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‘Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry, Scarlet. I know you mentioned it, but remember, we were in a panic about Sophie’s aunt, and I was so upset, and I suppose I just…’
‘No harm done,’ interrupted Nikki, ‘except the time that’s been lost. Lilac has a tight schedule. These are the dates she’s available for fittings. As you know, the gown has to be ready for the thirty-first of July.’
‘Sophie usually asks for a minimum of three fittings. This first date is not until two months’ time. We need to do the first fitting straight away.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s not possible. Lilac is flying out to Croatia as soon as she and Finn have finalised everything with the Bishop at Gloucester Cathedral next Tuesday.’
Scarlet’s brain whirled. They couldn’t start work on the gown until they had an idea of Lilac’s exact measurements. ‘Sophie is currently taking a short sabbatical to finalise her late aunt’s affairs. Her aunt passed away recently and left a haberdashery shop in the Cotswolds to Sophie. I’ll call her to tell her the fantastic news. I’m sure she can come back down to London this week to see Lilac before she leaves the country.’
‘But Lilac isn’t in London. She’s filming in the Outer Hebrides. When that’s in the can, she’s being flown by helicopter to Bristol airport for the meeting at the cathedral, and then she’s flying straight out again. Did you say the shop was in the Cotswolds?’
‘Yes, Somersby.’
‘Right. I’ll arrange to collect Lilac in Gloucester when she’s through with the arrangements and drive her over to the Cotswolds branch of Sophie-Louise. Shouldn’t be too difficult.’
‘Oh, it’s not a branch…’ Scarlet caught the meaning in Nikki’s stare. ‘Yes, I’m sure the Cotswolds branch of Sophie-LouiseBridal Couture will be ready to receive Miss Verbois whenever she is available.’
‘Right. Can I ask you to do one last thing?’
‘Of course.’
‘Miss Verbois has said she would like to congratulate the winner in person. Could you keep this a secret for a couple of days? So that Lilac can inform Sophie-Louise herself?’
‘What? Not tell Sophie?’ Scarlet gasped, exchanging a glance with Flora. ‘Oh, I’m not sure I—’
‘It’s one of the conditions of the competition.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I can show you the terms and conditions if you like?’
‘No, no, that’s no necessary.’
‘Great. I’ll be in touch… oh, and many congratulations.’
‘I think we should stay and celebrate!’ announced Tish, grabbing another flute from Flora’s tray.
Flora smiled and joined her, tears of joy – but mostly of relief – trickling down her cheeks. She’d just got away with almost losing the most prestigious order Sophie-Louise Bridal Couture was ever likely to get, by the skin of her teeth. To say she looked relieved was an understatement.
Nikki glanced at the two girls knocking back the champagne and then at Scarlet. She shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps she did deserve a glass. Hadn’t she just pulled the proverbial rabbit out of the hat?
Chapter Nineteen
The following Tuesday, Sophie flicked the sign on the door of Gingerberry Yarns toClosedat precisely five o’clock. The pearly sheen of condensation on the front window masked the hive of activity within like a bride’s veil. There were so many things to organise before everyone arrived at seven o’clock, and she and Delia had worked in tandem to clear the area around the huge mahogany table, dispersing chintz cushions for those with delicate bottoms.
Seb and Dominic had helped, and they had performed miracles. They had blown in on Saturday teatime as the shop closed for the weekend, armed with litres of paint, which they assured Sophie had been wallowing for years in their mother’s garage. However, as it was the exact same shade of pale rose Sophie had agonised over for the walls, and the identical pale peppermint she’d selected from the Dulux paint chart for the shelving and wicker baskets, she doubted it. She suspected either Nessa or Delia’s hand in its production and was immensely grateful.
With the sustenance but not the precision offered by a dozen bottles of hand-crafted ale donated by the Fox & Hounds pub, coupled with a late-night Indian takeaway and an eclectic selection of music, Sophie, Delia, Nessa, Seb and Dominic had decorated and gossiped until the early hours of Sunday morning. The gang, minus Delia, then broke for a couple of hours’ kip onthe floor of the flat upstairs, before returning to the task the next morning.
It was trite, but true; many hands did make light work.
By six o’clock on Sunday evening, with aching limbs and weakened muscles (apart from Nessa and Seb), they stood back to admire Gingerberry Yarns’ transformation from serene old lady to energised princess. Sophie had to brush away a tear when Marcia appeared and produced a string of hand-embroidered bunting, each pastel-green polka-dot flag stitched with a letter spelling out the word “Gingerberry”, as she performed the rebirthing ceremony by draping the garland over the front of the glass counter.
Now all Sophie had to do was display the new stock that had arrived that morning in the hope they could make some sales at their inaugural crafting session that evening. They’d had seven confirmations – three ladies from the knitting club of the local WI, two of Delia’s Friday night posse, and Nessa was bringing two teacher friends from St Hilda’s. So, with herself, Delia, Marcia and Iris, it would make a very respectable twelve. But, as the clock edged towards seven p.m., Sophie’s confidence began to wobble, and she regretted the misdirected impulse to do this.
No one would come, she was certain of it, and she struggled to quell her rising panic.
This time, far from being an irritant, the tinkle of the door chime was a welcome relief. Sophie wiped her hands on a tea towel, shot a nervous glance across to Delia, and rushed down the stairs to welcome in the first student.
