by Jane Linfoot
The morning after Aidie came home from Corks Bar saying he’d got his hands on the old cinema building, she’d got straight on the phone to Luce and Izzy, and, as she’d said in her speech, before she’d been so rudely interrupted, the rest was history. And as Vintage at the Cinema emerged, so had the new independent, happier, Dida. There was no way now she could go back to being who she was before. Vintage at the Cinema had made her into a new person.
Dida looked at the names on the email again. Everyone already involved with the cinema was there on this week’s email, although should she really still be including Ollie? Ollie, who’d waltzed off to the other side of the world five months ago at a moment’s notice, leaving his sister Izzy to fill his shop space as well as hers, and do a double share of the shifts? Dida was very fond of Ollie. He’d been hauled on board at the start to help with painting, and proved so useful he never left. He also made the most fabulous one-off metalwork pieces, and had brilliant contacts on the industrial side. Dida tapped a thumbnail on her teeth as she deliberated. No doubt Izzy would have emailed Ollie to tell him the awful news from today. Not that she was in denial, but somehow Dida couldn’t actually bear to type the awful physical words in the weekly rota email, because that made the whole nightmare seem too real. Losing the business just wasn’t an option she could contemplate.
Even though she was pretty much in charge of the business admin, and it gave her a fab excuse to organise to the nth degree, she liked to think of this as a cooperative venture. Everyone pitched in, they played to their strengths and helped each other. True, they paid her rent, but mostly this was all about everyone benefiting, and having lots of fun along the way. And Ollie was fun, and he was dependable, when he was around, and she had an idea that it wasn’t just his sister who was feeling his absence. Luce was missing him a lot more than she was letting on. So she’d leave him on the list for now, in the hope that if he read the email, in some far flung internet cafe, he’d remember to miss them, and remember to come back soon.
She flipped the screen to take one last look at the rota, then hammered out the email.
The rota for week beginning June 9th is attached. FYI we have a guy with very deep pockets who’ll buy ANYTHING by Susie Cooper.
Come back soon Ollie, we’re missing your industrial pieces.
The week’s cake of the week is cocoa and banana :)
Dida xx
PS. Vintage at the Cinema is ready for the fight - we WILL survive!
That would do. She hoped the last line was enough of an acknowledgement of today’s disastrous events. She liked to send the email out at nine exactly, not that she was obsessive, but if you were consistent, everyone knew where they were. The sky might be falling in on her own personal world, but she could still stick to a timetable.
Ten minutes to spare before nine then.
Just enough time to make the daily updates to her Aidie Special spreadsheet. She opened his email account, and tapped in his password, grimacing at the double bluff. Aidie’s email account was the nerve centre of his life. He knew she knew his password, and he also knew she scrutinised his emails, which was his way of proving to her that he had nothing to hide. Quite how the negotiations for the sale of the cinema had slipped by her, she had no idea, but from now on she’d be doubly vigilant.
Dida never failed to be amazed at Aidie’s meticulous management of his email account, given that dotting the “i”s and crossing the “t”s wasn’t Aidie’s natural way. His approach to life was usually way more sloppy, which was probably why he’d failed to spot the fatal flaw in his plan. It was a constant source of amusement to Dida that Aidie deleted all the emails he didn’t want her to see, but just the same as at home, he never bothered to empty the trash.
Now for today’s deleted mail. She clicked on the dustbin icon and leaned closer to the screen as she flipped through the list, and read intently. Wow. This was going some even for Aidie. A breakfast meeting with someone called Bambi, an eleven o’clock with Viktorya, then dinner with Dominika, Elvira and Albina.
Two minutes, and Dida had copied and pasted the names into her spreadsheet of Aidie’s misdemeanours, and added times and locations.
Had this been anyone else’s husband, she might have been impressed by the stamina of the guy. Some weeks he appeared to be keeping the sex industry of Lithuania in business single-handedly. When he managed to get any work done, she had no idea. Given today’s developments, she may well be using the ammunition she’d been collecting sooner than she thought. The way she felt about Aidie now, after he tried to crush her dreams, she couldn’t imagine being able to look at the man, let alone live with him.
Now nothing mattered, except what Aidie was trying to wrestle from her and her friends. It was too late to do anything more this evening. First thing tomorrow she was seeing Luce and Izzy. They’d have their emergency meeting. And together, they’d get their proverbial boxing gloves on.
4
Wednesday Evening, 4th June
LUCE
At her flat
Lace, sweat and tears
‘Thanks for being so patient, I’m almost done.’ Luce paused as she fingered the satin hem of the dress she was pinning, smiled up at Steffie, the soon-to-be bride, and took a minute to sit up, wriggling the ache out of her shoulders. ‘These full skirts take an age to get around, but they’re worth it.’
Steffie shifted slightly. ‘No Ruby this evening?’
‘It’s my lucky night. I think the cupcake sugar rush from this afternoon’s party knocked her out.’
Steffie laughed. ‘It isn’t the same without Ruby entertaining us whilst you pin.’
If Ruby hadn’t fallen asleep by the time Luce’s evening fitting appointments arrived, her bedroom was so close to the living room she invariably heard the chatting, and crept through in her pyjamas. The flat was such a good deal, and so close to work and school, the compromise on layout was one Luce was happy to live with, for the time being anyway. All her other vintage clothes and textiles were at the cinema, but she kept the wedding dresses at home because the fabrics were fragile, and so easily marked. Right now her bedroom was so full of lace and tulle, some nights it was hard to find the bed.
Luce did a mental double take and she gulped so hard she almost swallowed a pin, as she remembered in a sudden rush, that work might not be at the old cinema for much longer. She tried not to think how scared that made her. Vintage at the Cinema had brought a lot of things to her and Ruby’s life. She was so lucky to have found a way of working that gave her satisfaction, an income, and which let her be here for Ruby too. The thought that it might be whipped away from her made her spine go rigid. And even though she knew that Izzy and Dida would go to hell and back for her and Ruby, for some reason the sheer, unadulterated fear of losing the livelihood she’d worked so hard to establish, made her feel very alone.
Luce tried to push that thought away with a smile, but the most she managed was a grimace. ‘No, once Ruby comes through, it’s impossible to get her back to bed again. At least I won’t have a sleep deprived grump to deal with tomorrow.’
‘She’s such a cutie though.’ Steffie looked wistful. ‘Hard to stand up to, I guess.’
Too true. There were times when Luce wished that the random guy who’d accidentally donated his genes to her child, via a broken condom the last night of her second year at uni, had been slightly less good looking, and way less good at sweet talking. Soulful brown eyes and a penchant for fast come backs proved hard to handle in an offspring, and neither of those things came from Luce.
It wasn’t that Ruby was naughty, because she wasn’t especially, but Luce often found there just wasn’t enough of her to go around. She couldn’t work and constantly keep her child entertained.
However high her ideals on bringing up children had been before she had one, now she was in the thick of it she often felt she failed on every level. And it had been much worse since Izzy’s brother, Ollie, left to go travelling. It was only since he’d been
away that she’d realised how much she’d grown to depend on him. Lying awake in the early hours, she kicked herself for how much she’d taken him for granted. And she kicked herself too for letting everything get so out of hand between them, and it being completely her fault that he’d left. In the first three years of Ruby’s life she’d been determined to go it alone. She still was. But the friendship with Ollie had kind of crept up on her as they’d worked together. And tonight, when she was feeling scared and very alone, she knew it was wrong, and she knew it was weak, and she knew it was against everything she’d ever intended, but she could really have done with leaning on Ollie. Except he wasn’t here.
Luce grabbed a few more pins, rammed them between her lips, and bent down to secure the last yard of silky hem.
‘You look beautiful sweetheart.’
Steffie’s mum, perched on the arm of Luce’s sofa, finally broke their silence. Since she’d been working with bridal wear, and more importantly, brides, Luce had noticed that taking on the role of Mother of the Bride seemed to transform reasonable women into a) control freaks, and b) emotional wrecks.
‘Hankie?’ Luce caught the tremor in Steffie’s mum’s voice and offered her the flowery, fabric covered tissue box.
‘Thank you.’ Mrs Beeston plucked out a tissue, gave a loud sniff, and dabbed at the corner of her eye.
In her sleepless times, not that she enjoyed the luxury of many of those, given she usually fell into bed exhausted, Luce was already rehearsing her own “give this wedding lark a miss” speech to Ruby, to circumnavigate that particular minefield, and save herself from what had to be the last piece of hell in a mother’s line of duty.
But she couldn’t help herself but say, ‘you do look amazing, Steffie. The antique lace is so pretty over the champagne satin.’
Despite the fact that Luce just couldn’t see the point in getting over emotional about weddings, by the time they’d all been to hell and back together over the wedding dress, Luce invariably loved her brides and their mums.
‘We’ve done so much work here. All the changes, and then you’ve dropped three dress sizes or more.’ Luce thanked her lucky stars that not every bride who chose one of her one off vintage dresses was going to put both the dress and herself through the wringer in quite the same way as Steffie and Mrs Beeston had done with this one.
‘I know we’ve changed our minds on the shoes three times now.’ Steffie said as she rolled her eyes. ‘But the first pair of Rachel Simpson ones were so high, and we were sure the second pair were perfect right up until the moment I saw the Charlotte Olympia ones.’
Luce tried not to think that each discarded pair had a price tag in excess of her monthly food spend. And despite the fact that Luce had been on her hands and knees three times realigning this particular roll edged hem, her smile was genuinely warm. ‘Let’s hope it’s third time lucky then.’
What Izzy and Dida couldn’t get their heads round, was that someone as anti-marriage as Luce should end up dressing brides. Luce’s true feelings on matrimony for herself – no fucking way – were a well-guarded professional secret, and they all kept their mouths firmly zipped for the sake of their joint commercial venture. Dida and Izzy were big on loyalty as well as support, although they did rip the piss out of her too at times, especially about her customer service ideas and her sex life. Definitely no link between the two of those things.
Luce managed her sex life meticulously, and it had nothing at all to do with being a mum. When Ruby went to sleep over with her granny some Fridays, Luce went out on the town, and sometimes brought a well-chosen guy back home. Well chosen as in nice, and not wanting any more than the one night, because no way could Luce allow a guy into her life. She’d never had a relationship, and it wasn’t fair to make her mistakes and involve Ruby too. Ruby being used to having Luce to herself was the final decider.
Ollie had been different somehow. He’d come around the back way, almost letting Ruby coax him in, when they’d been thrown together at the cinema. Ollie and Ruby had this perfect understanding, and Luce had known Ollie since Izzy turned up at school in sixth form. But once he dropped firmly on the Ruby side of the fence, that automatically disbarred him from the Friday night area of Luce’s life. It was non-negotiable. There was no crossing that divide.
‘Okay, I’m finished, Steffie,’ Luce put in her last pin, and sat up. ‘Try a gentle swirl, and we’ll see if it’s level.’
Not that she was a religious person, but a tiny part of her was pleading to the god of beaded sashes that this was the last time she was going to be on her hands and knees in front of Steffie’s dress.
Luce half closed one eye, and studied the dress as Steffie slid across the carpet, hands clasping a make-believe bouquet in front of her waist.
Luce turned to Mrs Beeston. ‘What do you think, Betty?’
‘Yes, it’s lovely.’ Mrs Beeston was dabbing her eyes frantically again, as Steffie stopped in front of the full length mirror.
‘Steffie?’ Luce, smiled at Steffie’s reflection, and Steffie gave the kind of definite nod she’d given so many times before, but Luce had to sound optimistic here.
‘Well I reckon that’s a wrap. I’ll get the hand sewing done and you can pop around same time next week if that’s okay.’ Luce reined in her grin, and mentally punched the air, for now at least. ‘Lucky we’ve still got a couple of weeks before your big day. Fingers crossed we won’t need any more changes.’ Luce folded out the screen for Steffie to change behind. ‘I’m going to miss you once the wedding’s over. Wednesday evenings aren’t going to be the same without you two and your dress.’
No doubt about it, she’d also miss the money too. Another eeek to that, in the light of this afternoon and the ‘For Sale’ sign. Steffie and Betty’s mind changing had kept her and Ruby in luxuries this last six months. Hell, who was Luce kidding about the luxury part? In reality they’d probably kept them solvent. She’d dreamed of working with vintage clothes ever since she did her final degree show, which she’d somehow dragged together against all the odds a couple of months after Ruby was born, but the income was still precarious.
As she waited for Steffie to change, Luce heard her phone ping, and looked at her watch. ‘Hmmm, nine o’clock on the dot. That’ll be Dida, sending out the work rota.’
And how much longer would that be happening for? That thought alone was enough to make her heart jump against her rib cage, and kick up the beat rate to double speed. She tried to make her eyes less wide, before Steffie and her mum noticed she was sporting the saucer eyed loon look again. In the morning she’d meet up with Izzy and Dida, and together they’d find a way through this. But before then she had a whole night of worrying to get through. And for the first time since forever, she wished she didn’t have to spend the night alone.
5
Wednesday Evening, 4th June
XANDER & IZZY
His building site in Bakewell
A vandal would have been so much less trouble
‘At least lads would have legged it by now.’ Xander was muttering under his breath, not that it was helping any.
As he rubbed his hands absently on his biceps, he stared at the wobbling girl he’d just dropped onto the ground. Somehow he couldn’t shift the warmth of her off his skin. Broken glass might well have been preferable to a stroppy woman, who was so small and weedy she couldn’t even climb out of a skip. Given the appalling state of the house, a few more smashed windows would hardly have mattered anyway.
He’d bought what he thought was a house needing slight refurbishment, in an up market area on the outskirts of Bakewell, and thanks to the combined efforts of builders and vandals, he was now the proud owner of what passed at best for a shit heap. Even if Bakewell was on the Telegraph’s Top Ten Places To Live In The UK list, he was failing to see the attraction himself. Served him right for buying a place for the wrong motives, and shutting up your sister was no kind of good reason. Christina might be kicking his ass big time, but one land re
gistry transaction was never going to transform his life from dysfunctional to socially acceptable. Although he hated to disappoint her, some leaps were too big to make.
He’d given up on relationships, stable friends, and places to live so long ago he’d forgotten what normal was. Glossy women throwing themselves at you came with the territory, when you were in film production and finance, but he had his avoidance tactics honed. One glance at the wasteland of a building site was enough to show anyone that even as a seasoned developer he was currently lacking the necessary motivation to push this large family house renovation to completion on his own behalf, let alone move into it. Now it was actually happening, it was going to be just another place to turn over, the same as all the rest.
‘Thanks for that.’ The words interrupted his thoughts. Her voice was smaller now, momentarily less objectionable.
Presumably she was referring to him putting her feet back on the ground. She was flapping her hands over her skirt, and the buttons on the front of her dress looked set to bust with every gasp. Worse still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Today just got better and better. Not.
‘Okay, the show’s over.’ She said, attempting to straighten herself out. She jutted her chin at him. ‘I’ll just get my shoes and I’ll be off.’
So that was good news. Right now his priority was to get her as far away from here as he could, and fast.
Shoes.
If he grabbed her shoes she could go. To his untrained eye, the pointy yellow heeled shoes he picked up looked completely inappropriate for scrabbling around on a building site, but what did he know?
‘There you go.’ He picked them up and tossed them in her direction, then turned away quickly.
‘Thanks.’
