Page 37 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
‘It’s odd the way things come about,’ said Honey. ‘Garland is an expert in the recreation of historical costume, so I’m solucky she was available to take up the post in my new museum. But I’ll tell you how that came about, and what I’m planning for the museum, over dinner. I think we’d better go through to the dining room, because I see that Viv – my friend who is staying with me and kindly offered to cook our dinner – has just put the soup on the table.’
Viv must have crept in and set down the steaming tureen at one end of the table silently before vanishing again.
Honey lowered her voice conspiratorially: ‘Garland already knows, but I must just explain about Viv! She’s extremely reserved, especially with strangers, and is unlikely to speak to any of you. She has a condition called elective mutism.’
By their blank expressions, none ofthemhad ever heard of it before either, but they got the idea anyway.
Honey led the way into the dining room and directed us where to sit. She was at the head of the table, with Simon and Thom next to her, on either side – ‘hostess’s perks’, she called that. I was next to Simon, with Pearl opposite and the end chair on her side was left vacant for Viv, who now returned, divested of her pinafore and carrying a basket of small, warm bread rolls.
She set it down in the middle of the table before taking her seat, perching right on the edge, like a bird who might take flight at any moment.
‘Thom, there’s a bottle of champagne in that ice bucket behind you, if you wouldn’t mind doing the honours?’ said Honey. ‘Apart from being my favourite tipple, this is by way of being a bit of a celebration.’
She ladled out and passed the soup, while Thom opened the champagne with a loud popping noise and filled our glasses.
‘Smells delicious, Viv – Stilton and broccoli?’ Honey guessed, and Viv gave a slight nod, without looking at her.
Thom leaned over to place a full champagne flute in front of me and I was suddenly very conscious of him in a physical way I’d never felt before. It was unsettling, but I suppose it was because our past connection had broken so completely and we were now meeting again on the other side of an abyss, like strangers.
Despite the inner turmoil, I suddenly realized I was ravenous and the soup smelled delicious. We all paid it the homage of silence while we savoured it.
‘That was the most delicious soup I’ve ever tasted,’ Simon said when we’d finished, and when we all agreed, I saw Viv flush slightly with pleasure.
‘Viv is a wonderful cook, which is more than I am,’ Honey said. ‘My idea of a dinner party is to order in a big takeaway and lots of beer.’
‘That’s pretty much my idea of one, too,’ said Simon. ‘Real home cooking like this is a great treat.’
Simon was so patently open, friendly and unscary that I wasn’t surprised to see Viv give him a timid smile, but then, the next minute, throw a terrified glance along the table at Thom’s slightly brooding profile. He had tied back his hair with what looked like a leather shoelace to keep it, as he’d explained, out of his soup.
Simon sprang up to help carry out the empty dishes, knocking his chair over in his eagerness and apologizing to it as he set it back on to its legs. He came back with Viv, bearing a roast chicken and all the trimmings.
Honey said she didn’t trust any man with a knife in his hand and deftly carved that up herself.
The gravy was rich and very thick, the way I remembered Mum making it, not the thin, dark fluid my aunt had called gravy. I was sure neither the stuffing nor the bread saucehad come out of a packet, either, and the roast potatoes were crisply fluffy. I can’t really describe them any other way.
I began to feel a little more sober as I ate – that Martini on an almost empty stomach had probably not been a good idea – although I only took a couple of cautious sips of the champagne, in case I suddenly started babbling, like I had at Claridge’s. Or perhaps more likely, since I was now feeling quite disorientated and spaced out with tiredness and everything that had happened during this long day, falling asleep in my chair!
‘I think we could call this the first meeting of the Pelican Mews Residents’ Association,’ Honey suggested, with her twisted grin. ‘We’re all here except Bruno, who’s on a long trip to New Zealand, Garland, staying with his daughter and her family.’
‘My boss,’ Thom told me.
I didn’t look at him when I said, ‘Yes, Honey told me all about him.’
‘And he’s not your boss any more, Thom,’ Honey corrected him. ‘You might have started off as his apprentice, but you’re an equal partner in the business now.’
‘I’ll never know as much about marionettes as Bruno does. He’s had a lifetime in the business,’ Thom said.
‘Bruno told me you were better at carving faces than he ever was, even before the rheumatism. You put real character in them,’ said Simon.
‘Yes, and he wouldn’t have gone off for months, leaving you in charge, if he didn’t think you were up to it,’ agreed Pearl.
‘Bruno was one of Uncle Hugo’s cronies, so I know him quite well,’ Honey explained to me. ‘He lives above his workshop, next to the puppet theatre: that’s owned by the Marinos, a big extended local family, but they don’t live in the mews andthey’re out on the road from spring to autumn, doing traditional Punch and Judy and marionette shows all over the place, especially at the seaside.’
‘They just use the theatre for storage most of the year, but they put on shows at weekends over the winter,’ said Thom. ‘Some for children and some, like the one they’re putting on in October, more for an adult audience. This time it’s going to be a Victorian melodrama calledMaria Marten and the Murder in the Red Barn. I’ve been working on the marionettes for the main characters.’
‘I love a good Victorian melodrama,’ said Honey. ‘I’ll look forward to that … although I don’t suppose they would like me to rewrite the script, so that Maria murders her lover instead of the other way round, would they?’
‘I suspect they’d probably prefer to stick to the original,’ Thom said with a grin.
