Shopaholic Ties the Knot
Page 23
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“What’s that?” I ask, helping her to get it down.
“Don’t say anything,” she says, with suppressed excitement. “Just…” Her hands are trembling as she unzips the plastic cover. “Just… look!”
“It’s your wedding dress!” I say in astonishment as she pulls out the white frothy lace. “I didn’t know you still had that!”
“Of course I’ve still got it!” She brushes away some sheets of tissue paper. “Thirty years old, but still as good as new. Now, Becky, it’s only a thought…”
“What’s a thought?” I say, helping her to shake out the train.
“It might not even fit you…”
Slowly I look up at her. She’s serious.
“Actually, I don’t think it will,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’m sure you were much thinner than me! And… shorter.”
“But we’re the same height!” says Mum in puzzlement. “Oh, go on, try it, Becky!”
Five minutes later I stare at myself in the mirror in Mum’s bedroom. I look like a sausage roll in layered frills. The bodice is tight and lacy, with ruffled sleeves and a ruffled neckline. It’s tight down to my hips where there are more ruffles, and then it fans out into a tiered train.
I have never worn anything less flattering in my life.
“Oh, Becky!” I look up — and to my horror, Mum’s in tears. “I’m so silly!” she says, laughing and brushing at her eyes. “It’s just… my little girl, in the dress I wore…”
“Oh, Mum…” Impulsively I give her a hug. “It’s a… a really lovely dress…”
How exactly do I add, But I’m not wearing it?
“And it fits you perfectly,” gulps Mum, and rummages for a tissue. “But it’s your decision.” She blows her nose. “If you don’t think it suits you… just say so. I won’t mind.”
“I… well…”
Oh God.
“I’ll… think about it,” I manage at last, and give Mum a lame smile.
We put the wedding dress back in its bag, and have some sandwiches for lunch, and watch an old episode of Changing Rooms on the new cable telly Mum and Dad have had installed. And then, although it’s a bit early, I go upstairs and start getting ready to see Elinor. Luke’s mother is one of those Manhattan women who always look completely and utterly immaculate, and today of all days I want to match her in the smartness stakes.
I put on the DKNY suit I bought myself for Christmas, brand-new tights, and my new Prada sample sale shoes. Then I survey my appearance carefully, looking all over for specks or creases. I’m not going to be caught out this time. I’m not going to have a single stray thread or crumpled bit which her beady X-ray eyes can zoom in on.
I’ve just about decided that I look OK, when Mum comes busting into my bedroom. She’s dressed smartly in a purple Windsmoor suit and her face is glowing with anticipation.
“How do I look?” she says with a little laugh. “Smart enough for Claridges?”
“You look lovely, Mum! That color really suits you. Let me just…”
I reach for a tissue, dampen it under the tap, and wipe at her cheeks where she’s copied Janice’s badger-look approach to blusher.
“There. Perfect.”
“Thank you, darling!” Mum peers at herself in the wardrobe mirror. “Well, this will be nice. Meeting Luke’s mother at last.”
“Mmm,” I say noncommittally.
“I expect we’ll get to be quite good friends! What with getting together over the wedding preparations… You know, Margot across the road is such good friends with her son-in-law’s mother, they take holidays together. She says she hasn’t lost a daughter, she’s gained a friend!”
Mum sounds really excited. How can I prepare her for the truth?
“And Elinor certainly sounds lovely! The way Luke describes her. He seems so fond of her!”
“Yes, he is,” I admit grudgingly. “Incredibly fond.”
“He was telling us this morning about all the wonderful charity work she does. She must have a heart of gold!”
As Mum prattles on, I tune out and remember a conversation I had with Luke’s stepmum, Annabel, when she and his dad came out to visit us.
I completely adore Annabel. She’s very different from Elinor, much softer and quieter, but with a lovely smile that lights up her whole face. She and Luke’s father live in a sleepy area of Devon near the beach, and I really wish we could spend more time with them. But Luke left home at eighteen, and he hardly ever goes back. In fact, I get the feeling he thinks his father slightly wasted his life by settling down as a provincial lawyer, instead of conquering the world.
“Don’t say anything,” she says, with suppressed excitement. “Just…” Her hands are trembling as she unzips the plastic cover. “Just… look!”
“It’s your wedding dress!” I say in astonishment as she pulls out the white frothy lace. “I didn’t know you still had that!”
“Of course I’ve still got it!” She brushes away some sheets of tissue paper. “Thirty years old, but still as good as new. Now, Becky, it’s only a thought…”
“What’s a thought?” I say, helping her to shake out the train.
“It might not even fit you…”
Slowly I look up at her. She’s serious.
“Actually, I don’t think it will,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’m sure you were much thinner than me! And… shorter.”
“But we’re the same height!” says Mum in puzzlement. “Oh, go on, try it, Becky!”
Five minutes later I stare at myself in the mirror in Mum’s bedroom. I look like a sausage roll in layered frills. The bodice is tight and lacy, with ruffled sleeves and a ruffled neckline. It’s tight down to my hips where there are more ruffles, and then it fans out into a tiered train.
I have never worn anything less flattering in my life.
“Oh, Becky!” I look up — and to my horror, Mum’s in tears. “I’m so silly!” she says, laughing and brushing at her eyes. “It’s just… my little girl, in the dress I wore…”
“Oh, Mum…” Impulsively I give her a hug. “It’s a… a really lovely dress…”
How exactly do I add, But I’m not wearing it?
“And it fits you perfectly,” gulps Mum, and rummages for a tissue. “But it’s your decision.” She blows her nose. “If you don’t think it suits you… just say so. I won’t mind.”
“I… well…”
Oh God.
“I’ll… think about it,” I manage at last, and give Mum a lame smile.
We put the wedding dress back in its bag, and have some sandwiches for lunch, and watch an old episode of Changing Rooms on the new cable telly Mum and Dad have had installed. And then, although it’s a bit early, I go upstairs and start getting ready to see Elinor. Luke’s mother is one of those Manhattan women who always look completely and utterly immaculate, and today of all days I want to match her in the smartness stakes.
I put on the DKNY suit I bought myself for Christmas, brand-new tights, and my new Prada sample sale shoes. Then I survey my appearance carefully, looking all over for specks or creases. I’m not going to be caught out this time. I’m not going to have a single stray thread or crumpled bit which her beady X-ray eyes can zoom in on.
I’ve just about decided that I look OK, when Mum comes busting into my bedroom. She’s dressed smartly in a purple Windsmoor suit and her face is glowing with anticipation.
“How do I look?” she says with a little laugh. “Smart enough for Claridges?”
“You look lovely, Mum! That color really suits you. Let me just…”
I reach for a tissue, dampen it under the tap, and wipe at her cheeks where she’s copied Janice’s badger-look approach to blusher.
“There. Perfect.”
“Thank you, darling!” Mum peers at herself in the wardrobe mirror. “Well, this will be nice. Meeting Luke’s mother at last.”
“Mmm,” I say noncommittally.
“I expect we’ll get to be quite good friends! What with getting together over the wedding preparations… You know, Margot across the road is such good friends with her son-in-law’s mother, they take holidays together. She says she hasn’t lost a daughter, she’s gained a friend!”
Mum sounds really excited. How can I prepare her for the truth?
“And Elinor certainly sounds lovely! The way Luke describes her. He seems so fond of her!”
“Yes, he is,” I admit grudgingly. “Incredibly fond.”
“He was telling us this morning about all the wonderful charity work she does. She must have a heart of gold!”
As Mum prattles on, I tune out and remember a conversation I had with Luke’s stepmum, Annabel, when she and his dad came out to visit us.
I completely adore Annabel. She’s very different from Elinor, much softer and quieter, but with a lovely smile that lights up her whole face. She and Luke’s father live in a sleepy area of Devon near the beach, and I really wish we could spend more time with them. But Luke left home at eighteen, and he hardly ever goes back. In fact, I get the feeling he thinks his father slightly wasted his life by settling down as a provincial lawyer, instead of conquering the world.
