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“Right.” I quickly give her my details. “Do you need the deposit now?”
“No, not until I start. I’ll call you when I’m ready and when I have the invoice. You’re a ten, right? It’ll take a few days. My turnaround is usually quicker but I am fully booked for a while.”
“That’s great, I’m happy for you,” I smile and she just gives me a disbelieving look. “So I’ll go and you call?”
“Yep, I’ll call you and you’ll need to come in closer to the time for measurements too, but for now I’ll calculate the cost based on an average size ten.” She leads me to the door and all but shoves me out. “Happy engagement!”
I skip back to the car and climb into the driver’s seat with a broad grin on my face.
“Sorted?” Jeanine asks and I nod frantically. “Excellent. That’s such good news.”
“I think we got lucky. You should have seen the few dresses she had on display. They were ostentatious but they were amazing. This one dress had three layers and the top layer was this see through black lace. It was so gothic but so beautiful and well made.”
I turn back to look at the kids, both in car seats on either side of the rear bench. Dillan is drawing pictures on the window with his finger and Emily is napping as per usual.
“I can’t wait to see what she does with your dress.” Jeanine buckles up her seatbelt, as do I, and we set off once more, this time for home. “Though I can’t say it took long?”
She’s concerned I’m going to end up with something I hate. Me too.
“She’s going to get me a price for the style I want and then we’re going to finalise everything… probably.” My hand clicks the signal and we turn right, almost hitting a man on a bike as he flies across the road, uncaring of oncoming traffic. Well, this is London. I don’t expect any differently. I’m used to it now, forever prepared for any eventuality. “This is fate; it’ll be fine.”
“I’m so happy you and Nathan are okay again.”
“Me too,” I agree, because I really am. I got scared for a while there. “Oooh, it’s that book store!”
“The one you’re always harping on about?”
I nod. “They do some lovely leather journals. I get one or two for Nathan every year. I haven’t had chance this year though.”
“He still writes in his journals?”
“Yes, he lets me read them when they’re full too. They really have helped me to understand the way his mind works.”
“Poor boy,” she mutters solemnly. “I wish I’d done more to help him growing up.”
“You had enough kids of your own to deal with. He doesn’t hold it against you at all.”
“He’s a good man when he wants to be.” She pats my hand on the gear stick and offers, “Go in, I’ll wait in the car with the kids again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. No use getting the kids out again, especially not while Emily is sleeping.”
“Thank you.” I park as close as I can and race across the street, weaving through people as quickly as the crowds will allow. It doesn’t take long for me to find the perfect journal either. Nathan doesn’t like the ones with clasps and such; he prefers just a plain brown leather with a rope to seal it shut. That’s exactly what I buy him and before I know it I’m back in the car and I’m driving Jeanine home.
After an emotional goodbye, despite the fact I see her far more than my regular friends, I head home with the babies where a happy looking Nathan waits for me and helps me remove the kids from the car.
Once they’re settled in front of the TV, I take the journal from my bag and race it upstairs before he can see. I have a little box where I hide things worth hiding. It sits at the back of my closet on the ground, hidden beneath a pile of shoes. Well it used to. I notice how the shoes that are usually stacked neatly in that area are in a bit of a mess. It’s been a while since I took a set of heels from the pile; I must have forgotten to tidy it.
Unfortunately, I discover the reason for the mess and my heart stops. It stops so suddenly I begin to choke for air and then nausea takes over. As I attempt to calm myself, my hands throw the shoes out of the closet.
I yell repeatedly, “No, no, no, no… this can’t be happening!” Shoes fly backwards as well as Nathan’s journal and the box itself until there’s nothing on my closet floor. “FUCK!”
“Gwen?” Nathan calls up the stairs. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I honestly reply and then bury my head in my knees.
