his pants. At this point in time, a bouncer spotted him and, thinking Josh was trying to get into the establishment without paying the cover, yanked him from the wall and began to punch him, as only bouncers do. What occurred then was an all in brawl where Sam went to the rescue and took a swing at the bouncer, just as my father decided to get involved too. The bouncer ducked, the punch hit my father and after a few more clever shots were placed, the men ran laughing into waiting taxis outside. It was too ridiculous for words. Even Brian was sporting some type of war wound, apparently. Adele would have a fit. The lot of them thought it was a huge joke. Boys will be boys and all that.

  “That’s what happened,” Sam grinned. “You should have seen your dad get in there. He was on fire. Bit like Danny Green.”

  “He punched the bouncer?”

  “Yeah. And the Manager too, I think. But it was self-defense. We wanted to leave and they wouldn’t let us.”

  “Okay.” I pulled my phone back out of my pocket and dialled Mum. “Is Dad there?”

  “Yes, but you should see his eye Millie. He won’t be able to go to work on tomorrow. And we have that black tie dinner on tomorrow evening. I’ll have to get the Estee Lauder woman to come and do a make over on him or people will think he’s a thug.”