Page 124 of Wife After Wife
“Oh, we haven’t arranged anything yet,” she said. “I don’t expect it will be a big do, will it, Harry?”
“Can I be a bridesmaid?” piped up Eliza from across the room. “I’d like a pink dress, with sparkles and lace.”
“I feel pink isn’t always the wisest choice for us redheads, sweet pea,” said Harry.
“Can I be one too?” chimed Francesca.
“And me!” shouted Helena.
“Janette might not want lots of bridesmaids, they don’t want a fuss,” said Megan.
“Oh, I think it would belovelyto have three little bridesmaids!” said Janette.
“Cassandra says we have to embrace our individuality,” said Eliza. “So I think Ishallhave a pink dress.”
“Good grief,” said Charles. “Howold is she?”
“Five.”
“Knows her own mind, then.”
Harry grinned. “OK. Pink bridesmaids’ dresses for all—and let’s do pink hair things and pink shoes and all the other pink things.”
“YES, Daddy!”
“Yay!” cheered Francesca and Helena.
“How about I have a pink dress too!” said Janette.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” called Arabella from the sofa, where she and Milly were engrossed in a PlayStation game. “That would look totally gross.”
“Well, she can’t wear white,” said Maria loudly, looking up from her book.
“Uncalled for,” said Harry. She hadn’t meant it as a humorous comment. Maria didn’t do humor. Harry wondered how he and Katie had managed to produce this stern teenager who was surely destined for the judge’s bench later in life.
“Why can’t Janette wear white?” asked Eliza.
“Because she’s living in sin with our father,” said Maria. “And only good girls should wear white at their weddings.”
“Holy fuck,” said Milly.
“Milly!” chided Megan.
“Swearing is also a sin,” said Maria. “And—”
“That’s enough, Maria,” said Harry. “Please keep such opinions to yourself, especially in front of the little ones.”
“Well don’t expect me to come to your wedding,” she replied. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re still married to my mother. Remember her? The one who never did anything wrong and never stopped loving you? You should look into your conscience sometime, Father.”
“Ouch,” muttered Charles.
If there was one thing Harry wanted to avoid right now, it was paying his conscience a visit. If he kept it at a distance, it remained clear. If he looked too closely, he might discover something in the shadows.
He looked across at the girls. Charles’s Milly and Arabella—Things One and Two—growing up so fast, already thinking about which universities to attend. The three little ones: Eliza, Francesca, and Helena, their heads bobbing over Lego. And Maria, her early years spent with a mother suffering dark depressive episodes, then her parents splitting up. He’d always worried how she’d turn out, growing up at Welshness, but had the feeling Maria would have become this unsmiling, judgmental person, no matter what environment she’d been brought up in.
“I want you all there, team,” he said. “Life’s been difficult for us all these past few years.”
“True,” said Charles, and he squeezed Megan’s hand.
