This choice: Is it Siobhan Connor or Will Prescott, you can't tell anymore • Go Back...Chapter #5A Secret Society Wedding by: imaj   “There’s my case there,” says Bea, pointing at a bright pink suitcase that stands out amongst the dull greys and navy blues on the rest of the carrousel. She starts pushing her way through the crowd lined up round the baggage collection point. A few people grumble, but you learned long ago that little blonde girls can get away with a surprising amount.
“She’s still very excitable,” says Hilda Gunnarson from somewhere above you. Hilda learnt that truth personally, and at a very young age. She was a little blonde girl once, but now she’s something approaching an amazon. She’s also one of your colleagues in the Stellae: Malacandra and Perelandra.
“I know,” you reply looking up at Hilda. As Siobhan Connor you are a full foot shorter than your Swedish comrade. “She’s getting calmer though.” Hilda hoists a long black sports bag off the conveyor belt with a clink. There’s a massive zweihander in there, along with some chainmail, that she somehow managed to sneak past airport security.
“Come on Bea,” says Imogen, rolling her eyes. She does that a lot now. You figure it must be a phase she’s going through.
“I’ll get her,” Malaika tells Imogen. She flashes a perfect smile at your adoptive daughter before gently making her way through the disgruntled passengers towards Bea. A good half of the crowd at the baggage pickup simply parts to let Malaika through.
“I don’t think she even means to do that,” says Hilda as she picks up your suitcase from conveyor belt. Hilda hands it to before nodding toward Malaika. “And I know people never treated me like that when I was her age.”
You look at your companion. She has that ageless quality that all Perelandrae seem to possess and could be anywhere between twenty and forty years in age, although you know for a fact it is much closer to the later. Hilda’s ample chest is at about eye height for you, and you suspect she had a slightly different effect on people when she was Malaika’s age. “She’s doing it subconsciously,” you answer. “Like how I used to use my cloak before Rick kicked me into doing it properly.”
“Coming,” shouts Bea. She pulls out the handle of her suitcase and starts rolling back towards you. You hear winces of pain and angry complaints as she carelessly rolls over peoples’ feet.
“Kicked you,” asks Hilda. You nod and grimace. “I hope Kali’s more gentle with Malaika.”
Malaika reaches your youngest adoptive daughter and places an arm round her shoulder. The complaints vanish as Malaika guides Bea effortlessly back to you.
“She will be,” you reply. “How soon till Malaika goes to stay with her?
“Soon,” answers Hilda. “She’s fifteen now, I was thinking she might go with Kali after the wedding.”
“I’d like that very much,” says Malaika as she arrives next to you. Years of living with Hilda have done nothing to erode her strong accent, which still ties her to South Africa. “And I’m looking forward to seeing Rosalie again.”
“Me too,” chirps Bea.
“We all are,” you tell the girls. Imogen shrugs, as if to indicate she isn’t particularly fussed one way or the other about seeing Rosalie again, but even she can’t entirely hide the smile from her face.
Bea frowns thoughtfully. “You’re like sisters aren’t you,” she asks Malaika. “You and Rosalie? Siobhan and Rosalie are like sisters too.”
Hilda arches a perfect eyebrow but says nothing. “You know, we are,” answers Malaika. “Here’s my suitcase now,” she adds, grabbing a case from the conveyor belt. “That’s all of us isn’t it?” Bea nods enthusiastically. “Then let’s go.” Malaika starts walking towards the exit, dragging the case along the floor behind her. Bea and Imogen fall into step alongside her.
Hilda holds you by the shoulder for a second as the girls forge ahead. “How much do the girls know now?”
“A little,” you admit. “It’s hard to keep everything a secret from them of course.” Hilda nods. “No theory or anything, there wouldn’t be any point, but they know we’re the good guys.”
“I sometimes wish it were that simple,” interrupts Hilda with a sigh.
“I know,” you agree. “But how do you explain shades of grey to a ten year old like Bea? Knowing I’m going to keep her safe from the people who killed her father though… She needs that. Imogen does too, though she’d never admit it. And even if Ha...”
You don’t get a chance to go any further, as Bea suddenly loops round and runs back over to you and Hilda. She almost collides into you. “I just thought,” she says breathlessly. “Is Joe going to pick us up? He’s cuuuute!”
You glance sideways at Hilda, who has a sly grin on her face. “I though you didn’t like boys,” you ask Bea. “You said they were, what was it, ‘yukie’.”
“Joe isn’t a boy,” says Bea earnestly. “He’s a man. You should talk to him.”
“He’s also the one getting married to Rosalie,” you tell Bea.
Bea nods. “That’s why you should talk to him now,” she says seriously.
“Maybe,” you mutter.
*****
“Is all this really necessary,” you complain.
The dressmakers pause briefly and share a glance. Then they start bustling round you again, as if you’d never said a word. In fact, they may even have gotten a little bit rougher, as you feel a couple of pin jabs in awkward places.
“Yes it is,” answers Rosalie. Beside her Imogen stifles a laugh. “If you’re going to be my maid of honour you have to have a dress that fits Siobhan.” Imogen makes no attempt to hide her laugh this time.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” you sniff. “You’re next up. I’ll ask them to use the extra sharp pins for you,” you add. Imogen does her eye rolling thing again.
“Can’t I be next,” asks Bea.
“Of course you can Bea,” says Rosalie.
“I’m not really sure this is my colour,” you complain, gesturing at the peach coloured dress that you’re being fitted for. Aside from the one you are wearing, there is one each for Imogen, Bea and Malaika. Each of them needs to be fitted properly before the wedding.
The dressmakers share another look, making their feelings clear with another sharp pin stab. “I thought that was the point,” smiles Rosalie. “The bride gets a dress that makes her look beautiful, the bridesmaids get dresses to make them look like trolls in comparison. I can’t look effortlessly good in anything the way you and Malaika can.”
You hop off the little stool and onto the floor, giving the dressmakers a pointed look. You restrain the impulse to feed them a little touch of fear. “Are we done,” you ask. They nod meekly and scurry off, leaving you to walk back to the changing booth with Rosalie.
“Have you seen Joe since you arrived,” she asks abruptly as you push aside the curtain to the changing booth.
“Sure,” you reply as you pull the curtain closed behind you and reach to undo the dress. “He drove us up from the airport.”
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” says Rosalie from the other side of the curtain. “You two have hardly talked at all in the last couple of years.”
“It’s awkward,” is all you offer as you pull the dress off.
“Maybe Will should talk to him then,” counters Rosalie.
You pause in pulling on your clothes for a second. You haven’t gone by that name or face for a long time. Rosalie does have a point though, it might be easier to talk to Joe as your old self. It’d be good to catch up with Joe, wouldn’t it?
“He could do with seeing a familiar face,” continues Rosalie. “Or maybe you could go to his bachelor party.”
“I thought I was coming to yours,” you interrupt.
“You can go to both, can’t you,” says Rosalie, referring to your shapeshifting abilities.
“You’re the second person to tell me to talk to him,” you say as you finish putting your clothes back on. You pull the curtain open and hand Rosalie the bridesmaid’s dress. “Bea said I should talk to him too,” you explain.
“She’s a perceptive girl,” replies Rosalie. “So will you talk to him?”
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