Holly put down the receiver and straightened herself up. A black hatchback had come into the drive and an enormous woman was getting out. She was moving a mountain of flesh. She was also manhandling two huge boxes out of the boot. Were they real? Could the dresses be that large? Then a third dress box was removed from the boot, smaller and flatter. Holly hoped that this was a good omen but then realized it might be a veil.
Lily went down the steps to help Madame Latisse carry in the boxes. Danielle appeared from nowhere, fluttering and laughing, ordering cold drinks to be sent up to her bedroom.
“Holly, Holly,” she shouted, running along the first floor landing. “The dresses are here. Come and see them.”
Madame Latisse laboured up the stairs. She was wearing a floating caftan that looked like a tent, in colours of strident purple and orange. Her braided hair was piled up with big combs. Holly noticed that her tanned feet were tiny, encased in purple sandals. Each of her toe-nails were painted a silvery mauve.
“So you’re the bridesmaid,” said Madame Latisse, stopping to catch her breath. “Nothing of you. I couldn’t believe your measurements. More like a scarecrow.”
“More like a bird,” said Holly. She was not going to be likened to a scarecrow despite her mass of hair. “Luckily I don’t have the personality of a crow.”
“Holly is the nicest person I could have for a bridesmaid,” said Danielle. “She won’t try to steal the limelight. My brilliant limelight.” She threw Holly a secret smile which had Holly bemused. Had she missed something?
Madame Latisse was unpacking the two larger boxes, clouds of white tissue paper drifting onto the carpet. She pulled out the dress, reverently, as if it had been blessed in St Michael’s. She hung it up on the open door of one of the wardrobes and its folds fell to the floor.
It was utterly beautiful. Holly had to admit it was a dream. The material was a pearlised satin, shining and gleaming with a draped strapless bodice, every fold sewn with tiny pearls. The skirt was huge, bell-shaped with falling cascades of pearls like shooting stars.
“Isn’t it fantastic?” Danielle cried.
Danielle was wriggling into the dress. Madame Latisse fastened the row of tiny pearl buttons down the back. It fitted like a glove. The dressmaker nodded, satisfied that her work was perfect.
“Bon. Tres bon,” she said. “Do you not agree, Miss Bird?” she said to Holly.
“It’s is a gorgeous dress,” said Holly, honestly. “And Danielle will make a beautiful bride.”
“But you have not yet seen the train,” said Madame Latisse, opening the second box. Out came the most amazing confection of stiff net, sewn with hundreds of pearls, which she attached to the waist of the wedding dress. It fell around in clouds of floating cobwebs. It lay on the carpet for yards, filling the bedroom with acres of net.
“This is the train?” Holly gasped. “And I am expected to cope with all of this, over the sand? You’re joking.”
“The train is your responsibility,” Danielle giggled. “You will have to see that it doesn’t snag or catch on anything, keep it off the sand if you can, make sure it lays out perfectly all the time. It’ll be like Princess Diana’s train. I’ve seen photos.”
“She had six bridesmaids to hold her train, if not more,” said Holly. “How long is this train, Madame?”
Madame Latisse shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. The length is not important. I have not measured it.”
“You’ll manage, Holly. Of course it might be windy,” said Danielle.
“I might have to anchor it with stones,” said Holly grimly.
“It will be the showpiece in the window of my shop on Bridgetown after the wedding,” said Madame Latisse. “I have never made such a beautiful garment. It is perfection.”
She turned to Holly. “And now, for you, thin girl. My design is inspired for such a bird-like figure. You will be able to fly away after the wedding.”
She opened the third and flatter box, shaking off the tissue paper. Holly closed her eyes in a brief instant prayer that the bridesmaid’s dress was not going to be something totally over the top in some bright colour.
Her surprise was incredulous. A mixture of joy and despair flooded through Holly. The dress was amazing. It was made of white silk jersey, sleeveless, long, straight and clinging with a short dipping train. But the simply cut, off-the-shoulder top was stunning, as it was dramatically defined by a brief cape made of white ostrich feathers which would float everywhere.
Holly had never seen or owned such an elegant dress. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, touching the feathers. “I love it. So soft, quite perfect.”
“Put it on,” said Madame Latisse, beaming, obviously pleased by the reception. “I can see I shall have to take it in.”
“No, please, don’t take it in. I don’t want it too tight,” said Holly. “I don’t want it touched. No need to do anything. It’s perfect as it is.”
“Perhaps some more feathers around the hem?” said Madame Latisse, standing back to view her creation. She smiled to herself. She knew it was one of her best designs, perfect for this so thin woman to look like a bird.
“Nothing, no more feathers,” said Holly. “The sand would spoil them.”
She put the dress on and looked at herself in the long mirror. She looked like an ice queen, cool, remote, elegant, someone briefly descending from a different world. The feathers brushed her bare shoulders like a breeze, like a whisper, like a lost love.
Luke would see her like this. What would he think? Would he realize what he had missed, what he had given up? She would go to Luke’s wedding, looking like another bride, an ice bride. There would be one groom but with two brides.
*
Holly was not sure how she got through the evening. The white feather dress was hanging behind the door in her bedroom, swathed in tissue. The wedding dress had gone back with Madame Latisse for a few minor alterations. Danielle had changed her mind about the shoes she was going to wear and so the hem had to be re-adjusted.
Holly guessed that Madame Latisse would be well paid for the extra work. She could have advised Danielle to stay with her original choice of shoes.
Holly had her pair of kitten-heeled sandals which were right for the dress. Four-inch spiky heels would sink into the sand. She didn’t want to be marooned on the beach or even shoeless.
Trying on the dress had been an ordeal, knowing what she was missing. She wanted to dissolve into the turquoise sea or lose herself among the branches of the long sweep of casuarina trees. Anything to get away from the reality of the wedding.
She didn’t want to see Luke again. What was she doing wrong that she never met the right man? Luke had not wanted her. Perhaps he thought her too young and immature. Jake had been a mean and pathetic scoundrel.
She did not mind so much about losing the money though it would have been useful. She could have rebuilt the local guide hut where she had been a Queen’s Guide. She could have paid off her parent’s mortgage, invested some money in Boys & Girls Inc so that she was a co-owner. She could have bought herself a small compact flat with a balcony and a view of the sea for the week-ends so she could get out of London. A view of the sea was all she wanted. She loved the sea.
Even half or a quarter of the win would have made all those dreams come true. It was not much to hope for. Jake could have kept the rest.
“Penny for them, Holly.” Holly rolled over on the sand, shading her eyes, although she knew the owner of the voice without looking. Luke was hunched down on the sand by her side. His face looked drawn, as if he had spent all day reading close script.
“I was thinking, this could be a paradise,” said Holly.
“Not always paradise,” said Luke. “I’ve been in the main Public Library all day reading hand-written personal accounts of the hurricanes here in the past. They make harrowing reading. They had one in 1898 that devastated the island and in 1955, Hurricane Janet caused severe destruction of the infrastructure. It takes time
for a small island like this to recover from such damage.”
“Are you going to make a programme?”
“Yes. I’m making a list of Bajans to interview who are still alive and remember Hurricane Janet. It won’t be anything like a weather programme. It’ll be true stories. One young girl carried her little brother for miles in terrible winds. Another child hid for days in a dustbin till she was found terrified and starving.”
“And you’ve got a wedding and a honeymoon to fit in somehow.”
“It’s going to be a close shave,” he grinned.
“The dresses came today.”
“Do you like yours?” Did he want to know or was he merely being polite?
“It’s lovely,” Holly faltered. She didn’t want to tell him any more. He might never see her wearing it. “Quite plain and simple.”
“And Danielle? Is she pleased with her dress?”
“It’s magnificent. She’ll be a fairy-tale bride.”
“Well, I’m no Prince Charming. I suppose I ought to get a suit. I’ll ask Danielle what she wants me to wear.”
“You’d better hurry up if you are going to hire a morning suit. If the whole of the island’s top society have been invited, then soon there won’t be a morning coat left in Bridgetown.”
“I’ll get one flown over from the States.” He said it with such a lack of interest that Holly was shocked. She knew that men were a bit alarmed by the whole wedding business, preferring to leave it to the women, but Luke ought to make some of his own arrangements.
“Have you bought the ring yet?” Holly found herself using an officious voice, the tone she sometimes used in the office when some size-zero girl model made a bird’s nest mess of her appointments.
“I think Barry is buying it.”
“Surely it’s up to you to buy the ring, not your best man. He’s supposed to carry it to the wedding. Or forget it. Or lose it.”
“I can see you’ve been to a lot of weddings,” Luke was teasing her now. “OK, if it’ll please you, I’ll go buy the ring. You could come with me and help to choose it. I’ll need your expert advice. I’ve never bought a wedding ring before and you’ll know exactly what Danielle would like.”
Now Luke wanted her to help chose the wedding ring. Would the torture never end? Holly felt a treacherous longing to be choosing her own wedding ring to wear for Luke.
“Will you come? I could pick you up about twelve. We could have a bite of lunch somewhere.”
It would mean a few moments alone with Luke. Surely she deserved those memories to take away with her? Something for the lonely years ahead.
Holly smiled. “That’ll be fun,” she said. “Mid-day then.”
Fun? Whatever made her use that word? Fun was the last thing it was going to be.
“Bring a hat. Mid-day will be hot.”
*
“How about a spot of dinner with me tonight in the dining room? I’m boring myself stupid talking to myself. Unless, of course, you are travelling with a young lady?”
“I always travel alone.”
“Splendid. I’ll order a bottle of claret and tell the manager chap that you are joining me. Table 43, port side. No sense in both of us eating on our own.”
“I look forward to that very much.”
“Well, I must scoot off. I’ve a massage booked for four o’clock.” He looked at his Rolex watch. “Don’t want to break my neck on those damned stairs. Don’t understand why they had to put the treatment rooms down in the depths.”
“Probably an afterthought.”
“There’ll be an accident one day. Mark my words. Some chap a bit unsteady after too much wine at lunch.”
“Hold onto the rail. See you this evening then. Enjoy your massage.”
“Second sitting. Eight o’clock sharp. I can’t stand unpunctuality.”
“I’ll be on time.”
“Excellent. Enjoy your book.”
Jake relaxed back. He had not read a word of the book. He’d seen the Rolex. He liked it. A lot like the one he had to pawn.
Chapter Seven
Holly went to bed early, excusing herself from the evening meal. She pleaded too much sun but took a book with her from the selection in the bookcase. Lily brought her a pot of tea, thinly cut bread and butter and a bowl of fruit.
“Too much sun, no good,” she said. “You eat something and then sleep.”
“Thank you, Lily,” said Holly. “That’s kind. A pot of tea is always welcome, thank you.”
“All this wedding stuff, everyone too busy.”
Holly wondered if Lily had been left out of the celebrations and was feeling miffed. Often loyal servants are overlooked on such occasions when only a little sign of inclusion would be appreciated. Perhaps Lily could have been put in charge of the flowers on the tables, a responsibility which would have made her feel wanted, instead of being merely a local girl relegated to the kitchen work.
Holly had a shower, put on a bathrobe and sat by an open window, enjoying the cooling evening breeze as she poured tea and ate bread and butter. She sliced a delicious peach. She wondered how she was going to get through the next few days. And now she was committed to a lunch with Luke and buying the ring. She must have been out of her tiny mind when she agreed to meet him.
She could always have a headache. But she was not good at lying. Her face gave her away. The book was a good thriller and the story held her captive until she was too tired to read any more. The dark night sky was awash with unpolluted twinkling stars. She slid between the cool smooth sheets and was asleep in moments.
It was Lily who woke her with a tray set with her morning tea. At first Holly did not know where she was. Her waking dream had been about rocking in a boat in turbulent seas, then not being able to find clean clothes. She expected to wake up in her bedroom in the flat she shared with Sadie.
“Good heavens, I thought I was back in London,” said Holly, pushing her tousled hair out of her face. “I was getting ready to go to work.”
“London, where it is often raining or snowing or foggy weather,” said Lily, opening the curtains. The sun burst into the room, its rays dancing on every reflective surface. “I have heard about London and seen pictures. Do you live near Big Ben?”
“No, quite some way distant in South London. I have a journey to get to work on the underground or by bus,” said Holly, pushing herself up. “This is such pretty china. I usually have to get up and make myself a mug with a tea bag in a cold kitchen.”
“Miss Danielle told me to tell you she has had breakfast and will be going into Bridgetown to visit the hairdresser. She is asking you: do you want to go with her to arrange for how your hair will be on the wedding day?”
“No, thank you,” said Holly. “Please tell Danielle that I will be doing my own hair. It’ll be something simple. Perhaps you could help me, Lily? To make sure that it looks all right? I’ll need some help when I’ve got the dress on.”
Lily’s face broke into a radiant smile. “I shall be pleased to help, Miss Holly. I’m very good with hair. I do my sisters hair when she is going out.”
“Great, thank you. That’s settled then.”
While she was getting dressed, Holly realised she had dug the hole deeper for herself. Now Lily would also be disappointed. She would have to tell Danielle soon so she could get a replacement bridesmaid. There had been plenty of pretty girls at the pre-wedding party. Any one of them could hold up that monstrous froth of a train. Madame Latisse would have a rail full of ready-made bridesmaid dresses.
She was waiting on the terrace a whole hour before Luke arrived. This time the book did not hold her attention. She had deliberately dressed down in shorn off white jeans and a plain dark blue T-shirt, flat sandals. Nothing fancy. She was only going shopping with the groom and then have a bite of lunch.
And she had some shopping of her own to do. There was a wedding present to buy for Danielle and Luke. Her departure from London had been such a rush, with no time for serious gift s
hopping at Harrods. Surely, here in Bridgetown, she would find something unusual for the couple.
The word couple sent a jolt of sickness through her stomach. The sooner she went home, the better. She would go into a travel agents and see about changing her return ticket for an earlier flight.
“Are you all right?” It was Luke. “I heard you weren’t well last night. You weren’t at supper.”
“I’m all right now,” said Holly, wondering if her legs would support her if she stood up too quickly. “It was too much sun.”
“You look a little pale, not at all red. If you’d rather stay here and rest, please say so. I can manage to buy a ring myself. Something plain, I guess. Danielle can always change it if it’s not to her taste.”
Change her wedding ring? Like taking something back to M & S that was the wrong size. But Danielle would do exactly that. She would not feel sentimental about the ring’s unique part in the ceremony.
Now that Luke was here, rocking on his heels as he often did when deep in thought, Holly wanted to stay with him. She wanted his company. She wanted to look at that strong jaw line and catch the twinkle in his granite grey eyes. Collect all these memories to put in her memory book, in the hope that they might ease the pain in her heart.
Holly felt an appalling sense of loss as she stood up and went towards him. Luke had never been hers to lose, but it hurt all the same that he was marrying her cousin.
“I’ll go upstairs and get my hat,” she said. “And I’ll borrow one of Danielle’s rings from her jewellery box so that you get the right size.”
Luke nodded. “Good idea.” He was on his phone as she went upstairs, making some arrangements for work that afternoon. They were looking at hurricane locations.
Danielle’s bedroom was in chaos. Lily had not been in to tidy up. Clothes and make-up were everywhere. The post had arrived with congratulation wedding cards from friends and they lay carelessly strewn on the floor. Holly wanted to pick them up and stand them tidily but that would give away her presence in Danielle’s room.
She quickly selected a dress ring from Danielle’s box. It was an inexpensive opal like the beach boys sold from their cases of trinkets. Danielle had been wearing it that first evening so Holly knew that it fitted.
Dangerous Shadows Page 7
