Chapter Twenty Four
I straighten the three mannequins in the window and tug each skirt into place with care. Hands on my hips, I stand back to admire the display. My little prom-goers are dressed in gowns of red, blue and vibrant pink, each one wearing a matching silk flower corsage on their wrist.
Buzzzz - Buzzzz!
The loud vibration disturbs me, and I dawdle over to the desk where my mobile lies face down. A grimace twists my features as I read the notification from my phone’s calendar.
Video call with Mama, noon.
I scheduled it during my lunch break, reasoning I’d have plenty of time to deal with her, but I’m seriously regretting that decision. When I agreed to the call, everything was going quite smoothly - Joanie was off on her cruise with her new ensemble, Lucy’s regency costume had been completed and I’d made good headway on Zoe’s wedding gown.
But now everything’s gone to pot and not only do I have four prom dresses to complete in just six days, but I also have to squeeze in the time to fix up my own outfit for Lucy’s book ball.
Still, I haven’t got the guts to cancel on my mother, I know exactly how she’d react to that. Besides, I’d just be prolonging the anxiety, I’ve found when it comes to Mama, it’s best to get things out of the way and done with.
Reluctantly, I head up to my flat, ignoring the many scuffs along the wall of the staircase.
Sitting up poker straight on the sofa, I open up my laptop and log onto the video call service. Within moments, it connects and Mama pops up on the screen, her face a picture of familiar disapproval.
‘Ah, there you are, finally.’ A frosty smile cracks her dark-lipsticked mouth. ‘How are you, Charlotte?’
‘I’m well, I’ve been quite busy with the boutique, but I’ve really been enjoying the challenge. How about you, Mama?’
Cigarette between her lips, she looks off into the distance and her shoulders lift lethargically. ‘Well, you know. Of course, I’ve been on my own a lot, just getting on with things.’
And there it is, the inevitable guilt trip, just one minute and two seconds into our video call this time. It doesn’t even make sense, she’s always had a buzzing social life, even when I was a child, she was out every Friday night while I was watched by a clueless teenage babysitter. I find it hard to believe she’s suddenly all alone now that I’m gone.
‘I’ve had a lot going on too. My friend Lucy - she’s an author - well, she has a special event coming up for the release of a new book,’ I gabble, afraid to let the silence linger. ‘I made her a regency-style gown that looks so lovely on her, Mama, I can’t wait to show you the pictures. She invited me to come along too.’
‘Ah.’ A curious eyebrow quirks upward. ‘So you like it there, do you? This Lily Vale Village?’
‘I really do.’ I beam past the screen, out through the open window that looks out onto the village square. ‘It’s been really nice to be part of a close-knit community, and I’ve made some wonderful friends.’
‘You had friends in Paris,’ Mama interjects sharply. ‘You had a budding career as a fashion designer here, too.’
‘The keyword there is had,’ I mumble. ‘I’ve moved on.’
That’s not entirely true, the wounds are still raw and weeping, but for the first time in months, I can feel them beginning to close and heal.
‘Well, I think you gave up on this city much too quickly, Charlotte.’ She draws a second puff from her cigarette. ‘There’s work available for those who want it. Perhaps you just didn’t want it enough.’
‘Mama, no one would hire me.’ Unable to look her in the eye - even through a screen - I hang my head low. ‘Not after what happened with Hélène.’
‘Well, who’s fault is that?’ She snarls, as if I don’t already blame myself for the disaster, as if I don’t go over it in excruciating detail every night when I try to sleep. ‘What good does running from your mistakes do?’
‘It got me this boutique, this flat.’ I motion to my surroundings. ‘Besides, I don’t think of it as running, I think of it as a new step in my career.’
‘A wrong step, more like.’ She sighs as a surprising expression of pity crosses her face. ‘Oh, ma fifille . You were working under one of fashion’s most celebrated revolutionaries, now you’re peddling away in some little dress shop in the back end of nowhere. What happened, Charlotte? When did you let go of your dreams?’
It’s as though the air has been knocked out of me.
‘Well, I … I’ve been doing very well, I think,’ I stumble through my explanations, hastening to impress her. ‘I-I’ve got four prom clients -’
‘Prom?’ She speaks the word as if it’s a particularly nasty disease. ‘What’s that, some American thing? Where little girls stumble around in high heels and ridiculous puff-ball skirts? Charlotte, you were making gowns fit for the world’s runways, now you’re playing dress up with silly teenagers, it’s embarrassing.’ She bows her head and rubs at her forehead, as if the shame is too much for her to handle. ‘Oh, what am I supposed to say to all my friends? How could you have fallen so far?’
An icy phantom fist grips my throat and squeezes, threatening to choke me.
‘Mama, I’ve - I’ve got to go,’ I stammer, the tears already beginning to form in my eyes. ‘I’ll speak to you later, okay?’
Hands trembling, I close the laptop with such haste I knock over my coffee mug, and half a hazelnut latte spills over the table and soaks into the already-stained carpet.
My breaths shallow, I stumble down the stairs and onto the shop floor. Frantic, I look around, my mother’s words poisoning the view. I no longer see the fruits of my labour, my hard work and sacrifice culminating into something beautiful.
All I see is failure.
My cheeks streaked with despair and anger, I tear down the prom banners, kick one of the mannequins onto the floor and rip a corsage to shreds.
Everything I’ve achieved since coming here, it means nothing.
‘Hey, hey!’ Someone strong grasps my wrists, gently but firmly halting me in the midst of my destruction. ‘What did those balloons ever do to you?’
With a teary gasp, I look up at Kit’s face, and an overwhelming mixture of shame and relief hits me all at once.
‘Come on,’ he says softly, his hands warm against my skin. ‘Let’s get you a cuppa.’
In the privacy of the studio, I sit in shaky silence as Kit switches the kettle on and drops teabags into two cups. Thankfully, he had the foresight to lock the front door and paste the ‘On Lunch’ sign up in the window, so we won’t be disturbed. I feel like such a fool, I didn’t even notice the door opening, and now I’ve been caught in the middle of a breakdown. At the same, I’m oddly comforted by Kit’s presence, his calm, pragmatic demeanour might be just what I need right now.
He passes me a steaming mug and I mouth a small ‘thank you’ as I clasp it in both hands.
‘So, what brought on the attack on the banners?’ he asks, his back against the work bench.
I shift my weight from bum cheek to bum cheek, questioning how much to reveal. But when I gaze into Kit’s honey-toned eyes, so compassionate and inviting, it spills out like water from a tap.
‘Have you ever felt like nothing you do will ever be good enough?’
Shaking his head at his feet, Kit chuckles softly. ‘You’re preaching to the choir there, Lottie.’
‘Well, how can you stand it?’ The fury, the upset - it all bursts out of me in red-hot flames of emotion. ‘The comments from everyone else, the constant needling, the comparison, the fact that you can try your hardest, do something you’re really proud of, and then someone comes along and tears it all down like - like -’
‘Like you did with all this stuff?’ With a small smirk, he glances at the decor I’d strung up days earlier, now lying in glittery tatters across the shop floor and in the studio’s doorway.
I loose a trembling breath. ‘Y-yeah.’
‘Who’s got you so upset?’ He narrows his eyes. ‘It wasn’t Zoe, was it?’
‘Not this time, no. It was my mother.’
‘Ah, she’s a bit of a hard-arse?’
‘Please, calling her that would be a kindness. The truth is that she’s been my biggest bully since I was a child.’ As if I’ve emerged from freezing water, I draw a sudden, shuddering breath, relieved and ashamed by turns to confess it aloud. ‘She’s forever putting me down, making me feel guilty, fussing about how I make her look. It’s excruciating.’
‘That must be rough, I’m sorry. Parents are supposed to be our biggest supporters.’
‘Well, my father is, he’s the best. But growing up, circumstances meant I could only see so much of him.’ I wipe my eyes with the hem of my t-shirt. ‘I’m so glad we live close now and he can be in my life so much more. Ugh, I probably sound like a baby.’
‘Not at all, my family means everything to me too. And I get what you’re saying about feeling like nothing you do will ever be enough. I do what I can to be a good big brother to Tanya, to be there for her when she needs me. But the truth is, I’m not my dad or my mum, I never will be. I can’t give her what they could, despite my best efforts.’ He lets out a shaky sigh. ‘And no matter what I do, I’ll never live up to them.’
My eyes dry up pretty quickly. After all, he has no parents, and here I am complaining.
‘I’m sorry. It must drive you crazy to hear me whining on about my mother, when you -’ I stop myself short, wishing I could have bitten out my tongue. But mercifully, Kits simply smiles a bittersweet smile and shrugs.
‘Families are complicated, I get it. And don’t worry about me, I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to vent.’
I make a sound that’s something between a cough and a pathetic laugh. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘What I’m saying is even though sometimes I feel like the poorest substitute for a parent in the world, I have to remember that I’m not a parent to Tanya, I’m her brother. And I might not always get it right, people might have their opinions about how overprotective I am and whatnot, but they don’t know what I went through. What we went through.’
Swallowing the last of my sorrow and hurt, I nod along, fully focused on listening to his words of wisdom.
‘And on those days, I allow myself to feel bad for a bit, but I know there’s only so much time I can spend wallowing. So once I’m done with the tears and sadness, I pick myself up, dust myself off and keep going. Because that’s all any of us can do when times are tough.’ He takes hold of my hand and meets my gaze. ‘We keep going.’
My fingers naturally lace themselves through his and I couldn’t tear my eyes away if I tried.
‘Listen.’ His voice is gentle, like a soft caress across my cheek. ‘I actually came by for a reason.’
My heart leaps into my throat, and I swallow it down, lest it try to escape through my mouth. ‘O-oh?’
‘Zoe told me about the other day. How you kicked her out of the boutique during the appointment.’
I bite my lip and nod slowly. ‘Did she tell you why?’
‘She didn’t go into much detail, she just said you have it out for her because of some silly drama from the past - her words, not mine. I tried to talk to Tanya about what happened, but I couldn’t get anything out of her. She came back all quiet and sniffly and said she was staying at her friend’s for the night. I thought it best to let her have her space.’
So Zoe’s sticking to lies. Why does that not surprise me?
‘So I guess I’m here on a bit of a peace mission.’ He grins, causing the dimple in his left cheek to appear. ‘I know Zoe can be a bit … abrasive , and I don’t doubt she did something to warrant you asking her to leave. But do you think you could lift her ban from the boutique, for me?’
Okay, I swore I wasn’t going to get involved, but it’s my moral duty to tell Kit what a witch his future bride is, right? She was positively horrid to poor Tanya, I can’t just sit back and let him blindly walk into a marriage with someone who wants to keep him from his family, who bullies his sister, who might even be unfaithful.
It’s time to speak now, or forever hold my peace.
‘Kit, there’s something I need to tell you.’
He blinks curiously. ‘What is it?’
Closing my eyes, I drink in a deep breath, praying for courage. ‘Zoe -’
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
In an instant, I leap up and rush to the front door, where the insistent hammering is coming from. A teenage girl I don’t recognise, eyes scared and brimming with tears, is frantically banging the glass. With haste, I unlock the door and it swings open. The girl staggers in, hunched over and out of breath.
‘Kit - Mr Brooks - I need your help!’
‘Slow down, Leah.’ Kit rests a hand on the girl’s shoulder, calming her slightly. ‘Now, what’s wrong?’
‘It’s Tanya,’ she sobs, barely pausing for breath. ‘She’s run away!’