Supersonic

by Anouschka Zagorski

  She looked down at her feet. “Ah, yes.” She raised her eyebrows with a slight smile. “I thought you might like them.” She turned to Jessica. “Jessica, I need this CP confirmation letter now. Send it to me. Thanks.” She turned and left the room.

  Jessica rolled her eyes. She motioned me to stay. “Wait, I need to tell you something,” she hissed. “I just want to send this letter to her.”

  I sat down on her visitor’s chair and watched her. She typed on her keyboard, clicked the mouse a few times and then turned to me. “This is confidential info - I’ve got it from David who’s got it from Francis Mayer. Apparently Tracey has extended her secondment contract!”

  “What? For how long?”

  “I don’t know but secondments are normally for a period of two years.”

  “Oh no! That’s not good. Unless she’d promote me nonetheless however, I’m afraid, as long as she is here, my career prospects are zilch.” I put my head in my hands.

  “Maybe you’ll have to suck up to her more,” Jessica suggested. “Like that compliment you just made her - that was a good start.”

  “I actually meant what I said to her - those shoes are nice. I cannot pretend. That’s just not me.”

  “Recently she has become a bit friendlier. She has been wearing some nicer clothes. I always felt she was jealous of you, your figure and your style. Maybe you have inspired her and she is making an effort now. Give her a chance.”

  “You’re right. I don’t really have a choice anyway. I know what I’ll do - I’ll invite her to our wedding. You and David will come of course, won’t you?”

  Jessica smiled. “Certainly! I cannot wait to see your dress! What are you going to wear?”

  “Ah, now you’re talking! I have a few ideas, but I’ve not decided yet. It’ll be a surprise!”

  “In that case, will you help me to go shopping for my wedding guest outfit?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Jessica’s phone interrupted us.

  “Oops! There’s the she-devil again!” Jessica laughed and picked up the receiver.

  I got up from the chair and waved goodbye, then left her office, closing the door behind me.

  I envied Jessica for being so thick skinned and for her apparent ability to take Tracey with a big pinch of salt and a lot of North American humour. I would have to make an enormous effort to be that way. On the other hand, it was a different situation. Tracey didn’t feel threatened by Jessica, who was so much more her junior, eager to please and ambitious to start climbing the career ladder.

  I would not only have to make an enormous effort, I would have to change.

  Part II

  I was in the land of my dreams. Every bride knows how stressful it can be to organise a wedding, and even more so with only four months to go to the big day, but, in my case, I had received excellent training - if I could organise a closing, within several weeks, for a real estate finance transaction involving one hundred properties and multiple borrowers, I should be able to do this with my eyes closed.

  Jacob and I very quickly settled on the location, a big country hotel outside the city with lovely gardens. The guest list comprised no more than eighty people - a mixture of nationalities and professions (not all lawyers!). Jacob chose the menu and the wines whilst I had decided on blue hydrangeas as a flower decoration. We planned a civil ceremony in one of the festive rooms in the morning, followed by a reception with piano music, champagne and a small lunch buffet in the adjoining hall of mirrors, which boasted a huge balcony. The evening festivities would start with a drinks reception at 7 p.m. before the black tie dinner, followed by a dance with a D.J. and drinks from a cocktail bar. The children and their little guests would be looked after by two nannies in the adjoining room and would have a special kids’ buffet and plenty of games and other entertainment.

  But the biggest pleasure was choosing my outfits. Yes! I planned on more than one. One for the bachelorette night, one for the wedding ceremony and reception, one for the evening black tie dinner and one for the dancing after dinner. Not to forget one for the wedding night and one for brunch on the morning after.

  Isabella, who was the only person privy to my plan, came over from Berlin to open her shop exclusively for me one Sunday. The girls would be at home with Jacob and Antonio. I would have several hours to myself. Or so I had planned.

  As I was about to leave, Jacob and I were standing by the front door when the doorbell rang. An elderly couple stood outside.

  “Mama, tata!” Jacob exclaimed. “Co niespodzianka!”

  “Mój chłopcze! My boy!” Jacob’s mother shouted and spread her arms wide, smacking kisses on his cheeks.

  “We are sorry to barge in on you like this. We have just been to see your brother and decided to surprise you. Lucas also gave us Chloé’s address,” Jacob’s father explained.

  “That would be me,” I said. “So nice to meet you both, Mrs. and Mr. Wronski! Please come in.”

  “Oh please call me Józef and this is Martha.”

  “Hello Chloé!” Martha hugged me warmly. “Lucas was right - you are very beautiful!”

  “Why, thank you! I am so glad you came over. I know we have spoken on the phone before but meeting you in person has been long overdue.”

  “Well, as Jacob may have told you, we enjoy our retirement. So we are always on the road to see old friends. Today we spontaneously decided to come and see our sons; I hope you don’t mind,” Józef said.

  “Of course not, on the contrary! You can meet my girls as well - and of course your grandson is here, too. Ah, there they are.”

  Antonio came running down the hallway, the girls following behind him. “Grandma! Grandpa!”

  “Oh, come here my darling!” Martha showered him with kisses. “And who are these lovely young ladies?”

  “This is Noëlle - she is nearly ten, and this is Marie who will be seven next month.”

  “What beautiful names! Aren’t you two precious!”

  “Ma, Pa - what can we offer you? Shall I make some coffee? We could get some cake from the bakery,” Jacob said.

  “Uhm, Jacob. You know I need to go,” I reminded him. “I’m so sorry, Martha and Józef. I was actually about to leave the house, I have a special appointment to look at wedding dresses with my friend who owns this boutique. I would reschedule but she’s only here today.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I understand,” Martha said.

  “Hang on - I have an idea. Why don’t you take my mother with you?” Jacob suggested.

  “What on earth for?” Martha asked.

  “To get you a nice dress for the wedding!”

  “Your mother doesn’t need a dress,” Józef objected.

  “I really don’t, darling,” she confirmed. “I have this blue one I wore at your grandma’s eightieth.”

  “Ma. You’re not going to wear some old dress at my wedding. It’s my treat,” he added quickly.

  “Ah, in that case, Martha, you should go,” Józef said jovially.

  I had followed this entire exchange. “Of course, Martha. Please, do come along!”

  “I guess - if it is ok with you and your friend - I don’t want to intrude.”

  “It’s not a problem at all! I’ll just quickly call her and let her know.” I went into my bedroom to call Isabella.

  “Darling, what’s the matter? Everything alright? I’m waiting for you.” Isabella said when she had picked up the phone. I quickly described the circumstances.

  “Sure! She can come, too. I think it’s nice, Chloé! This is an opportunity to bond with your future mother-in-law, I already have some ideas for her outfit. Very classy and elegant.”

  “You’re a star. I must tell you though she is a little round,” I said without thinking.

  “So? Not every woman can be
like a size zero! I actually don’t know many women who have your figure and who aren’t actresses or models. I’m also of average womanly shape and height and I still find nice clothes.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, and I’m not a size zero either and I would not want to be! Anyway. I’m sorry, I just wanted to prepare you.”

  “OK, fine. I’ll see you soon, sweetie.”

  Phew. That was close. Isabella was my best friend. The last thing I wanted was to upset her.

  “Did you speak to Isabella?” Jacob had come into the room.

  “Yes. She’d be delighted to meet your Mum. I think it’s really sweet that you want to buy her a dress, Jacob.”

  “The wedding will be glamorous, the guests will be well-dressed. I want my mother to feel comfortable and to look the part.”

  “I’ll help her find something. What sort of budget do we have, Jacob? You know designer clothes come at a price. She will need an outfit for the day and an evening gown, perhaps some accessories. I’d say around two thousand?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Two thousand Euros? Wow. That’s a lot of money. But - it’s my mother. She deserves the best. OK. Fine.”

  “Good. We’ll be off then - we’ll probably be back in about two hours.”

  “Take your time.”

  A short drive later Martha and I arrived at Isabella’s store. As it was a Sunday we were able to park right in front of it.

  “Ooh! That looks very elegant,” Martha remarked when she got out of the car and saw the window display. “And expensive.”

  “Don’t worry. Your son has given me a generous budget for you,” I appeased her and led her to the door. Isabella had spotted us, came to unlock the door and invited us in.

  “Hello! You must be Jacob’s mother! Lovely to meet you. I’m Isabella Moyer. I have already laid out some outfits for you.”

  Martha blushed. “You two are so kind. I never go clothes shopping, let alone in such an exclusive boutique!”

  “In that case, I’ll make sure you’ll have a memorable afternoon,” Isabella replied. “The champagne is cold, I’ve got some nibbles and you can try anything you want!”

  She led us to the seating area and poured some champagne. “Please. Enjoy,” she handed each of us a glass. “Now then, Mrs. Wronski, if you would like to start with trying on the dresses hanging next to the changing room - I believe I may have gotten the size right but let me know if I haven’t.”

  Martha took another sip from her glass and walked over to the clothes rack Isabella had pointed at. She carefully took the silky material of one of the dresses between her fingers, sighed and then looked at the price tag. “Oh! This is eight hundred Euros! No, no! That is too much money! I have never spent more than eighty Euros on a dress!”

  “Martha, please. Just try them on. Jacob insisted,” I urged her.

  “Of course you will get a discount here,” Isabella said.

  “Oh. I see. I guess I can try them.” She placed the glass on the table, took the dress off the rack and held it up. “I will start with this one, then.”

  “Great!” Isabella said to her. When Martha had disappeared behind the door of the changing room, she turned to me. “How sweet is she? Now. As for you, I have also had a few ideas.”

  “Actually here are a few outfits I printed out from Net-a-porter,” I began as Isabella started looking through her order book. I showed her a white A-line Chloé dress with trumpet sleeves. “That would go with tan Louboutin sandals or peep toes and this huge tan straw hat, see?”

  “I like it,” Isabella declared, “it’s quite low key.”

  “Indeed! I’m an over forty year old bride, so it’s got to be quite low key - yet elegant and fresh. Otherwise I’ll look ridiculous.”

  “You would never look ridiculous!” Isabella laughed. “OK, what else?”

  “This is also Chloé, black silk chiffon, not too mini, A-line again, perfect for the dancing. With silver mid-heeled sandals - here like these Jimmy Choo ones.”

  “Ooh. I love that. Yes! I can order this for you.”

  “Great. Then I will order some sexy bridal lingerie from Victoria’s Secret and I have this white linen Chloé day dress for the breakfast the next day - I got it in the summer sale last year and haven’t even worn it yet. Add some flat sandals - that’s it!”

  “Hm. Yes, I love it all - but as I said I had some ideas too.” Isabella disappeared into the back room and returned, grinning mischievously and holding up two suit covers. One was black and had the letters GV printed on it and the other was white and read Alexander McQueen.

  She hung the white cover on a rack and carefully opened the black cover by slowly pulling the zipper downwards. She flapped the cover back, displaying the most gorgeous dress I had ever seen. It was a white, about knee-length, fitted silk bustier dress with a few large black flower heads printed on it.

  “Isabella, it is so precious! This looks like haute couture!”

  “It’s Giambattista Valli prêt-a-porter but yes it’s almost like haute couture - nearly two thousand though,” she added in a whisper.

  “Yeah, please, don’t talk about prices in front of my future mother-in-law - you saw how shocked she was! This dress is a dream! Can I try it?”

  “Of course - that’s what it’s here for. I saw it in a magazine on Victoria Beckham - I think she was wearing it going out for dinner with her husband - and I thought: this is you. Glamorous, sexy, not bridal but can be depending on the accessories. Absolutely stunning and unique.”

  Martha emerged from the changing room. She wore a light blue silk pantsuit that flattered her figure. She stopped in front of the mirror and contemplated herself.

  “Martha, you look so elegant - and at least ten years younger!” I said.

  “I tried the two day dresses but they were both too small around the bosom and I don’t want to show so much of my legs. I do, however, like this,” she agreed.

  “You could wear a silk scarf with it, like that one here,” Isabella said and draped a chiffon scarf around Martha’s shoulders. “Also - if you wanted - a hat. Plus medium high heeled pumps and a clutch like this one here.” She handed Martha a Lanvin clutch. “It looks younger than a handbag.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I agreed.

  “Oh, I don’t need a handbag. I have another one - it is similar to this, but smaller and beige.” She pointed to the black bag she had placed on the floor next to the sofa.

  Before I could open my mouth, Isabella shot me a warning glance and said gently: “Beige should be nice. Do you have shoes that would go with this?”

  “Yes, I think so. I have a black and a beige pair.” Martha turned sideways and looked over her shoulder to get a different view of herself. She nodded with content. “Okay. I’ll try on the two evening dresses now.”

  “Fantastic, and you, Chloé, put this one on,” Isabella said.

  I accepted the Giambattista Valli dress from Isabella and went to the second changing room to try it on. The many hooks of the boned bodice were not easy to deal with but, eventually, I managed to close a few of them and zipped it up. I stepped out from behind the door to look in the mirror. The person staring back at me seemed only vaguely familiar. I looked like some (minor) Hollywood star.

  “Oh my god. It is amazing what clothes can do to you. I feel like a million dollars!”

  Isabella grinned and said nothing. I turned around, looking at myself from behind. It was really perfect - simple but elegantly cut, the beautiful fabric letting the dress do the talking. I was not wearing the dress, it wore me - yet it upgraded my entire look.

  “There’s no doubt about it. The poor white A-line Chloé just got bumped to the hen night. I can’t stop looking at myself! This is it!”

  Isabella just continued to grin smugly. “I knew it BUT I
can top that.”

  She reached for the white suit cover, held it up and unzipped it slowly. She let the cover fall to the ground and held the hanger a little higher. It was again a bustier dress, but long, with several layers of cream chiffon silk, ruched at the bust and the side, and cascading softly to the ground.

  “That’s your real wedding dress, Chloé. Actually it’s an evening gown, but the colour and style is quite bridal.”

  “Oh! That is divine! But you know how I feel about being a forty plus bride. I don’t want to look ridiculous.”

  “Try it.” She opened the back zipper of the Giambattista Valli dress slightly and handed me the Alexander McQueen gown.

  “Oh, Chloé! What a beautiful dress!” Martha emerged from her dressing room just as I was about to disappear back into mine. She was wearing a navy silk flowing evening gown with chiffon sleeves. I hardly recognised her.

  “And you, Martha, look like Barbra Streisand!” I said with astonishment.

  “She does, doesn’t she?” Isabella agreed.

  “Now you are exaggerating,” Martha replied, blushing but visibly pleased. “It actually fits perfectly, even the top half.”

  “Jacob will be so thrilled! Now I’m going to put this one on and then we’re nearly there, I’d say.”

  I managed to get out of the Valli dress and put it back on its hanger. Then I carefully slid into the McQueen gown. It was so delicate and ethereal - I wasn’t sure whether it was right for me. I stood on my tiptoes as it was very long and opened the door. Martha clasped her hands before her mouth. “Oj!”

  As I slowly strode towards the mirror, I could feel I was welling up. I turned to Isabella. She nodded smilingly, one tear running down her cheek.

  Yes, I was going to be a bride.

  * * *

  If there was somebody even more organised than me it was Alexia, who was in charge of my bachelorette night. Two weeks before the wedding I was picked up by a white stretch limo and six ladies: Alexia, her best friend Elena, Isabella, Amelie, Patricia and Sabrina - all gorgeous, dressed up and - except Sabrina - in their fabulous forties. As I got in, they were loudly singing to Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and pointing at their ring fingers.