Page 29 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
He shook his head again. ‘Well, itisdone. But what will you do now?’
‘The saying that every cloud has a silver lining is true,’ I told him. ‘Honey Fairford has offered me the post of curator/conservator at the wedding dress museum, so I’m moving there almost immediately.’
I told him all about Honey’s kindness and how I could live in the cottage attached to the museum. ‘And there isn’t anything now to keep me in London, so I’ve put my flat on the market and I’m packing up.’
‘I think you’re quite right to make this move, Garland, and a fresh start. In fact, I quite envy you! Great Mumming is a nice, quiet, little town. I’ll be up to visit from time to time – dear Honey has given me an open invitation to stay whenever I want to.’
‘I know she’s really valued all your advice and input into the museum plans,’ I said. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you there.’
Then, over more coffee, we fell into a discussion of all the various aspects of costume display, which was very soothing.
I described the latest mannequin I’d brought for the shop and mentioned that Honey had suggested I should sell them in her museum shop, too.
‘Copies of some of the wedding dresses on display – though I’m not sure how popular those would be! But also of Rosa-May’s costume and gown … when I can look at them again without feeling sick.’
‘You know the V&A will take as many of the costume mannequins as you can make,’ George assured me.
‘That’s great, because I’ll have time to do my own work, too, and I’m not sure how much call there will be for a costume maker up there.’
‘I’ll be sorry to lose the Rosa-May Garland Collection at the end of the month,’ he said sadly, as I finally got up to leave. ‘And I’m sorry to be saying goodbye to you, too, Garland. I’ll miss you.’
‘I’ll miss you too, George. But at least we’ll still see each other whenever you visit Great Mumming.’
And as I left the museum, I thought that George was the only real friend I had in London – and the only person, other than people like solicitors and estate agents, to know my new address.
*
The removal firm I’d chosen – the same one that had moved my parents’ furniture from the storage unit to the flat – had dropped off a few packing boxes and I’d raided the nearest supermarket for more.
My flat was really only a one-bedroom, because you couldn’t have got anything larger than a baby’s cot in the other, it being the size of a large broom cupboard. I’d used it as an extra workstation and storage for my fabrics, so I dismantled and packed up all of that room first, so I could use what was left of the floor space to pile boxes on as I filled them in the rest of the flat. The heavy stuff first: my collection of Victorian novels and children’s books, the tiny wooden case full of Beatrix Potter books and all my costume reference books.
Then there was the set of orange Le Creuset pans that had been one of Mum and Dad’s wedding presents, and which weighed a ton.
My life slowly vanished into boxes … and I soon discovered that Golightly found empty ones irresistible, so that I was always finding a pair of yellow eyes and a grimacing furry face looking up at me as I was about to put something in.
I’d replaced my favourite curtains with some old ones, so I could wash them, then remove the old curtain tape and replace it with new, having turned them sideways. It was really lucky they would fit the cottage windows that way! I’d made them myself, from lengths of vintage furnishing fabric bought from eBay; I was always on the lookout for anything interesting.
Most of my Bakelite jewellery collection was displayed in one of those glass-topped curio tables, a very battered one I’d picked up from a junk shop and relined with blue velvet, but the brooches were all pinned to a matching heart-shaped velvet pad I’d hung on the wall – hearts, anchors, Scottie dogs …and a couple of clear Lucite ones, with flower shapes pressed into the back and painted, giving a sort of 3-D effect.
I bubble-wrapped the padded heart without taking any of the brooches off, but emptied the table and packed the pieces separately. My few valuables, like my laptop, would go in the car with me.
While I’d tried to confine most of the boxes to the spare room, so the flat looked more homely for viewing, the packing had begun to overflow into the living room by Wednesday, when there had been eight viewings in total and three offers, though none of them tempting! I wasn’t taking less than it was worth and I wasn’t reliant on the sale to be able to move, so I was in a good position.
I’d been so busy that it was only after I’d thankfully closed the door on the last of the viewers that it occurred to me that Miss McNabb had now been absent for several days without a word and I was just thinking I’d better give her a ring to tell her I was leaving on Monday for a new job and she’d have to arrange something for Golightly if she wouldn’t be back before then, whensherangme.
I didn’t recognize her voice immediately, because her accent had become infinitely more Scottish than before, so that she was in full flood with a report on her sister’s health before I twigged who it was.
It appeared her sister was making a good recovery from the stroke, but wouldn’t really be able to live alone any more.
‘So since she has this big house and there’s nothing to keep me in London now, we’ve decided I should move up here permanently. Of course, I only rent my flat and I’ve already given the landlord notice, so I’ll just have to pop down briefly at some point to pack up and arrange the removal. There’s plenty of room here for all my things.’
‘I can see the sense in that,’ I agreed, when I could finally get a word in. ‘And oddly enough, I’ve put my flat on the market and I’m moving out of London almost immediately, too.’
‘But – your work! Your engagement!’ she exclaimed in surprise.
‘I’ve broken my engagement and taken a new job in west Lancashire. I’ll be moving there on Monday.’
‘This is such a surprise,’ she said. ‘And all very sudden.’
