by Claire Allan
What I wasn’t really expecting, though – all things considered – was the rap on the door which came at about 8p.m. – when I was lying on the chaise longue in my purple dress, admiring the rearranging I had been doing for the last few hours.
No one called to the shop at this time – this part of town, hidden behind the walls and away from the main streets, didn’t have many people in it after normal closing hours. So it is fair to say I jumped at the noise and looked around me, terrified that the shop was about to be broken into. And there was me, on my own, in a big flouncy wedding dress not even half able to run for my life. The knock came again – louder and more insistent this time – and I could hear the door being rattled as if someone was trying to force their way in. Glancing around the dressing room, I was disgusted to see it didn’t really hold any weapons which would scare off a would-be attacker. And my phone was in reception. Arse.
I was just about to go into a complete panic attack when I heard a familiar voice call my name and my heart started beating faster than it would have if a burglar had actually battered the door down.
Forgetting what I was wearing, even the tiara I had pinned to the top of my head, I walked straight to the front door of the shop and flung it wide open to see Mark standing there, looking miserable, and my head and my heart hurt again. The blessed relief I had experienced while dancing around the dressing room was gone.
He looked at me strangely, his gaze moving from my face to the rest of my body and, while I was covered in yards and yards of very expensive and shiny material, I suddenly felt more than a little exposed.
“Nice dress,” he said with an awkward smile.
Much as I tried, there was no amount of waving my hands in front of my body which would cut it when it came to trying to cover up just how ridiculous I must have looked to him.
“What do you want?” I said, embarrassed and scared, my heart thumping loudly in my chest.
“You didn’t return my call,” he said and, though his tone wasn’t accusing, this opening gambit put me squarely and one hundred per cent on the defensive.
“You cleared off,” I said, crossing my arms, trying to hide myself and how ridiculous I looked.
“It wasn’t like that,” he said.
“Yes, Mark. Yes, it was. It was like that. You left. You told me it wasn’t working. You walked out on me, on us, on everything we were planning for and hoping for. You walked away. So if I didn’t call back, don’t lay the big guilt trip on me. How dare you even try?” My anger was building and I looked at him as if he was a complete stranger before my eyes. This was the man I thought I knew . . .
“If you let me explain . . .”
“I tried to let you explain. I tried calling you. How many missed calls did you have, Mark? Twenty? Thirty? Forty? How many times did you see my name and think that I wasn’t even worth talking to?”
“I wasn’t in a place where I could,” he said, trying to put his foot in through the doorway.
I stopped him. I was frigged if there was any way I was letting him into the shop just then.
“Well, maybe I’m not in a place where I can right now!” I shouted.
“You owe me the chance . . .” he said, his voice trailing off, his eyes darting again to my ridiculous get-up.
“Mark,” I said, my voice catching at saying his name, “I don’t owe you anything. I know what you did. I know how you left. I know how you ignored my pleas for you to talk to me. I know how I have questioned everything about myself and about us for the last few weeks. The only thing I don’t know right now is who you are and I’m really not in the humour to find out. Please,” I said, feeling myself start to well up, “just go. Just please go.”
He didn’t fight for me. He didn’t push his way into the shop. He didn’t – and this killed me – even say sorry.He just nodded and turned and I closed the door and watched from the window as he walked away, head bent low, hands in his pockets.
It was then I walked upstairs, took off the dress I was wearing and, instead of packaging it away neatly as I had planned, I bundled it into a bin bag and kicked it around the room until I was too tired to allow the tears which had been threatening to fall all day to cascade.
When I picked myself up, I dressed myself and the mannequin in something altogether more suitable and left the shop, locking up just as the sun was beginning to set. Feeling vulnerable – and not just because I was in a deserted street all by myself – I texted James and told him I needed to see him.
He arrived within the hour, with a bottle of wine in his hand. “I figured you might need a drink,” he said and I nodded, thinking that I probably needed to drink something stronger than wine but then again, since the vodka incident, wine was probably strong enough.
“I didn’t know who to call,” I said, sniffing as he poured us each a glass. “He just showed up and James, I don’t know what is going on his head. Do you know? Do you understand this even one bit? He said he wanted to explain but I just couldn’t listen to it. I just couldn’t.”
James handed me my wineglass and I sat it on the worktop and looked at him. “I don’t know what to think about anything any more,” I said as the tears which had been pooling in my eyes started to fall.
“Hush,” he said softly, pulling me into a hug. “It will be okay, Kitty. It will all work out.”
I let him hug me without resistance and in that one moment we were just two people, betrayed by the person we trusted most in the whole world.
“It will all work out,” he whispered as he handed me a hanky and he didn’t pull a face when I blew my nose and downed my wine in record time. And I felt slightly better. Just slightly.
Chapter twenty-two
Erin
“You’re very welcome back.” The smiley older lady grinned at us as we walked through the doors of The Dressing Room. “Kitty will be down shortly. She’s just checking on the progress of your dress, Erin, and then she will be down.”
My heart fluttered a little at the mention of my dress and Jules did a little excited dance, grabbing my arm.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” the lady continued. “It will be stunning on you.”
I blushed and nudged Jules back. “I hope so,” I said, having made an executive decision to focus entirely on the future from now onand not at all on the past.
“Kitty wouldn’t have sold it to you otherwise,” she continued. “She can be brutally honest if a dress looks rotten. Don’t be fooled by her smiley exterior.”
“Are you talking about my smiley exterior, Rose?” a voice from the top of the stairs called and Kitty came down.
She smiled at us warmly in a slightly exaggerated manner which made me wonder if she was trying to prove a point to Rose or look happier than she really was. Still, I had to push those thoughts to the back of my head because it was no business ofmine to ask this virtual stranger if she was okay.
“Right,” she said, leading the way into the dressing room while we followed. “Let’s get down to business. First of all, I have good news. I’ve just spoken with the designers of your dress and it will be with us in about three weeks’ time. That’s super-quick for them – but they owe me a favour anyway so have no fear, Cinders, you will go to the ball. And we’ll even have plenty of time for alterations if we need them.”
It shocked me, to the very core of my being, that this news actually brought tears of relief to my eyes. Maybe I was turning into the Bridezilla Jules had dubbed me after all. I looked at my sister, my eyes watering, and she pulled a funny face.
“Enough of the waterworks, Bridezilla,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a little rub. “Today is all about me. Bring on the frocks!”
Kitty laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh too as we sat down and Kitty asked us what colours we were thinking of.
“I’ve not really thought about it,” I said, chewing on my lip, and Jules took over.
“She might not have but let me tell you about dos and don’ts. I want this weddin
g to be classy – I’d like to look very elegant and not at all like some extra from My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding – sequins to a bare minimum and all midriffs covered if you don’t mind.” She then started to list off all the colours she had already ruled out.
Thankfully Kitty laughed along. “I don’t tend to stock those more colourful items,” she said tactfully, “but let me show you what I do have.”
She led us into a smaller dressing room where the white dresses on the walls were replaced by an array of gowns in subtle tones and glossy colours. She began to take dresses from the rails and hold them up against us, considering each one intently.
“This green is nice,” she said. “It would suit your colouring.”
Of course green was the natural choice for redheads such as us and as such I tended to want to avoid it like theplague, but this was a rich colour – a delicate dress, strapless with a delicate belt, fastened with a diamante buckle.
“Try it on,” I urged my sister and she smiled at me. “I promise there’s not even a hint of cheap and tacky about it.”
“I know,” she said, grinning back. “I love it.”
Shooing Kitty away when she offered to help her, Jules disappeared behind the sumptuous purple curtain and started changing while Kitty took out a few other dresses just in case. I watched her work and marvelled that she knew instinctively what would and wouldn’t look good on Jules. She selected some tasteful accessories to try out as well.
“I think I enjoy picking her dress more than my own,” I said to Kitty’s back as she arranged her various bits and pieces. “Less stressful. Even if she is a little high maintenance.”
“It’s not often we get a bridesmaid who is more high maintenance than the bride,” Kitty said, turning to face me. “You are remarkably calm.”
“Apart from the crying-all-over-the-dress the last time?”
“It’s the bride’s prerogative to have at least one meltdown. Believe me, in comparison to some, you have positively cucumber-like qualities. You told me before that you never really wanted to get married, but it seems to me you must be very sure of what you are doing.”
I spluttered a response and then felt guilty for spluttering my answer. I was sure of what I was doing – perhaps just not of how we were doing it. For some reason, although I did not know Kitty Shanahan at all and owed her no form of explanation, I felt obliged to say more – to explain. Feck it, sure wasn’t it going to be all over the magazine soon anyway?
“It’s not the way I planned,” I said. Then I explained that I hadn’t really planned it at all but Paddy’s illness had made us re-evaluate how we felt about each other. I surprised myself by remaining calm while I told her – even when her face dropped and she looked at me with genuine empathy and emotion at the mention of the big ‘C’.
“You’re very brave,” Kitty said.
“Funny thing is, I don’t consider myself brave at all. Sure what’s the alternative? Paddy has cancer and we have to deal with it. We can’t just say ‘No thanks, we’d rather not.’ We can’t hide under the duvet and pretend that it’s not happening. So we have to get on with it and we have to make the most of it. And sure, didn’t I get a big old diamond ring out of it?” I flashed her the sparkling trilogy ring on my finger. Paddy had been very specific about getting three stones set in the ring – one for the past, he said, one for the present and one for the future he was determined we would have.
“It’s no wonder you got emotional here the last day, all the same,” Kitty said. “It’sunimaginable.”
“You would do the same,” I said, looking at her hand, noting the wedding band and engagement ring she was wearing. “If it was your husband, you would do the same. You would get on with it. It would be hard but you would. That’s just the way it goes.”
Kitty smiled and shook her head. “Well . . . it’s a bit more complicated than that, but I get where you’re coming from.”
I noticed her glance down at her rings and fumble with them awkwardly, twisting them on her finger. I was about to ask her if she was okay when the curtains swished open and Jules sashayed out.
Swinging her hips and smiling broadly, she walked the length of the dressing room and twirled, shaking her bum in our direction before walking on. Although she was barefootand bereft of make-up, and merely holding her hair up away from her neck – she still looked stunning.
“I’m not sure,” I smiled. “I don’t want you to upstage the bride. Kitty, are you sure you have nothing a little more, you know, frumpy? Maybe in peach, or bright orange? Something clashy and gaudy?”
Kitty laughed and Jules pulled a face.
“Listen to me, sister,” said Jules, “don’t rain on my Gorgeous Parade. This is gorgeous – it makes me look fabulous. Don’t be a hater!” She laughed, before smiling gently. “Besides, there isn’t a hope in hell that I will look better than you. I’ve seen your dress, remember. I know you look amazing, so we will just be two stunners together.”
“You will indeed,” Kitty said, offering Jules the accessories to try on.
And of course they simply accentuated her natural beauty. I would have hated her if I didn’t love her so much. She had such a lovely glow about her that there was no doubt in my mind at all that we would be buying that dress and any of the accessories Jules wanted to go with it.
And a thought crossed my mind about the articles for the magazine and our way forward.
“Kitty,” I said, as Jules disappeared behind the curtain to get changed again, “can I talk to you about something?”
Kitty raised an eyebrow but answered immediately: “Of course.”
“Well, you know how I work for Northern People?”
She nodded.
“Well, for some mad reason I’ve agreed to write a series of articles on planning to get married. They are to be more than a simple ‘how to’ series – more about the emotions and the planning and, well, about Paddy and me.”
“That sounds lovely,” Kitty said.
“Well, emotions and all aside, we do, because we are a glossy mag after all, want to do some fashion stuff as well – and here in The Dressing Room would be perfect for us.” The shop just seemed like the perfect setting for a photo shoot – it was stunning, its location perfect and, well, if the truth was told I’d just kind of warmed to Kitty. She seemed nice – like she genuinely cared above and beyond the basic business arrangement. And I liked Rose too – she seemed quirky and full of character – full of life, even, and full of life appealed to me at the moment.
Kitty seemed delighted – a broad smile, a genuine one, spread across her face and she said she would very much like to be a part of our story. “I would be honoured,” she grinned.
The other positive thing, of course, was that she gave us a discount on the dress which I felt a little guilty about but didn’t turn down all the same.
We arranged an appointment for three weeks from then, when the dress would be in and we could get our photo taken.
As I went to leave the shop she hugged me very tight and whispered: “Even if you don’t feel it, and even if you feel as if you don’t have a choice and it’s something you have to do anyway, I still think you are brave. And I hope you get the happy ending you deserve – I have a feeling you will.”
I let her hug me, and I even hugged her back a little because it felt to me that she needed it, before Jules and I stepped back out into the real world and away from the calm and comfort of The Dressing Room.
With the dress bought and our spirits high, we decided to stop for aquick drink in the pub before picking up a takeaway to bring home.
Standing in the Chinese, Jules pondered over the menu. “Can’tcompletely pig out,” she said. “I want that dress to look great on me on the Big Day.”
My stomach rumbled as I pored over the menu myself. I decided to pushall thoughts ofmy dress to the back of my head and order some crispybeef with loads of noodles and a chilli sauce. Resolving to starvemyself the next day I placed my order, adding o
n an extra portion forPaddy. I’d arrive home with dinner, a four-pack of beer, a bottle of wine and a smile onmy face and I imagined all three of uswould have quite the relaxed evening – Juleswas staying with us, bedding down in the spare room, as a night at homewith our mother would be enough to send her over the edge.
“Frig the diet,” Jules declared, ordering her dinner and a can of full-fat Coke, “Sure I can always eat fruit and Special K all week to make upfor it.”
Arm in arm, warm plastic bag swaying between us, we made our way tothe taxi stand and on home.
I was surprised to find the living room empty, the house quiet. Thecar was still outside so I surmised Paddy must still be in. Calling upthe stairs, I expected him to shout that he was in the bathroom orhaving a snooze or that he would be down in a minute, but silencegreeted me.
At first I didn’t consider it strange at all. I figured he hadprobably taken a stroll up to the corner shop.
We sauntered through to the kitchen and Istarted pulling plates from the cupboards and hauling wineglassesfrom the press.
“I am sooooo hungry,” Jules said, spooning a mouthful of chicken friedrice into her mouth before she even served it onto a plate. “You shouldhave let me have another packet of bacon fries in the pub.”
“You had two already,” I gently reminded her.
“And lovely they were too,” she said with a smile. “ShouldI put Paddy’s out too, do you think?”
I glanced at the clock, as if that would give me the magical answeras to when he would be back.