by Liz Tipping
She swished the dress away from me and hugged it against herself, smoothing the fabric against her body, closing her eyes and making what could only be described as sex noises.
I glanced around to see if anyone was looking. A supermodel shop assistant briefly looked up but didn’t appear to register anything unusual.
“And then,” she said, “you realise you don’t have to sell a kidney and it can be all yours. But this one isn’t in the sale. So, unlucky.” She placed the dress back on the rack and said, “Come on.”
“But I don’t want to sell my kidneys on the black market to buy something I don’t even know I like. I’m not sure about all this. Can’t we look online or something?”
“No, you need to feel full immersed in the whole experience,” she insisted. “We will find you the perfect dress to go with your cardigan, even if we have to stay all day, except I do have to leave to pick the kids up.” She looked at her watch. “So let’s go. No time to waste.”
She pushed into the next concession and said, “Choose!”
She stood on the edge in the aisle, like a mother cheering me on from the sidelines.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said to her, pleading by screwing my face up, but it didn’t work and she shooed me away with her hands.
“Just pick something,” she said. Verity seemed to think I had the slightest clue what I was doing, but I didn’t. I gravitated towards the area with the coats and picked up a black raincoat and held it up nervously for Verity’s approval. She shook her head and I sheepishly placed it back on the rack. I picked up a beige raincoat and took a furtive glance at her and she was folding her arms.
I edged away from the coats with my back to them as though I was teetering on the ledge of a very tall building. Verity was tapping her feet.
There was a collection of pretty pastel dresses in floaty fabric that caught my eye. A baby pink one with a chiffon pleated skirt and a fitted top. I reached my hand out to it, as I wanted to touch the fabric.
“That one,” yelled Verity. “That one! That one is your dress.”
I pulled my hand away and shook my head.
“Try it on,” she said, marching over to me.
“I was just looking,” I said, defensively.
“If you don’t try it on,” she said, “I will!”
“No, you can’t,” I said, yanking it off the rack. “I saw it first.”
Verity beamed proudly. “And that, my friend, is how you shop.”
“What do you mean?” I said as Verity shoved me and my dress towards the changing room.
“It’s like the first law of shopping. It’s how you know when you’ve found something you love.” She pulled back the curtain of the changing room and motioned me in.
“It is?” I said, stepping into the small cubicle.
“Yes. Sometimes you might see something on a sale rack and you’re a bit unsure, but then you see someone edging their way up from the other side and you can see she’s spotted the fabric and it’s in her size. Sometimes the only way you know you want something is when someone else is going to get it.”
She swooshed the curtain shut dramatically as though she had just given me the answer to life, the universe and everything.
I struggled out of my clothes in the tiny changing room, banging my elbows on the coat hooks as I lifted my top above my head.
“Anyway, what did you and Stubbs do last night?” said Verity from the other side of the curtain.
“We went to a gig. It was bloody awful,” I said, as I tried to pull my trousers off over my boots, decided against it and then tried to reverse the procedure.
“Who did you see?” she asked.
“Nearvana,” I said. “It was too noisy and packed and I hated it. Then went back to Stubbs’s for a drink.”
“You are such a lucky git,” said Verity.
“You’re joking aren’t you? The band was awful. And then he was playing me loads of terrible music back at his, but there were a few things I liked so it wasn’t all bad,” I said. I took the dress off the hanger and slipped it over my head.
“Yeah, but going out whenever you like, hanging out with Stubbs without having to get a babysitter. And you went back to Stubbs’s for a drink! Staying out late on a weekday – that’s cool!”
“I suppose,” I said. The bodice fitted perfectly and the chiffon pleats fell down and brushed against my legs. It was so pretty, I almost didn’t want to look in the mirror and see it on myself.
“How does it look?” said Verity.
“It looks lovely,” I said, smoothing the soft fabric over my hips. Then I raised my head slowly and looked into the mirror and felt uncomfortable. “Just not on me.”
I found myself wondering what Daniel would think of me in this dress as I struggled to get it back over my head.
Verity opened the curtain almost revealing my underwear-clad self to the world so I pulled the curtain around me with one hand and tried to take the dress off, which was now hanging around my neck.
“What are you doing?” I said to Verity.
“What are you doing?” she said. “I just wanted to see the dress.”
The shop assistant was walking over to us. “Is there a problem, ladies?”
“No, we’re fine,” said Verity and stepped into the cubicle, pulling the curtain across.
“Why won’t you show me the dress?” asked Verity.
I pulled on my top.
“I don’t know, Vee, it just wasn’t me,” I said, my shoulders dropping in defeat. I sighed as I scooped up my trousers from the floor.
“Maybe it wasn’t your dress after all then,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps I should just leave you to it and you can pick your own dress.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Come on then, I’ll get going and leave you to have a look around on your own. I have to pick the kids up.”
“Okay,” I said, having no intention of looking around at all.
“We’ve still got a week anyway. You’ll be able to astound Daniel Rose in whatever you’re wearing.”
“Yeah,” I said. But I wasn’t so sure. Maybe it didn’t matter what Daniel Rose thought of my dress. I found myself more concerned wondering what Stubbs would think of it.
Verity headed off to get the train and left me browsing. I picked up one or two things and held them against myself, glancing quickly in the mirrors. I walked from one department to another brushing my hands against the clothes but nothing grabbed me. I left the store and walked through the shopping centre towards the train station. I stopped outside a vintage store where a dress in the window caught my eye. It was a light grey button-through dress with tiny yellow flowers on it, not the sort of thing you’d wear to a ball, but I liked it all the same. I went inside and asked to try it on. It had been someone else’s dress but when I looked at myself in front of the mirror, it felt like mine.
I was still smiling to myself about my new purchase when I got back to Broad Hampton. It wasn’t the glamorous ball gown I had hoped for, but it was a start. I had a spring in my step as I walked along the High Street. I was going to call into the shop to show Liv my dress, but I found myself passing the swish coffee bar where April went and decided I’d go in and treat myself to their most expensive coffee, where I could price up the costings needed for the outdoor cinema. I was about to step inside when there was a tap on my shoulder. It was Divvy.
“Look at you. Won the lottery have you? Must have if you can afford to drink in there,” he said.
“I was only going to have a coffee, Div,” I said.
“Pah, come down the club with me instead.” He ushered me up the road towards the club before I had time to protest.
“I’ve got stuff to do, Divvy,” I said, mindful that I needed to get a start on my venture.
“Fair enough – come for a quick one in here then,” he said.
Divvy was holding open the door at the Wetherspoons and grinning. I suppose one woul
dn’t hurt.
I told Divvy all about my plans for the outdoor cinema at the bar and then we sat down with our drinks.
“Are you going to the ball, Divvy?” I asked.
“I dunno, probably,” he said, scratching his head vigorously.
“Please come, Divvy. I’d like it if all four of us were there.”
I waffled on about the outdoor cinema and told him all about Daniel Rose and I’m pretty sure I was boring him to death. He must have been bored because I was boring myself.
“I remember him, I think, Daniel Rose,” he said. “Still holding a torch then, eh?”
“It’s more that I want to know why, Divvy. Why did he ask out all the girls apart from me?”
“Why do you care?” he said, taking a sip of his drink. Anyway, you and Stubbsy look like you are getting pretty close lately.”
“Ha. No chance of that – he’s too in love with April,” I said, trying to laugh it off.
“April? Nah, she’s nauseating. He’s just trying to prove summat to himself.”
“Do you reckon?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “He’ll be well bored of her soon enough. She’s an airhead. Stubbsy needs someone with a bit more substance than that. And you need someone with a bit more substance than that Daniel Rose fella.”
I felt happy Divvy considered me to be someone with substance.
“It’s just no one ever noticed me at school, you know? And then me and Stubbs are doing this thing, because I want to be cool and interesting, but it all seems a bit pointless really.” I sighed.
“Better that no one notices you than everyone calling you a divvy for five years,” he said. “And for the rest of your life for that matter. Besides, everyone liked you at school.”
“What?” I said in disbelief. “You’re joking aren’t you?”
“Well think about it like this, these so-called popular kids, did anyone actually really like them? April’s all right really – well she is now. She’s nice enough, but do you reckon anyone really liked her apart from her few cronies?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“And what’s better: to just go through school having a pretty ordinary existence or be like April, where everyone was scrutinizing her every move? Or be like me when people are looking for every single thing you do to be an example of your living up to your name?” It hadn’t occurred to me for years that Divvy wasn’t his name. I had been so hurt by the words “bag lady” when I was at school, but here was Divvy, wearing his nickname like a badge of honour, like he had reclaimed it as his own. I held the bag with my “new” vintage dress in it and squeezed it, thinking about the absurdity of me wearing a second-hand dress and someone else’s cardigan after years of never wanting to do that again.
I nodded and picked away at a beermat and noticed Divvy was drinking orange juice.
“How come you’re not drinking?” I asked him.
“I’m pregnant,” he said.
I burst out laughing and Divvy smiled.
Divvy had a nice smile, warm and friendly, and I felt a bit of sadness we hadn’t stayed better friends since we had left school.
“Seriously though, Divvy, Dave I mean, how come you always get so drunk at the weekends?”
The corners of his smile turned down. “I dunno,” he said. “I suppose after school, when I went to work, I always lived for Saturdays, everything was just all about fun. I struggled at school and when I went to work, I suddenly found I fitted in. All the lads would go to town on a Saturday and there would be gigs or raves. I kind of got into the habit of going to town and getting wrecked on a Saturday.”
I nodded and Divvy looked a little sad.
“And then there were fewer and fewer of us going out, people got married off and one day I came into town on a Saturday and no one was out, so that’s why I ended back up at the social club, to see you lot. I guess you could call me a bit of a Divvy no-mates.”
“We’re your mates, Dave,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said and smiled.
I stayed with Divvy for another one and then made my way home to do more research on setting up the outdoor cinema. I costed up projectors and audio equipment and looked into advertising. I kept one eye on Molly Ringwald’s cardigan to make sure no one was outbidding me and occasionally I would sneak a peek at Daniel’s Facebook page. When I saw nothing new there, I found myself looking at Stubbs’s page. He’d uploaded some photographs he had taken in the park that morning when he’d been out for a run. They were stunning and made Broad Hampton look so picturesque. I clicked on Stubbs’s profile photo and looked at it for a surprisingly long time.
Chapter Twelve
Liv and I spent the day costing up everything we would need. Liv rang other companies and asked them which equipment they used, found out how much it would all cost and how much we’d need to charge per ticket to make it a success. I had to admit it was daunting, but I liked how it stopped me thinking about everything else going on. The equipment was going to cost a fortune and I was slightly regretting bidding as much as I had for the cardigan now, but I knew we could do it.
And something shifted in me as well. I began thinking that maybe this could be my moment. I made an appointment at the bank with a business manager, hoping I’d be able to convince her to support me. A woman called me to do an informal interview about the role in the hotel role in Penarth and I chatted to her happily about the post. Now that there was a chance I could create my own business, all the nerves about applying for other jobs had dissipated and I spoke calmly to the woman on the phone. I was just keeping my options open, I told her, just in case.
But it was the cinema business I wanted to do, sharing my love of films with everyone, creating special events. It could be a regular event, particularly in the summer, and I didn’t have to limit it to Broad Hampton, I could do it anywhere. Instead of dreaming that I could have my John Hughes moment at the ball, maybe the open air cinema event could be my moment instead. Something that I – and Liv – could make a success of.
*
After work, I agreed to meet Stubbs in town for the next part of my training. As he had rather unsubtly asked to meet me outside the museum and art gallery, I knew what I was in for. He was probably going to show me round some boring old paintings of women draped on their settees and then probably some splodges on a canvas and tell me about what they meant but all it really meant was someone had thrown some splodges on some canvas. I wasn’t far wrong.
“I like her sofa,” I said of one draped woman. “I’d totally have that in my house, maybe in the living room, or at the end of my bed. See? I can do art appreciation.”
He tutted at me and shoved me along into another gallery.
“Tell me about the open air cinema then. How’s it going? It sounds cool.”
“It is cool. I need to get all the equipment together, but it seems viable,” I said. Finally I was doing something cool. At least Stubbs thought so anyway. I told him all about our plans, about how we wanted to use the area at the back of the shop.
“So this is going to be your new job then?” he said.
“I don’t know about that. I’d like it to be, yeah, but I’m still keeping my options open.”
“You could totally do it for a job,” he said. “We could do with something like that in town, something community-orientated. You could make it a regular thing.”
“That’s the plan,” I said. Then I changed the subject. “I could do better than that,” I said, stood in front of one of the splodgy paintings.
Stubbs tutted in exasperation. “How about this one then?” He put his hands gently on my waist and shoved me along to the next one.
“Nah. Still too splodgy.”
“Do you know how much this painting is worth?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I still wouldn’t have it up on my wall. Shall we go and look at the dinosaurs instead?” I craned my neck around the corner where I could see a T-rex’s head sticking out
.
“We’ve only been here five minutes,” he said, shaking his head. “You said you wanted to learn about art.”
I wanted to make an effort so I sat on a bench in front of the splodgy painting and stared at it, willing it to make me like it. I tilted my head to the left, then to the right, then further to the left again, and a bit further until I was nearly looking at it upside down. I went back to a normal position and shrugged my shoulders as Stubbs huffily paced up and down.
“Anyway,” I said, “I just don’t think it’s for me. You know, like painting and stuff. I like the idea of doing it more than looking at it. Like I’ll be standing there in my art studio, which is probably in a basement, and I’d be splattered with paint.”
“Obviously,” said Stubbs pulling a face that showed me it wasn’t immediately obvious to him at all. He obviously thought I was daft, but I had spent so long watching teen movies where the arty kids were the cool ones.
April’s ball was getting closer and closer and I began to feel excited now whenever I thought about it. I had almost convinced myself I would be able to go there with my head held high. I imagined talking to Daniel at the reunion, wondering if I could be scintillating enough for him to be interested, wondering if I could be cool enough. I wasn’t sure I’d have the time or if I had it in me to be scintillating and effortlessly fascinating.
“Anyway, I’d quite like to go and see the dinosaurs now, please. And the fossils,” I called over to him.
“You’re not even trying,” he said.
“Well, I just don’t get it,” I said. “It’s all blobs and stuff.”
Then Stubbs sighed. “Okay then, you win. Dinosaurs, it is.”
*
The model of the T-rex had a button underneath and when you pressed, it roared. I’d pressed it several times now and Stubbs was still pretending he was pissed off with me, but I knew he wasn’t. He was having just as much fun as me. I was trying to get him to have a go. After some cajoling, I got him to press the button while I mimed being the T-rex, complete with roaring action, which finally made him crack his face and he burst out laughing. I felt like I could be silly and free with Stubbs. I didn’t have to worry about being cool around him. This is me, having a moment, I thought to myself.
