Chapter Forty-Seven
Margot has come to The Frock Shop today on a special mission. Actually, two missions. The first is to see the new shop, as she hasn’t visited since it officially opened in mid May.
She saw the article in the Mosman Daily about how Hollywood star Christina Clarke had taken over the lease of the shop and reopened it as The Frock Shop, leaving it in the care of Daphne when she has to travel.
There was a lovely photo of Christina and Daphne and a teenager, Lucy, who has an after-school job there, it seems.
There was also a very old photo of some lady called Ophelia Pankhurst, with a very young Daphne by her side.
This was the first time Margot knew how long Daphne has been involved with the shop.
The article also mentioned that her husband died recently – and that spurred Margot into action.
She’s had a bit on her mind lately so has barely had time to think about anything else.
Time needs to be made, though, for Daphne.
As she opens the door of the shop she sees that it is transformed.
Its previous dark walls are now white, and there are pretty lights on them.
The counter is new – low, with a distressed-wood finish.
There is one rack of day dresses and another of evening gowns.
Others hold tops, pants and skirts. One display case holds jewellery, another sunglasses.
There are ferns in the corners, and the whole feeling is light and cheerful.
Christina is behind the counter, wearing a high-necked white dress with a full skirt, under a soft pink jacket.
‘Hello, Margot!’ she calls, and Margot can hardly believe that Christina remembers her.
‘Hello, Christina. I thought I’d …’ She glances around, still surprised at the transformation. ‘I wanted to see the new shop.’
‘Isn’t it divine? I love the decor. Duncan did an amazing job.’
Christina smiles, and now that Margot knows that Christina is a movie star she sees why she’s so noted for her beauty: there is a radiance to her that mere mortals don’t have.
Not that she had it the first time Margot met her, but she does now.
It’s almost like she has an inner lamp that’s been switched on.
‘Is Daphne here?’ Margot asks. She doesn’t mind talking to Christina, but Daphne is the one she really wants to see.
‘Sure.’ Christina slips out from behind the counter and goes down a side corridor that Margot has never noticed before. ‘Daph!’ she calls.
She sees Margot looking at the corridor and says, ‘It goes to the stairs. It was behind some plyboard – can you believe that? A whole corridor to the flat upstairs! We thought there was only the back entrance to it.’
‘There’s a flat?’
Christina nods. ‘We’ve put Lucy’s workroom up there. More space. Daphne was just up chatting to her.’
When Daphne appears she looks tired but not unhappy.
‘Hello, Margot,’ she says as she approaches. ‘What do you think of the place?’
‘It’s lovely. So different.’
‘Back to its glamorous old self.’ Daphne winks. ‘How’s tricks?’
Margot hesitates, not wanting to broach one of her subjects in front of Christina. But as she and Daphne now seem to be in business together, perhaps it doesn’t matter.
‘I was very sorry to hear about your husband,’ she says.
Daphne’s face falls briefly. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘It was the best thing, in the end. He wasn’t having much of a life.’
The calculation of exactly how much of a life a person should have is something that’s been weighing on Margot as she works out what to do about Lavinia and the house. Not that she’s going to tell Daphne about that. She has other news.
‘I need a dress,’ she says, and Daphne’s eyes widen. No doubt she’s wondering how Margot would be able to afford a new dress, which would be reasonable.
‘Oh?’ Daphne says. ‘What for?’
Margot can’t help smiling. She’s been doing that a lot lately. ‘My wedding.’
‘Wedding!’ Daphne squawks. ‘Your wedding! Margot, you dark horse!’
Margot keeps smiling, and tries not to feel too smug.
‘Who’s the lucky gentleman?’
‘His name is Stephen Williams.’
Daphne scrunches up her face. ‘The antiques fella?’
‘You know him?’ This feels quite reassuring to Margot.
‘He’s been in the area for a while, and so have I.’ Daphne peers at her. ‘He’s making you happy?’
‘Yes.’
Christina appears beside them. ‘Did I hear you say wedding?’
Margot nods.
‘How wonderful! When?’
‘In a month. At the registry office. And I need a dress.’
‘The registry office?’ Daphne says, sounding mildly shocked. ‘Can’t he make a bigger to-do of it?’
‘We’ll have a party,’ Margot says. ‘And I would love to invite you.’
‘I’ll be there,’ Daphne says. ‘But this one is off to Hollywood for a while.’ She nods at Christina.
‘Not Hollywood technically. We’re filming in Oregon.’
‘Splitting hairs,’ Daphne says. ‘She has a new movie, at any rate.’
‘How exciting,’ Margot says. ‘When do you leave?’
‘Next week. But we can sort out your dress today. Or would you like one made? Daphne could design something for you.’
Margot turns toward Daphne. ‘You could?’
‘It’s a little hobby of mine. Young Lucy-Lu and I are in cahoots.’
‘She’s divinely good,’ says Christina.
‘Nonsense,’ Daphne scolds, but she looks pleased. ‘And let’s look at the rack first. Are you wanting white?’
‘Not necessarily,’ Margot says. Even though it may be appropriate for her, she feels she’s too old a bride for it.
‘Let’s head over here,’ Daphne says, as Christina goes down the corridor, calling, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
Margot and Daphne pore over the dresses in the shop, pulling out options, and Margot tries them on. There’s one dress that is almost right, but not exactly how she’d want it, so Daphne says she’ll come up with a design for her.
Margot can’t believe the freedom of not having to worry about the cost – Stephen has said he’ll take care of everything. He’s been doing that ever since they met, really. She never knew how much she wanted to have someone take care of her until he did.
‘So you’re happy?’ Daphne says after they’ve made an appointment for Margot to be measured.
Margot beams. ‘I am.’
Daphne peers at her. ‘I believe you. I’ve never seen you look so radiant.’
Margot raises her eyebrows. ‘Or radiant at all?’
‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘No – you’re too kind. But I know it’s true.’
These days Margot sometimes feels like her cells are oscillating with promise, so changed is her life and what she now believes she can expect from it.
Daphne glances away. ‘The past is a funny thing,’ she says. ‘We can drag it along with us for a very long time, letting it pull us backward as much as we try to go forward. Or …’ Now their eyes lock. ‘We can set it free.’
Margot is quite aware that Daphne knows the story of her family.
They have both lived in this suburb their whole lives, and Margot and her mother before her have been coming to the frock shop for a long time.
No doubt Daphne has guessed that Margot has felt burdened by the losses that haunted her younger years.
Perhaps she has understood, all this time, just how much they have cost Margot.
‘Give Lavinia my love,’ Daphne says. ‘And bring her up for a chinwag sometime.’
‘Maybe once I have a dress to show her?’ Margot is thrilled at the prospect.
‘Perfect.’
Margot says her goodbyes and heads on foot down Avenue Road, feeling the cool air on her face, enjoying the softer sunlight of late autumn, looking forward to winter and spring and summer and forever beyond.