Chapter Sorry Not Sorry
Sorry Not Sorry
There was just one small problem:
‘The Casino de Monte-Carlo has a strict dress code.’
Twenty minutes later and they were in Place du Casino, with its fountain and palm trees, standing outside one of the most famous buildings in the world. With its iconic golden facade and sweeping main entrance, it was surrounded by expensive sportscars and crowds of starstruck tourists.
And two women on the hunt for a romance fraudster.
‘To enter this legendary venue, visitors are required to wear smart attire in the evening,’ continued Flick, who was googling and reading aloud from her iPhone. ‘Details can be found on the official website.’
‘Patrons wearing shorts, jeans with holes, running shoes, flip-flops and sandals will not be admitted,’ finished Maggie, who’d picked up a leaflet from tourist information on the way.
They both paused from reading and turned to each other, taking in each other’s outfits. Collectively they were wearing every banned item on the list. Minus the holey jeans, thought Maggie, but she had a pair of those in her suitcase.
‘Fuck.’
‘Gordon Bennett.’
Both cursing at the same time, Flick turned to Maggie. ‘Who’s Gordon Bennett?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘I have no idea. It’s just an expression.’
Flick stared at her. What was it with the older generation and their use of bizarre sayings?
‘Sorry. It’s what my dad used to say. Sometimes when I get nervous it just pops out.’ Maggie fanned herself with the leaflet. It must be a hundred degrees. She could feel her chest going all blotchy, like it did when she got all hot and bothered.
At the mention of Maggie’s dad, Flick felt a stab of sympathy. Her mum was never far from her mind either. ‘You don’t need to apologize,’ she said more kindly.
‘Sorry, I know, it’s just—’ Maggie caught herself apologizing again, shaking her head with an awkward laugh. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop saying sorry these days.’
‘It’s not your fault. We live in a patriarchal society. Women are taught to over-apologize, for taking up space, or having an opinion, or being ambitious. Basically everything men do without thinking. You know men hardly ever feel guilty?’
‘They don’t?’ Maggie looked at Flick in astonishment.
‘No, I’ve asked Rory. He looked at me like I was bananas. “Guilty? For what?” And yet women are constantly made to feel guilty for everything.’
‘And now I’m feeling guilty about feeling guilty,’ admitted Maggie, which made Flick laugh.
‘See. A total waste of our time. Talking of which –’ she glanced at her watch – ‘we need to get a move on if we’re going to find something to wear for tonight.’
‘You mean, we have to go clothes shopping?’
Maggie’s heart sank. There was a time, when she was younger, when she loved nothing more than shopping for clothes. But now it filled her with dread.
‘Yes,’ Flick nodded. ‘It says men have to wear a blazer and smart shoes, but it doesn’t say what women have to wear. But I think we’ll be OK in a dress and heels. You know, something suitably glitzy.’
‘The patriarchal society at work again?’ Maggie raised an eyebrow and Flick made a face.
‘Unless you brought a dress and heels?’
Maggie gave Flick a look that needed no words.
‘OK, well, neither did I. In that case, we don’t have anything to wear.’
Maggie’s face clouded. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to buy any new clothes. Especially not here, it seems to be all expensive designer shops.’
‘No need to apologize! And I’m sure we can find something cheaper.’
‘Can you expense it on the newspaper? Will they cover the costs?’ Maggie realized she was already feeling guilty. Flick was right.
‘Um . . . yes, I’m sure that’s fine.’
‘OK, then let’s go find some sequins.’
And now it was Flick’s turn to look horrified.
Thankfully, nestled amongst the designer shops with their designer price tags were several high-street chains selling outfits that wouldn’t break the bank of Monte Carlo. However, finding something suitably dressy was more of a challenge.
‘Isn’t it a bit shiny?’
‘It’s satin; it’s supposed to be shiny.’
‘I can’t wear a minidress; it’s too revealing.’
‘So why are you giving it to me?’
Flick and Maggie were having a stand-off in the middle of the store.
‘Because you’re twenty-six. You can wear anything at twenty-six.’
‘You can wear anything at forty-nine if you want to.’
Actually, Flick liked the minidress. It would look good with her trainers. Then she remembered the strict dress code. Shit.
‘Technically,’ agreed Maggie. ‘But just because you can wear it, doesn’t mean you should.’
‘What exactly does that mean?’
Maggie paused from pulling clothes off racks. ‘Actually, I’ve got no idea. I read it somewhere.’
‘OK, I’m getting this one.’ Switching the satin dress for a full-length version, Flick decided she was going to try and hide her trainers underneath.
‘What about this for me?’ suggested Maggie, holding up a long, navy-blue linen shirt dress. ‘It’s even on the sales rack.’
Flick wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s a bit boring.’
‘It’s not boring, it’s classic.’
Unconvinced, Flick turned back to the sale racks. ‘Ooh, look, sequins!’
‘I was only joking about the sequins.’
But Flick was already pulling out an emerald-green halter neck dress, holding it up in front of Maggie and enthusing, ‘Look at the colour! It’s perfect with your hair!’
‘It’s not me.’
‘Exactly!’
Maggie looked at her doubtfully. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you get to be someone else for the evening. Someone who wears bling and goes to a casino and hasn’t lost everything to some pathetic fraudster, including their confidence and self-worth.
By wearing this you’re showing him that all he got was your money and your dad’s watch.
That you’re made of stronger stuff and he didn’t break you.
That you’re someone who says fuck you and not sorry—’
Flick broke off, her chest heaving, and looked at Maggie, waiting for her to say something. It hadn’t meant to turn into a speech and she wondered if she’d gone too far when, without a word, Maggie grabbed the dress and marched over to the cash register.
‘Wait? You’re not going to try it on?’ she called after in astonishment.
‘Nope.’ Shaking her head, Maggie looked back and smiled. ‘You had me at fuck you.’