If the Dress Fits

by Daisy James

  ‘Theo, I’m not sure…’

  She decided not to add that she had thought he’d promised to take her to dinner so they could talk. She stood and took a step towards the exit but Theo grabbed her by the waist and dragged her back into his arms. He held her tight to prevent her from walking away. His eyes delved into hers and she was surprised to see his lower lashes sparkling with tears.

  ‘Callie, you know that I’ve loved you since we were kids. I still love you. And there’s never been anyone else – you are all I care about. This distance between us is agony. Please, please, give me another chance to prove how much you mean to me.’

  ‘Theo…’

  ‘I wrote that song for you, you know that, don’t you? Every word, every syllable was crafted with the image of you firmly centre stage. I’ve reworked a few of the lyrics for Finn’s wedding, but it’s a homily of love from a man who prays every day that he can be reconciled with his one true love. Can we, Callie? Can we start again? I know you feel the same way I do.’ Theo’s eyes held a heartbreaking plea.

  ‘Theo…’

  She felt her tears slide down her cheeks. Theo reached up, cupped her face with his palms and brushed them away with his thumbs. ‘I met my soulmate when I was thirteen years old and I’ve never stopped loving her since.’ His eyes bore deep into the crevices of her soul and she could feel his breath on her lashes.

  ‘How can we start again, Theo? Nothing has changed. We’re both still concentrating all our efforts on our careers. The demands on our time are heavy. It’s for the best, Theo – for both of us. I know how hard it is to walk away, but believe me it’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘It’s not the right thing to do! I know you; this is not what you want – what you really want. I can see it in your heart, feel it in your veins. Why are you always running away from your true feelings and forcing your head to rule over all of your decisions? Let your heart have a chance for once!’

  Callie let that scorchingly delivered home truth pass. ‘We’re just not in the right place for a relationship to work right now, Theo. Callie-Louise will be busier than ever after the wedding and The Razorclaws will be booked for gigs all over Europe. I can’t bear to think of another girl winding her arms round the neck of my boyfriend whenever he’s away touring. It breaks my heart, but…’

  ‘Then come with me, Callie. Tour with the band. You know them almost as well as you know me and they love you. The fans will always be around. Whether I like it or not, they’re part of the tapestry of life as a musician. But they don’t mean anything. I’ve not had a date since we split, not a proper one, not one where all I wanted to do was kiss her until we were chucked out of the Fox and Hounds. You were the first person I ever kissed Callie, and no one else has ever come near to inducing the feelings I have for you.’

  Theo’s mouth was inches from hers. Their eyes locked as he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his for the briefest of moments.

  ‘Theo, I can’t…’

  ‘Theo! There you are. Put her down and get your butt out here for an interview with the Channel 4 reporter. He’s been waiting for half an hour already. Where have you been? Theo?’

  ‘Okay, Martin, I’m on my way. Callie, I have to go. I’m sorry I can’t do dinner. I forgot that the band’s flying back to Germany tonight. Can we meet up for a drink before the wedding?’

  ‘Theo, I’m not sure it’s a good idea…’

  ‘Theo, darling, you’re needed.’ A blonde PR girl appeared at the door and hooked her arm proprietorially through his. ‘Come on. Everyone’s waiting.’

  ‘I’ll ring you.’ Theo made the sign of a phone with his fist as he was led away and Callie was finally able to make good her escape.

  As she searched for Nessa in the theatre foyer she realised Theo was right – it had always been, and would always be, thus in the music industry. But that knowledge didn’t insulate her from the feelings of insecurity and mistrust it instilled in her. She knew she would never be able to get used to sharing Theo with a throng of screaming girls who would stop at nothing to get to their hero, nor did she want to. It hurt too much.

  Anyway, that wasn’t the life she had worked so hard to achieve for herself. She had carved out her own successful career that she adored. How could Theo be so incredibly selfish as to ask her to go on tour with him?

  No, sadly their lives were on diverging trajectories that it was too late to alter. She would just have to redouble her resolve and harden her traitorous heart to the potent effect Theo Drake had on her. She had no intention of meeting him for a drink and a ‘talk’ before the wedding. She acknowledged her decision was the coward’s route, but all her spare time and energy now had to be lavished on Callie-Louise and finalising the most spectacular gown possible for the wedding of the year. It was time to concentrate on her career dreams and spend some time at her boutique in Pimlico. Scarlet and Flora were doing an admirable job, but the shop was her responsibility.

  She also had to work on forgetting Theo and moving on – and the only way she knew she could do that was by dating other people. She would start by asking Scarlet to set her up with the cousin she’d mentioned numerous times as an ideal date.

  She spotted Nessa chatting animatedly to Harvey on the burgundy-carpeted steps. She smiled in response to her friend’s raised eyebrows and resolved there and then that she would put her head down and focus on her enduring passion for all things couture, not Theo.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Allthorpe village still possessed the power to lift Callie’s spirits and for that she was grateful. Warmth flooded her cheeks when she recalled the look of scepticism on Scarlet’s face when she’d made a feeble attempt at an excuse about checking stock levels at Gingerberry, jumped into her Mini Cooper and driven home to Yorkshire. She was desperate to put as much distance between herself and Theo as she could to garner the headspace – or more truthfully, the heart-space – she needed to process the aftermath of the Theo debacle.

  Flora and Scarlet had rallied round, suggesting trips to the theatre, visits to the wine bar, even a day out at the Harry Potter Studios in an effort to divert her attention away from dwelling on Theo. She couldn’t even begin to come to terms with her resolution to move on until the wedding was out of the way and Lilac was safely on her honeymoon. Then she would think about dating. She’d seen a photo of Scarlet’s cousin on his Facebook page and, although he wasn’t really her type, she had to start somewhere. Anyway, she knew no one was going to be a perfect match because they weren’t Theo.

  But he was in her past and she had to make sure he stayed there. However, it was proving a lot more difficult than she had expected. After the success of the concert, photographs of the band seemed to be appearing everywhere – even in the broadsheets. She struggled to focus on anything that did not relate to the battlefield her private life had become. So, the only alternative was to seek out a change of scenery and what better way than to go back to Allthorpe. This trip up to Yorkshire was exactly what she needed to put her life into perspective. Delia would regale her with her own brand of down-to-earth advice on the unpredictable ways of the world and Iris would no doubt add her two pennies’ worth.

  She parked her car next to the village green and leaned her chin on the steering wheel. There was Gingerberry Yarns, the pretty bunting Marcia had hand-stitched draped across the window and the display festooned with samples of knitwear in rich, bold colours. A knot tightened in her stomach. She loved this village, but she loved Gingerberry Yarns more. Not just the shop – although that was sporting its Sunday best now – but the people who made it what it was. The place was a mixture of the foundations her mother and Hannah had built and what she, Delia and Marcia and all the Cupcakes & Couture ladies had subsequently added to bring it roaring into the twenty-first century. She knew in that moment with absolute certainty that there was no way she could contemplate letting it go. It was a part of her, of her life, of her roots. Selling it to someone else or, heaven forbid, closin
g it down was unthinkable. She would just have to promote Delia to manager and shuttle between the two shops, working 24/7 to make it work. Maybe Flora could help out, too? Perhaps she would even jump at the chance if it meant she could spend some quality time with Craig who had already driven down to London twice to take Flora to the ballet, and enjoyed a flight on the London Eye and a trip to the Harry Potter Studios in return. The pair were clearly smitten with each other and relocating Flora to Allthorpe was the perfect solution.

  As Callie lifted her head from the steering wheel, she caught a burst of light out of the corner of her eye. She squinted through the fly-splattered windscreen, searching for its source. She ran her eyes along the row of shops that included Wallington’s bakery, Marc’s little flower shop, Buds & Bows, and Gingerberry Yarns. She was about to put it down to a car wing mirror flashing in the evening sunshine until she saw a second flash from the doorway of Marietta’s Hairdressing Salon, which had closed for the day. It was a camera bulb.

  It took a few further seconds of concentration before she distinguished that the long lens of the camera was directed at the shop window of Gingerberry. Her first assumption was that a holidaymaker was entranced by the beauty of the rural village of Allthorpe and wanted to preserve his memory of a happy holiday away from the daily grind. However, it wasn’t long before a second sceptical, but more accurate, thought arrived. The owner of the camera was dressed head-to-toe in black and wasn’t just sheltering in the shop doorway – he was lurking.

  What the…

  Then it hit her. Oh, my God! No!

  She restarted the engine, shoved the car in gear and cannoned to the high street. She leapt out of the car, her hair swinging around her cheeks, and strode towards the cameraman. Or should she say paparazzo? A flash of blinding light erupted in her face and she screwed her eyes tightly.

  ‘Hey, what do think you’re doing?!’

  The man smirked, gathered his holdall and sprinted off down the street.

  Mmm, perhaps approaching him all guns blazing hadn’t been one of her smartest ideas. If she had taken the time to think it through, she realised, she would have played it differently. Now he had a photograph of her reacting angrily, which was tantamount to admitting she was the designer of Lilac’s wedding gown. Why else would she have been so suspicious of a man with a camera in an idyllic country village in rural North Yorkshire?

  Chastising herself for her stupidity, she returned to her car, dragged her overnight bag from the back seat and hoisted the handles over her shoulder. She really should have been more prepared. If, as she hoped, business at Callie-Louise and Gingerberry took off after the publicity of the wedding, then she would have to be thinking of a strategy to deal with such scenarios. She did hope to attract more celebrity interest and she couldn’t have inquisitive photographers camping out on the doorstep of Gingerberry every day!

  As she reached for the door handle a burble of conversation trickled from within and, with a jolt of guilt, she remembered that it was Tuesday night. She had left London in such a hurry that she’d overlooked telephoning Delia to tell her she was on her way. She had even forgotten that the Cupcakes & Couture session would be well underway by the time she arrived.

  The familiar tinkle of the brass bell welcomed her and for the first time in days she felt the leaden weight on her chest shift and the corners of her lips curl upwards. She took a step forward and Gingerberry wrapped its comfort blanket around her shoulders and all her troubles seemed to melt away. She briefly closed her eyes and drew in a strengthening breath. She loved it here.

  ‘Hi, everyone!’

  ‘Callie! Hi!’ came a chorus of welcome.

  ‘Callie! What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?’ Delia dashed towards her followed by Marcia and Callie had to fight an urge to crumble into tears, she was so relieved to be home.

  ‘Oh, it was just a spur of the moment decision. I really wanted to attend the last Cupcakes & Couture session before the wedding. I’ve brought a few samples of organic silk from Callie-Louise that arrived last week and wanted to know what you all thought.’ Delia’s grey eyes narrowed and Callie knew she didn’t believe her. ‘I’ll just drop my bag upstairs. I could really murder one of your cappuccinos, Marcia? Oh, and I see Tom has been here, too! I want you to dish all the gossip about his catering for the wedding of the decade at Harewood House. Be down in a minute.’

  Callie trotted up the stairs, feeling Delia and Marcia’s eyes scorching holes in her back, but the ripple of chatter resumed as the ladies got back to their chosen projects. She was delighted to see that the ranks of the Cupcakes & Couture sessions had swollen even further. She’d performed a swift headcount, which had told her there were seventeen women and five men, including Marc and his partner who were in the throes of knitting their longed-for Fair Isle jumper on the scruffy chesterfield. She released a sigh of relief. Now she had made the decision she was definitely keeping Gingerberry, these sessions would not only pay for themselves but would add a decent profit.

  She dropped her holdall onto the sofa and, as she turned to go back downstairs, her eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen table awaiting her attention. She grabbed it and skipped back to the shop, anxious to catch up with everyone. She resolved not to mention the appearance of a lone photographer with a long lens trained on Gingerberry’s window. She knew he would be gone by now. She only hoped that Lilac would not be too upset – after all, it wasn’t as though she was carrying her wedding dress!

  ‘So, how was The Razorclaws concert?’ asked Marcia, her eyes scrutinising Callie’s reaction as she handed her a mug of coffee and one of Tom’s chocolate eclairs on a decorated china plate.

  ‘Fabulous! Awesome! Nessa had a great time, too. She even met an old teacher friend, Harvey, at the gig. He was there with his niece and her friends and…’ She knew she was gabbling. It was one of her well-known tactics for avoiding difficult conversations, but she wasn’t fooling Marcia who nevertheless had the grace not to press her on it.

  She shuffled the letters addressed to Gingerberry Yarns in her palms, deciding which of the invoices to open first. There was only one envelope that wasn’t an ominous buff colour.

  ‘Come and see the hospice blanket, Callie,’ called one of Nessa’s high-school students. ‘It’s almost finished. We’re planning on presenting it to the residents at the Heppleton summer fayre next week. Will you be there with Nessa?’

  ‘Of course, I will, Alicia! I wouldn’t miss… Oh, my God!’

  A flash of shock reverberated through her veins sending painful sparks out to her fingertips. Her knees gave way from under her and she slumped onto the chesterfield next to Marc, the letter she was holding fluttering to the floor.

  ‘What is it, sweetie? What’s happened? Are you okay? You’re not going to faint on us, are you? Stick your head between your knees! Would someone bring Callie a glass of water?’

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Oh, thanks, Marcia, thanks.’

  She took a gulp of the cool water, letting it trickle down her throat as she waited to regain her equilibrium. When her heart rate had finished its ferocious symphony she bent down to retrieve the letter and reread it slowly, carefully, savouring every word. It was only when she had read ‘With Warmest Wishes’ that she realised a cloak of silence had descended as the Cupcakes & Couture attendees waited for an explanation of her strange behaviour.

  A wide smile split her face as she surveyed the gathering. Whilst she was overjoyed at the news she held in her hand, she knew it was not hers to keep. It was for everyone.

  ‘In fact, Marc, I’m more than fine! I’m ecstatic, euphoric, over the moon!’

  ‘So come on – spill the beans, my dear! Don’t keep us all in suspense!’

  Callie stood up from the sofa and turned to face the people who had come to be like her family.

  ‘Delia, Marcia, could you join me?’ Callie gestured to the huge mahogany table where Delia presided over the finalising of a beautiful pair of leopard-pr
int silk cami knickers. She stuck her needle and thread into the pin cushion she wore around her wrist and, along with Marcia, came to stand next to Callie.

  ‘Before I read out the contents of this letter’ – Callie shook the thick sheet of luxury cream writing paper – ‘I want to announce that Gingerberry Yarns will remain an integral part of the Allthorpe community for the foreseeable future. I know some of you were concerned about what would happen, especially after a number of shops have closed, but this will not happen at Gingerberry whilst I have any say in it.’

  ‘Yay!’ chorused Alicia and her friends.

  Callie smiled. ‘And from today, if she agrees, Delia will become Gingerberry’s manager, ably assisted on a part-time basis by Marcia and potentially one of my colleagues from Callie-Louise, Flora, whom I suspect will be delighted to spend more time here due to her blossoming interest in a certain young photographer she met at Harewood House last time we were here.’

  ‘That’s fabulous news, Callie, but I can hardly bear the suspense. What’s in that letter?’ Marc clapped his hands and scooted to the edge of the sofa.

  ‘Before I read it out, I also want to say a heartfelt thank you to each and every one of you for the support you have given to my aunt over the years and also to me when I needed it most. These Cupcakes & Couture sessions have not only revitalised Gingerberry, but have also given me a new perspective on life. But not only that! You already know that orders for Callie-Louise Bridal lingerie have been increasing over the last few weeks and I’m getting fantastic feedback. I hope you are all spending your share of the profits wisely!’ There was a tinkle of laughter. ‘And here is the icing on the cupcake, so to speak!’

  Callie waggled the letter in the air and ostentatiously cleared her throat.

  ‘Callie!’

  ‘Okay, okay.

  ‘Dear Ms Henshaw,