to breathe properly again. Amber fussed some more and used the thinly veiled excuse of marking where alterations were needed, to stick pins in Charlie. When she’d finished she gave Charlie a last once-over. ‘I take it you’ll be getting rid of those t-shirt tan lines with a spray tan? Otherwise it will detract from the dress.’
It was all Charlie could do not to batter her with the Ladurée macarons, but they simply weren’t heavy enough to do a proper job.
‘I bought macarons,’ said Charlie, placing the bag on the table and suddenly commanding the full attention of every child. The children oohed and aahed as they opened the large box and studied the intensely coloured contents. Ted grabbed a pistachio green macaroon, stuffed it in whole and slid off the sofa. He gave Charlie a nudge and she followed him out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen.
Ted slumped against the wall and casually crossed his legs. He glanced at Charlie through his fringe. I must take these children to a hairdresser, she thought.
‘Thought you should know that Elle was crying again,’ said Ted, his voice flat.
‘Right, what did you do?’
He shrugged. ‘Just hugged her and fed her ice-cream.’
‘Good call,’ said Charlie with a smile.
‘And Granddad Roger rang and someone called Jonathan too, but he mumbled a lot.’
‘Right, thanks,’ said Charlie, as a thought struck her. Perhaps Roger could be the guardian? He was family and, unlike Ruth, he liked Charlie. Perhaps Roger was the answer to their problems and she started to think about how she could broach this with him, the solicitors and Social Services.
A bundle of screams came flying down the stairs with Wriggly in the lead. He appeared to be wearing a pink tutu and he was carrying something black and hairy in his mouth. Charlie’s first thought was that it was a rat, but she quickly dismissed it as she’d never seen a longhaired rat and Wriggly simply wasn’t that brave. That stupid, perhaps, but certainly not that brave. As he came past Charlie’s feet she grabbed him and he went into wriggle overdrive.
‘Charlie we couldn’t stop him, honest,’ said Eleanor breathlessly.
‘What is it?’ said Charlie, trying to part Wriggly from the mass of black. ‘It’s my hair piece for the wedding!’ she said, as realisation dawned and she gave one more tug to free most of it from Wriggly’s jaw. He started frantically trying to spit out the stray pieces that had been left behind. Charlie put the dog down and surveyed the hairpiece. It was now a ball of knotted hair.
‘Oh God, I’ll look like a budget Amy Winehouse impersonator!’
‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’ chanted Millie happily.
Fleur was the epitome of the beautiful bride. She glided down the stairs in her designer gown to greet her beamingly proud father. He’d been waiting patiently in the entrance hall of their modernised farmhouse. Fleur’s hair had been expertly crafted into an elegantly sculptured up-do or, as George had put it, a pile of ginger horse poos. Charlie wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d paid him five pounds not to repeat the phrase in front of Millie, but it seemed the best option.
A kindly, but foolish, cousin of Fleur’s had offered to take Ted, George and Millie to the church, so that Charlie was able to be part of the wedding party and fulfil her duties as bridesmaid. There had been some consternation from the children about attending the wedding and Charlie had agonised at first over whether it was the right thing to do, given the recent tragedy. But she knew that the sooner the children started to do normal things, rather than being shut up in the house all day, the sooner they would be able to manage their grief and start to carry on with their lives.
The wedding had given them all something else to focus on and, although for Ted and George that was mainly moaning about having to wear a suit and tie, it was at least something a little jollier. Eleanor was still quiet but a last-minute decision by Fleur to make her a flower girl had given her a definite boost that Charlie was very grateful for. A simple cream-satin dress had been purchased and the posh bridal shop had couriered across a sash in the same pasty colour as the bridesmaids’ dresses and it was now tied around Eleanor’s waist with a neat bow at the back.
Eleanor’s warm hand snaked its way around Charlie’s fingers and she squeezed it gently and felt the squeeze returned. Charlie looked down at Eleanor and felt a lump in her throat at the sight of the little girl smiling up at her. But with the sound of heels on polished parquet their attention was drawn back to the bride.
‘Fleur, you look like a princess!’ blurted out Eleanor excitedly and Fleur flushed with pleasure.
‘She’s right,’ said Mr Van Benton, ‘you are truly beautiful. I am a very proud father today,’ he said, his tone surprisingly even given the emotion in his eyes. Fleur forgot her composure and hugged her father tightly, letting him go and then embracing her mother, who was already dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
‘I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use that,’ said her mother, folding it neatly and returning it to her Chanel clutch bag. ‘Now we’d best be off. Come on, bridesmaids,’ said Mrs Van Benton, linking arms with Fleur’s sister Polly, ‘and of course flower girls too, they’re very important,’ added Mrs Van Benton, catching sight of Eleanor’s face. Charlie stood for a moment and looked at Fleur, who was now straightening her dress after its crushing experience in her parents’ arms. Fleur instinctively looked up and beamed at Charlie, who gave a little sigh and returned the smile.
‘Go on, get going. I was hoping to have a glass of champagne with Pa before we have to leave.’
‘Na, uh,’ said Charlie, shaking her head, ‘you can’t go staggering down the aisle,’ although I probably will in these silly heels, she thought. Fleur came over and hugged Charlie.
‘I’ll be fine. Now go!’
Charlie had missed the rehearsals for obvious reasons, but she was familiar with the local church as it sat virtually in the town centre. It was, however, the first time Eleanor had seen it and she was suitably impressed. The magnificent oak-timbered spire had her looking like she had a flip-top head as she craned backwards to see it.
‘It’s lovely, it’s like the one at Disney but not as brightly coloured,’ said Eleanor.
‘The one at Disney is a castle,’ pointed out Charlie.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Eleanor, still staring at the building, ‘it’s nearly as lovely, though.’
‘Yes, it is lovely.’
‘I love you, Charlie,’ said Eleanor as she got out of the car, leaving Charlie a little stunned. She quickly composed herself and stepped out.
‘Straighten up a little, Charlie,’ said Mrs Van Benton gently. ‘There, you look perfect,’ she said with a smile. Charlie suddenly felt emotional and had to give herself a stern talking-to to keep things in check. She knew that Fleur’s mother was only being kind. Charlie’s hair was behaving itself after a master craftsman from a top salon had wrestled it into submission and pinned it into a neat pleat with the required tumbling tendrils at the front and thankfully without
