by Katie Fforde
‘I was just saying to her, I can get through you all a bit quicker if those of you just having a cut and a blow-dry could wash your own hair?' Bron smiled. 'I can do whoever's going first, of course. Veronica? That should be you, I think.’
A little while later, Veronica and Bron re-entered the kitchen. The four women at the table were talking all at once, and very excitedly.
‘We've been chatting!' said Pat. 'About Bron setting up her own business.'
‘Yes?' said Veronica.
‘Mm. We were just saying: good for her; going out, getting work, being her own boss,' Pat went on.
‘And then we wondered if we could do it,' said another. 'How do you find it, love?’
Bron considered. 'Well, it's very early days, but it's nice to work for yourself. If I got enough work not to have to worry about money, it'd be brilliant.’
The women exchanged glances. 'Well,' said the one Bron remembered may have been called Barbara, 'we don't have to worry about that. I mean, we already do a lot of catering for nothing,' she explained. 'Our children have all moved out and we've time on our hands. We'd do catering. It's what we're good at.'
‘Well,' said Veronica. 'You have been busy. Drawn up a business plan yet?'
‘No,' said Barbara, 'you can do that. You're on cakes. You've had the practice.’
Bron steered Veronica to a chair and changed her wet towel for a dry one and draped a gown round her. She could see that everyone was so enthused by their idea they might forget why they were there.
‘So I'm involved in this, am I?' said Veronica, while Bron gently pulled a brush through her hair.
‘Definitely,' said Pat. 'Why should young people do all the entrepreneuring? This would give us something to do outside the home, and I think parties would be fun.'
‘We wouldn't be guests,' said one of the women. 'We'd just be standing around holding trays.'
‘That would be the Aitch-Trot,' said another, sounding knowledgeable.
Everyone looked at her enquiringly.
‘I read it in the paper last Christmas. It means "handing things round on trays". It was Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall who said it.’
There was a collective swoon at the name. 'I love his programmes.'
‘And I like a man who knows what to do with a joint of beef,' said Veronica.
‘So do I,' said Pat, 'and I haven't got one.’
Bron thought there was a hint of belligerence about her ex-boyfriend's mother today and suddenly panicked in case her split with Roger had precipitated something between Pat and her awful husband. Pat seemed so much feistier away from him. Bron was pleased to see this side of Pat coming out more. She would have to encourage it further.
‘But you wouldn't want to break a new one in now, surely,' Bron said. 'After the years you've put in on Vince.'
‘Hmph.' Pat sounded dismissive. 'Didn't do me much good though, did it? But don't worry, I'm not planning on leaving him or anything drastic. But I am going to get this little business of ours going. You've been an inspiration to me, Bron.'
‘And us,' said another. 'Look at you, snipping away in Veronica's kitchen. You can take your skills anywhere, and so can we.’
Bron smiled at the woman, who currently had a very nice bob that needed a bit of a trim. If she became a regular client, Bron might suggest a few highlights, so that the balance of blonde to grey was better.
‘So what sort of events would we be doing?' asked Veronica, with her head on her chest, while Bron divided her hair into sections.
‘Everything: weddings, funerals, children's parties.'
‘Oh, not children's parties. I'm not organising games. I'm rubbish at all that stuff,' said the woman with the bob.
‘We wouldn't have to be there during the party. We'd just do the sandwiches-'
‘And make Peter Rabbit biscuits. I've still got my cutter. I used to pride myself on getting the blue just right.'
‘I used to love doing the food,' said one woman. 'It was the parties I hated. Same with adult ones, too.'
‘So this is perfect for us!' said Pat. 'We get to do the bits we like best.'
‘I can't do fancy cakes,' said Veronica, upright now, staring into the propped-up mirror. 'Well, I can do the cake bit but I can't do the icing.'
‘I can,' said Bron, feeling relaxed enough to put her penny's worth in. 'I've made some very fine trains in my time. If you need one, or anything complicated, you can ask me. And while we're on the subject…' She moved quickly on before her nerve could go. 'Veronica, Pat tells me this kitchen has been passed by Health and Safety.'
‘That's right.' Veronica obviously had her mind on her hair as she went on, 'I think maybe just a little off all round. I'm not in the mood for any major changes.'
‘Fine. I'll just kiss your hair with the scissors, you'll never know you've had it cut. Would it be possible for me to make a cake in here? It's a posh wedding cake.' She nearly added 'for a celebrity' because she knew they'd love the gossip, but managed to stop herself in time. 'I'd make sure I paid for every penny of gas and electricity, and of course, not use it if it's inconvenient for you.'
‘I don't know,' said Veronica. 'My husband might not like it.'
‘Husbands, ha!' said someone.
‘She's great at cleaning kitchens,' said Pat. 'I'm going to have to clear up mine myself on Sundays now.' She sighed. 'It's so sad. She used to leave it gleaming.'
‘No, well, Sasha didn't ever sweep up at the salon, either,' said Bron, wondering how she could persuade Veronica to let her use her kitchen. 'There, do you think that's enough? Shall I dry it now?'
‘That looks fine. Yes, please do, dear. Maybe next time I'll let you take a bit more off.’
As Bron got through her clients, their enthusiasm for their new project grew. Veronica, looking very elegant now, sat at the table with a big pad of paper, writing down ideas.
‘What we want are a few events where we know people, so it doesn't matter if we make a few mistakes,' said Veronica. 'Just to begin with.'
‘What shall we call ourselves?' said Pat. 'We need to get some cards printed.'
‘What about the Catering Ladies?' suggested the woman whose locks were in Bron's tender care at the time.
‘It's straightforward,' said Veronica, 'but is it a bit boring?'
‘No, I think it sounds fun,' put in Bron. 'It sounds as if you're a team of strong women, determined to make things happen.'
‘Well, we are!' they chorused.
‘Shall I put on the kettle so we can celebrate?' suggested Veronica.
‘You can get cards done very easily,' said Pat. 'Let's decide what to put on them.'
‘But no professional dos until we've had a bit of time to practise,' said Veronica. 'We'll do things for nothing except the cost of the ingredients until we've got a few under our belt.’
Bron thought for a moment as she ran the dryer over her last client's hair. 'Urn, I might have a wedding you could do on those terms,' she said. 'A friend of mine's sister is getting married and they've got hardly any money. I'm sure they'd be thrilled if you could do the food for just the food, if you know what I mean.' She was aware Sarah had been worrying what to do about the catering for Lily's reception and as far as she knew she hadn't found anyone yet.
‘What sort of food would they want?' asked Veronica. 'No idea. Would you like me to ring my friend?'
‘When you've finished me,' said Bron's last client. 'If my hair dries naturally it goes all spiky.'
‘Spiky is cool,' said Bron, 'but I won't let you be spiky if you don't want to be.’
When all the hair was done and everyone satisfied it was lunchtime. Veronica, a natural caterer, produced some sandwiches, little quiches and salads she'd made in advance. Bron accepted a quiche and got out her phone.
Sarah took a while to pick up which gave Bron time to finish her mouthful and realise that the pastry was delicious. 'Sarah? Where are you? You sound very faint.'
‘I'm carrying rather a lot of wedding dr
esses,' said Sarah. 'From a charity shop. For my sister to try on. Hang on, let me just put these in the car…' There was a clunk and the sound of rustling and then Sarah was back on the phone. 'Right, I'm all yours.'
‘It's about Lily I'm ringing,' said Bron. 'What sort of food does she want at her reception? I've got a wonderful team of women here who'll do the food for you.'
‘Oh, who are they? I'm bound to have heard of them.’
‘Um – well, you won't have, because they're a brand-new business.'
‘Brand-new? Oh, Bron, I don't like to use people I don't know. Lily's future mother-in-law is being very definite about how she wants everything.'
‘I can guarantee they're fantastic cooks. I've just eaten the most delicious quiche. Melt-in-the-mouth pastry.' Everyone in the room was looking at her and she crossed her fingers, sensing they saw this as an omen. If they got this job their business would be on a roll. 'Even better, they'll do it for the cost of the food, no labour, because they're new.'
‘Really?' Sarah suddenly became a great deal more enthusiastic. 'That would save a fair bit. Who did you say they were?'
‘The Catering Ladies. They've just formed. It would be a good idea to book them now before someone else snaps up the opportunity.'
‘Oh well, if you tell me they're really good. I should imagine Dirk's mother will want a buffet.'
‘Not an Aitch-Trot?'
‘Sorry? I didn't quite catch that.'
‘Never mind.'
‘Why don't you come over to Elsa's at about seven? She's going to help sort Lily out with a dress. You can bring me sample menus and things, if you've got them.'
‘Fine!’
Bron disconnected and looked at her rapt audience. 'Can you produce me some sample menus for a buffet before five tonight? If so, you've got a job.'
‘Fantastic! Of course we can,' said Veronica.
`So can I borrow your kitchen for the cake?'
‘You've got us our first commission; of course you can.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lily looked at herself in Elsa's long mirror. 'I don't know. It's a bit – dreck. Looks like net curtains.'
‘It could certainly do with a wash,' said Elsa briskly. 'Try the next one.’
Sarah and Lily had gone round to Elsa's for her professional advice. Sarah had had a trawl of the local charity shops to see if anything was suitable. Lily had been forced to come round to the idea of a 'pre-loved' dress, but not willingly, despite being reassured that Sarah would make sure it was dry-cleaned thoroughly before Lily's big day.
Now, Sarah handed over the next offering. This had big hoops, lots of beading and was grubby round the hem. 'Here you are, but don't let the label drop off. I can take back the ones we don't use but I must remember which charity shop they came from.'
‘I can't believe they let you do a sale or return,' said Elsa, hooking up Lily.
Sarah shrugged. 'It took a bit of sweet-talking but that's my job.' Then she sighed. Sometimes she found her job very difficult. Lily was proving to be even more demanding than her A-list client.
‘Oh!' Lily squeaked. 'That's too tight.’
No one spoke for a few seconds. 'I think that could be described as a pregnant pause,' said Sarah.
Elsa and Lily glared at her.
‘I could let it out if you love it,' said Elsa. 'I might have to sew an extra bit of material into the bodice. I'll check the seam allowance.'
‘Don't bother. I hate it.' Lily plucked at it and sniffed, fighting tears. 'I can't believe I can't fit into that dress just because I've got a tadpole swimming about inside me. What size is it?’
Sarah and Elsa exchanged glances. 'About eight to ten, I should say,' said Elsa, tactfully. 'They don't often have the size in them,' she added.
‘Take it off,' said Sarah. 'You've still got a couple more to try. If only I could have got to one of those charity shops that specialise in wedding dresses, I might have found better ones.' She took the dress from Elsa and put it into its bag. 'That's still an option if none of these are any good, but we are getting short of time.’
The last dress was much better and billowed generously round Lily's still slender form. 'Oh, I like this!' said Lily. 'This must be a size twelve.'
‘Don't get so obsessed with sizes,' said Elsa. 'I'm going to pin this so it fits you and you can see what you think.'
‘I don't suppose you've got any wine, Elsa,' said Lily. 'I can't help feeling this would be a lot less stressful if we had a little glass of white.'
‘No alcohol until Bron gets here,' said Sarah firmly. 'She's bringing a takeaway round at seven. Anyway, I thought you were off it.'
‘Sometimes I am, sometimes I'm not. Don't be a spoilsport,' said Lily. Sarah was just about to protest when Lily went on, 'What's that dress up there, under the muslin?'
‘Ng,' said Elsa, her mouth full of pins. She took them out. 'That's the ball gown I was telling you about. For the ball I'm going to with Laurence.'
‘Oh, can we see it?' asked Sarah, needing a break from shop-soiled wedding dresses, even if they were 'pre-loved'.
‘Oh, let's,' agreed Lily, probably bored with them too.
Elsa went across and removed the muslin cover from her dress. She was pleased with it. It had little puff sleeves and a bodice in pale blue. The dress split just under the bust revealing a primrose-coloured underskirt. The edges of the gown were trimmed with tiny embroidered flowers, with the odd seed pearl picking up the colours. It had been a real labour of love.
‘That's fantastic! I can't believe you made that,' said Sarah.
‘Thank you for your confidence, 0 Great Provider of Two Important Clients,' said Elsa dryly.
‘Oh, you know what I mean. It's just it's so exquisite. How did you find the time to do all that embroidery?' Sarah was peering at it closely.
‘I cheated. That's some very fancy ribbon. I sewed on the pearls. It's effective, isn't it?'
‘Extremely! You really should take this up professionally,' said Sarah, giving Elsa's arm a playful push. 'That's what I want!' declared Lily. 'That's my dress!’
‘Actually, it's my dress,' murmured Elsa.
‘I mean, that is exactly the sort of dress I want!' Lily was pointing at the gown as if she were trying to put a spell on it, possibly to make it fit her perfectly.
Both the other women looked at the ball gown and then back at Lily.
‘Something like that could work well,' said Elsa. 'The bump would be quite unobtrusive.'
‘There won't be a bump!' declared Lily.
‘There probably will be,' said Sarah, for what felt like the millionth time. 'But it will hardly show. That's a lovely idea, Lily, well done!'
‘Do you want to have a white wedding, everything traditional?' asked Elsa.
‘My mother-in-law does,' said Lily. 'What we want doesn't seem to be important.'
‘The dress is always the bride's choice,' said Sarah, 'especially if there isn't a mother to be pacified. No, Lily, I'm not saying it's a good thing we haven't got Mum any more, but it is one less person to consult on things.'
‘Right,' said Elsa, 'put the first one back on.'
‘But we hated that. It was all grubby.'
‘And a bit tight,' added Sarah, ignoring Lily's frown. 'Never mind about that. I've got an idea.' Elsa was on a roll. 'Come on, Lily.'
‘Couldn't I try on your dress?' Lily asked as she struggled into the dress. 'It's so much nicer.'
‘You can, but later. I want to see what I can do with this one.' She stepped back, her head on one side. 'Dye it, that's the first thing. I think a soft apricot.'
‘Yes,' said Sarah, warming to the idea. 'I like that. What about you, Lily?'
‘Apricot's cool. After all, I shouldn't really wear white. I'm not a virgin.’
As the proof of this was already showing, the other two didn't comment.
‘And then we need an underskirt. If you liked pale yellow, I've got some material left over from my dress,' Elsa said. 'In
fact, let me go and see what other scraps I've got. This is going to be good!’
Elsa's enthusiasm was catching. She brought back a bag of bits and Sarah and Lily rummaged through them.
‘Actually,' Elsa went on, 'although it's dirty, this is quite good material. I'll take out the sleeves and give you little puff ones, like I've got – you've got good arms so that's a perfect look for you.’
Lily looked at an arm, trying to admire it underneath the bulky satin.
‘Are you sure you'll have time to do this, Elsa?' asked Sarah.
‘Of course. It shouldn't take too long. Now, Lily, take it off,' ordered Elsa, 'and let's have a good look.’
With the dress back in her hand she examined it a bit more closely. 'Yes, I can put in an extra panel with the material from the sleeves.' There was a terrifying rip as Elsa demolished a seam. 'Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.' Seeing Sarah and Lily looking a little anxious as she picked up her shears, she said, 'Why don't you try on my dress, Lily? Sarah, you help her. I won't be a minute here, then I'll make you a sketch.’
*
Elsa was perched on her chair unpicking a seam a little more carefully than the one she'd dealt with before and Lily had finally taken off the ball gown. Not that Elsa was proprietorial about her clothes but she was glad to see it safely hanging up again, unscathed.
‘It's so gorgeous!' she kept saying, 'and my bump hardly shows at all!’
As this was the first time she'd acknowledged she had a bump, or at least one bigger than a tadpole, Sarah felt this was progress.
‘Bron will be here with the takeaway soon,' she said. 'Cover Elsa's dress up again in case something bad happens to it.'
‘Is Bron nice?' asked Lily. 'She does hair and make-up, doesn't she? Could she do mine?'
‘No, she couldn't,' Sarah wailed, and then regretted it. 'Sorry, Lily, she could probably advise you, but she's booked for Carrie. Carrie wanted her specially.'
‘Oh, so although I'm your sister, I don't get the best people?' Sarah couldn't work out if she was teasing or not. 'Lily, who does your hair normally? That's the best person for you,' said Elsa.
Lily shrugged, picking up a scrap of the ribbon that had decorated Elsa's dress. 'I haven't been for ages. There's no one I trust. Can I have this on my dress?'