Page 118 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
*
The meeting in Pelican House was very productive, even if I felt I didn’t contribute a lot of ideas.
Honey showed us the rough draft of the glossy brochure shewas to have printed by a local firm, ready for opening day. The title was ‘The Wedding House: A Little Museum of Bridal Misfortune: a work in progress’. It described the inspiration for the museum and the process of setting it up, with some of my behind-the-scenes photographs, showing how close examination often revealed hidden secrets about the dresses’ construction, or remodelling. She’d also included a few of their stories, although if the visitors wanted more detail, they’d have to buy the separate leaflets for each one.
Once I’d finished work on all the wedding gowns, there would be the standard guidebook too, which could be updated every year with new acquisitions.
‘And I’m making notes for a new non-fiction book based on the stories behind the collection,’ Honey said.
I was starting to wonder if she ever slept!
As to the finer points of packaging, labelling, the best kinds of electric tills, credit card readers, price labelling and all the rest of it, not to mention the souvenirs we were having printed with our logo, it was just as well that Ella and Kay knew what they were doing!
It was all quite fun and helped along by the delicious chocolate brownies Viv brought in for us, but back at the cottage, once I’d fed Golightly, I felt both tired and restless. So when Simon rang and said Thom and Pearl were with him and they were ordering pizza and why didn’t I come over, I agreed, first making a slight detour to the Minimart for a bottle of wine.
I’d been too tired to take much in about Simon’s flat when I’d been there for the book group, but I saw now it was very cosy, although still a bit Hetty-ish in its décor, with pleated silk lampshades and flowery carpets.
While we ate the pizza, we watched the David Suchet version ofMurder on the Orient Express, which we all agreed wasthe best. Afterwards, when Thom asked if anyone had plans for tomorrow, it transpired that Pearl and Simon were going to have lunch together at the Devil’s Cauldron in Jericho’s End after church, but they didn’t suggest Thom and I join them there, which I thought might be significant: perhaps Pearl’s talk with the Rev. Jo-Jo had helped her untangle her feelings for Simon …
She was certainly looking slightly self-conscious, and if Simon had been a dog, he’d have been wagging his tail.
Thom must have been aware of the unspoken undercurrents, because he caught my eye briefly, raising one eyebrow, and very tactfully didn’t suggest we met up with them himself.
*
Even though I hadn’t stayed late, you’d have thought from Golightly’s expression when I got back that it was at least midnight and it took me a good ten minutes of abasement before he deigned to take any notice of me, even when I shook the cat treat bag. But after that, he climbed on to the kitchen table via my lap, which he’d never done before, and tried to sit on the laptop while I was deciphering the next instalment of Rosa-May’s story – and it had just got to an interesting point after her marriage, when the reality of her new life was starting to sink in, so I began to wish he’d stayed miffed.
I had to remove him from the keyboard twice before he gave up and stalked off into the living room, but my eyes were too tired by then to read any more of Rosa-May’s tiny crabbed writing. Before I turned off I checked my emails and found one from Will. I’d only had a couple of one-liners from him recently, and thought he’d soon forget all about me, but no, this was another long one.
Garland darling!
Do tell me where you are, and if it’s within reach of London, I’ll come and take you out for lunch one Sunday, the Cockleshell Theatre’s closing day.
You must know by now that you can trust me not to divulge your whereabouts to anyone, especially not to Marco.
For some unknown reason, he appears to have suddenly appointed me his new best friend and yesterday confided that he’d now totally broken off relations with Mirrie – whatever they were – and frankly, darling, I was surprised they were still limping on. It seems she was very jealous of you and suspected Marco of still being in contact with you and wanting you back.
Which, of course, he does seem to – and who wouldn’t, darling? Though oddly, what he still appears to miss most about you is your input into his plays!
He said you’d been his muse and how difficult he was finding it to rewrite his new play for the Cockleshell Theatre management without you. I told you the management loathed the first version, which Mirrie had assured him was wonderful, didn’t I?
Then he went a bit lachrymose and said he wished he’d written down your advice when he first ran the idea for his new play past you, because he couldn’t remember it. So you can imagine how aggrieved he is that when you finally replied to one of his many messages, it was only to tell him to leave you alone, or else!
But here, darling, I have a big, big favour to ask you, because I think there might be another big, juicy part for me in the new play, if only he can pull it off. So, dearestGarland, out of the goodness of your heart, could you give me some advice to pass on to him if I promise not to divulge that it came from you?
If you do, I suspect I’ll have to take on your pervious roles of propper-up and muse (though not any other of them, for I am not that way inclined), but as long as I also become his first choice for leading man, I can put up with that.
Will xx
I enjoyed Will’s acerbic asides, but learned nothing new from the email, except that Marco had lied when he’d said there had been nothing but a quick fling between him and Mirrie and it was all over by the time I found out about it.
However, I liked Will, despite all the blatant self-interest, and since he’d made such a hit in his current role, I’d like him to go on to get other leading parts. So, after thinking it over, I decided to send him the advice I’d given Marco … or what I could remember of it, anyway.
I still wasn’t going to give Will my new address, though, even if I was hardly within day-trip distance of London. I expected he’d find out eventually, once Honey’s big publicity push for her new paperback and the museum got going, because then even Marco was bound to put two and two together, realize Honey had lied and guess where I was.
*
After breakfast on Sunday, I opened my laptop, which was still on the kitchen table, and began my reply to Will, only to be immediately interrupted by Golightly who, having demolishedhis own breakfast, now repeated his trick of climbing on to the table and lying on my keyboard.
