Page 2 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
‘Sadie!’ Aunt Ebony snaps her fingers as if she’s been trying to get my attention, and I blink to see Scarlett hiding a smirk at the faraway look on my face. ‘Isaid, have you got those samples I asked for? My flight is first thing tomorrow morning, there’s no time for dithering.’
‘Tell us again why you’re going all the way to Finland?’ Scarlett asks her mum as I go and collect an armful of garment bags from the back room that doubles as my sewing workshop.
‘There’s a Finnish reality TV star who might be interested in having some custom-made pieces for her wardrobe. I’d never heard of her, but apparently she’s very big in Finland. It’ll be great exposure for us.’
‘Judging by the lack of material in these outfits, exposure of a different kind might be on the cards for her too.’ I look at the zipped-up bags in distaste: Ebony’s designs based on outfits she’s seen this reality TV star wearing. Hours of pointless work when it would’ve been no less effective to show sketches, but my aunt is big on exclusivity and going the extra mile. Unfortunately the ‘extra mile’ is usually by first-class plane ticket via the business expenses account which could do with an injection of cash to boost it up as much as the bulbous ruffles in these garish garments. Every day, I question how my life ended up like this – sewing dresses I hate for people who don’t appreciate them, desperately wishing things were better, but without a clue how to make them so.
‘And that’s going to take a week, is it?’ Scarlett has the confidence to question, whereas I don’t. ‘Hand-delivering samples of our work is hardly necessary. You could’ve emailed her our brochure like any other dressmaker would have, and not forced Sadie into making those stupid samples which has put her behind on all herpaidwork.’
‘It’s fine.’ I wave a hand while trying to keep hold of the garment bags. I appreciate Scarlett sticking up for me, but the last thing I want to do is anger my aunt. This shop will be mine one day and I can run it however I want to, but until then, it’s best to stay on Ebony’s good side. I’m not one for rocking any boats.
‘Youjustgot back from Dubai where you weretryingto sell our dresses to some sheikha, last month it was New York, in January youhadto go to Turkey, December it was—’
‘I’m trying to grow our brand and take us global. She’s a very big star in Finland, and being seen in one of our dresses could bring us international acclaim.’
Unless she takes one look at these creations and recoils in horror. They look like the luminous orange and lime green love children of something that’s escaped from Lady Gaga’s wardrobe and mated with a clown. I used to love this job, but it’s been so long since I made a dress that I even liked. I’m not proud of my work any more. And with the threat of the supermarket coming and how much The Cinderella Shop is struggling to stay afloat as it is… Ever After Street is all about making our customers believe in fairy-tale magic, but it’s starting to feel like nothing magical will ever happen for me.
Scarlett goes to say something else, but Ebony cuts her off. ‘My sister tasked me with looking after the shop she started. It’s my responsibility to put my all into doing that. We deserve to be a household name. She deserves it as her legacy.’
My mumdoesdeserve a legacy, but her sister swanning around every country under the sun on expenses, trying to persuade celebrities to endorse The Cinderella Shop, would never have been what she had in mind. Mum was happy here, making dresses for those who could afford it or doing alterations for those who already had dresses they loved but needed a better fit. She didn’t want global fame or to see her designs in the pages ofOK Magazine– she just wanted the people she made clothes for to be happy.
‘And you.’ Ebony taps her hand on the counter and then starts wrangling the garment bags out of my arms and into her own. ‘No more of this nonsense. Get your head out of that castle and into your work or you’ll never get caught up with our paying customers.’
‘Yes, Ebony.’ I sound like a well-trained parrot. If parrots could use sewing machines, maybe that’s what I’d be.
I go and hold the door open for her; the garment bags are so puffy that she has to renegotiate the doorway a few times before she finally gets through it.
When she’s gone, I close the door and meet Scarlett’s eyes, and we both let out a sigh of relief. I love my aunt, but we’ve been at nothing but loggerheads lately, and no one can deny that life is a lot easier in The Cinderella Shop when she’s away.
I’m majorly behind on work, so I leave Scarlett in charge of the shop and return to the sewing machine out the back to carry on stitching butterfly embellishments onto a floor-length navy-to-cream ombre dress made of silk-chiffon, a last-minute order for the ball next week. Yet another thing that keeps pulling my mind back to that golden card underneath the counter.
That night in my flat, I turn out the main light and sit on my window ledge with a book and a cup of tea. If I rest my head against the windowpane, I can see the castle in the hills. It’s a sight that’s always comforted me, even in the hardest of times. No matter how hard life seems some days, I can look at the castle and still believe that a fairy tale will find us all, someday. It’s a sentinel, looking over the street, protecting us. Solid and strong and never-changing, unlike so many other things in my life.
For the first time ever, the castle is glowing back at me, and I have to blink a few times before I realise what I’m seeing. There’s a light on. There’s never been a light on before. Someone must be staying there.
It’s strange, but comforting in a way.
Only a handful of the other shopkeepers live above their shops, and I always feel alone here at nights, but that glowing light from the castle makes me feel less lonely, and instead of reading, I rest my head against the window and look out, because there will come a day, really, really soon, when that glowing light is the fluorescent neon of a twenty-four-hour supermarket, and that’s just unthinkable. People say you get three great loves in a lifetime, and that castle is one of mine. The Cinderella Shop is another one. I haven’t found the third… yet.
2
‘You’re going to that ball.’
I lift my forehead from the front window and wipe at the smear it’s left on the glass as I look over my shoulder at Scarlett. ‘I can’t. You know that.’
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m hiding between the ruffles of the lurid dresses in the front window display and leaning so close to the glass that there’s a genuine possibility I’ll have fused with it by the end of the day. It’s been a week since the invitation arrived and Ever After Street has been buzzing with people going back and forth to the castle: teams of workmen and cleaners and decorators, caterers and wait staff preparing for the ball.
The big event is tonight, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all week, and I’m glad Ebony isn’t here to see how many mistakes I’ve made, how many stitches I’ve run off in the wrong direction and had to unpick and re-sew. The invitation is still under the counter, calling to me like the goldleaf itself is glowing, like Sleeping Beauty’s spinning wheel on her sixteenth birthday. Judging by the items we’ve seen being heave-ho-ed towards the castle, light-up acrylic pillars, crystal mountain ranges, and what appear to be life-size palm trees made of faux ostrich feathers, it’s going to be such an impressive party that it would put any Disney movie to shame. I make wedding dresses and prom dresses and special occasion dresses for a living, and yetI’venever had a special occasion to wear one. I’ve never been to a ball before. Even if it wasn’t at the castle, it would still sound like a magical night. The kind of ball that every girl who grew up watching Disney’sCinderelladreamed of attending.
‘Ebony’s due back tonight. At eight o’clock – exactly the time the ball starts. She’s going to expect me to be here.’
‘I’ll cover for you. I’ll tell her you’ve gone to bed early, or you’ve gone to visit your parents’ grave, or we could say you’ve got food poisoning and are “otherwise engaged” in the bathroom.’
‘She’s going to expect proof of that. If I’m not here when she gets back, she’s going to know where I’ve gone.’
‘Then we’ll arrange a tin of pea soup nicely in a bucket and leave it outside the bathroom door, she won’t be able to argue with that.’
I laugh at the mental image, but Scarlett and I both know that nothing will fool Ebony. ‘She’s going to hand the shop over to me this year. I can’t do anything to jeopardise that now. She’s right on the brink of signing it over, shehasto be.’
