The Perfect Fit

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘Ooh, I love a fascinator! Can I try them on?’

  ‘Course. The screen’s there if you want to –’

  ‘Oh, no need for screens. We’re all girls, aren’t we?’

  I don’t know why I’d even bothered suggesting it. She was already taking her top off in front of the full-length mirror. There was blushing maiden modesty, and then there was Yolanda Sommerville.

  ‘What’s the wedding dress like, Yo-yo?’ Lana asked.

  Yolanda smirked. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and see. It’s gorgeous, that’s all I’m at liberty to say.’

  ‘Virginal white, I assume?’ Sue asked innocently.

  ‘Wait and see, Susan. Wait and see.’ She hooked the stockings to the basque’s suspenders, attached the fascinator and turned to beam at us. ‘Well, how do I look?’

  ‘Great,’ I said. She did too, with her shapely legs and the basque cinching her waist: still every inch the principal boy she’d been 40 years earlier. ‘You certainly don’t look, er, forty-five.’

  ‘You’re sweet,’ she said, patting my cheek. ‘Could I have a photo in this one please, Rebecca?’

  I placed her in front of the black curtain I used as a backdrop then put her into the preferred showgirl position, one leg kicked back at the knee, hand on hip and the other behind her head, face fixed into a come-hither pout. She was soon cooing over the monitor I’d fixed up for customers to review their shots.

  ‘Don’t I look fantastic? Billy will adore them! Thank you, darling.’

  ‘He’s a lucky man,’ I said, smiling. ‘Does he know you’re doing this?’

  ‘Oh, no. These are a wedding-day surprise.’ She started browsing the rails again. ‘It’s really as much for me as him. There’s something terribly liberating about it, isn’t there? And at my age, it does no harm to remind yourself you can still be sexy.’

  ‘What, forty-five?’ Lana asked.

  ‘Well, I think I can pass for forty if the lighting’s right.’

  ‘She means if there’s a blackout,’ Sue whispered to us.

  Lana nodded. ‘She’ll remember those from the war. Getting felt up by GIs in air-raid shelters.’

  ‘You’re a cheeky pair. But I’m in such a good mood, I’m going to let it slide.’ Yolanda beckoned to the three of us. ‘And now you all must have a turn. Come on, up up up!’

  Sue shook her head. ‘You’re not getting me up like a Wild West brothel madam at my age, love. I’ll leave the daft costumes to the hubby.’

  ‘But you must have a photo. Just imagine what Gerry will say.’

  ‘I am imagining it. That’s why I’m not doing it.’

  ‘You have to. I’m the bride and I say so,’ she said, pouting. She grabbed the bottle of prosecco and refilled everyone’s glasses. ‘Have another drink, girls. Then I’m giving every one of you a makeover. I am the Fairy Godmother, after all.’

  ‘Don’t think we’ve forgotten you’re the Wicked Stepmother as well,’ Sue muttered as she was dragged reluctantly to the clothes rail.

  Chapter 32

  ‘Glad you came?’ I whispered to Lana while we watched Yolanda lacing Sue into a huge leather basque.

  Lana shook her head. ‘Never thought I’d see the basque that could take on that bosom.’

  Sue pushed her cleavage up a bit. ‘Not sure I could wear it every day, but it’s good to feel the old girls are getting some support. They’re a bit nearer the floor than they were thirty years ago.’

  ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, Becks,’ Lana muttered.

  ‘It suits you, Susan,’ Yolanda said. ‘How about that photo? A little early Christmas present for Gerry?’

  ‘In this? He’d be off over the moors.’

  ‘Nonsense, you look fantastic.’ Yolanda turned to us. ‘Doesn’t she, girls?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ I managed to mumble. ‘Very… striking.’

  ‘I can’t believe Tommy got out of seeing this,’ Lana said. ‘Not fair.’

  Sue grinned. ‘Well if you can’t embarrass the kiddies at my age, what else is there to live for?’ She refilled her prosecco, then topped the rest of us up. ‘It’s nice to have a bit of girl bonding, I must say. Most of the female company in my line of work comes covered in wool.’

  ‘Did you and Gerry not want kids?’ I asked. ‘Swaledales don’t seem like much of a substitute.’

  She came over to Lana’s armchair and squeezed her shoulder. ‘We did try for a while. But when Phil lost Paula, and this one and her brother were short of a mum, it felt like fate had fixed us up with a different kind of family. Takes all sorts, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Lana said, smiling. ‘Don’t lean down again though, eh? You’re going to smother someone with those things.’

  I giggled. ‘You look like one of them Viking goddesses, Sue. Valeries.’

  Lana nudged me. ‘Valkyries, you div. Valerie’s that woman at the bakery.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ I giggled again when Lana started humming Ride of the Valkyries. ‘Hey, this is good prosecco.’

  ‘Valkyrie, eh?’ Sue shrugged. ‘I’ve been called worse.’

  ‘How long were you trying for a baby?’ I asked.

  ‘Until we lost one. Stillbirth. Too painful to go through it all again.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Lana said, blinking. ‘You two lost a baby? I never knew that.’

  ‘No.’ Sue grabbed a blue feather boa from the accessories box and wrapped it round her, staring thoughtfully at her reflection. ‘Not many people do.’

  Yolanda reached out to take her hand for a moment, and I saw Sue give it a grateful squeeze.

  ‘At least me and Stew never had to go through that,’ Lana said. ‘Trying was bad enough. Every month another disappointment.’

  ‘How come you never went for IVF?’ I said.

  ‘We talked about it. But then Tom and Cam adopted Pip, and she was just so perfect and so… theirs, you know? And we thought that there was a kid out there who needed a mum and dad, and there was a mum and dad with a lot of love to give, so why not go find them? There’s all sorts of ways people become parents.’ She smiled at Sue. ‘Wouldn’t swap the mum I ended up with.’

  ‘What about you, Yo-yo?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Children are lovely, of course – that’s why I did Brownies for so many years. But I wouldn’t want one I couldn’t give back.’

  ‘Even if you’d met the right man?’

  ‘Not even then, darling. I’d have been a miserable failure as a mother, you know.’ She laughed and turned back to the clothing rail. ‘Now, let’s not have our girl talk getting too serious. This is really my hen night. And I’m not letting you and Lana get away without a makeover.’

  I groaned. ‘Do we have to?’

  ‘You certainly do.’ She picked out a long, fitted evening gown. ‘Rebecca, this will be just gorgeous with your colouring.’ She took my hand to guide me to my feet. ‘Come into the other room so you can have a mirror of your own, and we’ll leave Susan to choose something lovely for Lana.’

  She led me through to the shop, and after some arm-twisting I nipped into the changing room to put on the evening gown. It was new in: a sheer, shimmering thing in baby-blue, strapless with a plunging back.

  ‘Sit down, dear, so I can do your make-up,’ Yolanda said, guiding me to a chair and producing a little case from somewhere.

  ‘So did you never fall for any of them? The blokes?’ I asked while she applied some foundation. Tongue loosened by too much prosecco, I was quite enjoying a bit of female bonding. ‘Not sure I could stop myself getting emotionally invested if I tried that friends-with-benefits thing.’

  ‘Of course, darling, I loved every one of them. And yet I never loved any of them. That was the freedom of it.’ She sighed. ‘And the loneliness. Close your right eye for me and k
eep very still, I want to do your eyeliner.’

  I did as she said. ‘But wasn’t there anyone a bit special?’ I asked, squinting with my one eye. ‘Before Billy, I mean.’

  She smiled. ‘There was one I fell rather hard for, a long time ago. Before you were born, although I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread around that I was old enough for love affairs in those days.’

  ‘How come it didn’t work out?’

  ‘Oh, he wasn’t a lover. Just a friend. He’s gone now.’

  Her eyes had clouded with nostalgia. I felt an urge to press her hand, so I did.

  ‘Didn’t he know how you felt?’

  ‘No, I never told him. He was in love with someone else, a girl from the village. I don’t think he ever saw me as anything more than a good friend.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He married her, the other girl. They were happy together, had a couple of children. Like I said, he’s gone now.’

  ‘Gone as in…’

  ‘Yes. Passed away.’ She blinked back a tear. ‘I think about him sometimes. Miss him. Close your other eye there, could you, darling?’

  ‘What was it about him over the others?’

  She was silent a moment. ‘Well, he was very handsome. But I suppose really it was that he made me laugh. He was in the Players too, and when we used to act together… I’ve never known a man who could have me in stitches the way he could.’ She smiled. ‘And the accent helped. It sounded so sexy and exotic compared to the boys I’d grown up with.’

  ‘Oh. Oh!’ My gaze flickered to Lana. I could see her through the open door of the studio, trying on fascinators with Sue. ‘You don’t mean –’

  ‘Phil Donati. Yes, I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Do Tom and Lana know?’

  ‘Of course not, darling. No one knows but Susan. And you, now,’ she said, fluffing out my hair. ‘It’s my guilty little secret. Every girl should have one, it adds mystique.’

  I looked up into her sad blue eyes. ‘But why are you telling it to me?’

  She smiled. ‘Do you remember when you were seven and I took you and the other girls to Ilkley on pack holiday?’

  ‘Er, vaguely.’

  ‘Some of you had stayed up after lights-out to tell ghost stories. It was all part of the fun of being away, so as long as you didn’t get too loud we Owls used to turn a blind eye.’

  ‘I… yes, I remember,’ I said slowly. ‘Kylie Petrescu told this story about a ghost trying to find his hairy toe. God, I was terrified.’

  ‘That’s right, it was your first time away from home. You came to the leaders’ room in tears, and I took you to the kitchen to make you a hot chocolate. Then you crawled onto my knee for a cuddle and I sang to you until you stopped crying. Oh, you were a sweet little thing. I almost wished for a moment I could keep you.’ Her voice shook slightly. ‘It was the first thing I remembered about you when you turned up at the village society meeting.’

  ‘You said I was always covered in jam.’

  ‘And so you were, my lovely. Children often are, you know. But I still remembered you as one of my favourites.’ She added a smear of pink lipstick and stepped back. ‘There. You’re a beauty, Rebecca.’

  I flushed. ‘Me? Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Now, you mustn’t insult my fairy-godmother skills. When I send someone to a ball, they go looking like a princess.’ She nodded to the long mirror. ‘Take a look at yourself and tell me I’m wrong.’

  I stared at the girl in the mirror, with her soft blonde hair and her soft grey eyes, shining with emotion and wine. The dress clung flatteringly to every curve, flowing out behind her like a river, making her look willowy and fluid and like she didn’t have any feet. But in an attractive way.

  ‘I don’t look much like me,’ I murmured, reaching out to rest my fingertips on the glass. Everything seemed dreamlike, Yolanda behind me looking elfin and otherworldly with her pink hair glowing in the low light.

  ‘You look more like you than ever, my love.’ She squeezed my arm. ‘Fit for a prince. Or anyone you choose.’

  Impetuously, I threw myself at her for a hug. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘I hope you’ll be happy with Billy, Yo-yo. You deserve it. And for what it’s worth, I think you would’ve been a great mum.’

  ‘Godmother, darling. I’m really just the godmother.’

  ***

  There was a knock at the door just as we were finishing the last of our prosecco.

  Yolanda had a full set of snaps she was happy with, which I was going to have printed in time for the wedding. Despite her friend’s urging, Sue steadfastly refused to have any photos done, although she was still wearing the basque. She seemed to have got quite attached to it. Lana wouldn’t have any photos done either, but she did buy some lingerie as a treat for Stew.

  ‘That’ll be the old man with my lift,’ Sue said.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ I said. I was still in the long dress Yolanda had put me in. It felt sort of nice, being someone else for the night.

  ‘Hiya,’ I said to Gerry when I answered the door. I frowned. ‘Bloody hell. What’s up with your face?’

  He rubbed his newly nude upper lip. ‘Aye, shaved it off till after the panto. Young Deano kept staring at it with a murderous glint in his eye.’

  I nodded approvingly. ‘Takes years off you, Gerry.’

  ‘Cheers, pet.’ He glanced at my dress. ‘You look nice. What is that, chiffon?’

  I laughed. ‘Yeah. You know, you’ve changed since you became a female impersonator.’

  Gerry shrugged. ‘If you’re going to do a job, might as well be thorough.’ He nodded to the studio. ‘The boss in there, is she?’

  ‘She is. Come on through.’

  He followed me in.

  ‘All right, our lass, time to –’ His eyes widened when he caught sight of Sue taking a last look in the mirror at her gravity-defying bosom. ‘Jesus Christ! What the hell is that?’

  Yolanda smirked. ‘It’s a basque. Gorgeous, isn’t it?’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Gerry muttered again.

  ‘I’ll just get changed and we can –’ Sue broke off when she turned to look at her husband. ‘What happened to your face?’

  ‘He’s going the full dame,’ I said. ‘No facial hair till after the panto.’

  They walked towards each other slowly, like the last scene in a Hollywood film. I was starting to feel a bit awkward.

  ‘You wore something like that on our wedding night,’ Gerry murmured.

  ‘A good few sizes smaller.’ She reached up to run her fingers over his lip. ‘You know, I never did like Tom Selleck all that much. I just wanted to make you jealous.’

  ‘How much, Becky?’ Gerry asked, not taking his eyes off Sue’s cleavage.

  I blinked. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The basque thing. We’ll take it.’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind, I don’t care. We’ll settle up in the pub next week. Bye, girls.’

  ‘See you, everyone,’ Sue called as Gerry dragged her determinedly to the door.

  ‘Oh God,’ Lana groaned. ‘I didn’t need to see that.’

  ‘I don’t think any of us needed to see that,’ I said.

  ‘Do you know how randy a Yorkshireman needs to be not to even wait for the price? Oh God…’

  Yolanda laughed. ‘Honestly, you young people. Do you really think sex should just stop when you turn fifty?’

  ‘No, I think it should stop when you turn forty,’ Lana said. ‘Well, I do when it comes to them two.’

  ‘And I’m sure when you and Stewpot have a child they’ll think the same about you,’ she said. ‘But I for one wish you a long, healthy sex life filled with basques and fun. That’s my Good Fairy blessing for you.’

  Lana shook her head. ‘You’ve actually started to believe you’re proper magic, haven’t yo
u?’

  ‘Oh, let them enjoy themselves,’ I said, recovering finally. I patted Lana’s arm. ‘Forget about it, love. Take your suspenders and go give Stew a treat. And Yo-yo, if you’re not saving yourself for the wedding night, help yourself to whatever you think Billy might like. Apparently tonight the men of Egglethwaite are getting lucky courtesy of my stock.’

  ‘And what about you?’ Lana said, nudging me. ‘Anything you want to take home and model for Cole?’

  I laughed. ‘I don’t think he’d appreciate being woken up at this time of night, even for fishnets. Maybe another day.’

  Chapter 33

  ‘Aunty Becky, can I ride Peppa?’ Pip asked, tugging at my hand.

  The ride-on Peppa Pig in Egglethwaite Playground had been her favourite thing since she’d joined the family four years ago. I don’t suppose she remembered, now, how her Aunty Becky had rushed up from London to meet her beautiful new niece, or the joy and love in her dads’ eyes as they’d argued over whose turn it was to give her a push.

  But it was a toddlers’ toy, and every time I let her have a go I saw the sign clearly labelled ‘FOUR YEARS AND UNDER’ glaring accusingly.

  ‘You’re too big now, Pips. That’s for the little kids.’

  The bottom lip jutted out, but I stayed firm. There’d been mutterings within the family that our Pip was in danger of getting spoilt.

  ‘It’s no good pulling that face, madam. You don’t want to break it for the babies, do you?’

  I suspected the word ‘baby’ would do the trick. At six, Pip was very grown-up. She pulled herself up to her full height.

  ‘I bet Harry doesn’t play on baby rides,’ I said, following up my advantage.

  ‘Bet he does,’ she muttered sulkily. ‘He’s littler’n me.’

  ‘Then you’d better act like the big girl you are, hadn’t you?’ I nodded to Cole, who’d been reluctantly dragged from his studio to join us for today’s play date. ‘Why don’t you ask Uncle Cole to give you a push on the swings?’

  Pip didn’t look too impressed by this suggestion.

  ‘No thank you,’ she said, using her best manners. ‘I’m going on the slide. The big-kid slide.’ She ran off to climb the steps.