“You look lovely,” Dad smiled kissing my forehead; he was wearing a black dinner-jacket with a red bow tie. I was in a distasteful lime green bridesmaid’s dress which had frills making me look like some kind of dessert. Blaire and Onyx came and stood near me speaking in hushed tones and throwing the odd glance in my direction before bursting into giggles. In the past two weeks I had grown to ignore them and I was proving fairly good at it.
Dad had left to stand by the altar and any moment now Beatrice would arrive and I’d join the procession down the church. Onyx thrust me a bouquet of yellow primroses and moments later Beatrice burst through the door, she was in a white dress which hugged her curves and showed a little too much cleavage for a formal occasion. Blaire and Onyx latched onto the two groom’s men and I was left to follow up the procession on my own. Bea’s father wasn’t alive to accompany her down the aisle, so instead her mother walked her down.
The ceremony was pleasant enough, everything went according to plan and an hour and a half later my father was married to Beatrice, it became official – I had a stepmother. The reception was a jolly affair, a band played on the stage, there was a buffet of expensive food from across the continents and a dance floor where Dad was showing off his embarrassing Dad-dancing.
“It’s a beautiful wedding,” said a voice in my ear, I turned to see a girl my age smiling,
“It is,” I agreed still trying to place the face,
“I heard you’ve just come back from a year in America; I wish I had the guts to do something like that! How was it?”
“It was…what I needed,” I finished, “you know, after Mum’s death and everything I was a mess,”
“I remember,” she smiled, “I’m just pleased you’re out of your funk now, enjoy the wedding,” she clasped my hand and then left. I watched her back as she disappeared through the crowd, her name was on the tip of my tongue but it never came to me.
“Hey there chipmunk,” Dad swung his arm around my shoulders and kissing my head sloppily,
“How much have you had to drink?” I asked taking the glass of champagne out his hand,
“Not much!” he responded, I rolled my eyes,
“Well that’s enough!” I warned him,
“You enjoying yourself?”
“I guess,” I muttered, usually he’d pick up on the melancholy but tonight he was being thick,
“Great!” he gave me two thumbs up and winked, “I’m heading back to the dance floor!”
I didn’t end up staying for the whole of the reception; instead I headed back home and tucked myself in bed. Dad and Bea were off on their honeymoon, which meant I had the house to myself for a week but what I didn’t realise was Dad had taken this opportunity to force me to bond with Onyx and Blaire.
At 8 O’clock the following morning I was woken up by a thumping on the door, to find a bedraggled set of twins on my doorstep. One week of hell. 7 days of torture.