by Nancy Revell
‘Ah, Beryl, you are the best neighbour anyone could ask for …’ Beryl and Polly looked round as Bel came out of her room. ‘… and Polly, you’re the best sister-in-law.’ Her words were said with the utmost sincerity and her voice warbled a little with emotion. The two women looked at the bride-to-be with her hair pinned back so that it showed off her perfectly made-up heart-shaped face.
‘Wow,’ Polly said. ‘Honestly, I hope my brother realises just how lucky he is!’
Beryl smiled as she looked at Bel, who she had known since she was a child. ‘Eee, lass, you look like one of them movie stars – only better!’
Bel blushed, and waved away their compliments.
‘I’ve got awful butterflies,’ she admitted, putting out her hand and showing it was trembling a little.
Beryl let out a loud belly laugh. ‘Yer know what yer want for that? A bit of brandy in yer tea. That’ll sort yer out.’
‘Good idea, Beryl,’ Polly said. ‘And there’s a pot just brewed.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘Oh dear me. I’m running late!’ Kate was panicking as she gathered up Bel’s dress, as well as her own wedding outfit.
‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ Maisie said as she idled through Kate’s open door and into her bedroom. Kate had to bite her lip. She would have preferred to have been left on her own. She had a dozen and one things on her mind and just needed some space to think and make sure she didn’t forget anything. But, she couldn’t be rude, and Maisie was only trying to be helpful, after all. She really did feel like Cinders going off to a ball that everyone else wanted an invite to.
As Kate turned to throw a few more ‘just in case’ bits and bobs into her big tapestry bag – and look around for her own small clasp bag which matched her outfit – Maisie watched her like a hawk.
Then, as Kate bent over the top of her little sewing table and started to push around strands of ribbons and threads and pincushions in an effort to find her favourite thimble, Maisie very stealthily slipped her hand through the slit of the large cotton garment bag that was being used to transport the wedding outfits, and unhooked Bel’s custom-made fascinator from the coat hanger.
Carefully she placed it on the floor, then pushed it under Kate’s narrow bed with her bare foot.
‘I’m ready when you are!’ George’s voice sounded out from the bottom of the stairs. It was his job to round everyone up and get them to their chosen destinations on time; at present his cherished MG was parked up outside the house, ready to take Kate and Vivian to the Maison Nouvelle where they were to dress and coiffure the bride and the mother of the bride for the big day. He was thankful he hadn’t used up all his petrol rations so there was no chance of him conking out on the way to the Registry Office.
‘Blimey, George,’ Lily said turning away from the front door, which had been left ajar. ‘You could eat your dinner off the bonnet it looks so clean.’
‘Well, it’s not every day the old gal gets to chauffeur a bride on her wedding day,’ he said, puffing his chest out with pride. ‘I’ll be putting a ribbon on her when I come back from dropping Kate and Vivian off … The plan,’ he added, looking at his gold fob watch, ‘is I come back for you, my dear, transport you to the wedding, then go and pick Bel up – do a lap round the town so she can be a few minutes late, as is the tradition – before delivering her to the Registry Office.’
‘I’m sure, mon cher,’ Lily said, ‘that you’ve got it all timed to military perfection … Now, I’m going off to try and disguise the ravages of time and look the best a woman of my age can look.’
George was going to say something in response, but instead smiled and watched as Lily turned and sashayed her way up the stairs. As she did so, Vivian came hurrying down and was just about to run down the last flight when she was stopped in her tracks.
‘Arrête! It’s bad luck to cross on the stairs, Vivian,’ Lily scowled at her. ‘You do want to get married one day, don’t you?’
‘Sorry, Lily,’ Vivian said, forgetting that one of Lily’s many superstitious beliefs stipulated that anyone crossing on a flight of stairs would never walk down the aisle.
‘I’m in a bit of a tizzy this morning,’ she added while she waited for Lily to reach the landing. Vivian had been run ragged all morning, doing everyone’s hair – her own, Lily’s, Kate’s – she’d even been asked by George for a quick short back and sides.
As Lily continued on her way up to her boudoir on the second floor, Kate appeared from her room on the third floor, her skinny arms wrapped round the bulging cotton garment bag. In seconds she was squeezing past Lily in her rush to get to the shop.
Lily stood still, dramatically rolling her eyes.
‘Nobody takes a bit of notice of me,’ she mumbled to herself, before carrying on up the stairs and disappearing into her room.
Two minutes later after a chorus of ‘See you there!’, Kate and Vivian clambered into the MG and were driven away by George, who was clearly enjoying his role of taxi driver for the day.
Lily, meanwhile, was settling herself down at her dressing table to make good her promise to George.
And Maisie was quietly tiptoeing into Kate’s bedroom and stealthily retrieving the fascinator from where she had hidden it, before sneaking back into her own room – where she, too, started to get ready for the ball.
On the other side of town Polly was hurrying towards the five-storey Queen Anne-style Grand Hotel on Bridge Street in the town centre. She had her boxed gas mask slung across her shoulder and an overnight bag in one hand; the other had a tight grip on her little handbag as it contained an entire week’s wages, plus overtime. As she stepped through the hotel’s huge entrance with its folded-back oak doors, she spotted Dorothy and Angie. They were waiting by a mahogany partitioned wall under one of the stained-glass windows that had stripes of brown tape across it. Both were dolled up to the nines and looked exactly like two young women on their way to a wedding. A couple of uniformed Admiralty officers, who had been billeted at the hotel, passed them and touched their caps as they passed.
‘Goodness,’ Polly said, seeing the officers’ approving looks, ‘it’s so strange to see you both in something other than your overalls. You look gorgeous.’
Dorothy and Angie self-consciously smoothed down their figure-hugging fishtail party dresses that looked almost identical, except that Dorothy’s was red and Angie’s blue. Polly’s compliment caused two big smiles to appear on their faces.
‘Ta, Pol,’ Angie said, ‘yer dinnit look too bad yerself.’
Polly knew Angie was being kind, but she also knew that she looked a little plain next to her two friends.
‘Come on, then,’ she said mischievously, ‘let’s do this.’
The three women all took a deep breath and approached the front desk where Polly pinged the brass bell on the counter.
Seconds later a grumpy-looking old man, dressed in what looked like a butler’s outfit, came bustling through from the back office. Polly spoke in the poshest voice she could muster.
‘Good morning, sir, we’ve come about the honeymoon suite for Mr and Mrs Elliot.’
Dorothy and Angie nudged each other and suppressed a giggle as they held their shoulder bags, which seemed to be abnormally bulky, down by their sides.
As Maisie finished rubbing a translucent face cream into her face, she leant forward and inspected her reflection in the oval-shaped mirror on her small vanity table. Normally, if she was going out – or even if she wasn’t – she would have carefully and very artfully applied a light foundation to her skin. Today, however, she was more than happy for her true skin colour to be exposed for all and sundry to see.
For today was all about revelations.
Maisie moved her chair back and stood up, pushing her bobbed hair up with both hands and enjoying the feel of her soft, tight curls, as well as the way her shiny, chestnut brown hair enhanced her look. Then she walked over to her wardrobe and slipped into an ivory, floral crêpe tea dress which
hung perfectly on her slender frame, the V-shape of the neckline showing off just a hint of her modest breasts. The dress looked casual but elegant and contrasted perfectly with her olive-brown skin.
Checking herself in the narrow full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, she then glanced at her delicate gold wristwatch and knew it was time.
As she picked up the fascinator from her bedside table, she took one final look in the mirror and walked purposefully out of her room.
Standing on the landing she could hear the chink of a crystal decanter stopper and knew Lily was having a sneaky splash of brandy. She knew that her boss, in spite of her brash outward appearance, felt nervous when it came to mixing with what she called ‘the general public’. Maisie understood that feeling – but, like Lily, she too had learnt to hide it well.
As she started walking down the stairs, Maisie sucked in air and reminded herself what a convincing actress she had been for just about all of her life. She could do this.
‘Oh my goodness!’
Maisie shouted down the stairs as she began her performance.
‘Lily, look!’ She hurried down the two flights of stairs and reached the bottom just as Lily came rushing out of the front office, a large bulbous brandy glass in her hand.
‘Ma chère, what is the matter?’ she asked, her face all concern.
‘It’s Isabelle’s fascinator. I’ve just found it on the stairs. Kate must have dropped it on her way out.’
Lily looked at Maisie and then down at her hand which was holding the beautiful coral pink fascinator. ‘Oh gawd,’ she said, reverting to her native tongue and putting her drink down on the little hallway table. ‘Kate’ll be in a right state. She’s put blood, sweat and tears into that thing.’
Lily looked around her, as if she would find the answer there.
‘Bloody typical! George said he had to do some kind of errand after dropping them off at the shop, so he’s not going to be back for a little while.’
She looked at Maisie.
‘Could you be a real darlin’ and take it to Kate? I think it’ll break her heart if Bel gets married without it.’
Maisie didn’t miss a beat. ‘Of course I can, Lily. Let me just get my coat. I can be there in fifteen minutes if I hurry – and quicker still if I manage to hail a cab.’
‘Oh, you are a treasure,’ Lily said, hurrying back into the front office to fetch some cash. When she came back out, Maisie was pulling on her fur coat which had been hanging from the stand by the door.
‘Here,’ Lily said, pushing a small purse full of coins into Maisie’s hand. ‘For the fare. It’s Saturday so you might get lucky.’
And with that Maisie slipped out the front door and was gone. She didn’t want to waste any time in case George returned earlier than expected and took the headpiece to the shop himself.
So far, so good, she thought as she hurried down the path and out on to the street.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Maison Nouvelle, Holmeside, Sunderland
‘What do you think?’ Kate asked Pearl as she tilted the full length cheval mirror at an angle so that Pearl could see how she looked in her new dress.
Vivian and Bel were also staring in admiration at Kate’s wonderful creation. For once Pearl did not look like mutton dressed as lamb, but, to everyone’s amazement, like a very attractive older woman. Kate had nipped the deep blue velvet dress in at the waist, but let it taper down to mid-calf length. In doing so, it had enhanced Pearl’s figure, making her look more slimline than scrawny.
Vivian had contributed to the transformation by working her magic on Pearl’s hair, twisting and pinning the dyed blonde locks into rolls around the side of her face, teasing out loose curls so that they fell down the nape of her neck.
‘Eee, Katie,’ Pearl said, her eyes glued to the apparition staring back at her in the mirror. ‘I feel like royalty.’
Bel looked at her mother and was surprised to see that her eyes looked wet. Never before had she seen her mother so genuinely happy and emotional. Out of habit, Bel nearly said something sarcastic, but she stopped herself. Today was about love. Not just her and Joe’s love, but the love they all had for each other. So, instead, Bel simply looked at her ma and smiled.
‘You’ve done a fantastic job, Kate, and you too, Vivian,’ Bel said, before adding a little awkwardly, ‘… and Ma … you look really nice.’
Pearl’s head swung around to look at her daughter. She had never once said anything even remotely complimentary to her at all – ever.
Kate moved away from the mirror and looked outside. The weather wasn’t particularly wedding-like, but it was November, after all. There were some dark clouds looming, but most important of all, it wasn’t raining.
‘All right, Pearl. I would get yourself away now – just in case it starts to spit. I don’t want that velvet getting as much as a drop of water on it.’
‘Good idea, pet. I’ll see you all there.’ Pearl looked across at her daughter. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of any words.
The little bell tinkled as Kate opened the door for Pearl.
As she walked out, Pearl turned. ‘Eee, Katie,’ she said, grabbing her hand and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘Thanks so much.’
And as she stepped out on to the pavement and started the quarter of a mile or so to the Registry Office, Pearl really did feel like she was Queen for the day.
‘And now for the bride,’ Kate exclaimed as she shut the door and turned to Bel, who was sitting on a high wooden stool by the large oblong sewing table. Vivian, standing behind her, had already got to work, rolling and pinning sections of Bel’s hair up on top of her head.
‘Let’s get the bride into her dress!’ Kate commanded. She hurried over to a metal rail at the side of the shop and pulled out the most beautiful ivory pink silk dress from the clothes carrier.
Bel felt a thrill of nerves as she got up from the stool, and both Kate and Vivian carefully held the dress above her head.
As Bel put her arms up and the dress just seemed to float down on to and around her, Bel felt all her nerves – and all her fleeting thoughts of the past and the future – disappear; the dress momentarily dissolving everything – apart from the here and now.
Kate then carefully pulled up the zip she had sewn into the side so that it was almost invisible, which had the effect of keeping the fall of the dress undisturbed. A subtle nip and tuck of fabric at the waist and a pussy bow neckline had the effect of showing off Bel’s full bosom, but without drawing too much attention to it.
Bel bent down and slipped on a pair of cream slingback shoes she had borrowed from Rosie. Then she straightened up, and stood forward.
‘Go on, give us a twirl,’ Vivian begged. She was mesmerised by the sight of this beautiful woman who could easily give the likes of Lana Turner and Bette Davis a run for their money.
Responding to Vivian’s plea Bel stepped into the middle of the small shop and did a little twirl. The movement caused the lower part of the dress, with its irregular hem, to move around her legs like gentle waves.
Bel looked stunning. The pastel pink of the fabric perfectly complemented her pale skin. She looked classy, yet demure. Bride-like, but also a little seductive.
‘Excellent,’ Kate said, scrutinising every square inch of fabric.
Bel sat back down on the stool to allow Vivian to finish her hair. She had already created a row of loose, victory rolls, positioning them so that they sat on the top of her head; now she carefully eased out two thick strands of curly blonde hair so that they framed Bel’s face, and in doing so created a slightly wanton effect.
‘And …’ Kate said, turning to the garment bag hanging from the rail, ‘to copy one of Lily’s favourite expressions … for la pièce de résistance.’
As she parted the opening of the cotton bag, she reached up to retrieve the fascinator which should have been hanging from the middle of one of the hangers – but it wasn’t there. Thinking it must have
dropped to the bottom of the bag, she bent her head down to look.
Not finding it, Kate presumed it must have become entangled in her own wedding outfit, so she pulled her dress out, shook it gently – then more violently.
‘Oh, no –’ Kate’s face went ashen. ‘I don’t believe it!’
She flung her dress on the sewing table and patted it down, praying that it was there. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she repeated, as she started scrabbling around in the dress bag.
‘What’s wrong, Kate?’ Vivian asked. She had her lacquer out and was creating a mist around both Bel and herself.
‘The fascinator. It’s not here! I must have left it … or dropped it. Oh my God. This is a disaster!’
Bel stood up and went over to a panic-stricken Kate. She had never seen her in such a state. ‘Hey, Kate, don’t worry. It’s not the end of the world. I can get married without it.’
‘No, you can’t! The dress is incomplete without it,’ Kate said, tears starting to build up in her eyes. There was no arguing with her. ‘I can run back and get it.’
Kate sounded desperate as she looked up at the clock on the wall. But it was now nearly quarter to one. George was due at any moment. The Registry Office was booked for one.
‘There’s not enough time, Kate,’ Bel said. ‘Please, don’t get upset. Look at this amazing dress.’ She looked down at the most sublimely beautiful dress she had ever seen – never mind worn.
Vivian was quiet. She knew how much time, energy and effort Kate had put into the headpiece, and so she knew, more than anyone, just how totally gutted Kate was feeling.
Kate started to look frantically around the shop, knowing deep down that it was not there but forcing herself to believe that it might somehow suddenly reappear.
Just then the little brass bell tinkled as the door opened.
It was Maisie.
And in her raised hand she was holding the coral pink fascinator.
‘I think you forgot something, Kate!’ she said, purposely sounding breathless as if she had run all the way from West Lawn, when in fact she had managed to catch a taxi as soon as she’d turned on to Tunstall Vale. After being dropped off halfway down Holmeside, she had waited a little while in one of the shop doorways across the road from the Maison Nouvelle. She had seen Pearl leave – and had then given it a good five minutes before blustering into the shop.
