Page 110 of Rafferty's Rules
The wedding coordinator arrived at the hour ofsparrows fartwith her crew of many, according to Rafferty’s complaint as he’d rolled sleepily out of bed to the sound of his phone. They’d set to work almost immediately and were dressing the garden for hours. Absolutely worth it. The space was lovely before, but now it’s like a magical fairy-tale.
Between two aged eucalyptus trees an arbour was built and then dressed in a verdant tropical foliage and a mass of creamy coloured hydrangeas. At the same time, another team set out at least a hundred rustic looking chairs, tying tiny bouquets of the same flowers to the crown of each.
Beyond the frame of the trees and arbour where the bride and groom will stand is the vast and rolling mountain range. Such solid sentinels of time. I think being married in your own home must be kind of special, but it’s such a beautiful setting, I’m sure couples would pay a lot of money to get hitched here.
‘You’re done, gorgeous,’ Chelle announces stepping back. ‘And so am I!’
‘Thanks so much for letting me sneak in last minute.’
‘No worries. I love weddings. So many happy faces.’ And with that pronouncement, she begins to pack away her wares.
I go in search of where I might be most useful, and also to top up my glass of champagne. Upstairs, Edie is wearing two shoes now. And a scowl. She looks like an angry little cherub as she complains about the itchy flowers in her hair. Meanwhile, Matty looks like a miniature man in his tuxedo; a well dressed little man with the weight of the word on his shoulders.
‘What’s up, friend,’ I ask, sitting next to him on, what I presume is, Amber and Byron’s bed.
‘I don’t like people looking at me.’
‘Hmm. I don’t think that’s a problem. They’ll all be looking at Amber.’
‘But what about before she gets there? When I’m standing under the ardour with Dad?’
‘That’s easy. The people will be too busy looking at your dad.’
‘Why will they look at him?’
‘Because he scowls like an ogre who needs to eat.’ I pull a face to demonstrate this ridiculousness. Thankfully, Matty sets off laughing.
‘Are you maligning my betrothed?’ Amber steps into the room, presumably from the bathroom dressed in a white robe. Robe or wedding dress, she looks stunning, her auburn hair cascading down her back in a mass of waves.
‘I think I might’ve been, but for a good cause,’ I reply as she sits next to Matty on the other side of the mattress. ‘Thank you for standing up there with Dad today. He’ll be so nervous, and I know having you by his side will make him feel better.’
The little boy sits straighter, responsibility giving him a purpose and a determined set to his chin. ‘That’s okay, Amber. I’ll look after him. Don’t you worry. He won’t run away.’
When Sally and Amber’s mom come into the room, I ask if there’s anything else I can do. I’m told two things:
Go find your man.
Then go find your chair
Looking for Rafferty might take an age, but then I remember my phone is in the kitchen. I head downstairs to send him a text.
Cinderella seeks knight in a shiny tuxedo to rescue her from a bottle of champagne x
Remembering I’ve left my glass upstairs, I grab a fresh one from the rows set out on the countertop, opening a bottle of champagne from the metal trough holding at least a dozen very decent bottles.So I’m told.The caterers have apparently set up their own kitchen outdoor, which leaves the main kitchen free for the use of the family. Or for storing champagne. It’s hard to tell.
I fill my glass and contemplate eating something, but then remember my lipstick. But I’m hungry, so I grab one of Amber’s delicious home baked cookies, stuffing the entirety of it into my mouth all at once without touching my lips. I keep my head titled back while I chew to avoid spilling crumbs, and I pray that Rafferty doesn’t choose this moment to walk into the room. He doesn’t, so I’m left to wander around the ground floor while drinking my champagne. In a very grand looking dining room, I stop at a mirror to examine my makeup again. It’s still there, in all its sultry, smoky-eyed goodness. I can hardly recognise myself.
And the dress looks good, too. I am the epitome of sophistication. Until I burp.
‘S’cuse me,’ I whisper to my reflection. ‘I blame the bubbles’
Smiling idiotically, I straighten the front of my dress, glad I’d nixed the idea of nipple Band Aids. The weather is warm enough to not draw attention to the area, if you know what I mean. I tweak a nipple for good measure, satisfied that the draping hides all and any flaws. And when I turn, I think for a moment my heart is about to give out, because Rafferty is standing behind me.
‘I sometimes wonder when you’ll stop surprising me.’
When I’m not here anymore.Neither of us say the words, but they hang between us, anyway.
‘You look beautiful, Lis.’ The sincerity in his expression is like being warmed from the inside out. ‘And if you’re interviewing for the position of permanent nipple tweaker, can I apply?’
