Page 13 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
‘Honey doesn’t let the grass grow under her feet,’ I said, impressed. ‘She says she’s going to write the guidebook herself, too.’
‘She has already begun a catalogue of the dresses sent to her and scanned in any information that came with them – or rather, she got her PA to do it.’
‘She does seem very good at delegating, but she’s really enjoying the whole project.’
‘She’s certainly been throwing money at it, although I warned her she would never recoup it from the entrance money, especially if the museum only opened in the afternoons!’
‘I don’t think she’s exactly short of money and this is more of a hobby for her,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘But, being Honey, she will do it all as professionally as possible!’
Then we had a long and interesting discussion about where to order the right kind of museum-quality mannequins, the temperature and humidity control, and the importance of doing as little work on historic garments as possible – conserving what was there, not repairing.
George knew so much more than I did about all that kind of thing.
When we had finally exhausted these engrossing topics, George asked me out of the blue if Marco and I had named the day for our wedding yet, because he hoped for an invite – which I assured him he would get. Then I asked him if he would give me away and he seemed quite overcome.
‘Of course, dear Garland. It would be an honour!’
‘Thank you so much, George. But don’t get out your best suit yet, because we’re still no nearer naming the day.’
He eyed me acutely over the top of his half-moon glasses. ‘I do hope everything is all right between you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I assured him – and perhaps myself – then managed a smile. ‘I’m just so totally run off my feet at work at the moment, and Marco’s directing his new play as well as writing the next one, so there simply hasn’t been a lot of time for us to get together recently.’
I sipped my coffee and then sighed and confessed: ‘There’s something we need to sort before we set the date, anyway: the thorny problem of where we are to live after we’re married. His mother’s suddenly come up with the suggestion that she turn the whole of the upper floor of her house into a flat for us. Part of it is currently occupied by the live-in married help, but they could move into Marco’s basement instead.’
‘That seems a generous offer, but I thought you told me she disliked you?’
‘She does! In fact, she loathes me and I’m sure is still hopingour engagement will fall through. And converting the house would take quite a long time …’
‘Ah, the Machiavellian touch,’ he said.
‘I’ve told Marco there’s no way I’m living under his mother’s roof. I want us to start our married life in a home of our own, even if it isn’t an all-expenses-paid apartment in swanky Mayfair!’
‘House pricesarerocketing,’ he observed.
‘They are, but I can sell my own little flat and I’m sure Marco and I could manage a mortgage on somewhere a bit more central than Ealing,’ I said. ‘But he’s so used to living rent-free, with everything done for him, that he can’t see my point of view at all.’
‘That’s tricky,’ George said sympathetically.
‘I’m digging in my heels, and I’m sure he’ll come round to my way of thinking eventually,’ I said quickly, because I’d suddenly remembered what an old gossip George was. He looked so entirely discreet that he lulled you into telling him much more than you’d intended.
I’d probably already said too much and I was sure he’d soon be relaying it all to Honey!
Mind you, I suspect she’d already picked up on my worries during our chats on the phone, because I found her just as easy to talk to as George!
*
One lunchtime, I managed to slip into the theatre to watch part of a rehearsal for Marco’s play, sitting alone in the dark auditorium. I knew Marco would be too busy to talk to me, even if he remembered I was going to be there, so when it was time to get back to Beng & Briggs, I just left as quietly as I’d arrived.
It seemed to be going well.
I knew Mirrie Malkin was two years my senior, but she looked much the same as when I’d last seen her several years before, and even then she hadn’t looked her age.
Marco had told her he was engaged to Garland Fairford, Ivo’s old friend, and she’d said she remembered me, though I doubted that. We’d only met in passing in Ivo’s house when she and Leo were visiting, and although I’d been introduced and Leo had been friendly, she had given me the briefest of artificial smiles before turning away.
I have to admit that she was excellent in the scene they were rehearsing and, even without the Titania costume, managed to look as insubstantial as the Fairy Queen herself.
I recognized her Oberon, who had a dark and puckish face, as a well-known character actor, although I’d forgotten his name.
