Page 20 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
‘Graveyard,’ corrected Desdemona. ‘It’s not the same thing. I want unconsecrated ground.’
Ambrose jumped in to add, ‘But not in a problematic way.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Surely Mort had some suggestions – what Angela was to above-ground real estate, he was to burial plots. ‘And what kind of celebrant are we considering?’
‘Elvira,’ said Desdemona. ‘But I’ll accept an impersonator if she’s busy.’
‘She’sverybusy,’ noted Ambrose. ‘I’ve emailed her agent seven times. I did get a signed photograph, though – we could use that at a pinch.’
‘For a summoning circle, perhaps,’ mused Desdemona.
‘Elvira …’ repeated Lily, adding a few question marks for good measure. ‘And do we have a date in mind?’
‘Friday the 13th.’
‘That’s when we met,’ added Ambrose. ‘It has a special meaning to us.’
Lily glanced at her planner, which had quite a few more skulls embossed into it than it had this morning. But it was nothing some decorative contact paper couldn’t fix. She hoped. ‘We actually have a Friday the 13th coming up in a couple of weeks. After that, we’d be looking at … eight months.’
Ambrose and Desdemona conferred, mentioning something about GothCon and a band they wanted to see in Munich, where Desdemona’s cousin Helmut lived. (From the way they spoke about him, Helmut was an extremely cool cousin, and had even had a cameo on a few of Desdemona’s movies. Lily jotted down a note to check out Desdemona’s IMDb over a glass of wine tonight. Perhaps joined by a gloomy funeral director.No, Lily.That was a recipe for business disaster. Although … wasn’t thisalreadya business disaster?)
‘The closer one,’ Ambrose and Desdemona finally agreed.
Lily swallowed as she eyeballed the distance between now and the next Friday the 13th. The biggest pieces of the puzzle were always the venue and the catering, but those could be overcome. Mirage-by-the-Sea was storybook, but it wasold, and there was farmland all around. They could definitely find something unconsecrated, which to Lily’s knowledge was everywhere that wasn’t in a cemetery attached to a church. And if they couldn’t find an actual graveyard, surely Mort or the cinema could help out with props.
Then there was the food. Lily hurried over to her library of inspiration photos – she had whole albums with material she’dsourced for different types of weddings. Sure, Pinterest might be the done thing these days, but there was something she loved about poring over a magazine and cutting out an image that she loved.
‘So if we’re going non-traditional …’
She slid over one calledThe Black Album (Please Don’t Sue Me, Metallica). Lily didn’t actually recall putting together such an album, having typically stayed on the opposite end of the colour palette, but maybe this whole magic switcheroo thing was working in her favour.
‘Ghastly,’ said Desdemona approvingly. ‘For someone so … perky, you do have an exceptional understanding of the macabre ethos we seek to embody.’
‘That’s high praise,’ whispered Ambrose.
‘Complimentary! Complimentary!’ whistled Sunny.
Lily hid a grin behind her own coffee, which she was sipping from a cobweb-patterned mug. She was doing this whole wedding planning thing, and in uniquely challenging circumstances at that! Sure, she might be destined never to be chosen as the bride, but look at all these happy couples actively choosing her as their wedding planner.
Lily gave herself an imaginary pat on the back.Self-worth, I love you!
Desdemona and Ambrose flipped through the book, Desdemona jabbing her coffin nails at charcoal-tinged burger buns, squid ink macarons, figs and dark heirloom tomatoes … and, finally, a quadruple chocolate cake decorated with black roses.
Lily was impressed. Contrary to popular belief – or at least,herbelief, the black food possibilities were endless. Well, not endless. But doable. It would be like feeding the opposite of a toddler on a white food diet, something she had experience withnow that JoJo, who had trigged the whole marriage dominoes situation amongst Lily’s friends, was now a mother of three and therefore a dino nuggets aficionado. Lily could probably source most of the food from the local restaurants and The Hot Pot. She’d just have to make sure there was enough food dye to go around.
‘Excellent thinking,’ said Desdemona, when Lily posited this. ‘I do have a source, if you need it. A former squid biologist.’
A bell tolled at a distant church, saving Lily from having to respond to that. (Howdidone respond to that?)
‘Thrice,’ murmured Desdemona, eyes wide. She closed Lily’s black food look-book. ‘I’m afraid we must bid you adieu. The hounds must feast.’
‘We need to feed the pugs,’ translated Ambrose.
Well, it was a fair enough reason to take your leave. Lily escorted them out across the newly black-and-white terrazzo floors and back outside, where half a dozen tourists were posing with Mort’s new poodles.
‘At least we have blue skies again.’ Lily averted her eyes from the sight of an old guy sunbathing naked on a sun lounger in one of the flower beds, with only a strategically placed local newspaper saving him from an indecent exposure charge.
Shuddering at the prospect of fair weather, Desdemona opened her parasol with the vigour of a vampire hunter gouging at the undead with a wooden stake. Only in this case the sun was the vampire. Or maybe Desdemona was. Lily had confused herself with her own metaphor.
