If the Dress Fits

by Daisy James

  ‘Yes, that and the fact that Lilac grew up here,’ said Archie.

  ‘Nikki, Lilac’s PA, said that, too. I’m surprised none of us knew her – she’s only a couple years younger than me and Nessa.’

  ‘But Callie, you did know her!’

  ‘What? No, I didn’t. I think I’d have remembered if I’d met Lilac Verbois before, Arch.’ She smiled as she gratefully accepted an ice-filled Pimm’s from an exhausted waiter and took a sip.

  ‘Well, not as Lilac Verbois – that’s her professional name. I was chatting to her mother before we performed our serenade to the couple of the day. Lilac was a pupil at St Hilda’s, just like you and Nessa…’

  ‘No, Archie, she couldn’t have been.’

  Archie’s eyes crinkled at the corners with the pleasure of being able to deliver this juicy piece of information. ‘Remember Lillian Greenwood? The scrawny kid who loved drama – played lead roles in the school pantomime?’

  ‘Ye…e…s.’ Callie stared at him, her jaw gaping as it slowly dawned on her why this whole wedding fiasco had been so focused on their little corner of heaven in North Yorkshire. Despite her fame and fortune, it was Lilac’s heaven, too.

  It was home!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Archie wandered off to find his fellow band mates and Callie and Scarlet perched their buttocks on a worn stone bench overlooking the formal Italianate gardens at the front of Harewood House with the rolling hills of Yorkshire as a Turneresque backdrop. The sky was no longer a clear cerulean blue but had turned into a bruised grey, and a summer downpour threatened at any moment.

  ‘It’s been a beautiful day, hasn’t it?’ murmured Callie, her eyes fixed on the lake to her right.

  ‘It has. Are you still planning to leave, Callie? You really should stay for the fireworks, you know. Lilac and Finn both made it clear you were a special guest.’ Scarlet paused, clearly wrestling with the content of her next sentence. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I saw Theo sing those lyrics to you. It was the most romantic gesture I’ve ever seen. Why don’t you talk to him, Callie? It’s the perfect time to clear the air between you. If you don’t do it now, here, when will you get the chance again?’

  Callie looked at her friend. It was exactly the same thing Nessa had said to her when she’d called to wish her luck the previous evening. They were right. Everything that had happened over the last three years had taught her that Theo was the only person who made her feel whole. No wonder her dates in the capital had never worked out. How could they when she was in love with someone else?

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Yes.’ Callie stood up and massaged her numb bottom. The bench was cold and hard. ‘Come on. Help me find him.’

  Scarlet’s eyes widened and a smile lit up her features. ‘With absolute pleasure.’ She hugged Callie to her as a splodge of rain landed on the tip of her nose. She screwed up her face and wiped it away

  ‘Quick!’ And they dashed up the steps to the ballroom where the white, linen-covered tables were being cleared away to make room for a dance floor for the evening entertainment.

  ‘Hey, Archie. Where’s Theo?’

  Archie paused in his task setting up one of the huge amplifiers with Serge and Rick. ‘He wanted to get some air before the gig tonight. Said he was going down to the lake.’

  ‘Thanks, Arch.’

  The girls sprinted back down the sweeping staircase and made for the front terrace. In the short time they had been inside the house the rain had escalated into a full-on summer downpour. Needles of rain bounced from the balustrades and the flagstones but the temperature seemed to have climbed even further.

  ‘We’ll have to wait until he gets back,’ said Scarlet, casting a grimace up to the leaden sky.

  ‘No way. I’m doing this now before I change my mind and chicken out again.’

  Callie skipped away from Scarlet, down the steps to the formal gardens and along a meandering path through the woodland. Within minutes she was soaked to her skin but she didn’t care. She was on a mission. If she didn’t talk to Theo now, she knew the moment they had shared in York Minster would be forgotten and consigned to their past along with everything else. This time she was adamant she wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

  The lake undulated gently as the raindrops battered its surface. She wiped her dripping fringe from her eyes and squinted towards the tiny wooden boathouse on the shore. A short jetty had been built out into the water and a tethered wooden rowing boat bobbed manically at the end.

  And there was Theo, sitting on the jetty with his legs dangling over the side. His back was hunched against the downpour, his head buried deep into the hood of his coat, his hands thrust in the pockets of his jeans and elbows stuck out at right angles. She would have recognised his silhouette in a football stadium.

  She removed her shoes and picked her way slowly along the jetty.

  ‘Theo?’

  He turned his head and their eyes met, but he looked away, staring at the patterns of concentric circles the rain was making on the lake.

  ‘What are you doing here, Cal?’

  ‘I saw you in church, I… It was a beautiful wedding, don’t you think?’

  ‘If you like that sort of thing. You know me, Cal. Never been one for expressions of overblown extravagance. A simple service at the local parish church would do me fine. Don’t need all that pomp and ceremony to tell the world you love someone.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  In fact, for the first time, Callie realised she had never once imagined her wedding day without Theo by her side. Silence expanded around them. Callie glanced over her shoulder. They were alone. Just her and Theo. Together again, sitting beside each other like they’d always been, like they should still be – she realised that now with absolute clarity.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you came down to London?’

  ‘Saw you’d moved on. Made a success of your fashion business, like I knew you would. I was going to ask you to have a drink but I saw you leave the shop with a guy – a rugby-player type who had his arm slung around your shoulder. I hadn’t expected that to hurt so much. I understood what it must have been like for you.’

  ‘That was Andrew, the guy desperate to settle down and produce offspring – the Broody Paediatrician, Scarlet called him.’ Callie smiled but Theo didn’t.

  The rain had lessened but rivulets trickled down her cheeks and dripped from her nose. She knew she must look a mess but she didn’t care. She needed to tell Theo how she felt and this was the time she had to do it. If she had to be soaked through to the skin, then so be it. She moved her hand over to his. ‘Theo, there’s only ever been one person I wanted to settle down with ever since I could dress my Barbie in a home-made wedding gown.’

  ‘What is it with you, Cal? One minute I’m a cheating ogre, the next I’m your soulmate?’

  ‘You’ve always been my soulmate, Theo, even when we were fighting.’

  At last Theo turned his head to look at her. He shook his head slightly and pushed himself to standing, still maintaining eye contact. ‘What do you want, Callie? Do you even know? I can’t spend my life second-guessing you.’

  ‘I know what I want. What I’ve always wanted. What’s always been there, buried beneath the hurt and the jealousy of seeing you with your fans, waiting to emerge when the time was right. The time is right. And if you’ll have me, I intend to become The Razorclaws’ number-one groupie. Whenever you’re on tour, I’ll be right by your side. I love you, Theo. You are the first boy I kissed and I want you to be the next, and the one after that and the one after that.’

  Callie leapt up and faced Theo. She took a step forward, placed her hand on his cheek and moved her lips towards his. Theo curled his arm around her shoulders and dragged her body into his. A perfect fit. Their lips met and Callie gave herself up to a crescendo of emotions; the ecstasy of being in his arms, of being kissed by the one person she was meant to be with. It felt
as though she had been waiting her whole life for their paths to converge on that one moment, that one point in time when their destinies aligned.

  ‘Hey!’ she shrieked as Theo broke away from their embrace and lifted her in the air, swinging her round and round and round until she begged him to stop. As he set her down on the jetty she giggled, the happiest she had been for, oh, three years. She felt grateful, blessed by her guardian angel that at last fate had seen fit to bind them. ‘Careful. We might end up in the lake!’

  ‘Can’t get any wetter!’

  ‘I think my dress is ruined.’

  ‘You look stunning to me.’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘I reckon we should get back to the house, don’t you? We have a party to attend!’ Theo lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, ‘I love you, Callie-Louise Henshaw.’

  ‘And I love you, too, Theodore Dalton Drake.’

  Epilogue

  Ten months later

  ‘Nervous, darling?’

  ‘No way. I’m excited.’

  ‘Seb’s downstairs. He looks so handsome in his grey morning suit. Nessa’s just helping him with his cravat and she’ll be right up. I think there might be a spark of something there.’ Delia’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘You might be right. He did frequent her teenage dreams on more than one occasion,’ Callie giggled.

  ‘I think we should start getting you into your dress, Callie,’ said Scarlet, who looked stunning in her peppermint-and-gold bridesmaid’s dress. There had been no hesitation by Callie on the choice of colour scheme for her wedding, but the shade really did work well with Scarlet and Nessa’s almost identical colouring. ‘Ah, Nessa, there you are. Come on – don’t forget we’re walking to the church.’

  ‘It’s less than a hundred yards!’ said Nessa, bustling into the room in matching peppermint and gold. It was the first time she had worn a dress since toddlerhood and it really suited her. ‘You can see St Peter’s Church from the window! Doesn’t it look amazing? The ivory roses around the lynch gate are just perfect. Tish was right – it really is the prettiest little church in the whole of Yorkshire.’

  ‘Okay, off with your robe!’ ordered Scarlet.

  ‘Before you do,’ said Delia, stepping forward and holding out a package wrapped in tissue paper, her hand trembling slightly, her eyes glistening with emotion, ‘I want to give you this – from all the Cupcakes & Couture ladies.’

  The three young women settled down on the bed in the bride’s temporary boudoir above Gingerberry Yarns. Delia looked on, as proud and tearful as any mother of the bride. Callie placed the gift on her lap and looked at her three best friends in the world.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she whispered. ‘For everything.’

  ‘Open it!’ cried Scarlet, clapping her hands together with excitement.

  Callie slid her finger under the flap and drew out a slither of ivory silk and lace. The garter had been embroidered with peppermint thread and decorated with golden bows, but as Callie looked more closely she saw the words that had been worked into the fabric – Congratulations on your wedding day – your Cupcakes & Couture ladies. The letters ‘CLH’ and ‘TDD’ had been intertwined in exactly the same logo as the carving Theo had made on the old oak tree in the back garden of Gingerberry Yarns all those years ago.

  She held the lingerie in her hands, fingering the stitching, and the strength of her emotions caused their tethers to fray. She stood up and flung her arms around Delia, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  ‘Thank you, it means such a lot…’

  ‘I know, darling, I know.’

  Callie pressed a smile through her tears and turned to envelop Scarlet and Nessa in a hug.

  ‘I’m so lucky to have you as my friends. Thank you for everything.’

  ‘Okay. So now we definitely need to get you into that dress,’ said Nessa, wiping a stray tear from her own eye.

  Scarlet and Nessa held the gown, a sheath of ivory silk, and Callie stepped in, enjoying the feeling of exhilaration as the fabric slithered over her curves. Being six foot tall in her stockinged feet, the dress was the perfect design for her, as well as adhering to her personal taste for simple, yet exquisite, silhouette and drape. She had enjoyed every second she’d spent designing and sewing the gown with the help of Scarlet and Flora.

  ‘Keep still and breathe in.’

  ‘I am,’ giggled Callie.

  ‘It’s a beautiful dress, Cal, but why in the name of all things bridal did you have to design your wedding dress with so many buttons down the back?’

  ‘If there’s anyone who should know the answer to that question, Ness, it’s you. Look!’ Callie pointed across to something nestled in the folds of her crumpled duvet.

  ‘Oh, my God! You kept it!’

  Nessa abandoned the fiddly job of helping Callie into her dress to Scarlet and dived onto Callie’s wedding scrap box that lay open on the bed. She riffled through the paraphernalia of magazine snippets, pressed flowers, a scattering of pearls and beads, and pulled out the glossy photograph of the dress Callie had adored from the very first moment she set her eyes on it all those years ago when she had a teenage crush on Theo. ‘Wow, every detail is exactly the same. Oh, Callie, I’m so happy for you.’

  Nessa reached out to replace the lid and this time tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She ran her fingers over the picture that had been glued on the top of Callie’s wedding scrap box for ever.

  ‘Theo was the first person you fell in love with, wasn’t he, Callie?’

  ‘And the first boy I kissed.’

  ‘And, unlike me, you’ve never once changed this photo, have you?’

  Callie walked over to Nessa and cast her eyes over the blurry photo of a seventeen-year-old Theo.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ she murmured. ‘He’s always been my soulmate.’

  ‘And you’re his, Callie.’

  It was true, Theo was her soulmate. He was the first boy she had kissed and, with a slice of luck, he would be the last.

  If you loved If the Dress Fits then turn the page for an exclusive extract from The Runaway Bridesmaid, another sparklingly brilliant romance from Daisy James!

  Chapter One

  ‘What in the name of Christian Dior possessed your sister to choose this vomit-inducing shade for her bridesmaids’ dresses?’ huffed Lauren, flicking the sides of her sleek auburn bob behind her ears. ‘There’s not a person on this Earth who can pull off cotton-candy pink successfully!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ giggled Rosie as she watched her friend’s perfectly outlined cupid’s bow upend in a grimace of disgust at Freya’s audacity in insisting they wore such a confection of fluff on her wedding day. ‘Haven’t you heard that pink taffeta is the new black?’

  Lauren slipped the dress over her slender body where it ballooned her delicate proportions to twice their size so that she resembled an over-blown meringue. The insipid colour immediately drained her naturally pale complexion, bestowing her with a gaunt, grey appearance. ‘Only a lavish application of the extensive range of products from the Clarins beauty counter can even begin to rectify this tragedy of taste! Bring on the fake tan!’

  Rosie had to agree with her best friend. From a kaleidoscope of choices in the spectrum of pink – fuchsia, cerise, Barbie – Freya had chosen a saccharine-sweet shade of bubble-gum pink so Rosie and Lauren resembled a pair of nervous flamingos as they loitered on the Juliet balcony of the hotel bedroom suite waiting for the bride to grace them with her presence. Their eyes met and they spluttered into fits of laughter – a welcome sensation that released the helix of tension which had been festering in Rosie’s chest all morning. She was grateful for Lauren’s support, and their joint humiliation, but – to her distress – her eyes brimmed.

  ‘It’s Freya’s day, Lauren. Whilst I have otherwise been solely responsible for the organisation of the Bennett-Hamilton wedding circus, all sartorial choices have been made by her, as I hope to repeat regularly throughout the day to anyone who will
listen! On the issue of bridesmaid gowns she would brook no suggestions, no guidance, no pleas for elegance over outrage from me. But I have to admit, it is one of the ugliest dresses I have ever been ordered to wear, and as you know, I am something of an expert.’

  ‘You are! What number are you up to now?’

  ‘Seven; lucky for some.’

  ‘Maybe next time you’ll get to be the bride. And handsome, charismatic Mr Giles Phillips the groom!’

  ‘What planet do you live on, Lauren? Marriage is the last thing on Giles’ mind. Or mine for that matter. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have a serious relationship one day, especially with a guy like Giles, but whilst I’m loving dating him I’m not sure it’s anything more than two people enjoying each other’s company. We do have a lot in common. Anyway, in the metropolis of Manhattan, all the sane guys are either married to a spouse or their career, or are gay - you have to grab the exception when you can! Now come on, let’s get ready to present the lucky residents of Stonington Beach with the most spectacular wedding they have ever had the privilege to attend.’

  Lauren gifted Rosie a roll of her emerald eyes. ‘What, in this dress? More like an impromptu performance of an eighties musical revival!’

  Lauren was right, Rosie thought, they did look ridiculous clad in a froth of pink flounces, more Folies Bergère show girls than twenty-first century bridesmaids at an elegant Connecticut wedding. They both appeared incongruous next to the elegant A-line splendour of the bride’s Augusta Jones-designed wedding gown, with ivory lace, an off-the-shoulder bodice and pleated organza skirt. But, of course, that was the whole point.

  Upstaging by the bride was vital.

  Nothing was ever enough for her little sister – always scrounging for more no matter whose toes and dreams she squashed to achieve her self-focused goals. With no friends of her own in New York, she had supplanted herself into Rosie’s circle of friends, who – unbeknown to Rosie – tolerated her only because she was Rosie’s sister. Of course, Freya had struggled to find willing applicants to fill the position of bridesmaid for her forthcoming wedding and had demanded that Rosie ‘persuade’ Lauren to accede to the honour. With her sharply-drawn, freckled features and graduated auburn bob, Rosie’s best friend and colleague could grace any professional photographer’s lens and met with Freya’s aesthetical demands for her wedding photography.