Page 58 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
‘If he settles, you could just briefly pop in to meet everyone,’ Thom suggested. ‘It’s only an hour and then we usually go to the pub afterwards, but you could skip that bit.’
‘I might. I’ll have to see.’
‘If not, I’ll be over tomorrow lunchtime to fit that cat flap,’ he said, then strode back to where Jester was anxiously waiting for him, reminding me of Nana, the dog inPeter Pan, another favourite old classic of mine.
*
Golightly, as I’d suspected, didn’t display any sign that he’d been missing me, or feeling lonely; he just conducted me to his bowl in a no-nonsense way and demanded his dinner.
I opened a tin of his favourite food and he wolfed that down in record time, while I was still stashing the rest of the tins away. Then he retired to sleep it off on his favourite armchair. He said something in Cat to me in passing, which I’d like to think was a thank you for hauling his heavy cans of food home, but probably wasn’t.
I rang the vet from my bedroom, where Golightly couldn’t hear me, and made an appointment to take him for microchipping the following afternoon. Then I went back downstairs and made myself some cheese on toast, because it felt like a long time since lunch, before settling down to source the cutting table and the other things on my first list, with fast delivery. I sent that over to Honey, though it sounded like something she usually delegated to the all-purpose Derek!
I ordered a few smaller items myself – things that were more for my own work than the museum’s: sets of little drawers for stowing odds and ends of sewing materials away, spool holders and flatpack storage boxes in pretty colours.
I made the mistake of checking what books there were on the history of wedding dresses too, which all seemed to be glossy, illustrated and expensive.
I had a brief reply from Honey, saying Derek had put in my order before he went home and would send over the delivery details when he had them.
I wasn’t expecting delivery to be quite next day, but I’d chosen the suppliers for speed, rather than economy, so I hoped they’d get here soon.
It was half past six by then and the book group met at seven. I was in two minds about it, because I was tired and still had unpacking to do, but I also felt strangely wired and restless, so I thought perhaps Iwouldjust pop over and meet everyone. I needn’t stay long. Perhaps next week, if Golightly had settled, I could go on to the pub as well. There were faint hopes of my developing some kind of social life, despite Golightly.
When I was ready to go out, I went back into the living room, where he opened his yellow eyes and looked at me accusingly.
‘I’ll only be an hour at the very most, and if you don’t scream the place down, you can have yet more luscious cat treats when I get back,’ I told him.
He seemed to consider this offer, then closed his eyes and put his head down on to his front paws again, so I hoped a bargain had been struck.
Simon, Thom and I all simultaneously stepped out of our respective front doors, as if we were taking part in a TV sitcom, then the other two waited for me to catch up with them, so we could go round to Pearl’s together.
The bookshop displayed a ‘Closed’ sign, but Simon pushed the door open with a jangle from the bell and we followed him in.
There were already several other people in the back room, sitting round the table and Pearl was dispensing coffee from the machine.
She looked up and smiled. ‘Garland! I’m glad you could make it.’
‘I’ve only popped in briefly to say hello this time,’ I said. ‘I’ve got so much to do and the cat’s getting really fed up with my constantly leaving him shut up alone.’
‘Well, have a cup of coffee and meet everyone before you dash off again,’ she said hospitably. ‘Then we’ll see you next week, when you and the cat have settled in properly, and perhaps afterwards you’d like to come to the Sun in Splendour with us.’
‘It’s a weekly rite,’ agreed Simon. ‘Tuesday is Lancashire hotpot night at the pub, followed by that northern delicacy, a slice of rich fruit cake accompanied by a chunk of Lancashire Crumbly.’
‘Lancashire … Crumbly?’
‘A kind of cheese – the best in the world,’ said a small, portly man with a Lancashire accent. He had a black bandanna tied around his head, and a large gold hoop earring like a slightly run-to-seed pirate.
‘I’m Baz, by the way,’ he introduced himself. ‘I have the art shop in the square.’
He indicated the slight young man with the crest of fairish hair sitting next to him on the sofa and added: ‘This is my partner, Derek.’
‘Oh, we knowallabout each other, even though we haven’t met before,’ Derek said.
‘I saw you briefly yesterday, at Pelican House, when you were seeing some visitors out,’ I said. ‘Honey told me you are her PA.’
‘PA, housekeeper, general dogsbody. Renaissance man, that’s me,’ Derek proclaimed. ‘I’m on tap whenever needed.’
‘Thank you for ordering all those things for my workroom so quickly,’ I said.
