Page 43 of Merrily Ever After
‘If there’s a yellow dress, can I have it?’ Freya asked.
‘Hmm, I’m not sure about that,’ I said, feeling bad when her face crumpled. The colour theme for the wedding was a muted palette of green and white with a hint of pink. I’d been planning on steering her in that direction. But then again, did it really matter? Wouldn’t it be better if everyone wore the clothes they felt happiest in? ‘We’ll have a good look,’ I relented. ‘Although, I thought your favourite colour was pink?’
‘It was, but then the girls in Year Six say that women shouldn’t wear pink because …’ She put a finger to her mouth while she thought about it. ‘I can’t remember exactly, but I think it was to do with gender stereo pipes. So now everyone likes yellow.’ She leaned closer and lowered her voice, ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I still secretly like pink.’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ I said, remembering how important it was to feel part of the club at school. ‘And let’s keep an open mind. Here we are.’
‘Ughh,’ Harley faltered as we reached the door, clocking the window display of frothy tulle, sparkling beaded bodices and acres of ivory crushed silk. He looked over his shoulder furtively. ‘If any of my friends from school see me going in here, I’m dead.’
‘Don’t be such a baby,’ said Freya, before squeaking with delight at a pair of glittery stilettos. ‘Mummy says I can wear high heels now I’m nine.’
Mummyhad said nothing of the sort, but I let it go. I was more interested in how worried Harley seemed at the thought of any of his mates seeing him. Was it normal to be so paranoid? I wondered.
‘Wow.’ I pointed at a male mannequin in a smart charcoal grey suit and tie. ‘Harley, doesn’t that remind youof what the England football team look like when they’re all dressed up?’
Harley’s eyes widened. ‘Do you reckon?’
‘Definitely. It’s not all shorts and football boots, you know. Sportsmen – and sportswomen – have to look the part when they’re representing their team.’
Harley tilted his chin, considering my words. ‘Suppose so.’
‘And you, Grandad and your dad,’ I said casually, ‘you’re all on the same team: Team Robinson.’
‘Do you think they’ll have that suit in my size?’ he wondered aloud, pushing open the door and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Once inside, I briefed the sales assistant on our requirements, and she directed us to the relevant departments and told us her name was Poppy and that she’d be on hand to fetch other sizes if needed. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, was very pretty and had a row of piercings from her earlobe to the top of her ear. Neither Freya nor Harley could drag their eyes from her.
‘What lovely colouring you both have,’ said Poppy, beaming at them. ‘You’d look great in charcoal grey or navy,’ she addressed Harley, whose cheeks instantly turned pink, and he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.
‘What about me?’ Freya asked, bouncing on the spot. ‘What would suit me?’
‘Pretty much anything except yellow,’ noted Poppy. ‘But it’s usually up to the bride.’
I was going to get along with Poppy.
‘Harley, are you OK to browse by yourself for a minute, while I look at dresses with Freya?’ I said, steering her towards the bridesmaids’ rail while she absorbed the truth about yellow not really being flattering on a redhead.
Freya paused at the jewellery display and her eyes lit up. ‘We’ll have to wear earrings, won’t we?’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘I should probably get mine done today so we’ve got time for them to look normal when the wedding comes. Do you think we can get them pierced after this?’
‘As if Mum would let you have your ears pierced,’ Harley scoffed and headed off in the opposite direction towards the men’s department.
‘Why don’t you ask Mum and Dad about that,’ I suggested, turning her shoulders away from the jewellery and towards the shoes. ‘It’s not my decision.’
Freya was undeterred. ‘Eva had hers done and green goo came out of them for ages. I hope that doesn’t happen to me. Should I get hoops or studs?’
‘What about these sequinned ballet shoes?’ I said, picking one up from the shelf.
‘O, M, actual G!’ she breathed, abandoning all thought of ear piercing. ‘I love these.’
‘I do too,’ I agreed.
I’d have loved something like this when I was her age. Most of my clothes and shoes had come from charity shops when I was still living with Mum, and I’d had to make do with whatever was in my size. I remember being disappointed at the outfit we’d found for the school Christmas party and really wanting some new jeans and a nice sparkly top, like all the other girls had. Ironically, once Mum had passed away and I was living in a children’s home, I got my wish. Every child had an allowance and we’d be taken shopping to buy school uniform and casual stuff whenever we needed it. By then, of course, I’d happily have worn second-hand clothes if it had meant I could have been with my mum. But life didn’t always work out like that.
I liked buying from charity shops these days. There was a fab one in Wetherley where I bought my work shirts from; I’d stopped spending a lot of money on clothes which inevitably got splashed with melted wax. Even my wedding dress was second-hand. Orvintage,as the girl in the shop had explained. But I couldn’t have loved it more if it had been made to measure and cost ten times as much. It was hanging in the wardrobe in Holly Cottage hidden from Cole. It was the most glamourous garment I’d ever owned and I couldn’t wait to wear it.
‘I don’t mind wearing a shirt,’ Harley shouted from the other side of the shop. ‘But not a tie. Ties are a symbol of oppression.’
‘Are they, why?’ I asked, leaving Freya trying on shoes to join him.
