Chapter 24
Bristol
Jamie was in Clifton, on his way to pick up a couple of ready meals from the delicatessen, when he spotted Fen walking up the street ahead of him. As he watched, she stopped outside one of the shops and pressed a buzzer.
Approaching her, he saw that the door had been answered and she was speaking to a dark-haired woman standing in the doorway.
It was the bridal shop, he realised.
‘I’m sorry, if you don’t have an appointment, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it,’ the woman was telling her. ‘We can’t let people simply wander in off the street and start trying on our gowns for fun.’
Fen didn’t know he was there, listening. Jamie pretended to be studying a chandelier in the window of the antiques shop next door.
‘I’m not wanting to try on dresses for fun. I’m getting married in a fortnight.’
At this, the woman in the doorway gave a bemused half-laugh, as if suspecting that it might be a joke.
‘I’m afraid that doesn’t give you nearly enough time – the waiting list for our initial appointments is far longer than that.
You really haven’t thought this through, have you?
I can’t imagine anyone’s going to be able to help you at this stage.
I honestly think your only option now is to postpone the wedding! ’
‘Right, sorry.’ Fen looked utterly defeated. ‘I didn’t know I needed to make an appointment.’
‘Fen,’ said Jamie. ‘I thought you were going dress shopping with Disa?’
Turning and realising for the first time that he was there, Fen shook her head. ‘Oh, hi. Disa had to cancel. She’s come down with tonsillitis.’
‘And now you aren’t even allowed to look at wedding dresses?’
‘I know.’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘I had no idea it was going to be so difficult.’
The woman in the doorway had recognised him. In an instant, her whole demeanour changed. ‘Well, I—’
‘So now we have to postpone the wedding?’ said Jamie.
‘Look, if it’s really important, I’m sure I can make an exception.
’ The woman shot a dazzling smile at him.
‘I had no idea this was, you know, something to do with you!’ Stepping back, she indicated with a sweeping gesture for them to enter the shop.
‘Unless of course you’re the lucky groom-to-be, in which case I don’t think you’d be allowed in! ’
Jamie looked at Fen, who gave the tiniest shake of her head. He smiled at the woman and said politely, ‘I’m not the groom-to-be. And thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll take our chances elsewhere.’
‘So that’s that,’ Fen said when the door had closed. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’
‘On my way to the deli for some food.’
‘I’ll walk with you, pick up a few things to take to Leon.’ She paused. ‘He probably won’t eat them, but you never know.’
Jamie nodded; the last fortnight hadn’t been going well for Leon, who was now sleeping more, eating less and needing increasing doses of morphine to keep the pain in check.
He was also struggling to cope with visitors who outstayed their welcome.
Yesterday a group of friends from the flying club had turned up, and he had dozed off while they’d been making plans to take him up in the helicopter for what would most likely be his final flight.
By the end of the visit, it had become apparent to all of them that such a trip – climbing up into a two-seater Robinson R22 – would be too much for him.
Fuck, it was still unimaginable.
Jamie gave himself a mental shake; there was still plenty that needed doing, and time was running out.
‘What are you going to do about the wedding dress?’
‘Doesn’t look like there’s much I can do. It was Hilary who said I should have one; I wasn’t that bothered anyway. I can always wear my pink and green flowery trouser suit.’
Hmm.
Ten minutes later, as they left the deli with their bags of food, Fen stopped outside the vintage clothes shop.
‘I once bought a really superb velvet kimono from this place. Maybe they’ll have something I could wear for the wedding.
And don’t think I didn’t notice your face earlier when I mentioned my trouser suit. ’
Jamie smiled, because of all the clothes he’d seen her in, the big-shouldered, short-legged, bright pink and peppermint-green outfit was the most . . . eclectic.
‘Can I come in with you?’
‘If you want to. Didn’t have you down as a vintage kind of person.’
‘Me neither. But I’ll give it a try.’
It wasn’t a shop he’d ever ventured into before, but the interior was an actual treasure trove of clothes on padded silk hangers, spectacular hats and accessories, and rainbow arrangements of scarves and jewellery.
Fen knew the staff working in there and told them she wanted something for a special occasion.
Jamie, seated in a peacock cane chair, watched as she tried on a series of outfits, emerging each time from the changing room and striking a pose, and in return receiving Shaz and Zoe’s straight-from-the-hip verdicts.
‘Eight out of ten,’ Shaz announced. ‘Nice, but I’m not sure about the stripes.’
‘Pretty,’ said Zoe, of a multicoloured flowery frock, ‘but maybe too pretty. Seven out of ten.’
‘Six for this one. It’s a bit seventies disco queen,’ said Shaz.
Zoe shook her head at the next one. ‘Not your colour. Too yellow. Sorry, it’s a four from me.’
In the end, it was Shaz who found and made Fen try on a silk bias-cut dress with an iridescent pearl sheen and handkerchief hem. Emerging from the changing room, Fen said with a sigh, ‘I thought this could be the one, but it’s miles too big.’
It was, but the women were already swarming around her, tightening it up with bulldog clips. ‘You can get it made smaller! We have someone who does alterations but she’s in Mallorca at the moment. Do you have anyone who could sort it for you?’
Fen shook her head. ‘No.’ She turned to look at Jamie. ‘What do you think?’
It was a sleek, simple dress that, once it had been properly fitted to her body, would be exactly right for a register office wedding. Jamie nodded. ‘Ten out of ten. This is the one. Leon will love it.’
They left the shop and sat down in a café to search online for someone to alter the dress. Twenty minutes and many phone calls later, they were discovering that waiting lists were a thing for dressmakers too.
‘This is no good.’ Fen finished her coffee and shoved her phone back into her bag. ‘I’ll find something in another shop.’
Switching to his contacts list and scrolling through, Jamie found what he was looking for. ‘OK, this could be a long shot, but bear with me. Seeing as we’re desperate, let’s give it a try.’
‘You take a call out of the blue from Jamie Hamilton,’ Brendan O’Hara said cheerfully, ‘and you tell him to get himself over here pronto. I mean, who could resist a request to help out the most famous ex-rugby player in Bristol?’ He darted around Fen, who was standing on a slightly wobbly bench in the far-too-big dress, and deftly pinned folds of silk into place.
It wasn’t quite the setting she’d anticipated, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. They were in a tiny hut that smelled of mud and Lynx and teenage boys, while outside on the football pitch, two teams were playing a noisy after-school match with the score currently standing at 3–2.
At least Brendan appeared to know what he was doing.
Fen obediently held out her arms and tried not to be ticklish as he pinned the bodice.
In his seventies now, he had for decades volunteered at the school in south Bristol, looking after and maintaining the sports kits and equipment, and doing anything around the PE department that required upkeep.
But his actual career, Jamie had explained to Fen as they’d made their way here, had been in tailoring, so although silk wedding dresses might not be what he was used to dealing with, he was still handy with a needle and thread, and willing to give this one a go.
‘Don’t you worry, m’darling,’ Brendan continued now.
‘I know I’m more used to sewing up torn shorts and jerseys these days, but I can get this sorted for you by the weekend.
’ Indicating Jamie, who was standing guard inside the doorway ensuring they weren’t interrupted, he broke into a grin.
‘I remember when this one got himself into a skirmish at school and one of the sleeves was ripped clean off his new blazer. By the time I’d sewn it back on, it was as good as new. ’
‘My mother never even found out,’ said Jamie. He pulled a face. ‘Just as well, seeing as she couldn’t have afforded to buy another one.’
Fen raised her eyebrows at him. ‘You got into a skirmish? I’m shocked.’
‘Ah, there was a boy in his class who was being picked on something rotten,’ Brendan explained.
‘Jamie was standing up for the lad when the bullies decided to pile onto him instead. Six of them there were, what with them being a shower of cowards. But Jamie here was one of the good guys. Otherwise I’d never have sewn that sleeve back on for him. ’
The shriek of a whistle signalling the end of the match made Fen jump and almost lose her balance on the rickety bench.
Cheers and groans went up from the players outside, and she felt a sudden urge to clamp her arms around her chest. ‘They’re not going to burst in here, are they?
’ This hut was their changing room, after all.
Their discarded school uniforms were scattered in untidy piles along the other benches.
‘Jamie lad, hold back the hordes,’ Brendan instructed. ‘We’ll be finished here in a couple of minutes.’
Although the situation now felt increasingly surreal, Fen remained standing on the bench while Jamie explained to the lads gathered outside the hut that they couldn’t come in just yet.
Their initial cries of protest turned to excitement as they realised who he was and began to bombard him with questions.
‘My phone’s in there, in my bag. Can I have a selfie with you when I get it back?’
‘Will you sign my shirt?’
‘My mum fancies you. D’you want her number?’
‘What’s it like being on the telly?’
‘If you sign my arm, I could get it made into a tattoo.’
Brendan finished pinning the dress and unzipped it, then turned away as Fen carefully slid out of it and passed it over to him before climbing back into her own clothes at the speed of light.
Phew, done.
Then Jamie stepped aside and the boys burst into the hut, all intent on grabbing their phones out of their school bags and getting a selfie with Jamie Hamilton to show off to their friends and families.
As the selfie-taking continued, one lad gave Fen a puzzled look, then turned to Brendan. ‘Why is she in here, sir?’
Fen said, ‘He was helping me with my wedding dress.’
The boy glanced around the muddy hut and gave a disbelieving laugh, as if she’d just claimed to be Sabrina Carpenter. ‘Yeah, right.’
What had started off as a depressingly unsuccessful outfit-buying trip had ended up an unexpectedly fun one, and now Fen’s spirits had lifted.
Jamie was driving her back across town and they were sharing a bag of cherry Haribos while laughing at a comedian on the radio.
For a short while, the endless dread of what lay ahead had receded.
It was purely temporary, she knew that; once he’d dropped her back to her own car, she would drive over to Hetherton Hall.
Later, Jamie would arrive and she would leave to go home and hopefully get some sleep, so that at any time of the evening Leon would have someone with him if he woke up and wanted company.
So far, she hadn’t spent the night there, because Hilary liked to take the night shift, sitting at his bedside and keeping watch over him as he slept.
Her phone rang and her heart leapt because Leon’s name was on the screen. Snatching it up, she put him on speaker. ‘Hi, I’ll be there by four, and guess what? I’ve found my dress for the wedding!’
But it wasn’t Leon’s voice on the phone. It was Hilary’s.
‘Leon’s not doing so well. The doctor’s visited and upped his meds. She says we should prepare ourselves for the worst.’ She paused and took a breath. ‘Anyway, I thought you should know. It’s not looking good.’
Fen’s palms were slippery with perspiration, her throat so tight she was unable to speak. If the last weeks had involved the sensation of falling off a cliff in slow motion, that feeling was suddenly speeding up in the most terrifying way possible.
Next to her, accelerating hard as the traffic lights ahead turned from green to amber, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, Jamie said loudly enough for Leon’s mother to hear, ‘Tell him we’re on our way.’