Page 76 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
‘Sorry. They’re kind of rigged. But they’re cute.’
A tall figure in black swept towards the front door, a black parasol spinning hypnotically as it moved.
‘Oh God, it’s the spectre of Death,’ whispered Veronica. ‘I’m too young! I have dreams! I want to travel the world!’
‘Ah, to be mistaken for Death. Vindication is mine,’ said Desdemona, putting down her parasol and tromping through the door on her enormous high heels. She was well over six feet tall today – more if you included the voluminous black bonnet she wore. An eyeless broken doll peered out from the tulle wrapped around the brim, waving with a blood-red hand. She stared ominously around the room, taking in the floral mural and the rainbow displays of wedding favours and stationery that Lily had so painstakingly arranged to cover up the worst of the switcheroo.
Desdemona’s drawn-on eyebrows dove. ‘Oh, but it’s bright in here. Such a surfeit of pink, even for a rainbow goth.’
‘Sorry,’ said Lily. ‘It’s a lighting thing.’
Desdemona uncapped a calligraphy pen and used it to sketch a tiny crow in Lily’s test guest book. ‘Delightful pen. I could write some ghastly marginalia with this.’
‘How’s married life treating you?’ asked Lily, as Desdemona scribbled some – was it poetry? – in the guest book.
‘It’s morbidly wonderful. We’re going to pick out our coffin lining while we’re here. Your Mort has an incredible selection of black silks.’
Of course Mort did. Only Desdemona came anywhere close in her worship of black fabrics. To be fair, it did make eating pasta with tomato-based sauce less of a risky endeavour. Or drinkingred wine. Or blood. Not that she suspected that Desdemona drank blood.
‘This is Veronica,’ said Lily. Veronica murmured a hello around a chunk of sugared almond. ‘She’s the one you’ll be coaching.’
Desdemona gave Veronica an assessing look, as though she were grading a piece of roadkill for possible taxidermy. ‘I can work with that. Have you ever acted before? Been on camera before? Been in front of stage lights before?’
Veronica shook her head. ‘Only factory lights. I’m an engineer.’
Ah, that was right: bridges.
‘Which reminds me,’ said Lily, ‘while you’re here, I might get your thoughts on my ceiling upstairs. Is it normal for it to bend in the middle?’
‘My expert opinion is … probably not,’ said Veronica.
‘I like a good structural bend,’ said Desdemona. ‘It speaks to existential angst in both the architect and the materials. Creates a liminal space where the demons can float in and out. And a nice perch for gargoyles.’
‘I do like gargoyles,’ mused Veronica.
‘An agreeable pronouncement.’ Desdemona tapped her razor-like nails to her heavily made-up cheek. ‘I can work with her. To the great outdoors we go.’
She raised a sinewy hand adorned with a sparkling cobweb of chains and directed Veronica outside to the pagoda where the disastrous proposal had taken place just weeks earlier.
‘I can’t even look.’ Veronica shielded her face from the beautiful structure, which was wrapped with blooming wisteria and bougainvillea. Jorge had been by to hang fresh flower baskets, and the local elementary school had added painted rocks as part of their Art on the Go unit. (A few of these cuties sat outside Lily’s door on an upended painted flowerpot – her favourite wasone that was possibly a smiling sun or a smiling crab. Whatever it was, it made her heart sing every time she glimpsed it.)
‘So, according to my brief we’re reversing a curse,’ noted Desdemona, generously slathering on sunscreen so thick it was almost solid. Lily hadn’t even known you could get 200+ SPF – you might as well coat yourself with exterior house paint. ‘A shame, as I do like a good curse.’
Just quietly, Lily agreed. Yes, the switcheroo had caused all sorts of mayhem and devastation. But it was also … fun in its own way. And it had given her so many opportunities to spend time with Mort, whose darkly humorous presence she happened to adore.
Speaking of. The disco strains of ‘Stayin’ Alive’ coloured the air, which meant that Mort had emerged from Eternal Elegance (Funeral Edition) and was making his way past the poodles and over to the pagoda.
Like Lily, he looked a tad worse for wear, although the scruffy look suited Mort. There was something about a loosened tie and those rolled-up shirtsleeves that set off her inner swoony Victorian.
‘Good to see you, Veronica, Desdemona.’ Mort shook their hands, then folded his arms, which Lily had learned was his protective stance when he was feeling uncertain.
‘Oh, the piano guy!’ Veronica played some air piano. ‘You were great at theVice Versashowing. Until the whole death thing.’
‘He’s not bad on the marimba, either,’ added Lily.
‘And he has a fabulously macabre vehicle,’ added Desdemona, tilting her sunhat. ‘If I weren’t married …’
Flushing, Mort scooted closer to Lily.
