Chapter Twenty All Dressed Up
‘You were incredibly brave at the gig, he was twice your size,’ Patty says to me as we stroll arm in arm towards the pub come the weekend.
‘Small but mighty,’ I say in a low, gruff voice, holding my free arm out in a bodybuilding pose.
A group of joggers in glow-in-the-dark vests run past us clutching little water bottles. We move aside to let them pass — in my case, it’s as much about not wanting to be covered in the sweat that’s dripping from them as it is about politeness. It’s a bright, brisk day, definitely one to be out in the fresh air but wrapped up and cosy rather than torturing yourself in Lycra.
‘I don’t think they’re New Year’s resolution runners, do you?’ Patty asks me.
‘No, they look as if they’ve been at it for quite some time. And I’m sure they’re all very healthy, but from their faces they never really look as if they’re enjoying themselves, do they?’
‘Runner’s face...’ Patty pulls a pained grimace. ‘Wine drinker’s face...’ She relaxes into an expression of bliss and sighs.
‘You see, they’ve got it wrong — a little of what you fancy, that’s the key to a youthful countenance,’ she concludes.
‘I’ve never known you to stop at a little.’ I smile and hug her arm a little tighter.
The walk through Chorlton takes us down Beech Road, which is filled with trendy shops and cafés catering to a cosmopolitan crowd. Yummy-mummies with off-road baby buggies and middle-agers with empty-nest-filling puppies sit side by side eating avocado on sourdough and flat whites. The vibe is friendly and the street has a buzz that I love. Chorltonites know they’ve become a bit of a cliché but embrace it anyway. It’s a great place to live — only a short tram ride to Manchester city centre yet just by the canal, so with a short walk you could almost feel as if you’re in the country.
Patty stops at an independent clothes store and looks at the dress in the window. It’s a deep-red shirt dress with a kind of abstract floral pattern so that it doesn’t look like a nan dress or as if you’re wearing a florist’s window.
‘Do you think I could get away with that?’ asks Patty.
My best friend is a tall blonde who was probably a shield maiden leading Viking raids in a previous life. People notice Patty when she walks into a room; wearing this, their eyes would be on stalks.
‘I think you’d look stunning,’ I say.
‘Not too young for me?’ she asks.
I check my watch and tell her that we have time to go and try it on; we have a big day ahead of us but nothing to stop us clothes shopping.
The assistant looks over and says hello as we walk in and trigger the little door bell. It’s a small space but very busy with customers browsing the clothes rails. It’s nothing like a department store with identikit ranges — the shop owner has each piece in a couple of sizes but the range is broad and eclectic. At first glance it looks a fairly random selection but as you browse you can see a capsule wardrobe in the making. It all works together without looking manufactured. Patty asks to try on the red dress and takes it into a changing room which has been formed behind an old-fashioned wardrobe door.
‘That looks very Narnia,’ I say to the assistant, who thanks me and tells me it was one of her favourite books and the reason for the shop name — Pevensie. I nod but haven’t a clue what that reference means.
‘You walk into the wardrobe a normal person and come out a magical creature,’ she adds, smiling.
And indeed my best friend does.
The wardrobe door opens and Patty walks out looking an absolute vision.
‘Wow,’ says the assistant. ‘Can I take a picture for our Instagram?’
Patty agrees, doing a few poses, and the purchase is made. She decides she’s not going to take it off.
‘It’s going to be perfect for the dance lessons,’ I tell her. We’re heading there later this afternoon with the customers who have already booked onto the Vienna trip.
‘It makes me feel fabulous, and who knows, I might even dance better in this.’ We leave the store with the clothes she put on this morning in the shop’s brown paper bag. She hasn’t even put her coat back on; it’s slung over her arm for the remainder of the walk to the pub.
‘It’s amazing how great clothes can make you feel, isn’t it? As if somehow a dress finds the real you hidden underneath the sensible knitwear.’
I’m reminiscing about my own post-divorce transformation last year. After realising the trauma had left me looking ancient, I had the whole makeover and vowed I’d never let myself go again. While I’m not right back at ground zero, I wouldn’t exactly say that I’m feeling like the dynamic Bo-Peep who rose from the ashes.
‘Is that why you’re currently in a polyester mix when I know you have a fabulous cashmere back home?’ asks Patty, raising her eyebrows at me.
‘Busted,’ I reply. ‘It just doesn’t feel like a cashmere day.’
Our first activity for the day is brunch. We reach the pub and are taken to our reserved table; the lighting is low, and against the matte grey walls, Patty and her dress certainly stand out. A few people look up as we pass and I catch some admiring glances in Patty’s direction from both men and women. I’m happy to see the place is busy and I contemplate how the trend for brunches must have saved many a pub. The advantage of this place over a café is that we can accompany our eggs with a Buck’s Fizz and that’s what we plan to do. It was booked as a celebration of Patty’s return to the stage, and as the gig went wonderfully well, the glass of bubbly seems very apt. It arrives shortly after we sit down and we toast last night’s great performance.
‘And here’s to your coming adventures on the high seas,’ I add.
‘I know,’ exclaims Patty with a little shudder. ‘Not long now and I’ll be back on that ship. I’m excited and nervous at the same time.’
‘It’s not like you to be nervous,’ I say as I read the menu, even though I know what I’m ordering.
‘I might not show it,’ Patty says. ‘But I get butterflies before I get on stage. Once I get going and we’re into the first song it’s okay, but I was talking more about seeing Jack again.’
I look up at her in surprise.
‘It’s one thing flirting remotely and another spending every day together in a floating bathtub,’ she says.
‘I’m sure the cruise operator would be delighted to hear his luxury vessel described like that.’ I laugh then add, ‘I thought you and Jack got on brilliantly?’
‘We do and we did,’ Patty replies. ‘Honestly, when we got together I finally understood why they cut to a firework montage in all those romcoms — it was amazing, but he’ll have been away from me for months and he might be thinking that I was great in small doses but maybe not for the long haul.’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have bothered calling you every day if that were the case.’ We both order our Eggs Royale from the waitress. ‘And I’m equally sure that you’ll pick up where you left off, unless you’re having doubts about him?’
‘God, no — I’ve finally met a man who tells me he can cope with all this.’ She brushes her hands down either side of her body. ‘I’m not letting that go in a hurry.’
I know it hasn’t only been about finding someone who could cope with Patty’s massive personality, it’s also been about her being ready to date again. A feeling I know only too well.
‘So, can this David cope with all of you?’ Patty asks, interrupting my train of thought.
‘I’m not sure there’s as much of me to cope with,’ I say light-heartedly.
‘There was last year,’ says Patty. ‘You were flying by the end of the year, and if you don’t mind me saying, you seem a little flat this year. Am I wrong?’
I shake my head as I can feel tiny tears prickling at the edge of my eyes. I take a deep breath and swallow them away. Happily, the food arrives and we both exclaim our delight a little too enthusiastically. It’s as if we’ve never seen a poached egg before — although, as I cut into the firm whites and let the soft yolk ooze over the smoked salmon, I can see it is a perfectly cooked one.
‘How come I can never get this just right,’ I say, letting the flavour luxuriate in my mouth. ‘It’s either all undercooked or all rock solid.’
‘We were made for loving, not cooking,’ replies Patty. ‘Now, back to my question...’
‘Yes,’ I say, nodding but not looking up. ‘It feels flat. I had this huge journey last year picking myself up from rock bottom, and when the year ended on such a high, I thought it would just keep climbing but it hasn’t — not for me anyway.’
Those final four words come out more barbed than I’d intended and I’m aware how bitter I sound. I look up at Patty.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘That sounded awful. It’s just that it felt as if we were on that journey together and we both had a fabulous New Year, and then you’ve continued to soar while I flounder and I’m scared I might lose you. Even Mum has a second wind — she was a sample-snaffling old woman last year and now she’s a biker who wants an affair!’
Patty snorts and has to grab a napkin quickly to stop the mouthful she’s just consumed reappearing.
‘Firstly, you will never lose me,’ she says when she’s recovered. ‘And you’ve had some bad luck when it comes to love, but what about this David guy? You seemed to like him after that date at his house.’
‘It was nice. He and his friends have a good social life and it’s nice to be part of a group. It’s good to meet new people and I’ll need that when you’re away. Then maybe when you and Jack are onshore, you can join us.’
‘We’d love to,’ says Patty. ‘However, I’m sensing a “but”.’
‘But... I really need to know what happened with Michael before I can move on. I simply can’t get him out of my head no matter how much I try.’ I’m aware that the words are about to come out fast and furious. ‘One minute he’s pursuing me — albeit by doing the gardening, but still — and then he seemed so enthusiastic when I invited him out, we even had a kiss at midnight and I really quite liked him. I thought we’d be taking it from there.’
I stop briefly for air then continue.
‘Then he doesn’t call but I find out he doesn’t have my number so I forgive him and, again, look forward to getting together — he sounded so keen when I called, so it makes no sense whatsoever that he stood me up. And why would he be happy to hear from me if he was seeing someone else?’
‘Maybe he just doesn’t have the courage to turn you down directly?’ says Patty as I take a moment to inhale then exhale deeply. ‘Some men are like that — they hate conflict.’
‘I didn’t think he was like that. He seemed gentlemanly.’
‘You could always ring and ask,’ says Patty. ‘Get that closure and then it’s more likely to work with David. Magic up some of the bravery you showed tackling that bottle-thrower and demand answers.’
‘Maybe,’ I sigh, ready to change the subject.
Fortunately, from the corner of my eye I’m aware that a young woman has started staring at us as she loiters a little distance from our table. I turn to look at her and she comes over.
‘Sorry for stalking you,’ she says to Patty with an embarrassed fluster. ‘I’ve just seen you on Pevensie’s Insta page — you look amazing in that dress.’
‘Thank you.’ Patty gets up and gives her a twirl. The woman takes a photo and says she’ll post it on the pub’s page.
‘It’s like your dress is having a day out,’ she says before thanking us and promising to leave us in peace now.
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ I tell Patty as she sits back down. I certainly don’t want to continue our conversation or go back to the house. ‘We didn’t have anything planned before the dance class, did we? Let’s take your dress on a grand tour.’