Amazing Grace

Chapter 3

Bertha the Beetle screeched to a halt outside Rita’s Rags to Riches. As they walked through the door, a voice shouted out from behind a curtain at the back of the shop: ‘Won’t be a tick, ladies!’

Within seconds, one of the most glamorous people that Grace had ever met appeared, dripping with jewellery and oozing natural style and charm. ‘Now, you must be Grace. Hello, sweetie, I’m Rita.’ She took Grace’s hand in both of hers. ‘Thanks so much for coming along to my little swishing shop today.’ She air-kissed Monica on both cheeks. ‘Dah-ling, it’s so fabulous to see you again. It was so lovely to get your call to say you were coming in with another of your ladies. So, Grace, this is how it works. First, you check in the clothes you brought along.’ Rita started rummaging through the ‘special’ bin bag of Grace’s clothes that Monica had handed over. ‘You have brought fifteen items so you get to choose fifteen items from the rails. These clothes have been brought in by other people who have cleared out their wardrobes. You can choose more, but for every additional item after fifteen, you have to pay two pounds fifty per item. But then as Monica is a regular customer, she knows the rules, don’t you, darling?’

‘Sure do, Rita.’ She turned to Grace. ‘This is one of my favourite upmarket charity shops in the area. I’ve brought so many of my ladies along to give them a wardrobe make-over that I feel like part of the furniture. Come on, Grace, let’s start! This is going to be sooo much fun!’

Grace doubted it very much. Since she’d put on weight over the last few years, shopping for clothes had become one of her least favourite activities – next to having her bikini line waxed. Which was, incidentally, something that she hadn’t had done since… she couldn’t even remember when. It wasn’t like she had anyone who would even notice!

She browsed through the racks while Rita and Monica were nattering away, grabbing things off the rails and putting them in the changing room.

A black dress caught her eye but as she picked it out to look at it in more detail, Monica’s booming voice cried, ‘No, no, no, no, NO! Absolutelynot! From now on anything black is banned!’

Oh God, Mum, what am I letting myself in for?Grace silently entreated, looking towards heaven. She talked to her mum all the time. She knew some people thought she was a bit on the crazy side, including her ex, but it was the only way she’d been able to cope since her mum lost her battle with cancer twelve years previously. It was the routine daily tasks that she found difficult to get through. Sometimes she still went to pick up the phone to share something with her mum, momentarily forgetting that she was no longer there. The shock and sadness of remembering that she could no longer speak with her took Grace’s breath away and she would stand, holding the phone, stunned by her loss all over again.

This time though, she heard a voice very clearly saying, Darling girl, it’s about time someone took you in hand and showed you what you are capable of. I’m sorry if it seems harsh, but if I were there right now, I’d be doing it myself. Love you!

She often heard her mother’s words and had got used to it now, even though she originally thought she was going a bit bonkers. She dreamt about her mum a lot too, dreaming that they were shopping together, or out having dinner; routine, normal activities for a mother and a daughter, but when she woke, the realisation that it wasn’t real was always heartbreaking.

Rita’s excited voice jolted her back to the present.

‘So, Grace!’ Rita said, clapping her hands. ‘Why don’t you tell me what your style is and I’ll see what I can come up with?’

Grace tried to think how to answer the question. Since she’d had Archie, she didn’t think she even had a style. She spent most of her working time in suits and that was what she felt most herself in. While some of her friends were comfortable at the weekend in jeans, a hoody and a pair of trainers, Grace knew that she was a bit stiff with her clothing. Smart jeans were probably the trendiest things she wore but she always wore them with a nice jumper and a pair of boots because that was her personal style – such as it was. Unless she was walking the dog of course, when she usually donned a pair of old joggers and a sweatshirt. People would never notice her for her dress sense, that was for sure; the only style she had was anything that covered her fat arse.

‘OK, Grace, get in there and get your kit off!’ Monica manhandled her into the changing room and pulled the curtain shut. ‘The first thing you are trying on is the blue jumpsuit.’

‘You have to be kidding me! Surely jumpsuits went out years ago? And besides, what if I needed a wee while I had it on?’ she exclaimed.

‘Neither of those facts bothered you enough to stop you having three of them in your wardrobe though, did it?’ Monica laughed. ‘Having been the operative word! They must have been in there since 1985!’

‘I loved those, thank you very much!’ Grace responded. ‘Can’t believe you chucked them out – and now you’re making me try on another one?’

‘I chucked out three jumpsuits with shoulder pads that Krystle Carrington would have been proud of – very different to what you’re about to try on!’ She cackled with laughter.

Grace stomped out of the changing room in the jumpsuit. Her shoulders were slumped, her posture was poor and her face was really miserable.

‘I hate it!’ Grace said, pulling a face and sounding like a truculent teenager.

‘Look at the state of you! Push your tits out and hold your stomach in!’ Monica scolded. ‘And stop slouching! That’s better. Ooh, you’re like a naughty child!’

‘I still hate it!’

‘Shut up and turn round!’ Monica snapped as she handed her a wide silver belt and a long sparkly silver and blue necklace, which Grace noticed was actually rather nice.

‘But I really don’t like it!’ Grace said, turning to head back to the changing room.

‘Did I not just tell you to shut it?’ Her friend flicked her on the shoulder. ‘Trust your Aunty Monica.’

‘I’m sure Gok Wan wasn’t this rude to the ladies on his show,’ Grace said, rubbing her crystal necklace between her fingers.

‘Oh, stop moaning, you! Now hoist your bangers up and let’s see that amazing cleavage which, by the way, most women would die for, put these heels on and get out here!’ Monica handed her a pair of sparkly silver wedges, and Grace took them from her and slipped them on her feet.

She looked in the mirror. Actually, it looked OK. In fact, the more she looked at herself, the more she realised it wasn’t bad at all. Perhaps Monica did know what she was doing, although Grace wasn’t going to admit that in a hurry. She perked up a bit and turned this way and that. Her backside didn’t look quite as huge as she thought it would. Perhaps all that worrying about the house move, and how much it was going to cost to do it all up, along with all the other worries of a single parent, had resulted in a bit of weight loss after all? Silver lining and all that. Something sharp was digging into her thigh. She found the culprit – it was the label.

‘Bugger me, it’s still got the label in! It’s never been worn! And it cost a hundred and fifty pounds new.’

‘And that’s the beauty of swishing,’ chorused Monica and Rita in perfect harmony.

Perhaps this is going to be fun after all, Grace thought as she tried on more outfits that Rita and Monica had chosen for her. She particularly loved a turquoise silk cocktail dress that Rita had brought into the changing room and said would be perfect for her even though Grace had laughed at first at the thought of needing a glamorous dress in her wardrobe – she couldn’t see herself wearing that while walking Becks, or watching Archie play football on a freezing Saturday morning. But then she remembered that she did need something swanky for that event she was trying so hard to forget. The empire-line cut of the dress fitted her perfectly on her top half, making her look curvy instead of busty, and the longer-length chiffon skirt skimmed her legs gracefully and ended just above her ankles (or her ‘cankles’, as she frequently referred to them). It felt comfortable yet fashionable at the same time. Rita really knew her stuff.

Shopping with a girlfriend was actually far more fun than shopping alone. Years ago she wouldn’t have dreamt of wearing an outfit unless it was labelled Dolce Gabbana – but these days the closest she got was Florence Fred. Rita handed her a glass of Prosecco at one point and as she very rarely drank these days, she was feeling particularly tiddly.

Grace eventually chose some smart-casual items she could wear for work, some stuff for relaxing and wearing around the house and some swanky things she could wear if she ever went on a night out, including the cocktail dress. And there wasn’t a black item in sight!

Rita packed up the outfits they’d chosen and handed Grace five bags that were bursting at the seams. ‘It’s lovely to see ladies who come in feeling miserable go out with smiles on their faces. That’s what makes it all worthwhile. That’ll be twenty-five pounds then, please, my darling.’

‘Twenty-five pounds! Is that all? Are you sure?’

‘Yes, lovely, you had fifteen items for free as you brought fifteen items in, then another ten items at two pounds fifty each which makes twenty-five pounds.’

‘Wow, that’s an absolute bargain!’ Grace exclaimed as Monica and Rita sang in unison, ‘And that’s the beauty of swishing!’

Back home, Grace flung herself on her settee, exhausted from her morning of being prodded, poked and cajoled.

‘God, I’m knackered!’ she said to Monica who was standing over her. ‘I’m so looking forward to getting my jimmies on, ordering a Chinese and having a relaxing night in watching The X Factor tonight!’

Monica grinned. ‘Ha! No bloody chance, sweetie! I’m so glad you like the blue jumpsuit the best, because you’re wearing it when we go out tonight. Come on, shift your butt! Get in the shower right now! You’d better be quick, though. You’ve got an appointment at the hairdresser’s in fifteen minutes.’