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‘Lingerie!’ Tish covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I’d completely forgotten.’
‘But surely Lilac…’
‘She asked me to do it,’ she squeaked.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’
She’d just about had enough of Tish. Didn’t she realise there was no such thing as true love? Even when you thought you’d found it – it could still vanish in an instant, borne away on the wings of a blonde Scandinavian girl who worked in the chinadepartment of Liberty’s. Yet, sadly, you just couldn’t control who you gave your heart to, no matter how much you tried to stack the odds in your favour.
However, what she could control was her job. As she stood on the pavement in Wimbledon, looking up at the pretty peppermint signage announcing in curly golden lettering that they’d arrived at Sophie-Louise Bridal Couture, she drew in a deep, steadying breath. She pushed open the door with a petulant Tish stomping in behind her.
‘Ah, you must be Millie Channing. I’m Scarlet Webb – we spoke on the phone.’
Nikki shook hands with Scarlet and introduced her to Tish who simply nodded. Nikki watched Scarlet run an expert eye over Tish’s dimensions.
‘And I think I might have the perfect dress for your client.’ Scarlet smiled at Tish but got no response. ‘Please, come through. Would you like a glass of champagne? It’s English sparkling wine, actually – Sophie insists on it. I can assure you it’s just as delicious.’
Tish’s frosty mood evaporated. ‘I’d love a glass of champagne! Thank you!’
Flora appeared with a silver tray and offered a flute of the effervescent elixir to Tish who took it and drained it in one. Nikki shook her head to refuse, but, before Flora could whisk the glass away, Tish had grabbed that one, too. She smiled like the Cheshire Cat at Nikki as she relaxed on the huge cream chesterfield sofa, crossed her slender, stockinged legs and waited for the gowns to be paraded.
Nikki’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since supper the previous evening and then only a woeful attempt at cheese on toast. There was never anything in her fridge anyway. Sheusually tried to stock up on fresh salads, fruit and fish on a Saturday, but by the following Friday she’d not had the chance to eat any of it and had to throw it away in the bin and start the circle all over again.
She knew it was a waste but, as far as food was concerned at least, she was an eternal optimist – one night she would get home at a reasonable hour and cook a decent meal for herself. It just hadn’t happened since Lilac had announced she was marrying the handsome hunk that was Finn Marchant and was holding a competition to select the designer of her wedding gown. If it had been she who’d been lucky enough to be getting hitched to a rock star, Nikki would have opted for a quiet, intimate wedding, perhaps in a tiny church on the beach in some tropical location, like Bali or Hawaii. Even the dress was superfluous if you had the man of your dreams standing next to you, barefoot in the sand.
Her uncharacteristic sojourn into nuptial oblivion was brought to an abrupt halt when an exclamation erupted from Tish’s lips. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’
Nikki focused her attention on the dress Scarlet was displaying and leapt from the sofa. ‘Oh, Scarlet, I could kiss you! That’s it! That’s the one! It’s a Sophie-Louise!’
Unlike Nikki, Tish had no reservations on the kissing front. She clutched a shocked Scarlet to her chest and slapped a loud kiss on both cheeks. ‘Thank God, thank God. You are an absolute saviour. I love you.’
‘Erm, I’m glad you like it. Do you want to try it on?’
‘No!’ Nikki screamed. ‘No! Sorry, let me explain. I think you should sit down.’
Nikki guided Scarlet to the sofa and perched next to her. She scrabbled around in her Birkin for her business card and her ID. ‘You’re not going to believe this. I’m Nikki Coates. I’m…’
‘You’re Lilac Verbois’s PA. Oh, and you’re Tish Marshall, her wedding planner. I thought I recognised you. I wasn’t sure, but… Why are you here?’
‘The Sophie-Louise design has been chosen by Lilac as the one she wants to wear on her wedding day.’
‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Flora, get in here!’ shouted Scarlet.
Flora appeared at the door, her eyebrows raised in mute enquiry.
‘We’ve won!’
‘Won what?’
‘The Lilac Verbois competition.’ And Scarlet promptly burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just such a shock. We thought, we thought when we didn’t hear anything that…’
‘Well, it’s taken us some time to find you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Scarlet asked, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the tissues they usually reserved for tearful brides-to-be.
‘There was no documentation with your dress when it was delivered to The Dorchester. Is this the dress Sophie-Louise submitted?’
‘Yes, it is, but I don’t understand. Why… oh.’ She turned to look at Flora’s pale, almost translucent face, her eyes wide, her fingertips resting on her lips. ‘You forgot to fill in the paperwork? Flora!’
