Page 81 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Sausage whined sadly.
‘Sorry, Sausage, but you know it’s true. I’ve done all the odd jobs around the place – changed to a water-saving showerhead, patched the bad shingles, straightened all the paintings. I’ve been doing three loads of washing a day just for something to do. And making Sausage six-course meals. Look how low his belly is getting.’
Mort wasn’t one to body-shame, but Sausage’s bellywasabout as low as the tips of his ears. At least he was doing a good job of dusting the floor.
‘So I suppose that’s why I’m here. I could use the company,’ said Duggo sadly. ‘And the purpose. I’m thinking about getting one of those robot roommates. For company. I even looked at Whispering Waters, but it’s not conducive to Sausage going out for his night-time wees.’
The more Mort heard about Whispering Waters, the less sold on it he was as an option for Gramps. Especially since Gramps was also known for his late-night wanderings. When he wasn’t snoring the roof down, anyway. But the germ of an idea was beginning to sprout in Mort’s brain, a bit like the seedling wedding favours that Lily presently had on display (and which hopefully wouldn’t turn into Venus flytraps).
‘Are you and Sausage up for a drive?’ asked Mort.
An hour later, Mort and the three Grief Guys – for they’d stopped to collect Stribley and Orson, both of whom had been slouching around at home watching daytime TV and snacking on Girl Scout cookies (Stribley) and shredded cheese (Orson) – pulled up at Gramps’s house. Mort grimaced; the house was in progressively worse shape every time he saw it, and he could no longer accept that the garden looked like that because Gramps was ‘rewilding’ it.
‘Mort!’ exclaimed Gramps, wrapping Mort in one of his squeezy hugs. ‘And … friends!’
‘Heya, Gramps,’ said Stribley. ‘How’s the plumbing holding up?’
‘Good, good,’ said Gramps. ‘No clogs or glugs, and the toilet’s draining as it should.’
‘We’re here for an impromptu working bee,’ said Mort. ‘The boys have some time on their hands, and I figured you might have some work that needed doing. Between them we have a plumber, an AV guy and …’
‘I can handle the weeding,’ said Orson. ‘A dandelion-free lawn is the pinnacle of human existence. Oh, and that light. I’ll get out the bug gunk and put in a new bulb for you.’
Gramps beamed. ‘It sounds like we’re going to have a brilliant day. And if you need to stay over, I have plenty of room. Now, how do you feel about jigsaw puzzles?’
Love and Marriage Go Together Like a Hearse and Carriage
Lily
Well, it was turning out to be an interesting day. Lily had failed to reverse the switcheroo, but shehadbrought Veronica and Helmut together. Knowing that new love needed time alone to properly take root – after all, she was living the experience first-hand – she’d left them to their picnic not long after Mort had raced off, muttering something about a graveside vigil. Of course, Lily had her own obligations: Venus’s wedding was this afternoon, and Lily’s phone battery was already redlining from the gazillion text messages she’d received about it, as well as a series of cryptic emoji-filled ones from her cousin Tessa, who had presumably given her phone to one of their younger cousins to mess around on. (Never a good idea, Tessa.)
Ah, there came another message – a horribly mistyped one from Reba, who was swinging by to pick Lily up in the Kombi. Lily could only hope that she’d used voice-to-text, because otherwise Reba was in no state to drive.
Quickly changing into a floral midi dress with an embroidered peace sign across the bodice and donning her convertible heels,Lily hurried down the leafy, fairy-light-studded laneway to the tiny parking lot behind the shops.
The jangling tones of the Grateful Dead blasting (Lily could feel the essence of the Nextdoor group gathering around her in neighbourly indignation), the bright yellow Kombi van screeched to a halt next to Lily’s Miata.
A cloud of smoke billowed from it as Reba rolled down the window, her cat’s-eye glasses flashing as she poked her head out. The woman looked like she’d rolled around in a set of marbled endpapers. Or acid papers.
Reba pointed at the side door with a heavily beringed finger. ‘Lily, babes! Hop on up!’
Lily yanked open the door, climbed up into the rickety van and plonked down on the velvet bench seat, which was smothered in tie-dye throw pillows and grandma rugs. Every inch of the vehicle was decorated with vibrant fabrics and brand posters; even the roof was adorned with a psychedelic blanket that looked like a portal to another plane of experience.
‘Hey there,’ said Gracie Nivola, from the far end of the bench seat. She wore a simple pale blue sundress and a silver headband, without even a dash of makeup on her face, and would still outshine every single person at the wedding. How did the Nivolas do it? Had they made a bargain with the devil on a crossroads late at night? Lily suspected she knew why Venus had hired Gracie to be behind the camera rather than in the bridal party. ‘Love the shoes.’
‘Thanks! They’re convertible.’ Lily demonstrated.
Impressed, Gracie snapped a photo.
‘Where’s your fella?’ shouted Reba over a particularly noodly guitar riff. She jabbed the accelerator, sending the clunky van roaring out onto the backroads.
‘Mort? He’s not my …’ Lily paused. ‘He has funeral stuff.’
Lily felt a pang as she glanced back at the empty spot where the hearse was usually parked. She’d been hoping for an excuse to invite Mort along to the hippie wedding. It was going to be utterly ridiculous, and she knew that Mort would have plenty of commentary to offer about the on-site florist and the house-sized custom tents. And it was only fair that he got to see what had become of the smashed plates. And perhaps the inside of one of the house-sized custom tents.
Ahem, Lily.
Reba snorted as she hauled on the steering wheel. ‘You two, with all your beating-around-the-bush nonsense. You should go for it before one of you dies.’
