‘None of them will work. She can’t be perfect. But she’s a politician, so you can’t tell her that.’
A thought occurred to Cecily. ‘She’s not interested in being a standard politician. She wants to stand out.’
‘She does. She’s the chase-a-hat lady.’
‘Perhaps we can use that …’ Cecily blinked. ‘Didn’t I read a story about a group of women who meet regularly who wear hats? Red hats?’
‘Amazingly called The Red Hat Society. Women who tea, I think.’
‘They must do more than just tea, since they are getting media coverage. Imagine if Michelle went to a meeting, and turned the hat thing into a positive.’
John stopped and clapped. ‘Well, done, Cecily. We will make a political staffer out of you yet.’
Cecily smiled. Political staffer wasn’t where her career was going to end—she wanted to be the politician—but it was nice to know she would be good at this job while it lasted.
***
Thankfully, the senate didn’t run late and Cecily was able to see Michelle and her Chief of Staff Michael Cregg out the door in time to catch the last flights out of Canberra. Neither would be back until Monday morning, when parliament resumed, and Cecily breathed a sigh of relief. Life was so much easier when Michelle wasn’t in the office. Sad, but true.
Cecily stepped outside Parliament House into a dark, chilly night. In early May, the temperature was definitely on the downward spiral. She’d been told it would turn after Anzac Day and any Canberran who turned a heater on before then was considered soft. Sure enough, on April 26, the temperature had nose-dived. They weren’t into the negatives at night yet, but it was definitely no longer bare legs weather.
It wasn’t daylight savings anymore either, so it was too dark to walk home, despite the fact she felt like it. Still, she walked down the hill to Old Parliament House, taking comfort in the well-lit road and the police nearby, before she stopped at a bus stop to catch a bus home.
Once off the bus, she went by the bottle shop to get a bottle of red wine before going home. She looked at her computer wistfully—the group didn’t game on Thursday nights, but maybe there would be someone there she knew to join on a quest.
Instead, she turned on her Playstation and fired up Star Wars Battlefront and whiled away several enjoyable hours fighting her way through stormtroopers.
Half way through, she got a text from John. ‘Tell me you’re doing something exciting.’
Cecily wasn’t sure how John would react to her being a gamer. ‘Reading a fabulous book. Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman. Have you read it?’
‘God no, don’t read. Sitting in hotel room in front of a television with nothing on and bored out of my mind.’
‘Shouldn’t you be spending time with Mrs Blakely, planning your assault on the good people of Blackpool?’
‘She’s spending time with her family. I’m alone in a hotel room and I’m bored. Help me.’
‘Find a movie on your phone and watch it.’
‘Internet isn’t good enough.’
‘Well next time, take a toggle with you. Better still, take a Chromecast as well, so you can stream it onto the television screen.’
‘You young people and your modern fandangled ways. Get off my lawn.’
Cecily laughed. ‘You asked for my help.’
‘I’m not finding it very helpful.’
‘Go to the pub. Meet locals. Talk to them. Have a couple of drinks. Then go to sleep.’
‘But it’s been a long day and I’m tired.’
‘Stop whingeing and do it. You know you should.’
‘What a great motivational speaker you are. Thank you, Cecily. Have a nice evening.’
Cecily put the phone down with a smile. He could be extremely annoying at times, but John Worthing was good people. Indeed, she’d met some great people here in Canberra. Some complete nobs as well, but nowhere was perfect.
She lifted her glass of wine in silent toast to the life she’d built for herself. Nice apartment. Interesting people. Job she loved.
Well done, Cecily Carter. Well done.
Gwendolen
Once Barry was safely on his way to the airport at 5 pm for his flight, Gwen left work for the day. It was nice to be getting home at a reasonable hour—often it was closer to seven and many times, later than that.
In the vestibule of the apartment block was a package for her. Gwen picked it up with a squee of glee. She rushed up to her apartment, dumped her handbag and keys on the dining table and then tore open the box.
Inside was a beautiful greeny/blue silk, which shimmered into different shades depending upon how the light hit it. Gwen held it against herself and sighed with delight. This was going to look stunning in the design it was to be made up in.
Gwen got her phone and texted her cousin Angie to let her know the material had arrived. Then she texted the dressmaker, Paula, to let her know.
Angie’s return text came first. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? Can’t wait to see your dress finished.’
‘Thanks for not being the type of bride who wants the bridesmaids to look awful,’ Gwen sent back. Paula had bought the same material for all the bridesmaids but had allowed each to have made a dress that suited them—once she approved it. Gwen and Paula had come up with a simple sheath, one shouldered, with a split up the leg that suited Gwen perfectly. Paula had made the dress up in cheap cotton so Angie could see it. Angie had loved it. What the other bridesmaid and maid of honour were doing Gwen didn’t know, but considering the maid of honour was Angie’s best friend whose style could best be described as eclectic and who had been known to literally make traffic stop in the main street of their home town, Gwen guessed it would be amazing.
‘I am a great woman. Remember that,’ Angie said.
Then Paula’s response arrived. ‘Can you drop it over this weekend? I have time to start working on it.’
They organised the time and Gwen carefully put the material back into the box so it wouldn’t get marked.
She was pouring a glass of wine when her phone rang. Gwen looked at the display and considered not answering for a moment, but she did the right thing.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Hello, darling. So, which one do you think?’
Well, that was more cryptic that normal. ‘Which one do I think about what?’
‘Oh, honestly, Gwendolen. I sent you an email. Look at it. I will call you back in five minutes.’ The line went dead.
With a feeling of deep dread, Gwen opened her email app. Sure enough, there was an email from her mother, with attachments. The dread grew into horror as she read.
‘Darling, I ran into Heather Malmont today and was astonished to hear you hadn’t been in touch. There’s only a few weeks until the wedding, and you need to get started on the dress. Thankfully, Heather has been able to re-arrange her schedule to fit you in. So look at the suggestions attached—Heather knows each of them can look good on you, with alterations. Choose the one you like best and let Heather know. Then you’ll need to come down here as soon as possible so Heather can measure and fit you. Next weekend would be wonderful. Mark Stephenson will be in town. He’s grown up so much. He’s become a computer expert. Fancy that.’
It was signed Virginia Fairford, secretary to the Mayor of Tybrim.
Heather Malmont was the town seamstress. She’d been making most of the formal dresses and wedding outfits for the residents of Tybrim for the past thirty years. Most of her designs were from about thirty years ago as well.
Gwen opened the attachments, pretty sure what she was going to see. Yep—three almost clichéd bridesmaid dresses. Fitted bodice, flaring skirt, with differences marked by the neckline, sleeve and how the skirt and bodice fit together.
Her phone rang and Gwen took a deep breath. She hated fighting, and that’s what this conversation would undoubtedly turn into.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Well, which one? Personally I think the sweetheart neckline. That would do
best at making you look like you have breasts.’
Mothers. Who’d have ‘em? ‘Mum, it’s very sweet of you to worry like this, but you don’t need to. Remember I told you that I’ve got a dressmaker in Canberra?’
A pause, and Gwen could almost see the storm clouds gathering above her mother’s head. ‘No, Gwendolen. You told me you were looking into a dressmaker in Canberra, but we agreed that wasn’t a good idea.’
Oh, this was going to be bad. ‘I know you would rather Heather do it for me, Mum, but it’s easier to do all the fittings if I have a dressmaker here. And Angie loves the design we’ve come up with, so I’ll be taking the material over on the weekend so we can begin work.’
‘How can you use some stranger, Gwen? She doesn’t know your body. How you need your bodices adjusted because of the flat chest and how short you are under the arm to the waist. Heather knows that.’
‘I’m not having a dress with a bodice, I’m having a sheath. It looks very elegant.’
‘A sheath? What sort of bridesmaid has a sheath? Didn’t you see the examples I sent?’
‘I did, but the design Paula and I –’
‘Paula. Is that the so-called designer’s name?’
That sniff of disdain in her mother’s voice enraged Gwen. ‘Yes, it is. She’s very well regarded. She did work for Quentin Bryce when she was Governor General and was called in to do some emergency work for the Duchess of Cambridge when she was in Canberra. I was lucky she was able to work with me.’
A pause and Gwen wanted to laugh. Her mother was struggling between righteous indignation and pride that her daughter would be dressed by someone patronised by royalty. ‘I wish I had known all this, Gwendolen. Now I have to go and apologise to poor Heather, who had put off business to assist you. What am I supposed to say to her?’
‘You tell her there was a misunderstanding. Blame me.’
‘Oh, you can be certain that I will. This is very inconsiderate of you, Gwen. I hope that Angela will be happy with the dress you are having designed and that you won’t stand out too much from the other bridesmaids. Maria is having her dress made by Heather, you know.’
Poor Maria. While Angela had always been able to stand up to her domineering mother, Maria was more into conciliation and making people happy. Gwen decided to see if there was some way to have another dress made for Maria to at least wear at the reception, where hopefully Aunt Victoria would be too drunk to care anymore. Maybe she could even change into it for the photos and at least have those good memories to keep.
‘Janice’s dress is being made by a designer in Melbourne.’
Virginia snorted. ‘We shall see about that.’
Oh, boy. What plans were afoot now in Tybrim? ‘Mum, I have to go. Love you.’
‘I won’t say anything to Heather until tomorrow, to give you the night to think it over. You know this is the better solution, Gwendolen. Now here’s your father.’
So typical of her mother to decide that she would have the last word and not accept Gwen’s position. And now she was going to be yelled at by her father.
‘Gwendolen. Stop upsetting your mother.’
‘I don’t want to, Dad. But it is more sensible for me to have the dress made here. I can get fittings and—’
‘I’m not interested in that stuff, Gwen.’ Girl stuff was what that was short for. ‘Just stop upsetting her. How are things going with Barry?’
‘Well. He’s in the electorate this weekend to meet with people.’
‘Are you going?’
‘No.’ That wasn’t part of Gwen’s role.
‘You should be going, Gwen. You’re not going to help the party just sitting in Canberra all weekend doing your nails.’
Gwen silently counted to ten. ‘Barry has allocated a great deal of things for me to do for the party while he is away.’
‘Good. It’s important that you pull your weight, girl.’
‘I will, Dad.’
Her father hung up. Gwen stared at the phone for a moment, heaviness threatening to crush her heart. Then she shook it away. It would just take more time than she’d hoped, but she would make her father proud of her.
Putting the thoughts from her mind, Gwen texted her cousin. ‘Mum wants me to get Heather to make my dress.’
‘Don’t,’ came back Angie’s response. ‘The dress she is making for Maria is hideous. But Mum won’t be swayed and in this even bride power won’t work.’
‘We should make another dress for Maria, for the photos at least.’
‘Way ahead of ya, cuz. Jan’s designer is doing one for Maria. Mari snuck down a couple of weeks ago for measurement and fitting.’
‘Mum said something that made me think your mum had plans for Jan’s dress.’
‘She does. Heather’s told Maria she’s been commissioned to make both a bolero top and a tie-on skirt in the material. Jan’s all over it. Her dress is going to be a sensation, and no matter what Mum does, she won’t be able to hide it.’
Gwen laughed, glad that things were under control. But then, Angie was marrying a local boy so she was going to be forgiven a lot in the wedding when it meant she was moving back to Tybrim and living there permanently.
Whereas Gwen …
Gwen sighed. Family. Really, who’d want ‘em?
***
Gwen dropped the material over to Paula on Saturday morning. She was working on a red suit, letting it out.
Paula swished the material out of the box. ‘This is going to be perfect. We’ll need some lining … Ah, there’s enough material to double it, so we can line it with this.’
‘Is there any way to do another strap?’
Paula frowned. ‘You loved it with the one shoulder effect. So did the bride.’
‘We still do, but both our mothers are going to be difficult, so I was hoping there might be a way to put another strap on that is easily detachable, so in front of them I can wear the safe version and then go the proper one when they can’t yell at me.’
‘Hmm. Let me go get the mock-up and see.’ Paula disappeared into her store room. Gwen went over and looked at the red suit. It was very stylish and she could see why you’d go to the effort of letting it out rather than admitting it no longer fit, but this would be the only time. You’d have to watch your weight after this.
Paula came back with the dress, made up in calico so they could show Angie how it looked and work out the intricacies of the design before it was made for real. ‘Put this on. I think it might work.’
Gwen went into the dressing room and while she was there, heard the machine running. Just as she was about to step out came the sound of a second voice.
There was another woman with Paula and it was immediately obvious the suit wasn’t hers. For starters, her figure showed no sign of any spread, and this let-out suit would swim on her. Then there was her colouring—dark hair, pale skin, green eyes, very astounding—that were better suited to the pastels she was currently wearing than bright red.
‘Thank you,’ the woman was saying, the suit over her arm. ‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘You need to tell your boss that it can’t be let out again,’ Paula said, confirming what Gwen had noted.
‘I’m not intending on telling her it was let out this time,’ the woman laughed. ‘I will, however, be encouraging her to eat more salads when she eats out.’ She turned and saw Gwen and a funny smile twisted her lips as she looked over the dress. ‘Hello.’
Gwen realised how ridiculous she must look. The dress was a glamorous design, but in calico?
‘Hello.’ Gwen came forward, hand out. ‘I’m Gwen. This is going to be a bridesmaid’s dress, once we complete the design and use the right material.’
‘Oh, excellent.’ The woman shook Gwen’s hand. ‘I was wondering about the choice of plain cotton for an evening dress.’
‘I might keep this version as well,’ Gwen said. ‘Some of the events I go to, it would be great to have an option where I don’t care if it gets ruined.�
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‘That’s a good point,’ the woman said. ‘I got some red wine on a favourite blouse a few weeks ago.’
‘Put it straight in cold water,’ Gwen said. ‘Honestly, you don’t need anything else. Just cold water, and it will soak the wine away, but you have to do it while it’s still wet.’
‘I can see folks at work being super impressed at me coming back into drinks in just bra and jacket. No, no, carry on, just a wine spill.’
‘We have lots of sudden drink things at work as well,’ Gwen said. ‘My boss told me to not drink red wine, but sometimes that’s all you want. So I keep a couple of spare shirts there, just in case.’
‘Brilliant. You have saved me, Gwen.’
‘My pleasure …’
‘Tina. Tina Carter. Lovely to meet you. I must go if I am to catch my bus.’
‘Where are you headed?’ Gwen said. ‘I might be able to give you a lift if you wanted to wait.’
‘I couldn’t possibly impose upon you like that. I will be fine. Nice to meet you.’ Tina smiled as she left.
‘Nice girl,’ Gwen said.
‘Very nice. She works in Parliament House too.’
‘Oh.’ What a shame she wouldn’t stay for a lift. Gwen liked meeting nice people who worked in the house. So many of them weren’t.
‘Now,’ Paula said, approaching and tugging at the side without a strap. ‘Let’s see what we can do about this.’
John
John collapsed on the bed with a moan. While he’d always intended to plead a headache to avoid going to the school production of Matilda tonight, it was frustrating that he did actually have one.
A knock at the door. He opened it to reveal one of the hotel staff. ‘You requested some Panadol, Mr Worthing?’
‘Thank you.’ John took the medicine, turned off the lights and lay down on his bed in the hope the darkness would help sweep the headache away.
What a terrible two days. The flight on Thursday had been fine, but the traffic from Sydney Airport to Mrs Blakely’s western Sydney electorate was terrible. He had planned going down to the bar and catching up with some locals but by the time he got to his room, he was tired and cranky and wanted the whole world to fuck off. Thankfully, he had known that Cecily would talk him into it.
The Importance of Ernestine Page 4
