Chapter Eight
Lucy and I are a bit early on Sunday to meet the girls, so we make a pit stop at the department store’s cafe to have a cup of tea and a scone, like pearl-strung old ladies.
‘I can’t believe we’re going to be picking out your bridesmaids’ dresses today,’ I say as I spoon sugar into my cup.
‘It’s kind of surreal,’ Lucy laughs. ‘I mean, I always sort of dreamed about my wedding, but in those fantasies, I never had a groom in mind, you know?’
‘Sure,’ I reply, though I haven’t thought about my own fantasy wedding since I was about five years old. That was around the time my parents got divorced, and no Disney movie in the world could convince me to believe in true love after that.
‘Well, now it’s really happening, after years of writing about romance and weddings and all that stuff, it’s happening to me.’ She grins sweetly down at her plate. ‘And I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone in the world but Alex Preston now.’
I smile back at her, my frozen heart thawing just a little.
If anyone stands a chance of convincing me true love is real, it’s Lucy and Alex.
They are just so comfortable with one another, so in sync with each other’s moods and routines, it’s as if they were literally made for each other.
The other night, Alex came round and brought Lucy a big box of cupcakes iced in her favourite colour, ‘just because’.
And it’s not just the grand gestures like treats and flowers, he’ll draw her a bath and while she’s soaking, get started on preparing a homemade dinner from scratch without her even having to say a word.
I can’t imagine having a relationship like that, none of my past dalliances have so much as made me a cuppa in the morning, let alone anything else.
‘You deserve this, Lucy,’ I tell her earnestly. ‘You really do.’
As I watch her simper and giggle, that nagging worry I’ve been avoiding creeps back to the forefront of my mind.
What are you going to do once you’re married, Lucy? Are you going to continue to live apart for the rest of your marriage, or is one of you going to sell your beloved house?
For all their strengths as a couple, communication when it comes to the big stuff clearly isn’t one of them.
Still, I manage to stomp down the pesky, niggling worry and strive to focus on the task of the day.
The mission is bridesmaids’ dresses, and that’s all I need to concern myself with.
After all, it’s none of my business. None of my business at all.
Lucy’s phone beeps and she checks it. ‘Ooh, that’s Mel, they’ve arrived!’ She rises from her chair and pulls at my arm. ‘Come on, they’re over by the formal wear department.’
Now, normally, I love a good trawl round the shops, but searching for a dress that magically fits all our requirements is a tall order, indeed.
After we’re an hour deep into our search, we finally take a selection of gowns to the changing rooms, and every single one is a disaster.
The first one is way too low cut and although Mel’s boobs look fantastic, she claims she’s much too self-conscious to wear such a garment in public.
The second clings to Holly’s sumptuous curves like a second skin, but makes the rest of us look like scrawny matchsticks.
The third looks awful on us all, crafted in a cheap net-curtain style chiffon, but with the price tag of the real deal.
‘Maybe we should try another shop,’ Holly suggests as she tugs the final dress over her head and to the floor, leaving her standing in her bra and knickers in the middle of the changing room.
‘What’s the point? They’re all dreadful! None of these are a patch on the sort you could make, Lotts,’ Lucy sighs despairingly. ‘At this rate, you’d all be better off going in matching bin bags!’
While Lucy’s in the midst of a bridal breakdown and the others rush to console her, I nip out of the changing room and scour every rail, determined to find something that will work, anything.
I discover a tea length dress that would probably flatter everyone, but it’s the wrong colour.
Flipping through, I pull out one in the perfect shade of terracotta, but it’s much too short and tight-fitting.
Ugh, Lucy’s right, there’s just nothing that’s going to work for such a diverse group of shapes, sizes and skin tones.
Just when I’m about to give up, my palm strokes the most buttery soft silk, and my heart leaps with hope when I catch a glimpse of rich burnt-orange sandwiched between a floral-patterned nightmare and what looks to be a lacy nightgown.
It shimmers in the light as I pull it from the rail - a beautiful a-line dress with delicate spaghetti straps and subtle ruching at the thigh.
Holding my breath, I grab our respective sizes and scuttle back to the changing room, and not a moment too soon. Lucy seems close to weeping, while Lottie does her best to reassure her that there’s a perfect bridesmaid dress out there somewhere.
‘Yeah, I think I might have found it,’ I chime in, holding up the chosen gowns in both hands. ‘Well, maybe . We’ll have to try them on first.’
‘These look promising,’ Ruth comments as she takes her size from my arms. ‘What do you think, Luce?’
The bride-to-be still looks dubious, but she bravely nods her head, lips pursed tight. ‘Go on girls, give it a go.’
From behind the privacy of the thick curtain, I anxiously slip into the silky gown.
It fits like a glove, with just enough give in the boob and bum areas and yet, it’s not at all baggy and frumpy like some of the others were.
The flowy skirt falls demurely to the floor and the ruching detail keeps it modern and playful while still oozing elegance.
I admire myself in the mirror, turning this way and that.
The colour is perfect too, the exact shade Lucy had envisioned in her mood boards.
In unison, we bridesmaids pull back the curtains to our rooms and reveal ourselves to Lucy. With a gasp, she clasps her hands to her mouth.
‘Oh guys, you all look gorgeous!’ Her eyes brim with joyful tears.
‘Yeah, I feel really good in it,’ Holly beams as she spins around, sending the skirt swirling.
‘Same!’ Ruth squeals, smoothing down the bodice. ‘I love it.’
‘Well done, Alicia!’ Lottie claps her hands, applauding my apparent good taste.
‘Great pick!’ Mel adds.
I don’t realise I’m blushing until I catch sight of myself in the big mirror on the changing room wall behind Lucy, and then I blush some more.
‘Thanks,’ I mumble, toying with the strap of my dress. ‘I guess we’d better go and find shoes!’
Thankfully, that’s a much easier task; we opt for strappy sandals in soft gold with a mid-height heel, ideal for dancing the night away.
As we stroll down the street with our arms linked as one, giggling and chatting as we swing our shopping bags, I’m practically bursting with pride.
I picked out Lucy’s bridesmaids’ dresses, I made the choice that was able to keep everyone happy.
Given my track record, it’s fairly unbelievable, but I actually did something right!
Maybe I’m not going to be a total disaster maid of honour. Maybe, just maybe, I’m going to be the best damn maid of honour Lily Vale Village has ever seen!