‘And it all paid off, every bit of it.’ Olivia swayed side to side, smiling dreamily. ‘Wasn’t it just the most romantic day ever? All those gorgeous colours – do you remember that peach and silver swag?’
‘Remember it?’ Ivy let out a groan. ‘I have nightmares about it! They accidentally delivered the wrong colour the first time round. Dad almost fainted from shock when he saw them. He ended up leaning against the wall, saying that he actually hoped he had gone colour-blind. If I hadn’t threatened to tip Strawberry HemoGlobules on to my bridesmaid’s dress, I’m not sure he would have snapped out of it!’
‘He really came good in the end, though, didn’t he?’ Olivia stretched out her legs, her pink toenail polish sparkling in the sunlight. ‘I can’t think of a better wedding planner. Even the peonies on the tables matched the colour scheme!’
Ivy felt her left eyelid begin to twitch dangerously. She wasn’t sure she could take any more wedding talk – especially now that the actual wedding was over. Calm down, she told herself. This nightmare can’t go on forever!
‘Yes indeed,’ she said dryly. ‘I may never stop swooning over the memories of the . . . “awesome” colour scheme.’
‘Oh, come on.’ Laughing, Olivia dug her in the ribs. ‘It was a day to remember! Even you have to admit that’s true.’
‘Well . . .’ Ivy sighed. ‘OK . . . It did kind of suck. In the good way. Kinda.’
‘See?’ Olivia beamed. ‘You had fu-u-u-u-un . . .’ Her last word broke off into a wide yawn.
‘Aha!’ Ivy shot upright and pointed triumphantly. ‘I knew it. You’re exhausted too!’
Olivia yawned again, not even trying to stifle it this time. ‘OK, you’re right. I never imagined that being a bridesmaid would be such hard work.’
‘You’re telling me.’ Ivy shook her head as she picked up all the confetti that had fallen from her hair on to her combat trousers. ‘Is this stuff made out of glue, or something? I’ve showered twice this morning, and I still haven’t got it all out!’
‘Aww.’ Olivia grabbed her arm, forcing her to look up. ‘Did you ever think you’d see that?’
Ivy blinked, then blinked again as she looked where her twin was pointing. On the pavement in front of them, their dad, their new stepmom and their grandparents were all negotiating the ‘awkward goodbye’. Their grandparents would soon be heading back to Transylvania, home of the elite, upper-class vampire society.
‘Wow,’ Ivy breathed. ‘Is that really Dad?’
Charles Vega normally looked really uncomfortable around any type of ‘goodbye’ – but not today! He was beaming as Lillian smiled serenely at his side.
Olivia shook her head. ‘Lillian has really had an effect on him. I guess love can work miracles.’
Under Ivy’s disbelieving gaze, Charles stepped forward and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, pulled his parents into a hug.
Ivy’s mouth dropped open. She was still staring, dumbstruck, when her dad turned around.
‘Come on, girls,’ he said. ‘Say goodbye to your grandparents!’
Ivy jumped up. That, I can do! She and Olivia rushed together down the stairs to give their grandparents big hugs of their own.
As Olivia hugged their grandfather, Ivy buried her face into her grandmother’s shoulder. The Countess stroked her hair, and Ivy could have somersaulted for joy.
I’m so glad she’s finally forgiven me.
Her grandparents had pleaded with Ivy to attend Wallachia Academy, an elite vampire finishing school in Transylvania. Ivy had gone along and tried her very best to fit in with the other students, but in the end she’d had to abandon the snooty academy – she’d missed her home too much. Her grandparents had both been appalled – and for a while, Ivy had really feared she’d lost her grandmother’s love for good.
‘I am really, truly proud of you,’ the Countess whispered into Ivy’s ear.
Ivy was glad she had her face hidden, because she was feeling very un-vampire-y tears welling up in her eyes. OK, no sappiness. She took a deep breath and stepped back, making a show of looking around. ‘Hey, where’s Horatio?’
‘I don’t know.’ The Countess frowned. ‘Where is Horatio?’
Olivia giggled. ‘Um . . .’
Smiling, Charles shook his head and pointed. ‘We should have known.’
The Count and Countess’s vampire butler was two doors down on Undertaker Hill, stalking Ivy’s neighbour Mr Galloway around his car, which was covered with soap suds.
‘What in the name of darkness is he doing?’ demanded the Count, his grey moustache bristling.
Ivy’s lips twitched into a grin. ‘Do you really have to ask?’
Mr Galloway’s voice drifted down the street. ‘But I told you, I really don’t need any help washing my car!’
‘Let me, sir.’ Horatio pinched the sponge from their neighbour’s hands with his vampire strength. ‘I must insist.’
Ivy cringed as she saw the outraged expression on Mr Galloway’s face. He stepped forward threateningly. ‘Look, you . . . Hey!’ His mouth dropped open as he leaned in to watch Horatio sweep the sponge around with professional precision. ‘How are you doing that?’
‘It is a special, spiralling, counter-clockwise technique – I invented it myself !’ Horatio coughed modestly and stepped back to demonstrate. ‘You see? Much more effective!’
‘Well, I’ll be . . .’ Mr Galloway’s scowl transformed into a smile as he saw the gleaming paintwork. ‘That actually is impressive!’
‘Thank you, sir. And now, if you’ll allow me . . .’ Smiling with quiet pride, Horatio straightened and removed his jacket. ‘There is some serious work to be done here. Although . . .’ He paused. ‘Yes, this would be much easier if we use some of my special, homemade turtle wax.’
Mr Galloway choked. ‘Your what?’
‘I have some just here, in the car.’ Frowning with concentration, Horatio hurried over to the hire car that he would be driving back to the airport. He opened the boot . . . then paused, suddenly looking anguished.
Uh-oh, Ivy thought. She didn’t often see the dignified butler lose his cool! She sidled up to him as discreetly as she could, glancing down into the boot. Unsurprisingly, the luggage was arranged like a 3D puzzle, every suitcase perfectly placed. He certainly can’t be upset about his packing!
‘Is everything OK?’ she whispered.
Horatio shook his head, still gazing with obvious desperation at the jigsaw-like stack of luggage. ‘If I’m going to use my special turtle wax, I’ll have to take it out of my suitcase,’ he whispered, his voice cracking. ‘But my suitcase is beneath the Count and Countess’s luggage – at the bottom of the boot.’
‘Uh . . . so?’ Ivy shrugged. ‘Can’t you just dig it out and then re-pack?’
Horatio turned on her with a look so appalled, it actually rivalled Olivia’s expression the time Ivy had suggested Olivia wear a paisley skirt with her plaid blouse.
Ivy blinked and stepped back. ‘Or . . . not?’
Horatio pointed at the boot with a finger that trembled. ‘Look at that, Miss Ivy.’
‘Er . . .’ Ivy shrugged again. ‘All I see is packed suitcases.’
‘No