Page 81 of Sisters Making Mischief
I responded with an agonised stare. The gnome cruet set was one of the ugliest. A gnome bending over, each removable,ceramic buttock having been made into a salt and pepper shaker. I picked it up and balanced it in the palm of my hand.
‘Who could resist this charming item? You will probably never see another like it.’
‘If you’re lucky,’ Isabel murmured.
‘These are highly collectable and very rare. So hurry to thebrocantebarn atFerme de Pommes de Terreand complete your collection with this— um— unbelievably— really eye-catching piece.’
At that point I started laughing again and the ceramic buttock labelled salt, fell off and rolled onto the table and straight into Marcel’s smiling jaws.
‘Marcel! Put that buttock down!’
There then followed several undignified moments as I scrabbled around trying to retrieve it, accompanied by a lot of hysterical laughter from Isabel. Eventually I won the tussle and put it safely back into position. Marcel, having enjoyed the game gave an enthusiastic woof.
‘Perhaps we should wash it before we sell it?’ Isabel said.
26
Having decided we probably weren’t that good at making satisfactory social media videos, we gave up.
That afternoon I had a shower in my tiny bathroom, where just as in the house, the water was hot but not particularly fast flowing. Then for the first time in months, I sat in my dressing gown and did my make-up and then my nails, painting them defiantly red whereas before I might have just stuck to a nondescript pearly pink.
Isabel came in with a box containing her shoes, which were indeed pale champagne coloured with a kitten heel and were still in pristine condition. It was hard to imagine my sister wearing such things, let alone keeping them in the box. When she had been growing up her shoes were things that lay at the bottom of the wardrobe in a heap, or more often, decorating the stairs in a way that had caused more than one accident over the years.
‘I’m so excited,’ she said, ‘I can’t wait to see you all dressed up with somewhere to go.’
‘Stop it, please,’ I said, ‘it’s just dinner, nothing more than that. You’re making me nervous with all your assumptions.’
‘I haven’t made any,’ she fired back, ‘it’s all in your mind, not mine. By the way, when did you last go on a date, do remind me?’
‘Oh, shut up,’ I said, ‘this isn’t a date.’
‘Course it isn’t.’
Well of course it was, and that made me even more nervous. What if I made a fool of myself, or got drunk, or behaved badly, or spilled food down myself as I was perfectly capable of doing. What if he didn’t like me after all? What if…
‘Right then, I’ll just put your hair up,’ she said, ‘it will look as though you’ve made an effort.’
‘I think my clothes will show that,’ I said.
An hour, several hairpins and most of a can of hairspray later, I was ready. Isabel had managed to put my hair up into what I think is called a messy bun, which wasn’t just me using an elastic band and a quick run through with a brush, but apparently quite a complicated thing.
I looked at my reflection and was relieved. I looked okay.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Isabel said, ‘now come on, time to get dressed. And you’d better have that new underwear on, or I will tell Eugénie.’
I put on the trousers and the shirt, wishing they weren’t quite such a good fit. Perhaps I was just used to my clothes being too baggy. Was that a sign of my age? That I had made friends with stretchy fabric, elasticated waists and layers to cover up my figure?
‘These trousers are tighter than I remember,’ I said, ‘okay on the hips but a bit tight round the middle. Perhaps women then had smaller waists?’
‘What? Tighter than your jogging bottoms? That’s a good thing. It means they fit you,’ Isabel said.
I slipped on the beautiful jacket and stroked the fabric.
‘It is gorgeous, isn’t it?’ I said at last.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ Isabel replied, ‘you always were. You just forgot, that’s all.’
I looked at myself in the mirror on the wardrobe door and yes, I did look rather good. Perhaps this was going to be okay after all.
