The Pearl Inside of Anything

July 25

"The thing is, Wendy, we've just never left you two on your own before," says Mum. She's in the bathroom with the door open, brushing her hair, which only makes it frizzier. She looks frustrated, and brushes harder. I'm standing in the hall, and Dad is at the stove frying bacon. If I reach out both arms, I could touch them both at the same time, that's how small this place is.

"That is the thing," says Dad. "The thing it is."

"You have to remember we're camping, we can't exactly phone and check in," says Mum. "How will we know your okay?"

Earlier this morning, Dad was down in the storage locker with Patrick, throwing sleeping bags around. Things are getting dire.

"What about if Mrs. Daltry looks in on us?"

"Well, that would be fine, if she could actually see," says Dad. "I'm sorry Wendy, I think you'll just have to come along again this year."

"Oh noooooooooo! Daddy, please! Mum!"

" I have an idea," says Patrick quietly from the kitchen table.

"...besides," says Dad. "Camping is so great. The freedom! You can wipe your hands on your clothes all you want, sing "Bottles of Beer on the Wall" at the top of your lungs, wear the same underpants for three days in a row..." he's holding his spatula in the air and there's this look on his face like he's a million miles away.

Mum looks at him for a second like maybe she wants to stay home, too.

"I HAVE an idea," Patrick says again, this time a little more forcefully.

"It's just so nice to be out in nature," says Mum, giving up on the brush and twisting an elastic around her hair. "Who wants to stay home and watch TV?"

"I just don't want to miss the wedding, that's all," I grumble and kick the linoleum. Then I remember Yammy's idea.

"Besides, it's an important part of my development as a maturing adolescent! Staying home and looking after my sibling!"

"That is true," says Dad, nodding at the bacon.

"But who will know what to do, if something goes wrong?"

"I have an EYE – DEE - YAH!"

"Oh, Patrick!" says Mum. "Sorry, honey, what is it?"

"Angie! Angie can look in on us."

Mum and Dad exchange a quick glance. "Angie?" says Mum.

"We like her!" says Patrick. "She's cool!"

"Oh," Mum sniffs and frowns at her reflection. "Well if all it takes is being 'cool' to look after the two of you..."

"Now Lorna, don't be like that," says Dad. "Angie's good. She never vacuums after 9, her car doesn't drip oil all over the parkade, she pays her rent in post-dated..."

"She looks like someone who could hotwire a car," says Mum, yanking her ponytail tight.

"Well, that can be a useful skill in certain situations..." says Dad. "Hey, you like Angie, what's the problem?"

Mum leans forward to the mirror, and tries to smooth her hair back. But it's no good and when she turns away from the mirror she looks tired. "Oh, I don't know, I'm sure she's fine."

"Besides," says Patrick. "There are no boa constrictors in her bathroom! I checked!"

Deal sealed. Angie it is.

July 29, 5:30 a.m., Yammy's house

"Wake up! You're missing it!"

I rub my eyes and sit up. Yammy is darting around her room, rearranging pillows for us on her bed. We all climb up and crawl under the duvet, except for Patrick who is buried up to his neck under quilts in Yammy's beanbag chair. He is staring at the TV and clutching Joe who is looking quite cozy tucked in one of Patrick's socks up to his armpits. "It's his sleeping bag!" Patrick said yesterday, while we were packing. Ten points for resourcefulness, little brother.

"And now Diana's carriage draws near St. Paul's Cathedral..."

We can see a cloudy image of the princess-to-be inside the carriage. There is a lot of dress in there. The carriage is pulled by a team of white horses with their manes are all smooth, bouncy ringlets you can only get from a curling iron. They do that to horses? I should ask Tommy how long he thinks it took someone to do all those manes. Oh yeah, right, I'm never going to see Tommy again.

We all hold our breath until the carriage draws up and Diana steps out.

"Oh! She's so pretty!" sighs Yammy happily. "So pretty!" The crowd is roaring as Diana's bridesmaids help her shake out the dress. It gets pouffier and pouffier. I imagine it would fill Yammy's whole bedroom, and the train could wrap around her whole house.

In other words, it's wonderful. So much better than when Richie married Mary Beth over the phone on Happy Days. Worst TV wedding ever.

The woman announcer gives her review: "What a dream she looks! What a dream she looks! Here is the stuff of which fairytales are made."

"It's quite um... poufy, isn't it?" says Lizzie cautiously, glancing sidelong at Yammy to see how this goes over. Diana is inside the cathedral now, and her dress is being inflated a bit more, this time by its two designers. "I mean, she looks like Bo Peep, don't you think?"

"Shhhh!" says Yammy, giving Lizzie a whack on the arm. There's Charles, looking slightly bored, but nobody dares say so now.

It's a bit of a relief when Diana arrives at the altar, as her Dad is a bit shaky walking her down the aisle. I glance over at Patrick, he seems to be rubbing one eye a lot.

We try to be quiet and are good until Linda breaks in during the vows.

"Uh, did she just call him Philip?"

Yammy goes pale. We all nod. Philip. We heard Philip, too.

"Never mind! What's a wedding without a bit of a bungle?" says Yammy.

I don't really know; I've never been to one before. "How would you like to be getting married in front of the whole world?"

Still Diana looks perfect. No smudged eyeliner or runny mascara. This is a true historical moment. I'm watching history. When the congregation stands to sing, "I vow to thee my country" I get a lump in my throat. Linda wipes her eyes on the duvet, Lizzie hands Yammy a tissue, I glance at Patrick, who is still rubbing his eye.

There is one huge benefit to not being on the guest list, and that is that we can all talk through the part when Dame Kiri sings. And sings. And sings. The camera wanders over the guests in this part, too, Kiri trills on, and we pass the time voting for best dressed at the wedding. Princess Ann, in a little yellow hat and embroidered suit, piped along the edges with tiny ruffles like cake icing, wins. "I mean, have you EVER seen her out of jodhpurs and a barn jacket?" says Yammy.

The camera pans about the cathedral, zooming in on the gilded angels and stained glass windows before focusing on the Royal Family. In the row behind the Queen, I spot Ben Taylor. Ben Taylor? In the Royal pew? I blink and lean forward.

Oops. Just Edward. And on second look, the resemblance isn't that good. Edward is pale and Ben is much better looking. Much.