My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding (14 page)

***

I come up from under the surface of the water spluttering. I don’t even open my eyes before I’m shouting my lungs out. “Don’t let that fucking penguin fall into the water!”

Finally, I wipe my eyes and I can see that I’m safe from electrocution. Georgina has tackled the robot and together with Brenda’s efforts the two women are keeping the berserk penguin from following me into the moat water.

Swimming for my life I paddle towards the nearest bank, which just so happens to lead off the pebbled car park. I honestly can’t believe this is happening to me again as I crawl up onto dry land.

Gasping, I turn and land on my back. My shoes are drenched, my new jeans are soaked and sticking to my skin and my t-shirt is plastered to my wet bra. I don’t even want to think of the muck that’s stuck into my dripping hair. From above, the moat had looked like a crystal clear stream. Now that I’ve gone swimming in it by force, I know for a fact that the body of water is more like a thriving pond, complete with its own lively eco-system.

I can hear a lot of shouting around the corner of the main gothic building. Voices of both men and women.

“Oh my god, Emily! Are you all right?”

I sigh in despair. If none of Oliver’s robots existed I don’t think anyone would have to ask me how I feel all the time. I seem to have the worst of luck when it comes to those bots malfunctioning.

Georgina and Brenda come dashing around the corner.

Sitting straight up, I panic. “Where’s the robot?”

“It’s okay,” Georgina tries to help me up. “My husband and the groundskeeper have got the penguin under control.”

“They have?” I’m gobsmacked as I get to my feet. I’m not surprised because Brenda is also helping me up, I’m surprised because I can’t imagine how those men have managed to control one of Oliver’s machines. Judging by the destruction caused to my cafe only a couple of days ago, I truly know how powerful those bots are. “How have they managed that then?” My voice quivers anxiously.

“They turned it off, of course.” Georgina attempts to wipe me down with a small tea towel.

I feel stupid for asking such an obvious question now. Of course the men would have just turned the robot off. Not that this news is useful information now. I sure wish I’d learned where the ‘off button’ was when Oliver had first left his grotesque robot at my cafe.

“I hope this doesn’t alter your plans for holding your wedding here, Emily.” Georgina sounds positively fretful. “I can promise you that our penguin robot will definitely not be on the premises at all for your special day.”

Beside me, Brenda harrumphs loudly. “I’ll have to speak with my soon-to-be-daughter-in-law. I’m quite certain she’ll be having doubts about holding her wedding at a place where she’s nearly been murdered.”

Whoa. I don’t know what’s suddenly got into my fiancé’s mother, but Brenda seems completely enraged at this entire fiasco.

“Come along, Emily. Let’s get you home and dry.”

I’m too astonished to speak, but I manage a departing suggestion to Georgina. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I tell her as I shiver and walk towards my car. I guess it’s a good thing I’d left the towel on my driver’s seat because I can’t wait to crawl inside and crank up the heater. Even if it is a balmy twenty degrees out today, I’m absolutely shivering with cold. Though I’m not entirely certain the chills I’m experiencing are caused by being drenched from head to toe. On the contrary, I’m probably quivering from an instilled weariness of malfunctioning robots.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me your mother was going to be my new wedding planner?” Later in the evening I’m glad to be dry and warm when Callum returns home from work.

“She wanted it to be a surprise, love.” He kisses my temple. “You smell rather fresh.”

“That would be the scent of frog spawn you’re currently enjoying.”

Callum backs away and eyeballs me. “Is that a new shampoo?”

I hadn’t even text my fiancé about this afternoon’s latest robotic mishap. I was too distraught to do anything but lie in a hot bath. In retrospect, I probably should have showered afterwards and washed my hair.

“I’m losing it, Cal. I can’t take this anymore!”

“Take what, my darling?”

I wander into the sitting room and Callum follows while undoing his tie. “Don’t tell me one of Oliver’s robots trashed your cafe again, I’ll have that man’s head on a platter—”

“No, no.” I interrupt. “Today’s major robot malfunction was committed by a penguin.”

Now my fiancé looks really confused. “Have you been dieting again? You sound a bit light-headed.”

Honestly, I think I’m too tired to explain further. Sinking into the sofa I sigh loudly. “Food isn’t a worry, babe. It’s all these bloody robots that are doing my head in. Can we move to London or Scotland please?”

Callum sits next to me. “It would have to be Scotland if you wanted to avoid Oliver’s bots.”

I look at him questioningly.

“I found out today that Oliver has been granted funding for his robots at the CoTechnic site in London.”

I shake my head in unbelieving consternation. “Has that company gone mad? Do they not know how many robots have malfunctioned lately?”

Callum shrugs his shoulders. “I guess they’re only minor complaints.”

This takes the biscuit and as far as I’m concerned I’ve had it with Oliver and his stupid bots. I’m determined not to even think about his crazy machines ever again. I suppose there’s no point in telling Callum about today’s robot disaster at all. The one time he was able to find Oliver he’d brought him round to see my bare breasts!

I know the best way forward now, and that’s to extricate any and all robots from my life and from my thoughts. If needs be I’ll have Lara do all my bridal gown fittings here, because there’s no way I’m setting foot inside her shop as long as she’s got that robot there.

Chapter 10

I’m more than happy to pay Anika double over time. She’s practically been running my cafe with Fiona since I got engaged!

“Thank you so much!” I express my gratitude to the best employee anyone could ask for. “You’re very brave picking up my clothes for me, considering the fact that Mia has one of those things at her shop.”

And by things Anika knows I mean robot.

It’s only been a day since vowing to keep all thoughts of bots out of my mind and so far it’s going quite well. Anika collected all the clothes from Mia that I had her take in by two inches, so at least I now have ensembles to wear that don’t need extra cinching in with belts. As far as I know Lara hasn’t received her new batch of dresses that she wants me to try on, so I’m safe from confronting her robot for the time being.

I’ve also been offered the chance to distract myself from bots in the form of teaching a cooking class at my former college. I’d grabbed the offer of instructing evening lessons the moment I’d received the call.

It’s been a normal —free from robots— day at my cafe and I’m just closing up shop. My old college is just down the road so I’m leaving my car here and hoofing it. I know Callum said he doesn’t want me dieting too much anymore, but I just can’t seem to work up much of an appetite lately. I haven’t been happy in any of the gowns I’ve tried on at Lara’s bridal shop, and if I can manage to lose just a little more weight I think it might help me work up the confidence to look in the mirror again.

As I walk down the street I pick up my knees for added exercise. I do think Brenda was right in what she said about making every physical activity count towards fitness, even if I didn’t exactly appreciate the way she tried to get her message across. I just don’t think that poking someone in their fat is anything other than counterproductive.

I’ve made it to the front entrance of Westmid College and I take a moment to stare as memories flood my mind.

This is where Callum and I met at the age of sixteen. I had just started in one of my cooking classes and he was doing an engineering degree. Lara had come from the same secondary school as Callum, so even though she was doing a textiles course at the time, she was still able to introduce me to the hot guy she already knew.

It’s been years since I’ve instructed a cooking class after graduating. I wonder if the lecture rooms still look the same. There’s only one way I’m going to find out, so I walk in through the main entrance.

“Emily!” I’m greeted by the receptionist. “So good to see you.”

“And you, Hannah. It’s been ages.”

“It certainly has.” She hands me a stylus pen. “Just sign in here. You can find your own way to the cookery rooms, right?”

“Of course I can.” Bending, I look to where she’s pointing. “Oh. This is new.” I’m now signing my name onto a guest book app on a tablet PC.”

“Yeah, no more wasted paper around here anymore. This college has gone very eco-friendly.” Hannah winks at me and I return the stylus.

I head off down the corridor and I still remember exactly where I’m going, even after all these years. When I get to the cooking room I find it’s just as I remember it. The central prepping island space is surrounded by four walls that contain refrigerators, drawers, ovens and stovetops.

For today’s lesson there are six attendees who are already here.

“Welcome everyone!” I’m quite excited about teaching today’s class because it will give me a chance to spread the word about some new low carb dishes I’ve designed.

Although, I’m not going to tell the class members that it’s basically a diet dish. I’ll wait until after the lesson is finished and then I’ll surprise them by revealing the results of my great tasting recipe!

“Now don’t add too much olive oil.” The class is in full swing fifteen minutes later and there are lovely aromas wafting through the air from six sizzling frying pans. I’ve instructed everyone to add in meat and vegetables, but to only turn their steaks every 4 minutes. “You want your veg to be blackened on one side only,” I waltz around the room knowingly surveying each frying pan. “It will add a yummy smoky flavour to your dish.”

“Oh heavens above!”

What’s this now? “Is something the matter, Dotty?” I make my way over to the oldest member of the group.

“I think I may have added a bit too much olive oil.” The white haired woman titters and backs away from her frying pan as I near.

I’ll say she put too much oil in, her pan is positively splattering grease everywhere. “It’s fine, everyone!” I shout, moving steadily forwards. “I’ll just turn down the heat and — oh!”

Just before I can get my hand near the gas dial a loud pop emits from the steak. A huge glob of oil lands on the back of my forearm. You’d think I’d be used to the searing pain of grease burned flesh after all my years in cooking. I’ve learned to control my reactions to pain, but Dotty clearly hasn’t.

“Oh dear!” The old woman shouts and pushes forward.

Turning, I intend on reassuring the retiree. And therein lies the biggest mistake I could make of the evening. Possibly the most tragic error of my life thus far.

I hadn’t realised, but Dotty was reaching forward. In what seems like a split second I’m still pulling my hand away from the splattering grease. Our arms crash together and I’m caught off balance. I also didn’t realise just how much oil had accumulated on the floor from frying up out of Dotty’s pan. As I’m turning my foot slides through the grease. I slip and fall and I’ve managed to catch the handle of the pan in the same instance.

Yes, my life does actually flash before my eyes at this particularly perilous moment in slow motion time. It’s as though I can see all the hot ingredients fly through the air like they’re moving through thick water. I’m helpless to do anything about it as I too seem to be drowning in the slow-motion uselessness of watered-down time.

Just as suddenly, time fast forwards and seems to catch up with itself. Unfortunately this is at the precise moment when I’ve landed flat on my arse and all the flaming hot meat and veg in the flipped up frying pan comes tumbling down onto my legs.

Someone screams and I think it was me. I’m not so sure though because I’m being helped to my feet by the two twenty-something lads in the class.

“Ha, hoo, hee,” I start to hyperventilate and kick at my legs. “It burns!” I screech and do the only plausible thing that comes to mind. Quickly kicking off my shoes I proceed to undo the button of my new smaller sized jeans. After that I quickly flip down the zip and immediately shove my denims down and off my legs.