Chapter Eleven
After a series of sleepless nights, several false starts, and a bucket load of pencil shavings, I’ve finally done it. I’ve finished the preliminary sketch for Zoe’s wedding dress.
And it’s … okay , I guess.
I mean, it’s the kind of dress I’d be thrilled to present to a client attending a gala or even a movie premiere, but is it good enough for a wedding? Is it good enough for Zoe? She’s a lead designer at one of the biggest fashion houses in the world, she won’t accept anything less than perfection.
And as I look down at the piece of paper before me, I don’t see perfection.
Part of me wants to screw it up and start again, but there’s no time for that. Zoe will be here within minutes, and I have to show her something -
‘Hola!’
Right on cue, the blushing bride herself strides in, looking elegant in an all-white ensemble. It baffles me how she can act so nonchalant, so brazen after everything that happened between us. Still, I keep my cool and fake a small smile.
‘Good morning, Zoe,’ I greet her politely.
‘So?’ She holds out her hand impatiently, the other resting on her hip. ‘Where’s my design, then?’
My heart in my throat, I lift the sheet of paper out of my folder. She snatches it and holds it by one corner, as if it’s something particularly dirty and smelly she doesn’t want to handle. With a discerning frown, she studies the paper, turning it this way and that before reaching her verdict.
‘Hm. It’s missing something.’
Allowing a breath to escape, I console myself that at least she didn’t completely rip the design to pieces, figuratively or literally.
‘Okay, that’s fine, it’s just a first draft.’ Clearing my throat, I force my eyes to meet hers. ‘Do you have any idea what could be added?’
With a subtle sneer, she passes the sheet back to me. ‘Isn’t that your job?’
‘Well, yes, but a little input from the bride is always useful.’
‘Oh, but I don’t know!’ She whines, almost stamping her foot in frustration. ‘You’d think as a designer myself, I’d be able to come up with something!’
Yes, you would. Although most of your best ideas are pilfered, aren’t they?
That’s what I long to say. But instead, I bite my tongue and keep it civil.
‘Perhaps you should try on some gowns.’ I gesture to the rail behind us. ‘Just to get an idea of the sort of style you like on yourself.’
She languidly shrugs her shoulders, as if she can’t be bothered and the idea of trying on beautiful dresses is an ordeal. ‘Fine.’
Leaving a cloud of powdery perfume in her wake, she marches past me and starts helping herself to a selection of dresses, then heads toward the changing room.
‘Would you like some help dressing?’ I ask, secretly hoping she’ll refuse the offer. The last thing I want to do is hole up in a cramped dressing room with my mortal enemy, playing nice as I lace her depressingly slim figure into a wedding dress.
‘Nope, I can manage. I’ve dressed heaps of models in my time, I know how the corsets and fastenings work.’
Less than two minutes later, she emerges from the changing room, the curtain swishing dramatically around her.
‘The bodice on this is quite nice.’ She smooths down the lace appliqué front. ‘I think it really complements my shape, don’t you?’
‘You look quite lovely.’ Although I hate to admit it, she does. Her lean frame is accentuated beautifully by the subtle boning of the bodice, and the drape of the chiffon skirt is breathtaking on her.
Grinning at herself in the mirror, Zoe spins to admire herself from every angle. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘It’s gaping a bit at the back, would it be okay if I took some measurements?’ Zoe nods, and I grab my trusty tape measure. ‘So, how did you and Kit meet?’
It’s a conversational question , the sort one might ask of any bride-to-be. But somehow, it feels awkward, like I’m prying into something that is none of my business. It was my intention to have the query come out casually, but the flash in Zoe’s eyes tells me the attempt failed.
‘He was hired to shoot Emiliano Bianchi’s spring collection. He’s a photographer, you know.’ Zoe’s eyebrows lift, as if I should be oh-so-impressed . ‘We met on set and just hit it off.’
‘Cute.’ I focus on the task at hand, drawing my tape across her slender shoulders. ‘So he lives here, while you live in London?’
She stiffens beneath the tape measure. ‘That is the current set-up.’
‘Must be tough, making a long-distance relationship work.’
The mirror image of her shoots me a glare. ‘Well, it won’t be long-distance for very long.’
A bilious lump surges into my gullet and I fight to choke it down. ‘You’re … you’re moving to Lily Vale Village?’
She bursts into hysterics. ‘Oh God, no! Ew, could you imagine me in a boring old place like this? No, Kit will be moving to London, though I’m not sure he knows that yet.’ With a chuckle, she tosses her hair carelessly over her shoulder, and it slaps against my cheek. ‘It’ll be better for his career, anyway.’
‘Right. Career always was most important to you.’
I don’t need to utter another word, she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
‘Oh, you’re not still upset about that, are you?’ Turning her head this way and that, she pats her curls into place. ‘Fashion is a cut-throat business, Lottie, you know that. No one would get anywhere if they played it nice all the time.’
I stare at her in the mirror, yet her reflection avoids my gaze. ‘I was fired after what happened at Fashion Week. Hélène had me blacklisted from every industry event in the calendar. My career, it …’ Throat tightening, I wrestle back tears. ‘It was over.’
Zoe shrugs callously. ‘Well, at least you learned a lesson.’
‘What lesson?’
She spins from the mirror and bares her teeth in a grim grin. ‘To keep your mouth buttoned when it comes to classified information.’
Stunned silence holds me before I manage to find my voice, and even then, it’s little more than a croak. ‘You are joking, right?’
Again, she shrugs. ‘No one made you drink those drinks, no one forced you to show me the designs. You offered me a step up, and I took it. You’d do the same in my situation.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ I throw the measuring tape over my shoulder and storm off to grab my notebook. ‘I’d never do that to a friend.’
When I return, pencil and book in hand, Zoe is still examining herself closely in the mirror, wiping the corner of her glossy lips.
‘Anyway, you landed on your feet, didn’t you?’ she comments offhandedly. ‘You’ve got this little business to potter on with. Honestly, you’re better off out of the industry, babes. It’s only for the truly ambitious.’
It takes every scrap of willpower in me to keep from lunging at her and jabbing her in the eye with my pencil.
I’m deeply relieved when Zoe leaves the dresses piled on the changing room floor and steps out from behind the curtain in her crisp white blouse and linen trousers.
‘Damn, those dresses are heavy!’ She pulls her locks from under her collar and fluffs them up. ‘I don’t know how you expect anyone to walk in those huge hooped skirts, Lottie. They’re completely impractical.’
I almost remind her that the design she nicked - the Garden Gown - sported a large hoop and several petticoats, but I manage to restrain myself.
‘I’ll be sure to make yours light as a feather.’
‘Good. I better go, I’m having lunch with my fiancé’s aunt and uncle. They just love me!’ A series of false giggles spill from her red lips.
‘Have a wonderful time,’ I reply through a smile that’s just as fake.
‘Ta, ta, babe!’ As she makes to leave, she places her sunglasses on the end of her nose and glances over her shoulder. ‘Be sure to make some decent amendments to the design before our next appointment, I want to be dazzled .’
Dazzled - what the hell does that mean in Zoe world?
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was making up this whole wedding just so she could torment me into creating an impossible dress.
*
It’s nearly closing time, and I’m about to flip over the sign when Lucy appears in the doorway.
‘Hey! Thought I’d bring you an after-work pick-me-up.’ She backs into the boutique, bum first, her hands occupied by a cardboard drinks holder carrying coffees marked with The Cosy Little Tearoom’s logo. When she finally sets her eyes on me, her smile dissolves into a frown. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Mh-hm. Just had a rough day at work, is all.’
Lucy reaches out to touch my arm with her elbow. ‘Want to talk about it?’
With a wane smile, I shake my head. ‘Not really.’
‘Well, at least it’s over now.’ She proffers the drinks to me and I grab one with a grateful nod. ‘Hey, are you coming to the summer fair tomorrow?’
I pull a face. ‘I don’t know, I’m not sure it’s my thing.’
‘Oh, please! It’s great fun, there’s all sorts of stalls full of crafts and whatnot, baked goodies, and rides too. Besides, attendance is utterly essential for any resident of Lily Vale.’
Confused I blink at her. ‘Is it?’
‘Well, not really, but still, you’ve got to come. It’s your day off anyway, right?’
I grasp for an excuse, but come up short. ‘Oh, alright. I’ll be there about lunchtime, I guess.’
‘Hurray!’ She fist pumps like a kid. ‘I’ll catch up with you there, hun.’
‘Thanks for the coffee, although perhaps you should have made it decaf.’ I savour a large sip. ‘I’ll be bouncing off the walls tonight.’
Lucy laughs. ‘As long as you make sure you’re bright and fresh for the summer fair!’
We wave goodbye and the pit in my stomach is temporarily replaced by a warm sensation, and it’s not only from the coffee. Apart from Mr Jenkins and old Mrs Thompson, the local gossip who lives in the flat across the road, I haven’t had much interaction with my new neighbours since moving here, it’s only now that the boutique is open and I’m able to take a break from renovations that I’m actually getting out there and meeting new people. It’s nice to have a friend.
Since it’s been such a crap day, I can’t be bothered to cook and instead, opt for a takeaway. The pizza smells delicious, but I only take a few bites before I give in and stuff the box into the fridge for later. My nerves are shot, and even cheese can’t make this better.
How am I ever going to come up with a design worthy of Zoe? Even if I do draw up the greatest dress since the Garden Gown, I’m fairly sure she’ll just shoot it down in a ball of flames, leaving me stripped of what little confidence I’ve worked hard to scrape back. Determined, I sit up tall on the sofa and begin sketching.
I can’t let her win, I just can’t …