by Carmen Reid
‘Oh Annie,’ Sandra blurted out, ‘that’s amazing! You look really beautiful. And I have a gold clutch downstairs made for that dress. Absolutely made for it … YSL,’ she added.
All of a sudden, Annie felt it was too much. Too much approval, too much pressure, too big a decision and possibly – her eye caught the dangling tag – too big a price.
‘OK, guys, I’m closing the curtain, I need to think about this on my own,’ she told them.
She swished the curtain shut, leaving even Paula on the outside now.
Alone in the changing room, she tried to work out what it was that was bothering her.
She’d known the dress was very expensive before she’d tried it on. But it wasn’t the most expensive dress she’d ever bought. She held the tag in her hand and looked at the eye-watering four-figure price. She earned a lot of money now, though, she could afford it.
But … but … The ‘but’ was this: on her wedding day, her second wedding day, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be swanning about in a three-thousand-pound dress. She wanted to be able to hug people, laugh and cry, spill champagne, hold the babies, be squeezed to death by Ed and not worry about the designer-label dress. She didn’t want the day to be all about the dress.
Plus, wasn’t she always telling her loyal TV fan base that you didn’t need to spend thousands of pounds to look fantastic?
Well then, wasn’t she just going to be a big, fat fraud if she bought this dress?
And somehow, she wanted her fans to be involved in choosing the dress … and Lana … and Dinah and even Billie too.
‘Paula,’ she called from inside the changing room, ‘I’m about to turn into your nightmare customer.’
‘What do you mean?’ Paula asked, more than a little concerned.
Annie stuck her head out of the curtain and gave it to her straight: ‘Babes, I’m going to ask you to put this on hold.’
‘NOOOOOO!’ Paula exclaimed. ‘You can’t! I won’t let you.’
‘But, Sandra,’ Annie added, ‘I’m definitely coming downstairs to talk to you about the gold clutch.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Visiting Nic:
Pale green linen dress (Phase Eight)
White leggings (Tesco)
White flip flops (Birkenstock)
Sunglasses (Zara)
Total est. cost: £140
‘I didn’t fling my arms around him …’
In the warm sunshine, Annie scraped the last crumbs from her plate and wondered if two slices of chocolate cake could form part of an acceptable diet for a bride just weeks from her wedding day.
‘That was fantastic, clever Nic.’ She winked at her sister, her other, older sister, sitting on the opposite side of the garden table from her. ‘Isn’t Mummy clever to make such a delicious cake?’ she asked her adorable little niece, Tara, who was sitting on Nic’s lap.
The toddler with the tumble of brown curls giggled and clapped in response. She was the only child currently in Fern’s garden because Ed and Owen had wheeled the babies off for a walk and hopefully a snooze.
Ed had another reason for wanting to be out of the garden: Mick was due to pay a short visit at 3 p.m. and he had a feeling that maybe Nic and Annie should get on with this without him.
Annie had eaten the second slice of chocolate cake out of sheer anxiety.
‘How did it go yesterday, when you first met him?’ Annie asked her sister.
Although the question was out of the blue, Nic didn’t need Annie to explain whom she was talking about.
‘Well’ – Nic gave a shrug – ‘what can I say? I didn’t fling my arms around him and scream: “Daddy, you’re back.”’
‘No.’ Annie’s foot was tapping restlessly and she was seriously considering a third slice. ‘I think it would be easier if he just went away,’ she said. ‘You know, he was in a box in my head and I don’t want him out, running about here wanting me to deal with him, but Mum …’
‘Mum seems quite pleased to see him,’ Nic finished her sentence.
‘I think she’s forgotten to be angry with him, she’s forgotten about every horrible thing he ever did and she just seems to want to reminisce about the good old days.’
Whatever Nic might have wanted to say to this was silenced by the sound of the garden gate opening.
The sisters shot each other a look, and then their eyes travelled to the far side of the garden where Mick was at the gate, waving at them.
Nic waved back.
‘Hello,’ Mick said as he came over the freshly cut grass towards them. ‘Lovely weather.’
He had a white baseball cap pulled down over his eyes against the sunshine and this cap, more than his face, was setting off an uncomfortable train of memories in Annie’s mind once again.
He’d always worn a cap of some sort. It had been his thing, his signature look, Annie thought with a trace of bitterness.
‘Hello again, Tara … and Annie, how are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ came her stiff reply. ‘Mum was having a nap, but she’s probably up now. I was just going to go and check on her.’
‘Right.’ Mick put his hand on the back of one of the chairs but hesitated, he obviously didn’t want to sit down until he was invited to do so.
‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’ Nic gestured to the pot in the middle of the table. ‘And some cake? Take a seat,’ she said hospitably.
Annie watched as he pulled out the chair and sat down.
As Nic busied herself pouring out the coffee, Annie struggled for something to say. It wasn’t exactly easy making small talk to a complete stranger who also happened to be your father.
‘I hear you’re getting married,’ Mick began. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ Annie managed.
Mick bent down from the table and picked up the small canvas bag he’d been carrying. ‘I have a little wedding present for you, and something for Nic too,’ he said as he lifted the bag on to his knees.
‘Oh!’ Nic protested. ‘You shouldn’t have …’
Annie’s toes curled up in her shoes because she felt so embarrassed. Embarrassed for him, embarrassed for herself. What could he possibly give her that would be a good present? He didn’t know anything about her or her family.
She didn’t want to sit beside him. She couldn’t just have cosy chats as if nothing had happened. As if twenty-five-odd years without a word from him could just be erased and they could somehow pick up from where he’d left off without anyone noticing or wondering where he’d been all this time.
She felt a blush of sheer awkwardness tingle up from the base of her neck to her cheeks.
But Mick was busy rummaging in his bag and out came two clumsily wrapped parcels; one was handed to Nic, and then Annie was given hers.
It was a small packet in layers of plain paper, which looked as if they had been wrapped around this object for some time. Annie began to unwrap the paper slowly, trying to prepare herself for whatever this gift was and find a suitable reaction.
‘Oh!’
She heard Nic’s surprised response.
‘That’s lovely,’ Nic added, as kindly as she possibly could about her gift.
Annie peeled away the last layer of paper and a small, hard cameo brooch was in her hand. An antique one, she realized, looking at the tarnished silver all around the carefully carved piece of shell. Annie didn’t own a cameo brooch, she’d always thought of them as old-fashioned and stuffy – jewellery that looked like a stamp. But this one was sweet. The face inside the brooch was delicate and she liked the worn silver frame.
‘This is very pretty,’ she told Mick.
She looked over at her sister, who was holding up a small tarnished silver bracelet with a miniature padlock as a clasp.
‘I’ve got something for Dinah too,’ Mick said. ‘These all belonged to your grandmother. I know you didn’t meet her; she died young. And what with being at sea and my dad being at sea, we didn’t have many of her things.
But you’re her granddaughters, she’d have wanted her little bits of jewellery to go to her granddaughters.’
Annie suddenly felt a prickle of teariness start up at the back of her throat. She knew nothing about Mick’s family. Fern’s family had been very small, so there was only the one relative, elderly Auntie Hilda, left on that side.
But now she was faced with a grandmother and grandfather she knew nothing about – and did Mick have brothers and sisters? Vaguely stirring at the back of her mind was the memory of an uncle.
‘You have a brother, don’t you?’ Annie asked sharply.
‘Yes. Pat,’ Mick replied.
‘Uncle Pat,’ Annie remembered, and then felt embarrassed for remembering. ‘Well, he didn’t make any effort to stay in touch with us either. Does he have children?’ she asked. ‘Are there whole tribes of cousins and relations we don’t know anything about?’ came her accusation.
‘Ermmm, he does have two children, yes,’ Mick answered. He picked up his cup of coffee, holding it in front of him defensively. ‘I don’t think Fern wanted to hear from any of us after I’d … well, after she’d told me—’
‘We get the picture,’ Annie snapped.
‘This is a lovely little bracelet.’ Nic attempted to inject a note of calm.
Annie looked back down at the cameo in her hand. She wondered what her long-gone granny would have thought of her son. Maybe Mick’s father had been just the same … being at sea. It wasn’t an occupation exactly suited to homebody types.
Maybe seamen became seamen because they knew at heart they were suited for roaming and roving, not parenting.
‘What do you want from us?’ Annie asked her father. ‘We’re not going to forgive you. There’s no hope of you suddenly being part of this family again. In fact, we don’t want you in this family,’ she blurted out, sensing her pulse race, her cheeks burn and her throat constrict with the effort of this.
‘Annie,’ Nic warned gently.
‘No, it’s all right,’ Mick said, ‘I understand you’re upset. We’re all upset. It’s difficult to come back to you. It would have been much easier to carry on ignoring you all, but I’m retired. One day I’ll be dead and it didn’t seem right not to find out how you were and let you know a bit about me. I wasn’t expecting much back.’
‘Oh …’ was all Annie could manage.
There were a few more awkward moments of silence, spoiling the lovely afternoon in this beautiful garden. A blackbird was trilling in the hedge and Fern’s heady pink roses were just coming into flower. But that didn’t do anything to relieve the churn of feelings, the emotional mess playing out over the garden table.
‘I’ve not cut you that slice of cake,’ Nic remarked. She was falling back on her manners. When nothing else was working, it seemed to make sense to Nic to do manners.
‘No thanks.’ Mick waved the cake away. ‘I think I’ll get back home. I’ll drop in on Fern another time.’
Annie didn’t even want to stay to watch his awkward goodbyes, so, jumping up from the table, she told them: ‘I think I’ll just go in and check on Mum. Er … see you,’ she said to Mick lamely.
‘Yes,’ he replied.
It felt cool and shady inside her mother’s comfortable house after the sunshine in the garden. Annie walked quietly to the sitting room, where Fern was snoozing.
For a few minutes, Annie stood at the doorway and watched her beloved mum. She was still asleep, her head slightly tilted, her feet up in the air in her recliner chair.
Annie tiptoed over to stand right beside her and couldn’t resist running a soothing hand over her hair. It felt warm and bouncy, not smooth and slippery like her children’s hair. This was older hair, a little rougher and wiry under the highlights and careful blow-drying.
Her mum. So much, much more important to her than her father. How dare he come back now, when Fern wasn’t well, and think he could play some part in looking after her? Annie was sure that if only Fern weren’t feeling so vulnerable, she’d have told Mick to get lost and never darken their doorstep again. No matter how nice and generous he thought he was being these days, he didn’t deserve a family.
Fern deserved her daughters and all their love and affection and all the love and affection of her grandchildren. She’d earned it. She’d put in the hours and the effort. She’d cared for them every day of her life. Not a day passed when she didn’t think of them all and speak to at least one of them.
Mick couldn’t just turn up here and expect to get any kind of respect or affection from total strangers who just happened to be related to him.
Fern’s eyes opened and she lifted her hand to the fingers in her hair.
‘Is that my Annie?’ she asked in a voice that still sounded far away and sleepy.
‘Yeah,’ Annie whispered her reply. ‘Are you back with us then?’
‘Oh yes, back again,’ Fern said sleepily. ‘I hope I haven’t missed anything good? That is going to be the absolute worst thing about being dead. I am going to miss all the good stuff.’
Annie squeezed hard at the fingers entwined with hers: ‘Shhhh!’ she said to try and banish this thought from both of their minds.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Bridesmaid Billie:
Pale pink chiffon dress (by Dinah)
Pale pink tights (Ballet Supplies)
Sparkly pink sandals (Lelli Kelly)
Pearl bead bracelet (Claire’s Accessories)
Pink pearl tiara (same)
Total est. cost: £80
‘It is so pink!’
Annie was taking her time in the changing room. This was the third shop and she was about to put on the fourth dress here.
It wasn’t that nothing had been good. It was just that nothing had been WOW, nothing had really wooed her the way that Matthew Williamson’s pink slice of genius had. The tempers of her fellow shoppers were holding up admirably but she sensed that if nothing worked in this shop, they were going to have to have lunch and rethink the strategy.
She slipped off the third dress which had just been too … sigh … well, just too this and too that and not at all right. She turned her attention to the fourth and final frock. Secretly, she was hoping that this one would work. This was why she’d saved it for last. She’d wanted to rule out the other contenders in the hope that they would make this dress look like the best possibility.
It was a pink silk halter-neck dress. It was perfectly plain. No beading, so satin, no slithery on-the-bias cut, but it was a deep and vibrant shade of screaming pink.
Not millions of miles from the Williamson in shape and colour.
She looked at herself briefly in the mirror. In the pink lace bra with the beige tummy-hugging knee-to-waist pants and strappy high pink heels, she looked quite something. Like Vivienne Westwood about to go to the Palace and meet the Queen, maybe.
‘D’you need a hand in there?’ Dinah wondered from the other side of the curtain.
‘No, no, I’ll be fine,’ Annie assured her. ‘I’m just getting the last one on. I’ll be out in a second.’
She slipped the dress from its hanger and slid it down over her head. She tied the straps into a bow at the nape of her neck, smoothed it down over her corseted contours and only then allowed herself to look in the mirror properly.
A little smile formed at the sight. This was not bad. This was not at all bad. Maybe a big blowsy pink flower at the front, where the cleavage slipped a little too low? Pearls, she thought. Big chunky pearls. The shoes looked fantastic. The dress was a great length for leg flattery and it fitted well round the body.
She took another glance at the price tag: £75! Seventy-five pounds! It was really a stunning dress for that money. She could squeeze people and be squeezed all day long in a dress that cost £75. Really, even if it took a red wine or baby sick direct hit, she wasn’t going to mind too much. Maybe she should buy two, she thought wildly. Have a spare in case of a red wine or baby sick direct hit?
‘Come out!’ Dinah instructed. �
�You’ve found a good one, haven’t you? It’s the bright pink one, isn’t it?’
That girl could read her mind. She really could.
Annie pulled back the curtain with a flourish and stepped forward in her shoes.
‘Always, always take the shoes you want to wear with your outfit,’ she said out loud for the benefit of the camera. Because this wasn’t just a quiet family shopping trip, Bob the cameraman was here too. The ‘Scottish’ final episode of How Not To Shop’s second series had revealed Annie’s wedding plans, causing a fever of excitement amongst her viewers. Tamsin had told Annie there was no way on earth she could choose a wedding dress without them, so this footage was being shot for episode one of series three.
The cameras were going to catch up with Annie on her wedding day too, but only at the reception and only for a brief filming session.
‘Oooh, Mum!’ Lana said. ‘That looks really nice.’
‘Really?’ Annie turned this way and that in front of both the mirrored wall and her little audience.
‘It’s not too …?’ she began.
‘No,’ Dinah answered firmly, ‘the only thing it is “too” is too lovely. Look at your lovely shoulders and your hot legs,’ she added, encouragingly.
‘It is so pink!’ Billie added, approvingly. She was dressed in her bridesmaid’s dress, just as Auntie Annie had instructed: ‘So as to make sure we match.’
Annie understood that when you were a little bridesmaid, there just weren’t enough opportunities to wear your fabulous dress, so some had to be created.
‘Will you come and stand beside me?’ Annie asked Billie and held out her hand to her.
‘Awwww,’ was Dinah’s reaction when her little girl in pale pink chiffon and sparkles went to stand beside her sister, ‘that looks really good.’
‘And Lana,’ Annie encouraged, holding out her other hand to her daughter.
‘I’m not in my dress!’ Lana protested, but came over anyway.
‘I had noticed,’ Annie told her, ‘but you’re wearing black, so I can get an idea of how we’re all going to look together.’