Bridesmaid Blitz (23 page)

The following morning we manage to kidnap Mills. Yeah! Eriq told his parents he was taking her sightseeing, and Seth spun a similar story to his host family. They both have to be back before lunch to pack and catch the coach to the airport, but until then we have a few hours, just the three of us. We’re sitting outside a café in the Jardin des Tuileries, shooting the breeze in the dappled shade of the trees, after a visit to the Louvre. Seth insisted I see the
Mona Lisa
. “You can’t come to Paris and not see the
Mona Lisa,
Amy,” he said. “It would be sacrilege.”

Standing in front of the most famous painting in the world was a weird experience. For a start, I’d imagined an enormous picture in a wildly ornate gold frame, but the
Mona Lisa
is small, not that much bigger than a laptop screen, and the frame is pretty average. Plus, the whole painting is encased in a thick box of bulletproof plastic to protect it. Apparently, ever since
The Da Vinci Code
came out, nutters from all over the world have been threatening to shoot, burn, or steal the painting.

Security guards in sharp black suits and earpieces, who look more like nightclub bouncers than priceless-art protectors, guard the painting night and day. They watch the hordes of tourists like hawks. It’s all very surreal. But it was still worth seeing — there’s certainly something special about her smile.

Mills scoops the cream off the top of her hot chocolate with her finger (she’s become quite the addict) and licks it. “Maybe I was wrong about Eriq. After all, he did cover for me with his parentals this morning. And he helped me find your hotel on Friday night. Maybe I should give him another chance. Shall I ring him, see if he wants to hang out with us?”

I sigh. “Mills, it’s a bit late now — you’re going home this afternoon. Unless you want another long-distance relationship, I’d leave it. And what about Bailey?”

Seth looks at me and then at Mills. “Is there something going on I don’t know about?”

“Mills has the hots for Mr. Otis.” I grin.

Mills’s cheeks flare. “I do not! And don’t you dare say a word to him when we get home, Seth Stone. I’d be
so
embarrassed.”

“Mills, don’t be so coy,” I say. “Seth’s hardly going to say anything. Are you, Seth?”

“’Course not. Unlike you pair, Bailey and I don’t discuss our feelings 24/7. We have better things to talk about.”

“Oh?” I say. “Like what?”

Seth shrugs. “Music. Movies. Cars. Gadgets. The usual.”

Mills looks confused. “Gadgets?”

“Laptops, iPhones, iPods, apps”— he grins at me and winks —
“spyware.”

I smile back at him. He’s not going to let me forget that in a hurry.

Mills, who missed the joke entirely, says, “That’s sad, Seth. You should both get a job at the Carphone Warehouse and be done with it. At least that way you’d earn some money from your weirdo boy obsessions.”

I sit back and listen to Mills and Seth banter, lobbing playful slags at each other, like balls over a tennis net. And I feel completely, head-to-toe happy. The sun is shining, I’m in Paris with my two fave people in the whole wide world, and Seth LOVES me.

Last night, after walking back to find Clover, the three of us meandered up the Seine toward this small island in the middle of the river called Île de la Cité. It was a beautiful night, mild and bright, and the amazing stone buildings on the island were all illuminated like the Disney fairy-tale castle. Then we wandered along the streets as far as Notre Dame Cathedral, Seth holding my hand firmly the whole time. Once, when Clover wasn’t looking, he pulled it to his mouth and kissed it, my skin tingling under his warm lips.

The cathedral wasn’t open, but we stared up at the gargoyles and walked around the sides of the building to check out the flying buttresses that hold up the vaults (Seth insisted — he’s into that kind of thing). It was magical.

Then, leaving Seth in the taxi, Clover and I got out at the Moulin Rouge and walked back to the hotel through the teeming streets curling around the Sacré Cœur. We tried on Barbie-pink cowboy hats in the tourist shops and watched people having their portraits painted and sang along to U2 songs with the buskers. I bought a lemon-colored cuddly duck for Gracie that quacks when you squeeze its tummy and a winking
Mona Lisa
fridge magnet for Dad.

Back in our room, I fell into bed in a swoon and slept more soundly than I have for a long, long time: deeply and dreamlessly. I woke up with a smile on my lips, instantly remembering Seth’s promise to love me. Forever.

At one o’clock Seth and Mills have to get back and we walk to the Concorde Métro station and say our final good-byes.

“Ciao, mon amie.”
Mills kisses me on both cheeks then steps back.

“See you tomorrow, Amy.” Seth gives me a big hug and lip smacker.

“Get a room, you two,” Mills says after we’ve been smooching for a while. Her arms are crossed and she’s tapping her foot. “We’re going to miss our flight, Seth.
Vite, allez, allez!
”

I break away from Seth and laugh. “Nice French, babes, but, please, let us have our Parisian moment. Don’t be such an impatient jitterbug.”

Mills rolls her eyes but gives us another few minutes with no foot tapping.

After they’ve gone, I take the Métro back to the hotel to meet up with Mum, Monique, and Clover. I feel
très
Parisian — if a little nervous — traveling on the Métro by myself and even negotiate a change at Charles de Gaulle Étoile station.

“Don’t look so glum, French Bean,” Clover says as I walk through the gates of Hôtel Unique. (She’s sitting on the front steps, sunning herself.) “We’ll always have Paris,” she adds in a husky American accent.

“Is that from a movie?”

She smiles. “Yep.
Casablanca:
Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. Do brush up on your classic films, Beanie. Good morning?”

I nod and smile blissfully. “The best.”

She pats the step beside her and her accent turns Deep South. “Sit down on this here porch, honey child, and tell your ol’ aunt Clover all about it.”

“Paris seems like a dream,” Mills says on Monday morning, pressing her head against the back of the DART seat. “I can’t believe we’re back to school today. So depressing. And I’m wrecked from all the traveling last night.” She yawns so deeply I can see her tonsils. Which makes me yawn.

“At least your flight wasn’t delayed,” I point out. “I didn’t get to bed till one. And Mum still made me come to school this morning. But it’s better than being at home, I guess, and having to listen to the babies having a who-can-cry-the-loudest match. They really missed Mum over the weekend — Evie wouldn’t let go of her at breakfast, hung around her waist like a little koala bear. Cute, but annoying for Mum — she even had to take her into the shower with her!”

Mills laughs. “Didn’t her nappy get wet?”

“Sodden. But Mum said it was better than getting pooed all over. Hey, Mills, is that Bailey over there? With his back to us. It looks like him.” I point to the far end of the carriage, where a boy with jet-black hair and DJ headphones is drumsticking his fingers on the window.

From the color of Mills’s cheeks, I’d say it most certainly is.

“Want to join him?” I ask. I know he was avoiding me last week, but now that Mills and Seth are back, hopefully that will change.

Mills shakes her head. “We’ll catch him later. Where’s Seth? He’s usually on this train.”

I shrug. I haven’t heard from him this morning, but I know he planned to come in — he wanted to catch up with Bailey. “Probably still in bed,” I say. “Bet he’s overslept. I’m sure he’ll be in later.” It is odd, though. Polly usually makes sure he gets out the door in time. I hope nothing’s wrong at home. I throw him a quick text but he still hasn’t replied by the time we get off the train.

He finally texts as I’m walking into the art prefab.
WON’T BE IN TODAY. GOING TO THE HOSPITAL WITH POLLY
—
FIRST DAY OF HER DRUG TRIAL. TALK LATER. LOVE YOU. SETH X

Looks like I’ll be suffering art all on my ownio.

At break, I sit down on the steps outside the biology lab to wait for Mills. I spot her walking along the corridor, Bailey by her side.

“Hey, Amy.” She smooths down the back of her skirt and joins me on the step. Bailey lingers just behind us, playing on his mobile. It’s a bit rude if you ask me — he hasn’t even said hi.

“Hi, Mills,” I say, before adding pointedly, “and hi,
Bailey
. Did you have a good weekend? Earth calling Bailey. Come in, Bailey.” I wave my hand backward and forward in front of his face.

He looks at me, a flicker of something running across his face — irritation, annoyance, regret? It’s hard to tell.

“No, not really,” he says eventually. “Didn’t do much. I’m glad the gang’s back. And look, sorry if I was a bit off last week — things on my mind. You know how it is.”

He looks genuinely sorry and a bit embarrassed, so I just say, “That’s OK,” and change the subject. “Seth’s not coming in today. He’s going to the hospital with Polly.”

Bailey nods. “He told me about her being ill and all that. He’s the only dude I know who actually likes his mum. But Polly seems cool.”

“Have you met her?” I ask.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate.

“My mum’s all right most of the time,” Mills says. “And Amy’s mum, Sylvie, is lovely, if a bit, well, emotional.”

Bailey looks surprised. “She’s an emo? Is she not a bit old?”

I laugh. “As if. She’s deeply uncool. ABBA and Take That are more her thing. She’s permanently on the verge of a nervous breakdown — that’s what Mills means.”

Bailey seems a bit stumped by this. “Oh, right. So what went down in Paris? Annabelle told me that some French guy was keen on Mills. That right?”

Mills’s cheeks flash red and she presses her fingers against them and looks away while I nod.

“Eriq,” I say. “But she wasn’t interested, were you, Mills? Only has eyes for . . .”

Mills jumps to her feet. “I’ve just remembered there’s something I have to do. Urgently.”

“I was only going to say Paris,” I say to her disappearing back. “Honest.”

Bailey stares after her, looking a bit confused, then meets my eye. He’s just opening his mouth to say something when the bell rings, calling us back to class. “Better motor,” he says instead. “Later, Amy.” He walks away, leaving me alone again.

He could have waited and walked to English with me. I sit still for a moment, thinking. When Mills was in the toilet yesterday morning in the Tuileries gardens (jeepers, was it only yesterday?), I’d told Seth that Bailey had pretty much ignored me all week. “Cut him a bit of slack, Amy,” Seth said. “Without me and Mills around, he probably felt a bit vulnerable. Scared of your flashlight-in-the-eyes interrogation methods.” I hit Seth on the arm but he just grinned. “Bailey’s shy,” he added, “and he puts up this hard shell to protect himself. But he’s a good guy underneath it all, trust me. If he and Mills get together, he’s going to be around a lot, so you’d better get used to him.”

I do trust Seth, with all my heart, so for his sake, I’m prepared to give Bailey a second chance. But if he tramples all over Mills’s heart, he’ll have me to deal with.

Dad and Shelly come to see me on Tuesday after school. “We can only stay a few minutes,” Dad says before he’s even sat down on the sofa.

“We have to go to Mothercare in Blackrock on the way back into town,” Shelly adds, stroking Dad’s arm and sitting down to his left. I perch on the arm of the sofa next to him. “People keep giving Gracie size zero-to-three-month Onesies,” she continues. “It’s really annoying, isn’t it, Art?” She doesn’t pause to let Dad answer. “She’s smaller than that: size newborn. So I’m going to swap most of them.”

“I wouldn’t swap too many,” Mum says. “She’ll be out of the tiny ones pretty quickly.” Shelly gives Mum a “you don’t have a clue” look, but Mum just ignores her and gives Shelly a sugar-sweet smile before continuing, “But you’re the expert, Shelly. What do I know about babies?”

This time Shelly gives Mum a truly evil look. Mum and Shelly don’t exactly get on — they have “history,” as Clover says — but I thought Gracie’s arrival had changed Shelly. She seemed softer in the hospital, calmer somehow — nicer even. Clearly not. She seems back to her old annoying self today: shopping obsessed, snappy, and defensive. Maybe Shelly’s bored of Gracie already. Poor Gracie; she’s still so tiny — for her sake, I hope not.

Dad coughs and looks a bit nervous. I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile while Shelly twitters on. “And I’ve
finally
found a drugstore that sells the Naturally Beautiful organic baby range. It’s from California and all the stars use it on their little ones. That’s why we’re out this direction in the first place. Mum’s in the hospital with Gracie, and I made Art take the afternoon off to drive me. I get so terribly lost in the suburbs. Art thought we might as well visit while we’re so far out of town.”

Mum and I exchange a look; Glenageary is hardly the sticks. And I’d thought they’d come especially to see
me
. I’m hurt, but I try not to show it.

“When’s Gracie coming out of the hospital, Dad?” I ask.