Once in a Lifetime

There was always home-made soup or some cold pie in the fridge for hungry people. Bess made scones first thing every morning, and yet she never pushed her food on anyone. She prepared it, then she went off doing things; if people wanted food, they could help themselves to it. As long as they tidied up afterwards, all was well. There was no money for a housekeeper here: Bess did most of the housework and she worked part-time too as a seamstress.

Natalie’s brothers, Ted and Joe–a strapping pair of ‘Irish twins’, so called because they were born less than a year apart–clearly thrived in this atmosphere. Unlike most lads of eighteen and nineteen, they could both cook and were good at ironing. Molly knew her mother would approve. Ingrid hated men who looked helplessly at saucepans when they could reach level ten on Temple of Doom.

When the two girls had arrived the night before, the family had shared a lively dinner. This morning, Natalie had to head off to Lizzie’s house for bridesmaid’s duties. Molly was looking forward to spending the morning going for a long walk around the farm, and perhaps up into the surrounding hills, with some of the Flynns’ tribe of dogs. Sparkles, a wire-haired skinny dog with a limp, had taken a shine to Molly and had been following her around the house adoringly. Despite not being the prettiest dog ever, Sparkles had the most beautiful eyes: soft toffee orbs that stared up at Molly beseechingly until she hauled him on to her lap for a cuddle.

They were all due at the church at three and although Molly wasn’t generally a fan of weddings–they seemed to go on for ever–she didn’t mind this one because she was going to be sitting with the rest of Natalie’s family.

‘Right, I’m off,’ said Natalie, hugging her father goodbye. ‘Off to the O’Sheas’ to see if they’ve all killed each other yet.’

‘Is that one of the rituals of modern weddings?’ her father teased.

‘It will be in Lizzie’s house,’ Natalie said.

She found a parking space in the cul-de-sac where Lizzie’s family lived, and by the time she’d been let into the semi-detached house, she knew she’d been on the money about the fight. As predicted, the O’Shea household was in crisis. There were no teabags or milk, and none of the neighbours squashed into the tiny kitchen for a pre-wedding party seemed inclined to leave the cosiness to buy any. The hairdresser had started work an hour ago and was still only putting the finishing touches to Lizzie’s mother’s hair, which meant she was seriously behind schedule. And the make-up artist hadn’t arrived yet.

‘Will you phone her?’ gasped Lizzie when Natalie came in. Still wearing her fluffy dressing gown, with her hair wet and her face bare, she looked very unlike a fairytale bride.

The make-up lady’s phone went unanswered and Natalie left a polite message.

Half an hour late, not good but not fatal yet.

‘I’ll nip down to the shop to get milk and tea,’ Natalie said.

‘Jesus, no!’ shrieked Lizzie. ‘Get the hairdresser away from my mother. She’s hogging her. It’s my day, not hers. I need to be done now. They can do without bloody tea. There’s a giant bottle of Bailey’s in the kitchen, they can have that in coffee and feck the milk.’

Nearly an hour later, the hairdresser was nailing giant heated rollers into Lizzie’s hair to moans of ‘Ouch, that hurt!’

Anna, who was bridesmaid number two, had turned up and she and Natalie had been tag-phoning the make-up lady every ten minutes. The woman hadn’t replied to either messages or texts.

‘She’s obviously not coming,’ Anna said. ‘We’ll never get anyone at such short notice. What’ll we do?’

‘Don ‘t look at me. You know I’m hopeless with make-up,’ Natalie said.

‘I can do mine, but I’ve never done anyone else’s,’ said Anna.

‘Baileys and coffee anyone?’ roared the mother of the bride from downstairs.

Natalie had a brainwave.

‘Charlie from Kenny’s–she runs the Organic Belle department–she might be able to lend us someone for an hour. She’s lovely, she’d help out, I know.’

Charlie recognised an emergency when she heard one.

‘It’s quiet enough this morning,’ she said. ‘I can’t lend you anyone, but if I take an early lunch, I’ll pop round and do it myself. Will an hour and a half be long enough?’

‘You’re an angel!’ said Natalie gratefully. An hour and a half would get Lizzie and her mother done. Everyone else could fend for themselves.

She went into the bedroom to tell Lizzie the good news and was waylaid by bridesmaid number three, Steve’s sister, Shazza, who’d insisted on being a bridesmaid, and having got her wish had been doing her level best to take over. ‘I think we should all put our hair up,’ she said.

‘What?’ Natalie asked, bewildered.

‘Up, it’s more flattering,’ said Shazza, holding her own blonde hair up to demonstrate.

Shazza had gone against Lizzie’s dictat that spray tans would look ridiculous at a February wedding and was the rich brown colour of an Italian handbag. Everyone else’s skin was pure Irish blue.

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