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“Oh, Emerald,” says Mum, dabbing dramatically at her eyes when I finally emerge, having been laced into the first dress with the help of the store assistant. “Ye look absolutely beautiful, so ye do. Just like a princess.”
“You really do, Emerald,” agrees Frankie, who’s already onto her second glass of champagne. “That dress is amazing on you.”
“No,” says Rose, shaking her head as she paces critically around me. “No, this won’t do at all. It makes her look like she’s haunting the place. Let’s try ivory, rather than white. Something that doesn’t just drain her. She’s a bride, not a consumptive orphan.” “I really like this one,” I begin, but Rose is already ushering me back towards the dressing room, with another dress cradled carefully in my arms. By the time McTavish leaves to go and top up the parking meter, the champagne is finished, I feel like I’ve done a serious workout just from climbing in and out of dresses, and Mum’s dangerously tipsy.
“If this isn’t the one, I swear I’m going to have to get Jack to send us to Paris,” Rose is saying as I pull back the curtain in what I’m hoping will be the final dress I have to try today. “I should have known this place would be no good to us.”
I look doubtfully at the dress in question. It reminds me of the Peaches N’ Cream Barbie I used to play with as a child, until Frankie cut its hair off then used a Sharpie to color its face green. Which is pretty much howI’mgoing to look in this color, actually.
But it’s the last dress in my size, and I know Rose won’t let us leave until I’ve tried it on, so I allow the assistant to help me into it, then step reluctantly out of the dressing room.
“Well, what do you think?” I ask, almost tripping over the hem of the dress in what I’m sure is a foreshadowing of the moment I begin my walk down the aisle. “This is the last one, apparently.”
There’s a moment’s silence, during which I become convinced they’re all trying not to laugh at me.
“It’s… very nice,” says Mum at last. “Very… pouffy.”
“It’s horrific,” says Frankie, who’s talked the assistant into letting her try on a frothy pink bridesmaid’s dress, which she says makes her feel like a giant cupcake. “You look like one of those dolls people used to put on the top of toilet rolls.”
“That’s it,” agrees McTavish, who’s just walked back into the shop, eating a sausage roll from a paper bag. “I knew she reminded me of something.”
We all turn to look at Rose, who’s standing frowning at me with her arms crossed.
“It’s perfect,” she says at last, breaking into a smile. “Absolutelyperfect. I think we’ve found The One!”
“Are you sure?” I ask doubtfully, turning to take a look at myself in the mirror. A complete stranger looks back at me. One with my face and hair, but someone else’s clothes.
“I’m just not sure it’s reallyme,” I say, trying to do a twirl, and instantly getting the long train of the dress tangled around my legs. “I feel like I’m in costume. Like one of those Southern Belles you sometimes see in American theme parks.”
“Of courseit’s you,” Rose insists, frowning.
“How would you know?” asks Frankie, who’s also had a bit too much to drink. “You’ve only just met her. Emerald never wears stuff like that; she looks like she’s in fancy dress.”
Mum and McTavish nod in agreement.
“I might not knowEmeraldall that well yet, but I knowfashion,” says Rose, unperturbed. “And this dress is The One, I’m telling you. This, on the other hand,” she goes on, prodding at one of Frankie’s frills, “Is definitely notyou. We’re going to have to go right back to the drawing board here, because pink is not your color. Which is a shame, because that’s the color scheme Emerald and I have settled on.”
“Er, Frankie,” I say, seeing my friend clearly about to point out that I’ve always hated pink. “That reminds me, I have something to ask you.”
Frankie looks at me, her eyes shining, but Rose interrupts yet again.
“Of course, as Maid of Honor, I should have the final say on the bridesmaid’s dresses,” she says, taking a final swing of her champagne. “So I’m sure I’ll be able to find something that works for us both.”
“Maid of Honor? You?” says Frankie, the light going out of her eyes.
“Yes, didn’t Emerald tell you?” replies Rose innocently. “She asked me last night at dinner. Because we’re going to be sisters, you know? It was so exciting.”
She leaps forward, almost suffocating me with a hug; and by the time I manage to disentangle myself, Frankie is nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 10
“Frankie, I can explain,” I hiss under my breath.
We’re back in the car, and Frankie and Mum are staring pointedly out of the windows, while I sit squished between them, frantically trying to get Frankie’s attention without attracting Rose’s.
By the time I’d paid for Frankie’s dress (Using Jack’s credit card, which I swore I’d never use), Frankie herself had made it back to the car, which is where we found her waiting for us, her arms crossed mutinously across her chest as she stands there in her frothy dress and Converse sneakers.
“Frankie, this is just a misunderstanding, I promise,” I whisper now, leaning forward in an attempt to get her to look at me. “Rose has got the wrong end of the stick. You’re the one I want to be my Maid of Honor, I swear. I was going to ask you today. I was just about to do it when Rose butted in.”
