Page 33 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
Like the driver of the taxi, the removal men didn’t seem to want to hang about after they’d brought in my stuff and deposited everything in the right rooms. They even declined my offer of tea and biscuits, although that might have been because of the eldritch shrieks coming from the utility room.
They had been kind, however, even putting my little white bed together for me and not complaining about having to manoeuvre my very heavy industrial-sized sewing machine into the workroom. It had its own load-bearing table on castors, but those aren’t a lot of use on cobbles. Or up and down steps.
I gave them a generous tip, too – at this rate I’d have to find a cashpoint soon – then waved them off.
A watery sun was now struggling to push aside the dove-grey clouds, and far from presenting a slightly dismal appearance, the mews now looked positively charming. I could just read the words ‘Hetty’s Hats’ on a signboard over one of the windows of the buildings on the left-hand side, which looked like a mixture of workshops and cottages. I suppose originally these were all stables and housing for the grooms and coachmen.
From my porch, I couldn’t see much more of the buildings along the same side as the cottage, other than the end of the first one, on the opposite side of the passage – and I certainly wasn’t about to step out and risk being spotted by Thom!
But even as I glanced that way, he came out of a door further along with a white bull terrier on a lead. I was rooted to the spot and, as if feeling my eyes on him, he turned from locking the door and stared at me … or perhaps it was just the sound of Golightly’s screams, audible even through a locked door and two rooms, that had caught his attention.
Whatever spell had frozen me to the spot suddenly broke and I went back in, slamming the door behind me.
Then it was just me, an angry and confused cat, and a lot of thoughts that I kept pushing down under the surface, although they soon bobbed back up again.
13
Poetic Licence
Golightly was sitting just inside the utility-room door and ceased screaming the moment I opened it, then pulled a gargoyle face at me, before calmly returning to his dish to polish off the last cat treats.
‘I thought I’d left my involvement with self-obsessed, volatile males behind me in London,’ I told him sourly, but he took no notice, even when I hauled in the boxes containing the rest of his paraphernalia and began unpacking his gourmet dinners, more bags of treats, scratch mats and his furry igloo bed.
Then I set up the cat litter bin and lined it, before cleaning up his tray … and I definitely felt that the way he used it, the moment it was all clean again, was a gesture of contempt.
‘Thank yousomuch,’ I said. ‘Glad you’re so grateful I didn’t dump you in a cat rescue place.’
He made a sound that was probably the Cat equivalent of ‘Huh!’ before stalking purposefully off into the living room and settling himself on one of the two small, shabby armchairs. It was lucky he always favoured the one covered in a vintage design of donkeys wearing straw hats, instead of my favourite,with the Eiffel Towers and poodles, because I suspected he’d have won any argument.
This might be a small cottage, but it was still twice the size of my flat, and what furniture I had was now dotted about the room: a small desk in front of the window; the glass-topped curio table; a TV unit; a small wooden chest that did service as a coffee table; a little tub chair I’d had as a child; and a lot of bookshelves.
The back wall was stacked with boxes and bundles waiting to be unpacked, after which there would be even more space and I could invest in the luxury of a sofa.
It was still only early afternoon, so I started unpacking, which is a much speedier process than packing it all up in the first place.
In only a few hours, the curtains were hung in the living room and bedroom, my bed made up and my clothes all neatly put away.
I laid my small pink and blue Chinese rug next to the bed, found the reading lamp for the bamboo bedside table, and then everything was ready for me to just fall into bed in a stupor of exhaustion at the end of the day. There were a lot of things to do before then, however …
Downstairs, Golightly snored noisily and obliviously on, even when I started clattering pots and rattling cutlery into the kitchen drawers.
There was another small oriental rug to go in front of the hearth, this one in shades of faded coral and duck-egg blue. I switched on the fake log burner to try the effect, and it flickered cheerfully, giving the impression of comfort and warmth. The place was starting to look and feel like home.
The curtains in here were patterned in roses against a trellis. I do love roses, but real old-fashioned ones with crumpled,scented petals – most definitely not the artificial-looking ones in that bouquet Marco had sent me … or perhaps just left in my flat when he showed Mirrie my wedding dress. I should have smelled a rat – a love rat – and not just assumed it had been Miss McNabb who’d put them there.
Feeling tired and grubby, I flattened out the boxes I’d emptied.
The bookshelves were still empty, the display cabinet and glass-topped curio table ready to be filled, but I could take my time over those.
I decided the fridge-freezer had had enough time to settle and cautiously switched it on. It came to life with a hum and then started trying to communicate with me in what sounded like Dolphin, but then, it’s always done that from time to time, so I wasn’t particularly worried.
When I checked my watch I was amazed at how late it was, although I had stopped earlier just to give Golightly his dinner.
Now I just had time for a quick shower and a change of clothes into black leggings and a long, drapey, moss-green tunic. Then I was ready to go out for dinner, although, truth to tell, I was so tired that all I really wanted to do was put on my old robe and slippers in front of the stove.
But still, I had an urgent need to talk to Honey, and the sooner the better!
I left the downstairs lights on, including the hall, picked up my jacket and went out into the cool of the early dusk. Everything smelled damp and fresh.
