Nathalia Buttface and the Totally Embarrassing Bridesmaid Disaster. Nigel Smith

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      “What do you think?” she said. “As it’s supposed to be a fairytale wedding, I was going for a ‘Queen of the May’ look.”

      Queen of the Swamp, more like, thought Nat. Bad News Nan looked like a massive lump of snot, wrapped in pond slime.

      “It’s different,” said Dad, stuffing a hanky in his mouth for some reason.

      “Oh please, Daddy, is there any way I can get out of being a Perfect Fairy Princess Bridesmaid?” pleaded Nat in her best – in other words, most pathetic – voice.

      “Well,” said soft Dad, wilting like Superman in a Kryptonite onesie, “not really, love. Oh stop making that face.”

      “It’s Tiffannee’s big day,” said Bad News Nan, “and brides get what they want. Not like funerals. You’re at the mercy of the living. I’ve asked for six black horses and a Viking longboat but your dad won’t organise it, I know.”

      Sniff, went Nat.

      “If you didn’t do it, it would be bad luck and might cause family upsets for years to come,” said Dad, trying not to look at her.

      Sniff, went Nat. Big fake tears plopped on to her jeans as she fixed her doleful eyes on Dad, who hid behind Nan.

      “People get written out of wills,” said Dad.

      “You might get an oil well one day,” said Bad News Nan, “his mum got a caravan, remember?”

      “You’d like an oil well, wouldn’t you?” said Dad.

      “Don’t care, not worth it,” wailed Nat, plonking herself down in misery and chucking six copies of PERFECT BRIDE MAGAZINE on the floor.

      Nat was sure Dad was weakening when her dramatics were rudely interrupted by the doorbell, followed by a young woman’s voice shouting shrilly, “Ding dong wedding bells!”

      It was blushing bride-to-be Tiffannee, with her usual – and annoying – greeting.

      “Do you remember, before she moved to Texas and decided to become American, how she used to be called Rosie?” Nat whispered to Bad News Nan.

      “Course,” said Bad News Nan, “Rosie Lee Jones. She was a pudgy little thing with brown frizzy hair and teeth like wonky tombstones.”

      “She was also a lot nicer though,” said Nat, quietly.

      The woman that now greeted them was NOTHING like the old Rosie.

      Tiffannee was stick-thin and nut-brown, with bright blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a perfect, dazzling, super-white smile. Her pastel yellow summer dress was short and stylish and wrinkle-free. She rushed to hug Nat but stopped just as she got there.

      “Don’t want to wrinkle the dress!” she said. “Air kiss, air kiss!”

      She smoothed her dress out, just in case the air had wrinkled it.

      “It’s one of Diana De Milano’s,” she said proudly.

      “Have you borrowed it off her?” said Nat.

      “She’s a very famous designer,” said Tiffannee, laughing. “She’s doing my fairytale wedding gown too, don’t you remember?”

      Nat didn’t remember, because she didn’t care.

      While Tiffannee went off to talk to Mum, Nat turned angrily to Dad. “I’m telling her I’m not doing it and you can’t stop me. I’m not gonna be in a bazillion family photos dressed like a ridiculous fairy princess with MASSIVE butterfly wings and a spangly tiara. I look like something even hobbits would make fun of.

      Suddenly Mum dashed back in. “I just need my purse then we’re off,” she said. Nat stood up.

      “This bridesmaid thing—” began Nat, summoning up her courage to say she wasn’t going to do it, no way no how, no ifs or buts.

      “Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, good news – Tiffannee’s arranged for all her bridesmaids to go to a spa tomorrow!” said Mum.

      “Spa?” said Nat.

      “Yes,” said Tiffannee, coming back in, “that really a-maze-balls one that was in the paper. I want you all to get pampered and massaged and made-up and everything. The works, treat yourselves. It’s my little thank you to my fairy princesses.”

      Nat paused.

      “I’m so jealous,” said Mum. “It’s supposed to be a wonderful spa.”

      Nat paused a bit more.

      “Now, what were you saying about the bridesmaids?” said Dad.

      “Nothing important,” said Nat.

      “I think it was,” said Dad, helpfully.

      “Shuddup, Dad,” said Nat firmly, “it definitely wasn’t important.”

      I’ll get out of being a bridesmaid tomorrow, thought Evil Nat, who was always lurking somewhere in a grubby corner of Nathalia’s brain. AFTER the a-maze-balls spa…

      

      The next day was a lovely spring day, sunny and warm. Nat hopped cheerily on to the minibus that was to take her and Tiffannee’s five other bridesmaids to the FABULOUS YOU! spa.

      Nice one, Nat, she thought to herself. She walked smugly down to the end of the bus where the other five bridesmaids were waiting.

      Like Tiffannee, the other bridesmaids were about ten years older than Nat. It was exciting to get to hang out with grown-ups. Even better, as Nat walked towards them, she could hear the other girls already hating on someone. Nat was looking forward to hearing all the wedding gossip while hopefully getting sparkly nail varnish on her toes.

      “…little miss perfect, the pet fairy,” said the Chief Bridesmaid, who was called Daisy Wetwipe. She had a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder and a sharp nose that pointed upwards.

      Oooh, thought Nat, girls are so mean! I wonder who they’ve got it in for. At least for once it can’t be me as they don’t even know me. This is waaay better than school.

      “I should have been Third Assistant Bridesmaid,” said a girl with scraped back blonde hair called Tilly Saddle. Her hair was so tightly yanked back it pulled her eyelids up into a look of permanent shock.

      “Yes, you should. Or me, at any rate. And now she’s taken that place, which should have been either me or you,” sniffed Erin Granule, who had a little moustache.

      “She’s trying to climb the bridesmaid ladder,” said Annie Chicken, who exhibited СКАЧАТЬ