by Jane Tara
Patty hollered with laughter. “I loved that! And I thought, this woman has to wear one of my dresses. She’s just awesome.”
Megan blushed and took a huge swig of courage. She felt like an idiot dragging everyone along to watch her try on a dress.
“Megan’s not a huge fan of dresses.” Batty stated the obvious.
“I thought I might get married in jeans,” Megan added.
“My dresses are different. There’s not a meringue in sight.” Patty refilled her own glass. “And while that whole boho thing can be lovely … it’s not for Megan.” She cast her eyes over the Shakespeare women. “I know who you are. And while I’m not actually psychic, I am gifted. I sense wedding dresses.” She stood and handed the bottle to Calypso.
Both Nell and Batty held out their glasses for a refill. They sensed they needed it.
Patty stared at Megan.
Megan squirmed in her chair and pretended to look at her nails.
Patty turned on her heel and marched out of the room.
“She’s bloody weird,” Calypso whispered.
Batty gave her daughter a light slap. “That’s not nice. People say the same about me all the time.”
“But you are weird.” Calypso smirked.
Batty ignored her daughter and seized the moment she’d been waiting for. “Megan, Alf and I want to do something special for your wedding.”
“Batty you don’t have to—”
“Hush!” Batty snapped. “You’re like another daughter to us. This is what we want. We need to do … something … To mark the occasion.”
Megan stared at her sneakers for a moment. “Well, I was thinking … I’d love to have the reception at the pub.”
There was an audible gasp from Batty.
Megan felt like she’d overstepped the mark. “If it’s too much, I can have it somewhere else.”
Batty waved a hand in front of her face. It took a moment for her to find the words. And then she started to cry. “Megan, it means so much to me that you’d choose the pub for such an important day.”
“I love the pub, Batty.”
Batty wrapped her arms around the woman she’d helped raise since childhood. “We’ll throw you the best damn party the pub has ever seen.”
“Just some snacks and beer really.”
“There’ll be more beer than the London Beer Flood,” Batty announced melodramatically.
“And that’s saying something,” Nell said.
“Megan,” Patty’s voice cut through their laughter, “I got it. Come and try it on.”
“Let’s get this over with then.” Megan slunk off.
“She looks like a dead man walking,” Nell said.
“That’s marriage for ya.” Calypso sniffed. “Anything left in that bottle?”
Nell poured another round and the women sipped in silence.
“I feel like we’re at the undertakers.” Calypso giggled.
“Actually, a black dress would suit Megan,” Batty pointed out.
“Promise not to laugh.” Megan’s voice sounded shaky from behind the curtains.
“Promise.” They all glanced at each other.
“Shut your eyes.”
They all did as they were told.
A few seconds passed and then. “Okay, open.”
Calypso, Batty and Nell opened their eyes and looked straight at Megan, dressed in what could only be described as the wedding dress she was born to wear.
Batty burst into tears again.
Megan looked horrified. “It’s not that bad is it?”
Calypso walked over to her best friend and took her hands. “It’s perfect, Megan. You’re perfect.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
The women all stood back and soaked it in. It was a simple ivory shift dress made from wool crepe. It had long lace sleeves and an embroidered hem at the knee. It was feminine, classy but very different. Just like Megan.
Nell circled her, staring at the detail on the dress. “It’s the loveliest dress I’ve ever seen.”
Patty was beaming. “I think she should dye her hair pink,” said Patty, and everyone agreed. “And if she’s not comfortable wearing heels—”
Megan looked like she was about to protest, but Patty stopped her and finished.
“—you can wear boots with that dress.”
Megan broke into the broadest grin of her life. “This is it. This is the one. I love it.”
Calypso and Nell both hugged her.
Batty threw her arms up in the air. “Simon will love it.”
Megan jumped up and down. “I know, I know … but more importantly … I do too.”
*
Thirty minutes later, all three Shakespeare women and a very happy Megan exited Something Etc. Batty led the way, talking excitedly about the wedding she’d throw. Nell was texting Percy, letting him know she was dropping by. Calypso was suggesting they should shop for wedding boots while they were on a roll. And Megan was not looking where she was going – and ran smack bang into Simon’s mother.
Penelope Apsley reeled back in horror once she recognized Megan. Megan’s face drained of joy and was replaced by complete hurt. Penelope went to say something but stopped when she saw the bag Megan was carrying: Something Etc … For every bride.
“You and Simon are getting married?”
Megan just nodded, mute.
Penelope’s shoulders sagged. She looked at the other women for the first time, first Nell, then Calypso, and then Batty. Embarrassment flooded her face, and she squared her shoulders back again.
She turned back to Megan. “Make him happy. Please.”
“I will. I do.”
Penelope gave a nod of her head and then disappeared around the corner.
The women all looked at each other, taking it in.
“That was awkward,” Nell said.
“She makes my monster-in-law look positively angelic,” Batty admitted.
Calypso slung her arm around Megan’s shoulders, and they all headed off. “I know you’ve got the dress, Meg … but have you actually considered what that means?”
“What’s that?” Megan asked.
“That you’ll have to adopt, ’cause, honey, that gene pool just needs chlorination not procreation.”
The women all howled with laughter as they made their way up Portobello Road.
Chapter Thirty-nine
A hot toddy at bedtime clears congestion
Nell made her way through the main foyer of the British Museum of Romance toward Percy’s office. She waved at Rachael and Natalie, two of the museum’s loyal volunteers.
“Hello, stranger,” Natalie called. “What brings you here?”
“I just wanted to see how Percy was doing.”
Rachael lowered her voice. “Not great. I mean, he’s well, and manages to get most things done, but I think he misses you.”
Nell felt a stab of guilt. “Did the Byron letters eventually arrive?”
“They did, but Percy hasn’t decided how to display them yet.”
Nell rolled her eyes. She’d spent three hours going through ideas with him and then another two hours writing a report for Percy that explained exactly what to do once the letters arrived.
“How’s life at the Nat?” Nat had been wildly excited that Nell was going to work at an institution that bore her name.
“Really busy,” said Nell as she made her escape. She couldn’t bear to answer more questions about work. She just wanted to have a quick look around the museum and then go and see Percy.
She wandered through the stars of the silver screen room, and into the royal room. Victoria and Albert, Bertie and Elizabeth, Edward and Wallis, Elizabeth and Philip: all had displays there. She cut through the Charles and Diana room, where a new Camilla exhibit stood to one side, much to Percy’s disgust. It had taken years before he’s finally agreed to install the cabinet.
“Percy, we don’t judge history, we simply display it,” Nell had reminded him.
; A few more pieces had been added to the William and Kate showcase. Nell noticed a layer of dust over everything. Some displays needed rearranging. Oh good god, the Harry and Chelsy display had reappeared. Percy felt Chelsy was a lovely girl and an obvious match for the younger prince. He’d never wanted to remove the display. Nell made for the door. She’d been gone six weeks, but already the place was coming undone.
She trotted up the stairs and knocked on the door of Percy’s office.
“Yes … ah … come in then.”
She entered and found Percy teetering on the top rung of a ladder as he reached toward the top shelf of his bookcase.
“What on earth are you doing, Percy? Be careful!”
Percy glanced down at Nell and grinned. “Dear child, how wonderful. I didn’t know you were dropping by.”
“I just sent you a text to tell you I was on the way.”
“I’ve lost my phone, Nell.”
“We also discussed it last week.”
“Did we? Oh … yes, I can recall now.”
“Didn’t you write it down?”
“I think I did … but I seem to have misplaced that diary you got me.”
Nell held her breath as she watched him grab a folder. “What are you looking for?”
“My accountant wants all the records for the … ah … tax thing.”
“You mean the ones I filed here in the drawer.” Nell marched over to his desk and pulled out a neat, well-marked folder. “Percy, get down.”
He did as he was told and finally stood before her, beaming. “Good to see you, Nell. We miss you around here.”
“So I can see. The whole place is falling apart.”
Percy looked offended. “I wouldn’t say it’s falling apart, but yes, there are a few adjustments to make. I’ll get there though.”
“Oh Percy, I feel dreadful. I wish I could help.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve been given the opportunity of a lifetime at the National Museum. You’re a lucky girl.”
“I don’t feel so lucky. Especially when I come back here to the place I truly love and find it in such disarray!”
“What do you mean, the place you truly love?”
“The BMR, obviously.” Nell stared at her old boss. “You do realize how much I love this museum, don’t you, Perc?”
The look on his face was proof that he didn’t have a clue. “I thought you were fond of it, of course. And loyal, because that’s your way, Nell.”
“This is the most beautiful museum in London – hell, the whole of England.”
Percy flushed, and had to remove his glasses before they fogged up. “I … I’m flattered … and … well, Nell … if I’d realized you liked my museum so much, I would have offered you a proper job. In fact, you should have asked for one.”
The two stood there for some time, staring at each other in disbelief. Finally, Nell spoke.
“I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to pressure you. I know things are tough financially.”
“They’re not that tough. And I always harbored a little dream that with you here full time, we’d turn this place into a real tourist destination. You’ve got the business sense that I seem to lack, Nell.”
Nell was livid. “Oh, Percy. I want to work here, but now I’m committed to the National. Damn it! I could just throttle you for being so polite.”
“I could say the same for you, so don’t unleash that redheaded temper at me, dear.”
Nell plunked herself into a chair. “What a mess.”
“Yes, yes, a dreadful mess.” Percy took his glasses off, polished them and slipped them back on, all the while smiling at his young protégé. “But, Nell, in my experience, you’re extremely good at cleaning up messes.”
Chapter Forty
A shot of Ouzo will ease toothaches and insomnia
Calypso and Batty arrived back at the King and Mistress to find Taran and Alf at the bar together. Calypso quickly surveyed the scene. Taran was halfway through a pint while her father leant toward him, hands flailing animatedly around. They both threw their heads back and laughed. They looked like they were having a grand ol’ time until they noticed Calypso, and simultaneously froze. Her father looked as guilty as Taran did. If Calypso wasn’t so upset about seeing Taran, their behavior would have been comical.
Batty swept into the bar and shooed Alf from behind it. “Time for you to rest. Go on, upstairs.”
Alf looked relieved; he’d been given a get out of jail free card. He threw Taran a look of support, as one would if one was holding the only parachute as the plane was going down. “We’ll finish our chat some other time.” If you find your own parachute. “Good to see you, son.”
Calypso raised her eyebrows. Son?
“And I agree, now’s a good time to mention the other thing.” He patted Taran on the back – and didn’t stick a dagger into it while he was there, which surely most loyal fathers would’ve done – and then made his way out of the bar.
Calypso was furious. Had they taken her father’s brain as well when they removed part of his liver?
“What was my father was talking about?’
Taran shuffled uncomfortably. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you.”
“You mean apart from your penchant for women who speak like they’ve got a broom up their arse?”
Taran gave an amused snort. “Inserted broom? No … not something I usually look for in a woman.”
Calypso gave him a withering look. He matched it. Batty picked up a cloth and wiped the bar nearby. She didn’t want to miss this.
“Cal, I wish I could rewind this morning’s events. Both you turning up at my door and me waking up with Miss Broom-up-her-arse …”
Calypso almost smiled. “Was that her actual name?”
“Yes, it’s from the Old English name for town sweeper.”
“More like town slapper.”
Taran raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Jealousy suits you. It matches your eyes.”
Calypso folded her arms. “Get on with it.”
“This morning means nothing. Should mean nothing. But there is something I’ve been keeping from you that’s important.”
Calypso wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more so she decided to be facetious instead. “You’re married? Gay? A month to live? A Republican?”
“If you shut up for two seconds, I’ll tell you.”
Batty hid a smile as she rubbed at a non-existent spot on the bar.
Taran ran his fingers through his hair. “I overheard a conversation—”
“Get to the punch line while I’m still young, will you?”
Taran ignored her and continued. “Your father was on the phone …” He paused for a moment, unsure of the best way to broach it.
“Taran knew about your father’s melanoma before we did,” Batty said. She looked at Taran and shrugged. “You did the right thing, honey.”
Calypso felt the floor beneath her shift. “How long before we knew?”
“A couple of days. I came here after you left me in Paris. I overheard Alf on the phone with his doctor.”
The floor dropped away. “You knew, but said nothing about it to me in Vienna, or in Cornwall? You knew he had cancer and you still managed to have a party with me!”
“I knew you’d get yourself worked up over this.”
Calypso was standing now. “Too bloody right I’m worked up. How could you keep this from me?”
“Alf thought it was best to wait.”
“Conveniently for you, who got to continue our shag fest.”
Taran tried not to smile … but failed, which just made Calypso even more furious.
“How dare you not tell me.”
“Weren’t you the one who thought it would be best to not tell Eleanor?”
That shut her up.
Batty wiped down the bar beside them. “And he tried to tell you.”
Calypso looked at her mother in disbelief. “Did I ask for your input?”
&nb
sp; “It’s true, I did try.” Taran gave Batty a grateful smile.
“Your father wouldn’t let him speak. A bit like you really.”
“He made it clear he didn’t want me to tell you then.”
Calypso sighed. “That night upstairs?”
Batty looked at her daughter and Taran. “Isn’t it time you just let go?” She placed the cloth under the bar and walked out the back.
“I’m sorry.” Taran sounded as tired as she felt. “For not telling you about your dad. For what you saw this morning.”
“I should’ve called,” Calypso admitted. “I just turned up there expecting you to … be waiting.”
“Until last night, I was.” Taran looked ashamed. “Every second I was with her, I knew it was wrong, but not because I felt I owed you. You ended it, remember? It was wrong because I didn’t want to be with her. She wasn’t you.” He leant against the bar, exhausted.
“The minute something happened with us you went straight back to being Taran the shagmaster.”
“Flattering name, but a single one-night stand hardly wins me bachelor of the year.”
“Your past speaks for itself, Taran.”
“So does yours, Callie.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How many times have you hurt me? How many times have I rolled over to hold you, only to find the bed empty? You have a history of acting a certain way, just as I have.”
Calypso nodded. “True, but I never hurt you with someone else.” The minute she said it, she regretted it, because she had, constantly.
“No one living, no. The difference is, I understood. I didn’t like it, Callie, but I forgave it.” He looked into her eyes, imploring. “Forgive me.”
“How can I be sure you won’t run off with the next piece of arse you find halfway attractive?”
“How can I be sure you won’t simply run off?”
Touché!
“Who is she?”
“An ex. She called, I was drunk, and thought why not? After you dropped by this morning, I told her the truth about you. She left. It’s over. Cal, let’s forget all this.”
“You still reek of Eau de One-Night Stand. How can I forget?”
“Fine, don’t forget. Let’s just move on.”
