Page 41 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director

Lily

Lily stretched out in her desk chair, trying to loosen the kinks and knots from hours of administrative emails combined with hours of line dancing.

By the time she’d sent Amos and Bernard off to their new lives together, the sun had been peeping over the horizon, and Lily had been practically pickled on Pol Roger.

But at least she hadn’t thrown herself at Mort again, not technically , unless dancing cheek to cheek counted.

(Well, cheek to shoulder given the height difference.)

Lily never slept well after a big boozy night, and she’d come downstairs at seven scrabbling around for some emergency ibuprofen and Berocca to help counteract the drumbeat in her head.

Esmeralda had joined her, and by then Lily had decided that she might as well start work for the day because she sure as hell wasn’t going to manage her morning run down to the beach.

If someone saw her shambling up the promenade in her current state they’d probably get on Nextdoor sounding the alarm about a pod people invasion.

Besides, she had emails to catch up on, texts about Annika’s new Italian pied-à-terre to respond to, and the imminent arrival of Veronica – who was going to do her best to reverse the switcheroo spell – to prepare for.

Not to mention some eavesdropping through the grille in case Mort was sharing with Gramps or his Grief Guys his innermost thoughts about their dance.

Alas, judging from the murmured conversation coming from the other side of the wall, Mort was taking some heat for the inscription on a newly placed bench over a late judge’s grave.

Apparently it read ‘all rise’ instead of the requested ‘please approach the bench’, which was not entirely off brand, but might open the judge’s estate to liability should a zombie apocalypse occur.

Lily’s phone buzzed, startling her away from her eavesdropping. Mom!

‘I finally caught you, Lils! Take that, phone tennis.’ Mom craned her neck all around, trying to get a look over Lily’s shoulder. ‘Is that your shop? It looked different in the photos you sent me. Are you in a basement? A dungeon? I suppose grey is making a comeback this season.’

‘It’s just … the light,’ said Lily awkwardly.

‘You should work on that. Good lighting is everything on someone’s big day. Speaking of, I sent the photos from that cowboy wedding to Aunty Karen. Her jaw? On the floor. That’s how you know you’re doing a good job.’

‘Thanks, Mom. It’s going really well.’

‘Never a dull moment, I’m sure – I know it all too well – but I knew you’d be brilliant. You’ve got your mom’s genes. And that space! Is that a cat? Do you have a cat?’

‘Sort of. Her name is Esmeralda.’ Lily angled the phone to capture Esmeralda in the shot. The fluffy cat frowned, then slunk off to scratch up Lily’s desk chair.

‘And you’re making friends? You should join a sports team. Or bingo. I love bingo – mine has such a good buffet! Or how about a jogging club? Are there joggers there? There must be, being so close to the beach.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ said Lily, who was exhausted at the thought. She’d been so busy with work that clubs were out of the question – she’d missed every single one of Dierdre’s book club meet-ups so far, even though she’d had good intentions.

‘How’s …’ Lily had given up keeping track of Mom’s boyfriends.

‘It’s Rick. He’s … fine. Not the one, though. Although are any of them?’

Maybe some of them, thought Lily. Well, one of them.

‘The only condiment he can abide is yellow mustard. Yellow mustard! That stuff’s radioactive, I know it. Life’s too short.’

It really was, wasn’t it? Lily’s stomach clenched as she caught sight of the calendar on her wall. How much longer would she get to call Mirage-by-the-Sea home?

‘By the way, did you check Facebook?’ Mom asked knowingly.

Lily had not; she wasn’t even sure she still had an account. There were just so many boomer memes from her older relatives to sort through, and why bother when said relatives would just take a screenshot of the memes and text them to you anyway?

‘Sure did,’ she said brightly.

‘Isn’t it great?’

‘Sure is,’ she said. She’d learned over the years that when it came to memes, the best thing to do was just smile and nod.

‘Oh God, Rick’s just come in with a box of Costco-size mustard.

I need to deal with it. Can I call you later?

Oh! I just saw your ceiling. Do you have a leak?

If it’s a leak, you should get that sorted out right away.

It could be mould. Is it mould? Oh God, the mustard. I have to find space for it.’

Mom rang off, leaving Lily feeling grateful that for all its faults, at least the switcheroo hadn’t brought mustard into her home.

She checked the time. A few minutes remained before Veronica was due to arrive, so Lily busied herself emailing the local dovecote about the homing pigeons that were to be released for Venus’s wedding this afternoon, and following up with the Christmas in July Santa about how his beard growth was coming along.

(Santa, an early riser who was presumably on North Pole time, sent pics of said beard, which was looking very festive.)

She was texting with Reba their planned carpooling itinerary when the doorbell started blasting ‘Highway to Hell’. Dammit, the switcheroo’s ever-shifting playlist startled her every time.

Lily leapt up to wrap the nervous, dark-eyed Veronica in an effusive hug.

The woman looked fabulous, as though she’d spent several months at a day spa for the strong and single.

She wore a floral maxi dress that Lily wished she had the height to pull off, and huge hibiscus earrings dangled from her earlobes.

‘Hi,’ said Veronica shyly. ‘Sorry it took so long for me to get back here. I was a bit scarred after the whole proposal.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ said Lily. ‘It was a weird evening. For a lot of us. But sometimes good things come out of weird occurrences. Tea?’

She gestured to the pot she’d just brewed: the Sit a Spell blend from The Hot Pot, which she hoped might help with the magical shenanigans they had planned for this morning.

‘Tea sounds perfect.’ Veronica plopped down on the yellow love seat that had had so many visitors over the past few months – happy couples with bizarre wedding themes; chatty townsfolk who stopped in for a break between the top and bottom of the promenade; the grieving widowers whom she’d fed and watered and gradually sent Mort’s way.

Mort himself, when a conversation through the grille that separated their offices simply wouldn’t do.

And, of course, the fluffy and delightful Esmeralda, who found the couch’s vintage fabric perfect for all of her claw-sharpening needs.

(Lily now understood why her grandparents coated everything in plastic, but didn’t have the heart to do so herself.)

Lily poured them each a cup of tea, then gathered a plate of Christmas-themed cupcakes and laser-engraved sugared almonds to snack on.

‘That’s a lot of sugared almonds,’ said Veronica, as Lily scooted aside a jumble of stationery, setting down the teetering platter on the coffee table.

‘Turns out even the switcheroo can’t break through those candy shells,’ said Lily. ‘Watch your teeth, though.’

‘I’m sorry I caused all of this,’ said Veronica, peering around at the black-and-white-splodged decor.

She ran her fingers over a two-way sequinned cushion, flipping it from a golden crown that read VIP to a black tombstone that read RIP .

She grimaced. ‘I can see why you were so desperate to track me down. I swear, I didn’t mean to cast a spell or whatever happened. I just … I couldn’t say yes.’

‘If it makes you feel better, everyone who saw it is on your side.’

Veronica grabbed the pillow, hiding her face in it. ‘Apparently the whole internet is, too. I’m dead to me girl. They’re selling T-shirts with my face on them. People are using gifs of me to quit their shitty jobs.’

‘So the whole thing was a net positive,’ said Lily cheerfully. ‘Well, except the switcheroo.’

‘I still don’t quite understand what happened there.’ Veronica scooped up a piece of cake with a fork that had tarnished to black sometime in the past five minutes. ‘Your businesses … merged? But weren’t you both called Eternal Elegance in the first place?’

‘It’s complicated,’ said Lily. ‘Really complicated. But it’s not all bad.’

‘True,’ said Veronica. ‘It’s given me the impetus to focus more on me these days. I started learning German on Duolingo so that I can visit the Cinderella castle in Bavaria. I have a trip booked and everything.’

‘ Sehr gut ,’ said Lily, testing the limits of her German (which extended to various types of sausages and select words ending in - bahn .) ‘Once Desdemona gets here, we’ll be good to go.

She’s a goth film director whose wedding I did a few weeks ago,’ she added by way of explanation.

‘She’ll be helping you with your lines and everything. ’

‘Wow, this town is all about the theatrics, huh.’ Veronica sipped her cup of tea, then nodded at the pink neon sign on the wall that read we’re getting hitched! ‘So, when’s your turn?’

Ah, there it was. But there was something in the way that Veronica said it that wasn’t patronising or judgemental – not like the way everyone else asked it.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Lily, wishing not for the first time that the sign would short-circuit. ‘Maybe never. I’ve never even been in a long-term relationship.’

Veronica crunched on a sugared almond. Wincing, she probed her back molar with a tongue. ‘It’s okay, I still have a tooth. But you know, me neither, really. I keep dating these guys who treat me like crap, and then when I go to leave, they try to tie me down. That was my third proposal.’

‘ Third ?’ Lily couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice. ‘But you’re like … twenty.’

‘Twenty-two,’ said Veronica. ‘I’m definitely not ready for any of that. I’d side-eye a promise ring, honestly.’