Chapter 10
I shut the bedroom door quietly because apparently Louis needs a nap, therefore, they’re all going to nap because the internet has told them to sleep when baby sleeps.
Even if the time is eight-thirty in the morning and they’ve only been awake for half an hour.
At least no one will see me sneaking out with a bag of broken vase pieces.
To avoid the butler and two waiters, the only place I can think to hide it is outside somewhere.
I peer out of the landing window. The garden is full of monuments, pergolas, bushes.
I spot the chapel and wonder if I could pretend to be checking it out before the wedding.
It feels less suspicious than being caught emerging from a laurel bush.
I slip unnoticed from the mansion, weave my way through the grounds to the chapel at the far end and plonk the bag of broken pieces behind the nearest plant pot inside the door before making my way back to my own room.
There’s no way that I’m keeping secrets this big from Matteo.
Not this early into the marriage. When I open the bedroom door, Matteo is by the window on the phone.
He smiles, mouthing that he won’t be long.
I take a moment to admire his silhouette as he stands with his back to me, peering at the view below.
From the snippets that I can hear, things seem to be going well so at least he didn’t spot me sneaking into the chapel. My nerves are shredded as it is.
‘That was Eddie,’ he says, shoving his phone back in his pocket. ‘He’s caught up in LA, so he’ll probably miss the wedding ceremony but he’s flying over in time for the party in the evening.’
Ah. Liberty will be so disappointed. But I guess that’s life with a billionaire. Those billions don’t make themselves.
‘And in other news,’ he says. ‘My mother is no longer hosting Los Reyes at the family home.’ He pauses, shifting his gaze to the floor. ‘Because numbers grew too large. She’s having it at the town hall. The mayor is hosting.’
Great. So much for the small family gathering. I’m nervous enough as it is. ‘Seriously? Isn’t that a bit over the top?’
‘Sorry,’ he says sheepishly. ‘It was a shock to me too. I tried to tell her but once she sets her sights on something, she’ll stop at nothing to get it. There’ll be no point trying to talk her out of it. She’s as stubborn as they come.’
Doesn’t she sound delightful?
‘How did it go with Ged and Liam?’ he says, swiftly changing the subject so that I’m snapped out of my worries. My head is already spinning with so much going on. I’m in a constant flux of emptying and refilling my emotional well-being buckets. The secret puppy news will just have to wait.
‘Fine!’ I shrill. ‘They’re fine. It’s all just a case of wedding jitters and nothing to do with turning vegan for the sake of the planet. We’ll see them at breakfast.’
Breakfast time is like watching the buffet gong sounding on a cruise ship, with men, women and children pouring into the dining room all at once, yelling, squabbling, singing off-key and announcing that their bumhole is still itchy, creating much too much mayhem for the two waiters.
They watch the scene unfold with undisguised horror.
‘She needs her favourite dummy. We’ll never get any sleep without it!
’ Cherry is shouting over to her husband, who is desperately bent over, trying to pull up Peaches’ training-knickers-slash-nappy.
Peaches is having none of it. ‘Peaches, darling, try to remember what you’ve done with your mee-mee. ’
I notice Ged trading guilty glances with Liam as they flee to the coffee machine.
‘I’ve given her the backup dummy,’ says Dom, flustered. ‘Peaches, I’m not telling you again. Pull your pants up!’
Peaches takes a few long sucks on her ‘backup’ dummy (which to the untrained eye looks exactly like yesterday’s sausage roll) while she regards her crumpled father, the strain in his face, his voice, his hunched demeanour, and decides to pull her pants back up one-handed.
Clementine is humming happily as she click-clacks towards Matteo and me, sitting at the table, in a pair of her mother’s six-inch peep-toe stilettoes.
She eyes Matteo suspiciously. ‘You! Sing with me,’ she demands abruptly as she begins to sway her tiny hips, staring at him.
‘Pink Pony Club… la la la at the… ner nernee ner… I’m gonna la la… SING!’ she barks.
Christ Almighty. She’s extremely bossy and psychotic-sounding, just like her mother.
Fortunately, Matteo remains unrattled as he makes eye contact with the pint-sized diva. ‘You’re better off solo. Solo artists get all the attention, and you can do what you want.’
Clementine stops singing, her eyes lighting up as she digests the significance of this wisdom.
‘He’s right,’ I add. ‘I’m a solo artist and I love it. I can sing what I want, when I want.’
Clementine’s mouth drops open. ‘I want to hear you sing. Now.’
‘You will,’ Matteo says smoothly. ‘But she’s resting her voice today. Connie is singing at the wedding. So is your mum. You might even get to go on stage with them.’
At this, Clementine shrieks with joy and ‘runs’ back to Cherry, presumably to inform her that the Dollz now have one extra performer to consider and she’ll need to hire an agent.
As everyone fills their plates with pastries, bacon, sausages, eggs, beans and mushrooms, we are interrupted by a loud car horn honking outside.
I glance out of the window to see a taxi has pulled up to the main entrance.
It must be Big Mand and Big Sue. We have not seen them since The Wobbly Duck wedding planning committee. I am excited to hear their news.
‘They’re back from Lake Como!’ squeaks Tash, grabbing hold of Sister Kevin’s arm, her eyes wide. ‘I wonder if—’
‘I know!’ shrills Liberty. ‘Oh. My. God. I’m so excited!’
Cherry throws her arms in the air and waves them from side to side. ‘It’s happening, it’s finally happ—’ The smile slips from her face as we see Big Mand and Big Sue round the corner into the dining area.
Big Sue beams. ‘Honey, we’re home!’
She is met with silence.
Because all eyes are on Big Mand.
Who is no longer Big Mand.
Big Mand is now Ultra-Thin Mand. The silence stretches painfully as we collectively take in her emaciated figure, her thin arms, her wiry legs, her bony clavicle and her sunken cheeks.
Her once wild, curly hair is now a sleek and straight long bob and her eyes are huge in her gaunt face, now framed by the new hairstyle.
She smiles shyly at us and waves. ‘Hi, everyone.’
We wave back, the air thick with awkwardness over who wants to comment first. ‘Was there no food in Italy like?’ Tash booms.
‘Yeah. You’ve lost a fuck load of weight, babes,’ Liberty adds. ‘Tapeworm, was it?’
Big Mand shrugs nonchalantly. ‘No, I haven’t. Not really. It must be the new hair.’
Tash’s jaw visibly drops. The rest of us are lost for words. ‘But you’ve literally lost double your body weight.’
‘Must be all the cardio Sue has me doing.’
‘We’ve recently taken up advanced-level Krav Maga,’ says Big Sue, flexing her biceps. ‘Putting ex-military men and Navy SEALs in a variety of chokeholds burns a lot of calories, doesn’t it, Mandeep? Men don’t like to be taken down so easily by women without putting up a real fight first.’
I see Matteo isn’t the only male in the room to raise his eyebrows, as no one comments.
‘Well, isn’t this chateau dead posh?’ Big Mand says, swivelling around. ‘I love it. Birdie came up trumps with this one, didn’t she?’
We are all still staring helplessly.
‘She did. It’s gorge,’ says Big Sue, swooping in once again to fill the silence.
‘And, Cherry, I see Dom and the girls made it over. How did you manage to persuade Birdie to let you bring them?’ Big Mand says, giving them a friendly wave.
Ah. Awkward. None of us can say anything while the butler is hovering nearby, all ears.
‘Tell you what. Why don’t we put our cases in the room and then come down for a bite to eat?’ Big Sue, perceptively picking up on the changing atmosphere, addresses the butler. ‘Can you show us the way, please? That alright with you, love?’
Big Mand readily agrees and they disappear off as fast as they appeared.
After a beat, with some of us sitting at the breakfast table, others standing plate in hand loitering by the buffet, Tash is first to break the silence.
‘Skinny jabs. Has to be.’ She tuts as though she should have been consulted first.
‘I can’t believe she hasn’t told us,’ Liberty says in an accusatory tone.
‘I wonder which one she went for? I bet she’s gone all saggy. Such a shame. She was perfect as she was.’ Cherry is making no secret of her opinions.
Liam lets out an audible gasp. ‘What about the costumes? She won’t fit in hers any more! And we’re getting married the day after tomorrow!’
‘Fuck! Bollocks!’ wails Cherry. ‘Girls, don’t listen to Mummy, I meant to say… Girls…? Girls?’ She casts an eye around for her children before homing in on Dom. ‘Do. Not. Tell. Me,’ she says in an exasperated tone, pausing between each word, ‘that you’ve lost them. Again!’
Dom drops to his knees to check under the tables before fleeing from the room. Cherry watches him go with undisguised disappointment.
‘Why can’t he just be… better at this?’
The rest of breakfast is a busy affair with talk of dance routines (Cherry), costume fittings (Cherry again) and reminders of arrival times for the photographer (Liberty) and the caterers (me).
There are so many things to fit in before the big day.
Tash has resumed chairwoman duties. Cherry is tapping away on her iPad.
The rest of us are meekly toeing the line because breakfast is now an unofficial wedding committee meeting.
Ged holds up a finger. ‘And don’t forget the film crew. Let them know who is arriving and when.’
‘What film crew?’ Matteo asks Ged.