The Wedding Dress

by Dani Atkins

  ‘This is just between you and me,’ she whispered, giving me one last hug before heading towards the door.

  I flopped back on the pillows after she’d gone, my head still spinning. All my life people had been telling me how very much I was like my grandmother, Amanda. And as much as I’d always loved hearing that, tonight, for the very first time, I really hoped that I was also a great deal like my mother. Because she was amazing.

  27

  The office was bright and filled with sunshine. Although I’d visited Sunnymede hundreds of times over the past five years, it was the first time I’d ever been inside the manager’s office. I’d waited nervously outside her room, feeling very much as though I’d been summoned by the head teacher. Not that I was familiar with that particular sensation – although I’m sure Jamie could tell me what it felt like.

  ‘Mandy,’ said Mrs Blackwood, extending an arm to shake my hand.

  I did a quick swipe of mine against the side of my jeans before completing the ritual. There was absolutely no reason to be nervous, and yet I was. On an anxiety scale, this scored way higher than the bunch of exams I’d recently taken, or even a root canal.

  ‘Do come in,’ the manager urged, nodding to a straight-backed chair on one side of the desk, while she slid on to her leather swivel one. She offered refreshments, but after a quick glance at the document-strewn desk, I politely declined. Being anxious always made me clumsy, and drowning her paperwork with coffee wasn’t going to help win her over.

  Mrs Blackwood’s immaculately styled bob swung gently from side to side as she spoke.

  ‘I understand from your grandmother that you’re intending to help organise a wedding, and that you hope to hold it here?’

  My fingers curled into tight fists, the nails making tiny half-moon indents in my palms. Were my plans about to be scuppered before they’d even begun? I realised too late that I should have spoken to this woman first to get her approval. It was a stupid rookie error.

  ‘Yes. Gran and Josie don’t really know where to begin. Not that I do either, I’ve not arranged a wedding before, but you know… I’m happy to google away until I find out what I need to do.’ God, I was babbling like an idiot. If this was a job interview, I’d definitely not be getting the position.

  Mrs Blackwood looked at me for a long moment, her face as inscrutable as a poker player’s. ‘What can we do to help you?’

  The breath left my lungs in a rush, and relief made me sag in the chair like a deflating crash dummy.

  ‘I thought you were going to say we couldn’t go ahead.’

  To her credit, Mrs Blackwood looked genuinely mystified. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’

  I could feel my cheeks growing hot, which had absolutely nothing to do with the warmth of the room.

  ‘Well, you know, what with it being a same-sex relationship… I wasn’t sure if the other residents would find that kind of…’

  Mrs Blackwood laughed. ‘I think you’ll find that by the time most people have reached their eighties they’ve pretty much seen or done everything. Old age is a bit like a Kevlar vest – not much shocks you by then.’

  ‘That’s really great to hear. Gran’s news hasn’t been quite so well received at home.’ Was I being disloyal, sharing personal family issues with this woman? Probably not, for it seemed she already knew.

  ‘Yes, I’ve had a couple of… interesting… phone conversations with your father.’

  I gave an embarrassingly noisy gulp.

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  Mrs Blackwood waved my apology aside with a neatly manicured hand. ‘Oh, please don’t worry about that. Disgruntled relatives go with the territory.’ Her face softened then, as she leant a little closer towards me. ‘We’re used to dealing with family grief and the different ways it can manifest.’ I frowned, not following her meaning. ‘I’m no expert, but perhaps your dad’s issues are tied up with the loss of his own father?’

  How was it possible that this woman, this virtual stranger, had seen through the bluster and anger and realised that, beneath it all, Dad might still be unbelievably sad?

  ‘Anyway,’ continued Mrs Blackwood, steering our conversation back on track. ‘We’ve held several celebration ceremonies here at Sunnymede in the past, and we’d be delighted to host Amanda and Josie’s. Although they will have to visit a registry office too.’

  I nodded. I’d done my research and understood that a registry office ceremony would be needed to legalise the marriage.

  ‘But this will be Sunnymede’s first wedding with two brides,’ continued Mrs Blackwood enthusiastically, ‘and I can’t tell you how excited the staff are about it. Your grandmother and Josie are both very popular. If you’ll allow it, quite a few of us would like to attend the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely, the more the merrier,’ I cried.

  I left the manager’s office almost in a daze and practically skipped along the corridor to Gran’s room. For the first time, I was starting to feel incredibly excited.

  *

  ‘Let me have another look at that list,’ asked Gran. Some new lines joined the ones time had left on her brow as she began flicking through my notebook. Admittedly, the number of itemised bullet points had continued to increase alarmingly and now covered almost two lined pages.

  ‘Surely we don’t need all these things,’ Gran protested, trying to reach for my pen to begin an edit I was sure I wouldn’t like. I refused to hand it over.

  ‘You might not need them, but wouldn’t it be nice for you and Josie to have them?’

  Gran’s expression softened like butter in the sun. ‘You are such a sweet girl, Mandy. And I really do appreciate all this work you’ve done, but it’s not the getting married, it’s the being married that we’re both looking forward to. And you don’t need flowers or cakes or a big fancy frock to do that. And besides, I’ve done all that before,’ she reminded me.

  ‘Josie hasn’t.’ I could have argued with Gran until well past midnight, and I doubt I’d have found a more compelling point to make.

  ‘We’ll cut some things,’ I compromised, rapidly scribbling through Invitations, Sugared almonds and Printed serviettes. But when Gran tapped her finger beside an item I’d written in bold capital letters, I dug my heels in with the obstinacy of a mule.

  ‘Gran, you have to have a new dress. You’re the bride – well, one of them.’

  ‘I’ve several perfectly nice outfits in my wardrobe that I’ve hardly worn. I could dress them up with a new hat. I do love a hat.’

  ‘But Gran, if you don’t wear a wedding dress then Josie won’t either.’

  She looked at me for a long, contemplative moment, but I’d won that round and we both knew it.

  I leant over and hugged her warmly. ‘Why don’t you at least let me try to find you a dress, and then if I can’t get one, you can wear something you already own.’

  ‘With a hat,’ she added determinedly. ‘It’s not a wedding without a hat.’

  *

  I’d walked the length of the high street twice before despondency began to set in. I didn’t even bother venturing inside the exclusive bridalwear shops. My budget was way too limited for those. I had hoped to find something bridal-ish in one of the high street chains, but after four hours of shopping I had to admit I’d failed.

  I thought when I met Jamie for lunch I’d be carrying an armload of carrier bags, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Instead, as I slipped on to the bench seat beside him in the burger bar, I didn’t have a single purchase.

  ‘No luck?’ Jamie asked, giving me a sympathetic hug.

  ‘I feel like I’m letting her down.’

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ he defended loyally.

  I picked dolefully at my fries when they arrived in their little metal basket. It was a sad day when even triple-fried potato couldn’t cheer me up.

  ‘How important is it to find a dress, anyway?’

  I lifted my head and looked at him as though he was
speaking in a language I’d never heard before. It was probably Martian.

  ‘Oh,’ he replied, backtracking rapidly with a look of apology.

  ‘It’s not like shopping for some second-hand car repair manuals you know, it’s far more…’

  My voice trailed off and the burger bar suddenly faded out of focus as I remembered standing in a charity shop, where something had snagged my attention and called out to me, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. All I knew was that it was white and flowing and somehow it felt as though I was meant to see it. I stood up so abruptly my fries flew everywhere.

  ‘I have to go.’

  Jamie looked around in confusion. Several customers on adjacent tables did exactly the same. ‘Are you sick?’ he asked worriedly, starting to get to his feet.

  ‘No. No. I’m fine. Or I will be. Stay,’ I urged, pushing my hand firmly against his shoulder. ‘Finish your lunch.’

  ‘But where are you going?’

  ‘To buy a wedding dress,’ I replied, already weaving through the tables and practically running in my haste to reach the exit.

  *

  In a film, the dress would have been on a mannequin in the shop window, but there was nothing on display except a teetering pile of board games and a collection of mismatched crockery. There was a snaking queue of customers at the counter so I headed straight for the clothing racks, certain that’s where I would find the dress. A white dress should have been easy to spot, and yet I spun the carousel rack several times before admitting it wasn’t here. Had they sold it already? Did it even exist in the first place?

  I joined the queue for the counter, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other until it was finally my turn to be served.

  ‘Hello,’ I began. My voice sounded every bit as jittery as the rest of me. ‘Do you have a wedding dress for sale?’

  The woman shook her head.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. We hardly ever get them in here. People either keep them or sell them privately.’

  Disappointment crashed over me like a breaking wave. I turned to go, but something stopped me. ‘Could one have come in without you knowing about it?’

  She gave me a look. Way to go, Mandy. Tell her she’s incompetent at her job, and then she’s sure to want to help you.

  ‘It’s only that I was in here a couple of weeks ago and there was a couple who I thought brought one in. The woman was in a wheelchair.’

  The shop assistant was looking at me now as though I was a shoo-in for the Most-Troublesome-Customer-of-the-Day award.

  I turned sadly towards the door. ‘Oh well, never mind. It was always a bit of a long shot.’

  I was one step away from the street when a different voice called out to me.

  ‘Wait!’

  I turned and immediately recognised the woman who’d just emerged from the back room. She was the volunteer who’d served the couple I was talking about.

  ‘I remember those people, and you’re right, they did bring in a wedding dress.’

  I could feel the excitement fizzing through me, and my smile was growing so wide it was already making my cheeks ache.

  ‘I’ll see if we still have it.’

  She was gone for quite some time, but I waited with a degree of patience I’m not usually known for. Finally she emerged, carrying a box that looked familiar.

  ‘You won’t believe it. It had somehow got buried beneath a pile of pet blankets,’ she explained, setting the container down on the counter. ‘If you hadn’t asked me to look for it, I doubt we’d ever have found it.’

  Her fingers were working on the fastenings of the box, and it took a superhuman effort to restrain myself from pushing her hands aside so I could open it quicker. Finally, the lid was freed, and as she unfolded the shroud of tissue paper, I looked down at the dress my grandmother was always meant to wear. Don’t ask me how I knew that, I just did.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s a small tear and a few marks on the hem, made by the wheelchair, I believe,’ the assistant volunteered.

  ‘That’s fine,’ I said, scarcely giving the flaws a second glance.

  ‘It’s a very good make. It originally came from Fleurs, the expensive bridal shop,’ the woman continued, pushing for a sale that was already a foregone conclusion.

  ‘May I?’ I asked, lifting the dress from its box and holding it up to catch the light. The delicate silver embroidery and scattered crystals twinkled under the overhead fluorescents.

  ‘Would you like to try it on?’ asked the assistant.

  I shook my head as I began folding the cloud-like fabric back into the box. ‘It’s not for me, it’s for my grandmother. But I can already see it will fit her perfectly.’ And it would, because it would also fit me. As tempted as I was to try it on, I knew I never would. Somewhere out there was a dress I would one day wear to my very own wedding. But as beautiful as this one was, this wasn’t it. This dress was Gran’s.

  *

  ‘You found a dress!’ To his credit, Jamie sounded genuinely delighted. His arms circled me in a hug that practically lifted my feet from the pavement.

  ‘Not a dress, the dress,’ I corrected on a laugh, almost giddy with a combination of elation and relief. ‘Gran is going to love it.’

  ‘So are we all done now?’ There was a hopefulness in his voice that revealed I’d not made a shopaholic out of him yet. Perhaps that would have been one miracle too many, even for today.

  ‘Well, I still need to arrange for flowers and buy a hat for Gran – she seems to think the marriage will be annulled if she isn’t wearing one. But you don’t have to spend the rest of your Saturday helping me. I realise it’s not much fun for you.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Shopping for flowers and dresses and er… other wedding stuff… it’s what I live for.’

  I smiled. How could Dad not see that as far as boyfriends went, this one was practically perfect?

  ‘Well, there’s a bridal salon at the end of this road,’ I said. ‘It’s way out of my price range, but…’

  ‘You’re feeling lucky?’

  I lifted my head and dropped a kiss he hadn’t been expecting on his lips.

  ‘I am now.’

  *

  Through the window, Fleurs was an explosion of white. It was a bridal version of Aladdin’s cave, with lace, chiffon, satin and a generous helping of bling. Little girls all over the world dreamt of places like this – some big girls did too. It was quite a surprise to discover I might be one of them.

  I stepped back on to the pavement with a sigh. Jamie’s hand fell from my waist as he took my place at the glass, hands cupped against the pane to cut out the glare of the afternoon sun.

  ‘I’m going to say you definitely can’t afford anything from here,’ he declared, his breath forming an oval cloud on the pristine glass.

  A sharp rapping sound made us both jump as a face appeared on the other side of the window. The woman, dressed entirely in black, was a dramatic silhouette against the white background. Her hair gleamed like the polished ebony of piano keys. And if looks could kill, Jamie was dead on the spot.

  He flashed the woman one of his guaranteed-to-work dazzling smiles. Nothing. Not even a glimmer of a response. It was the first time I’d ever seen him fail. With a mouthed Sorry, he wiped the glass clean with the sleeve of his denim jacket.

  Feeling suddenly far less positive, I reached for the dress box that Jamie had been carrying under his arm.

  ‘Why don’t you wait out here for me? I have a feeling I’m not going to be long.’

  *

  She was scary. No, she was more than scary, she was like a character in a fairy tale, the kind that gives little kids nightmares. It was just as well I’d decided to venture into Fleurs alone, as I very much doubted that oil-stained car mechanics were permitted to cross the threshold. Come to that, I’m not sure I was entirely welcome either.

  ‘Erm… I’m sorry about that… the window thing, I mean. I couldn’t see if you were open.’

&
nbsp; ‘We are open,’ the woman confirmed with a glacial smile. ‘Although I’m afraid we cannot accommodate walk-ins. Fleurs operates on a strictly-by-appointment system. Do you have one?’

  It was quite obvious that we both knew I didn’t.

  ‘Erm no. I don’t. I was just wondering if you sold hats – for brides, that is?’

  The woman had the kind of nose that was perfect for looking down at people, and she was doing so right now. Her eyes flicked briefly towards the door, as though this might be a very un-funny prank that had now run its course.

  I sighed. This had definitely been a mistake. I crossed the oasis of grey carpet to the door, my shoulders slumped. ‘I only asked because I’ve just bought one of your dresses for my grandmother from a charity shop and was hoping you might have a hat that would go with it.’

  Gwendoline Flowers clearly had several issues with that sentence.

  ‘You’ve purchased a Fleurs gown?’ Surprise number one.

  ‘Yes, a few minutes ago.’

  ‘From a…’ She hesitated, her lips struggling to form the words. ‘From a charity shop?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For your grandmother?’

  I nodded.

  Her head inclined at an angle that looked quite precarious, she said, ‘How intriguing.’ She looked at the cardboard box beneath my arm. ‘Is that the dress?’

  My fingers tightened on the cardboard container, as though she might be about to rugby-tackle it from me. I placed the box in her outstretched hands and she carried it to an antique desk in the corner of the shop. Her nimble fingers made short work of the fastenings. By chance, I happened to be looking at her face at the precise moment she peeled back the protective layer of tissue paper. I saw her professional mask falter, slip, and then dissolve away as if it had never been.

  ‘This dress…’ Her voice was clearly shocked. ‘I know this dress.’

  It was a curious comment, and one I had no answer to. Saying nothing seemed the safest option at this point.

  She nodded to a velvet-covered seat. ‘Please sit down. Tell me about the woman who is going to wear this dress next. Tell me everything.’