by Kim Nash
They headed straight for the underwear section and Monica danced around holding up a few bras and asked, ‘OK, what size bra do you need?’
‘Well, before Archie was born I was a 36DD,’ Grace replied.
‘And now?’
‘Erm. Not entirely sure,’ she said in a voice that she projected towards the floor, sounding like a naughty schoolchild being scolded by her head teacher.
‘Not sure! Not sure! Are you for real?’ Monica spluttered. ‘Your son is now ten!’
People in the shop started to look around to where the noise was coming from and Grace wanted to crawl up her own backside. Monica lowered her voice. ‘Grace, are you really telling me that you have no idea what bra size you are?’
‘Erm, yes,’ Grace whispered and hid her head in shame.
Monica tutted loudly in pure disgust and amazement and disappeared in a huff. A few minutes later she returned with a pretty, young, bra-fitting assistant who introduced herself as Amy-Louise. She quickly offered to measure Grace and dragged her off to the changing rooms for the most embarrassing encounter of her life. Amy-Louise recommended a completely different size and style bra to the ones Grace had been wearing for the last God knows how long and suggested that it might be worth browsing online to see what styles and colours she might like in the future.
Grace looked at Amy-fricking-Louise and sighed. She wouldn’t be needing to worry about droopy boobs for a good few years yet, she thought, as the young assistant showed her how to scoop her boobs into her hands and hoist them into her bra, ensuring all the breast tissue was supported. It had been a while since anyone had been anywhere near her boobs and she’d never thought that ‘getting back into the swing of it’ would be quite like this. Grace was mortified by the whole incident and couldn’t get out of the shop quickly enough, although she did come away with four new bras – the white, black and nude that she needed, plus a pink lacy number that Monica had bullied her into buying.
‘Come on, sweetheart.’ Monica tucked her arm into Grace’s. ‘I think you and I need to have a chat on the way to swishing.’
‘Swishing?’ questioned Grace. ‘What the hell is “swishing” when it’s at home?’
‘You’ll see!’ Monica was grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘And you’re going to love it!’
Chapter Three
Bertha the Beetle screeched to a halt outside Rita’s Rags to Riches. As they walked through the door, a voice shouted out from behind a curtain at the back of the shop: ‘Won’t be a tick, ladies!’
Within seconds, one of the most glamorous people that Grace had ever met appeared, dripping with jewellery and oozing natural style and charm. ‘Now, you must be Grace. Hello sweetie, I’m Rita.’ She took Grace’s hand in both of hers. ‘Thanks so much for coming along to my little swishing shop today.’ She air-kissed Monica on both cheeks.
‘Dah-ling, it’s so fabulous to see you again. It was so lovely to get your call to say you were coming in with another of your ladies. So, Grace, this is how it works. First, you check in the clothes you brought along.’ Rita started rummaging through the ‘special’ bin bag of Grace’s clothes that Monica had handed over. ‘You have brought fifteen items so you get to choose fifteen items from the rails. These clothes have been brought in by other people who have cleared out their wardrobes. You can choose more, but for every additional item after fifteen, you have to pay two pounds fifty per item. But then as Monica is a regular customer, she knows the rules, don’t you, darling?’
‘Sure do, Rita.’ She turned to Grace. ‘This is one of my favourite upmarket charity shops in the area. I’ve brought so many of my ladies along to give them a wardrobe make-over that I feel like part of the furniture. Come on, Grace, let’s start! This is going to be sooo much fun!’
Grace doubted it very much. Since she’d put on weight over the last few years, shopping for clothes had become one of her least favourite activities – next to having her bikini line waxed. Which was, incidentally, something that she hadn’t had done since… she couldn’t even remember when. It wasn’t like she had anyone who would even notice!
She browsed through the racks while Rita and Monica were nattering away, grabbing things off the rails and putting them in the changing room.
A black dress caught her eye but as she picked it out to look at it in more detail, Monica’s booming voice cried, ‘No, no, no, no, NO! Absolutely not! From now on anything black is banned!’
Oh God, Mum, what am I letting myself in for? Grace silently entreated, looking towards heaven. She talked to her mum all the time. She knew some people thought she was a bit on the crazy side, including her ex, but it was the only way she’d been able to cope since her mum lost her battle with cancer twelve years previously. It was the routine daily tasks that she found difficult to get through. Sometimes she still went to pick up the phone to share something with her mum, momentarily forgetting that she was no longer there. The shock and sadness of remembering that she could no longer speak with her took Grace’s breath away and she would stand, holding the phone, stunned again by her loss all over again.
This time though, she heard a voice very clearly saying, Darling girl, it’s about time someone took you in hand and showed you what you are capable of. I’m sorry if it seems harsh, but if I were there right now, I’d be doing it myself. Love you!
She often heard her mother’s words and had got used to it now, even though she originally thought she was going a bit bonkers. She dreamt about her mum a lot too; dreaming that they were shopping together, or out having dinner; routine, normal activities for a mother and a daughter, but when she woke the realisation that it wasn’t real was always heartbreaking.
Rita’s booming voice jolted her back to the present.
‘So, Grace!’ Rita said, clapping her hands. ‘Why don’t you tell me what your style is and I’ll see what I can come up with?’
Grace tried to think how to answer the question. Since she’d had Archie, she didn’t think she even had a style. She spent most of her working time in suits and that was what she felt most herself in. While some of her friends were comfortable at the weekend in jeans, a hoody and a pair of trainers, Grace knew that she was a bit stiff with her clothing. Smart jeans were probably the trendiest things she wore but she always wore them with a nice jumper and a pair of boots because that was her personal style – such as it was. Unless she was walking the dog of course, when she usually donned a pair of old joggers and a sweatshirt. People would never notice her for her dress sense, that was for sure; the only style she had was anything that covered her fat arse.
‘OK, Grace, get in there and get your kit off!’ Monica manhandled her into the changing room and pulled the curtain shut. ‘The first thing you are trying on is the blue jumpsuit.’
‘You have to be kidding me! Surely jumpsuits went out years ago? And besides, what if I needed a wee while I had it on?’ she exclaimed.
‘Neither of those facts bothered you enough to stop you having three of them in your wardrobe though, did it?’ Monica laughed. ‘Having been the operative word! They must have been in there since 1985!’
‘I loved those, thank you very much!’ Grace responded. ‘Can’t believe you chucked them out – and now you’re making me try on another one?’
‘I chucked out three jumpsuits with shoulder pads that Krystle Carrington would have been proud of – very different to what you’re about to try on!’ She cackled with laughter.
Grace stomped out of the changing room in the jumpsuit. Her shoulders were slumped, her posture was poor and her face was really miserable.
‘I hate it!’ Grace said, pulling a face and sounding like a truculent teenager.
‘Look at the state of you! Push your tits out and hold your stomach in!’ Monica scolded. ‘And stop slouching! That’s better. Ooh, you’re like a naughty child!’
‘I still hate it!’
‘Shut up and turn round!’ Monica snapped as she handed her a wide silver belt and a long, sparkly
silver and blue necklace, which Grace noticed was actually rather nice.
‘But I really don’t like it!’ Grace said, turning to head back to the changing room.
‘Did I not just tell you to shut it?’ Her friend flicked her on the shoulder. ‘Trust your Aunty Monica.’
‘I’m sure Gok Wan wasn’t this rude to the ladies on his show,’ Grace said, rubbing her crystal necklace between her fingers.
‘Oh stop moaning, you! Now hoist your bangers up and let’s see that amazing cleavage which, by the way, most women would die for, put these heels on and get out here!’ Monica handed her a pair of sparkly silver wedges, and Grace took them from her and slipped them on her feet.
She looked in the mirror. Actually, it looked OK. In fact, the more she looked at herself, it wasn’t bad at all. Perhaps Monica did know what she was doing, although Grace wasn’t going to admit that in a hurry. She perked up a bit and turned this way and that. Her backside didn’t look quite as huge as she thought it would. Perhaps all that worrying about the house move, and how much it was going to cost to do it all up, along with all the other worries of a single parent, had resulted in a bit of weight loss after all? Silver lining and all that. Something sharp was digging into her thigh. When she found the culprit, it was the label.
‘Bugger me, it’s still got the label in! It’s never been worn! And it cost a hundred and fifty pounds new.’
‘And that’s the beauty of swishing,’ chorused Monica and Rita in perfect harmony.
Perhaps this was going to be fun after all, Grace thought as she tried on more outfits that Rita and Monica had chosen for her. She particularly loved a turquoise silk cocktail dress that Rita had brought into the changing room and said would be perfect for her even though Grace had laughed at first at the thought of needing a glamorous dress in her wardrobe – she couldn’t see herself wearing that while walking Becks, or watching Archie play football on a freezing Saturday morning. But then she remembered that she did need something swanky for that event she was trying so hard to forget. The empire-line cut of the dress fitted her perfectly on her top half, making her look curvy instead of busty, and the longer-length chiffon skirt skimmed her legs gracefully and ended just above her ankles (or her ‘cankles’ as she frequently referred to them). It felt comfortable yet fashionable at the same time. Rita really knew her stuff.
Shopping with a girlfriend was actually far more fun than shopping alone. Years ago she wouldn’t have dreamt of wearing an outfit unless it was labelled Dolce & Gabbana – but these days the closest she got was Florence & Fred. Rita handed her a glass of prosecco at one point and as she very rarely drank these days, she was feeling particularly tiddly.
Grace eventually chose some smart-casual items she could wear for work, some stuff for relaxing and wearing around the house and some swanky things she could wear if she ever went on a night out, including the cocktail dress. And there wasn’t a black item in sight!
Rita packed up the outfits they’d chosen and handed Grace five bags that were bursting at the seams. ‘It’s lovely to see ladies who come in feeling miserable, go out with smiles on their faces. That’s what makes it all worthwhile. That’ll be twenty-five pounds then, please, my darling.’
‘Twenty-five pounds! Is that all? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, lovely, you had fifteen items for free as you brought fifteen items in, then another ten items at two pounds fifty each which makes twenty-five pounds.’
‘Wow, that’s an absolute bargain!’ Grace exclaimed as Monica and Rita sang in unison, ‘And that’s the beauty of swishing!’
Back home, Grace flung herself on her settee, exhausted from her morning of being prodded, poked and cajoled.
‘God, I’m knackered!’ she said to Monica who was standing over her. ‘I’m so looking forward to getting my jimmies on, ordering a Chinese and having a relaxing night in watching The X Factor tonight!’
Monica grinned. ‘Ha! No bloody chance, sweetie! I’m so glad you like the blue jumpsuit the best, because you’re wearing it when we go out tonight. Come on, shift your butt! Get in the shower right now! You’d better be quick, though. You’ve got an appointment at the hairdresser’s in fifteen minutes.’
Chapter Four
Carlos, Monica’s brother, who just happened to be a hairdresser, was a magician in the salon. He worked wonders. He was a dead ringer for Idris Elba and the ladies loved him. As he chatted to Grace, he blended three different shades of deep brown, copper and rich red into her hair and then snipped away.
As he swung the chair round to finally face the mirror, he grinned and said, ‘Ta-dah!’
The mousy, lacklustre, shoulder-length nothing style she’d had for years had been transformed into a funky, flicky bob that Kate Silverton would have been proud of. It knocked years off her and she felt light and carefree for the first time in a very long time.
‘OMG! I love it!’ Grace exclaimed.
‘Darling, you look like spring!’ Monica squealed.
‘Spring?’ Grace enquired.
‘Yes, darling, you looked like winter before. Dull, dreary and miserable. But now you look like spring; exciting and full of promise for the future.’
‘I think there’s a backhanded compliment in there somewhere,’ said Carlos, winking at her. ‘What she’s trying to say is, you look hot, girl!’
‘Right come on, stop flirting with Carlos, babe, it won’t get you anywhere, I can assure you. He’s so in love and happy with Fernando that they make me want to throw up!’
Carlos stuck out his tongue at his sister and handed Grace over to Fiona, a young and stunning beautician who did stage make-up at the local theatre.
Oh please, Mum! I know I ask loads of favours of you, and it’s normally to find me a fabulous parking space, but please don’t let me leave looking like Widow Twanky! Grace mouthed silently to somewhere up above. She felt soothed, as if someone was reassuringly resting their hand on her shoulder.
After around twenty minutes titivating, Fiona said, ‘It’s time. Close your eyes… and now you can look in the mirror!’ She swung Grace’s chair around.
Grace held her breath, and slowly opened one eye and then the other. She blinked and blinked again. Was that really her? She could not believe it.
‘Is that me?’
‘Sure is! Do you like it?’ Fiona asked nervously.
‘Oh! My! God! What have you done to me? That’s not me, surely?’ She stared straight at the mirror, sideways on and back to straight on. ‘Like it? I bloody love it!’
Fiona laughed. ‘I know I do the stage looks but I’ve been learning how to do subtle make-overs too and how to enhance a person’s natural features. Are you sure you’re happy? You didn’t think you were going to end up looking like a pantomime dame, did you?’ she laughed.
‘God! Of course not!’ Grace said, mentally crossing her fingers at the lie. ‘I’m bloody delighted, Fiona. I’m going to tell everyone about you and how amazing you are! Between you, Carlos and Monica, you’ve transformed me on the outside. Thank you sooo very much.’
‘Well let me know if you fancy a pizza-and-prosecco night and I could teach you how to do it for yourself, if you fancy it?’
‘Now you’re talking. Thank you so much Fiona.’
Monica sniggered. ‘Yes, that’s the outside done, Grace, and you look amazing. We’re ready for our night out and then we just have the inside to work on!’
* * *
My darling girl. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I wish I could reach out and touch you and take you in my arms once more. If I could wish for anything in the world, I would wish that you would learn to love yourself. You need to realise just how beautiful you are; inside and out. But you’re not ever going to be able to let love into your life until you love yourself.
I’m so glad that Monica has taken you in hand. I know you are sad and still really struggling with losing me and I only wish I could help you more. I wish you could feel it when I touch your face and wip
e away your tears. I wish you could feel my hand in yours when you sleep at night. I wish you knew how much I still love you even though I can’t be with you in body. I’m just a breath away my darling. So close but yet so far.
Mum xxx
Chapter Five
Grace turned the key in the lock. Monica had given her two and a half hours until she was being picked back up for a night out on the town. As she closed the door, she realised how painfully quiet it was without her son in the house and, as always, it made her heart twang.
She was so glad that her life had changed for the better now, even if that meant being alone and being a single mum. When she and Mark first split, Grace had worried most about how Archie was going to handle it. She’d waited forever to meet the love of her life, and on the day her son was born, she did. He was her pride and joy. Her life. Her everything. She had a pang of sadness every time she thought about just how much her mum would have loved him, and that she’d never had the opportunity to share Archie and his wonderful self with her.
Grace tottered down her long hallway, the new high heels that she’d promised Monica she’d get used to click-clacking on the Victorian tiled floor, and plonked down her shopping, handbag and keys on the large wooden bureau at the far end of the hall. She’d always longed to walk through the front door and be welcomed by someone who simply couldn’t live without her. And she knew that in just a few seconds, she would be getting such a hug and a heart full of love coming her way.
