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‘Yes I do, but no way am I up to the standard of these.’
Marcia wiped away a stray speck of buttercream from her upper lip with her fingertip and licked the end, her eyes crinkling into a smile which transformed her whole face.
‘Maybe not, Marcia,’ said Iris. ‘But then Tom can’t compete with you in the literary stakes, can he? She won’t blow her own trumpet, Delia, but Marcia’s just had another two of her short stories accepted byLuxeLifemagazine for their summer holiday issue. That’s four stories she’s sold this month. Must be doing something right – but then everyone loves a good romance, don’t they?’
Sophie watched as Marcia’s cheeks reddened, embarrassed at her mother’s pride.
‘Nevertheless, she won’t meet the man of her dreams whilst she’s stuck looking after me in Somersby, will she?’
‘Mum!’ Marcia moaned and, as the bell jingled, announcing what Sophie hoped would be a paying customer, she took the opportunity to replace her bobble hat and prepare her mother’s chair to leave.
‘Just saying.’ Iris smirked as Marcia fussed with her knee blanket. There was no defeat in those soft blue eyes, only a burning desire to squeeze every last ounce of delight from what remained of her life.
‘Don’t forget that package we brought for Delia, Marcia, my love,’ Iris said, pointing to the Oxfam hessian bag hooked over the handles of her wheelchair, ‘and your next two stories for her to proofread before you get them sent off to the editor.’
‘Oh, yes.’
Marcia withdrew a large white envelope and placed it on the shop counter before extracting a smaller square package encased in a brown paper bag, passing it surreptitiously to Delia as Sophie strode off to serve the new arrival. But not before Sophie had caught a glimpse of the meaningful, coy looks being exchanged as Delia stowed the clandestine parcel beneath the counter, her cheeks glowing a deep shade of scarlet.
Chapter Fifteen
That night, Sophie settled down on the well-worn sofa with a glass of red wine, curled her feet under her bottom, and called Scarlet for an update on the boutique and life in south west London in general.
‘Hi, Scarlet. How are things at the couture coalface?’
‘Everything’s fine. No crises to get worked up about. Lizzie is working her socks off on next year’s Spring/Summer Collection. Oh, and did I tell you, Marco Gallieri has popped round a couple of times? He said it was to offer us a selection of this season’s fascinators, hats and wedding tiaras to display in our window, but I know it was just for a gossip. He’s a creative genius with bridal headpieces! Would you believe he’s talking about being crowned the new Philip Treacy, bless him? I’d die to wear one of his hats at the wedding of the year! And don’t you think he’s handsome? All that Italian heritage oozing from his pores?’
‘Calm down, Scarlet,’ Sophie giggled. ‘How’s Flora?’
‘Flora is Flora. When she realised that we hadn’t won the competition she spent the whole day arranging and then rearranging the threads into rainbow order, liberally interspersed with bouts of weeping. She went on and on about her psychic telling her that the Sophie-Louise design was going to win, and that Madam Clio has never been wrong before. She still forgets you’re not here at the moment and buys you a vanillaspice latte most mornings – it’s costing us a fortune. But we all miss you, of course.’
‘Any insider gossip on who did win the competition?’
‘Well, I heard from Carla Luciano that it might be Brigitte Gasnier, but I don’t think that’s true. Don’t get me wrong; Brigitte’s designs are amazing, but they are a little OTT even for my taste. And she’s been known to occasionally use animal fur in her trims. Lilac Verbois is not going to want to be associated with any controversy on her wedding day, is she?’
‘What about Jacques?’
‘He’s away in Antibes at the moment, and yes, there’s speculation he’s gone over there to avoid the possibility of the media digging up any clues. You know he can’t keep a secret. But if he has won, he needs to keep his lips firmly sealed. His career depends on it. My money is on him.’
‘Yes, I can see Lilac wearing one of his creations on the red carpet. They are very elegant, but I somehow didn’t see Lilac walking down the aisle in Gloucester Cathedral in a clingy, sexy sheath dress.’
‘No one really knew what she was going to choose.’
‘I’m so sorry it wasn’t us, Scarlet. You all worked so hard, and it’s come to nothing. Perhaps I’m not cut out to be a celebrity fashion designer, after all. I wish I had a thimbleful of Marco’s confidence right now.’
‘You are an exceptionally talented designer, Sophie.’
Scarlet quickly changed the subject before Sophie had chance to sail any further down the river of despondency. ‘What’s happening with Gingerberry?’
‘Oh, Scarlet, you’d love it! We’re thinking of organising a sort of ‘stitch and bitch” evening, which should be fun. I’ve orderedin lots of new stock, too – cashmere, mohair, Aran, angora – all natural fibres. I’ve also sourced a bolt of that gorgeous cream silk we stumbled on when we were shopping for the wedding dress fabric. Do you think you can email me those designs I did at college for the bridal lingerie range? You know, the bustiers, the corsets, the camisoles, the thongs, the bodysuits, the teddies?’
‘No problem, but why?’
‘It’s an idea Nessa had actually. She suggested we branch out into luxury bridal accessories, lingerie mainly, and I thought we’d make up a few samples at our stitch and bitch sessions. Not everyone likes knitting; some might prefer sewing and embroidery.’
‘It sounds like a fabulous idea. We could display the pieces in the shop and any money we make can be sent back up to the ladies. You know, I was actually thinking of talking to you about doing something along those lines after this whole wedding debacle was out of the way. I love that little bolero jacket you designed at Christmas – the one with the high collar and full-length sleeves ending in a point over the hand – a bit like a virginal Morticia – and maybe we could make up some with gathered, padded shoulders and tiny pearl buttons from cuff to elbow? I was thinking shot silk, but now you’ve got me wondering. What about ice-white knitted angora interspersed with tiny crystals? Oh, I’m so excited. I’ll get Lizzie and Flora together in the Tumble Room and we can work on a new set of designs. What do you think?’
‘Sounds great. And Scarlet, that jumper you’re always wearing with your jeans? The red and white Scandinavian one? Where did you get it, and can you remember exactly how much you paid for it?’
