Nathalia Buttface and the Totally Embarrassing Bridesmaid Disaster. Nigel Smith
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2016
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Nathalia Buttface and the Totally Embarrassing Bridesmaid Disaster Text copyright © Nigel Smith, 2016 Illustrations © Sarah Horne, 2016
Nigel Smith and Sarah Horne assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780008167097
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780008167103
Version: 2016-02-15
To Michèle, for pretending I’m not as embarrassing as Dad.
And thank you to Ruth, for the awesome idea, the amazing editing and the annoying nagging about finishing the flipping book.
NS
Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
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“Dad, I’m not coming out of the changing rooms and I’m not even joking and this wedding is utter pants and I hardly even know my lame cousin and bridesmaids are all rank and I LOOK TOTALLY STUPID and anyway I’m not doing it,” said Nat.
Ever so loudly.
Dad looked at the sour-faced lady who ran DREAM BRIDES LTD – a hot and cramped little dress shop above a newsagents on the high street. He gave her what he hoped was a charming smile. She wasn’t charmed one little bit. Her face, which was stony to begin with, hardened to granite.
“She doesn’t have to shout,” said the lady, who was called Dolly Crumble and who was almost lost among the sickly pink and curdled cream and violently violet fluffy, frilly frocks that filled her little boutique.
“That’s not shouting,” said Dad, whose voice was muffled by some kind of purple velvet thing that was apparently a really important bit of a bridesmaid outfit and seemed to be attacking him. “When she was a baby and was hungry or had wet herself, THEN she shouted. You should have heard it.”
“Shuddup, Dad,” shouted Nat from the changing room. Billowing pink material surrounded her. It looked like she was being consumed by a possessed blancmange.
Dad didn’t shuddup.
“When baby Nathalia started yelling in the car, people thought a fire engine was going past. It was great – everyone else on the road got out of the way. I lost count of how many cars drove into lamp posts.”
“Nobody cares, Dad,” shouted Nat.
“Are you ready to come out yet?” asked Dolly Crumble. “Only you’ve been in there twenty minutes and this is the SIXTH Perfect Fairy Princess dress you have tried on.”
“That’s because they’re all horrible,” wailed Nat. “They all look like vomit.”
“Such language,” said the dressmaker, glaring at Dad as if he was to blame. “I hope she’s going to be a better behaved young lady on the big day.” She sniffed in a superior way and hoisted up her enormous bosom.
“A wedding is the most precious day in any woman’s life. It is, you might say, the best moment of her entire life.”
“Rubbish,” said Nat. “There’s tons of things better than a soppy wedding. There’s getting to number one in the charts or winning Celebrity All-Star Cook-Off or climbing Mount Everest or getting an Oscar or a Nobel Prize or an Olympic medal or going into space or—”
“Yes, well, not many girls will do those things,” interrupted Dolly Crumble, “but all girls can get married.”
“If everyone can do it, that doesn’t make it very special then, does it?” argued Nat. There was a stony silence, like a big, gaping dark hole. Dad jumped into it. With both feet.
“Tell us about YOUR wedding day,” he said. “If I’ve learned one thing in the last few weeks it’s how much women like to talk about