My Fake Wedding(103)

‘Have you got anything not in cream?’ I’m starting to enjoy myself now.

‘Well,’ the woman says, ‘like I said. This is white chocolate.’

‘I was thinking oyster pink,’ I tell her. ‘I’m not really having anything traditional, you see.’

‘Are you sure, dear?’ she asks. ‘Pink? With your hair…’

Then she catches Sam’s expression and bustles off towards the back of the shop.

‘Here we are.’ She pulls out the most stunning creation in palest rose, threaded with shots of gold. ‘And I thought this, to go with it.’ She holds up a beautiful tiara, fashioned in rose quartz and crystal. It’s so pretty I want it. Wedding or no wedding.

‘Try it on,’ urges Sam.

So I do.

The dress fits like a glove. It clings to every part of my body, giving even me the most glorious curves. I pop on the tiara, open the curtain of the fitting room and…

DA-NAAAAAAAH.

I twirl round and round, secure in the knowledge that I look about as good as is possible—for me, anyway.

There’s silence from Janice and Sam.

‘Don’t you like it?’ I look down aghast. ‘Have I got the back tucked into my knicks or something?’

‘It’s perfect, hon.’ Janice looks delighted.

‘You look beautiful.’ Sam appears to have tears in his eyes. Taking my hand he leads me to the mirror on the far wall. ‘Look at you. You look amazing.’

I look at myself. Next to him. And, even though I’m tall, he’s still a good four or five inches taller. We look good together.

Suddenly, I realise that I fancy him.

Only a tiny bit.

But those lustful feelings are there.

Buggery. And with me just about to tie the knot, too. How inconvenient.

‘Amazing,’ he says again, looking at himself next to me and back at himself again.

Janice breaks the spell.

‘Stunning,’ she says. ‘And seeing as it fits her so well, can she buy it now?’

‘Well, like I said,’ the Bloodhound explains, ‘we haven’t got time to have it specially made.’

‘Can she not take this one?’ Janice wants to know. ‘Fits her, doesn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid not, dear. This is the only sample we have.’

‘Oh.’ I’m crestfallen.

‘You could take the tiara though,’ says the Bloodhound, ever in sales mode. ‘Only five hundred pounds.’

‘Oh yes, Katie.’ Janice is excited. ‘Gettit. It’s lush.’

‘I can’t,’ I hiss. ‘I really can’t justify spending all that money on fripperies for a wedding that isn’t really real. It’s stupid.’

‘It’s fine.’ Sam whips out a Visa card. ‘Stick it on that. My treat, Simpson. Call it my blessing. In lieu of my giving you away.’

‘So you won’t…?’

‘We’ll just see, shall we?’

‘But what about the dress?’ Janice wants to know.

‘It’s OK.’ I shake my head. ‘I guess I’ll just get Didier to make me one that looks the same. I’ll go and change.’

‘One minute then.’ Sam stops me, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. A camera.

‘I take it you don’t mind if I take a photo?’ he asks. ‘Seeing as she looks so beautiful in it.’

‘Well,’ the Bloodhound bites her flabby lip, ‘we don’t usually…’

‘I suppose there’s always that shop down the road you liked.’ Sam looks pointedly at Janice.

‘OK, OK.’ The Bloodhound raises her hands in defeat.

‘Take a photo if you must.’

‘Say Cheezels.’ Sam snaps me. ‘Lovely.’

‘I wasn’t ready,’ I grumble later, sitting in the car, gleefully clutching my sparkling new tiara. ‘I’m going to look horrid.’

‘Oh well,’ Sam hugs me, ‘doesn’t really matter. The dress looked fantastic.’

‘It can bloody get married without me then.’

‘Seriously though, Simpson, at least now Didier will know what it looks like so he’ll be able to copy it.’

‘Thanks.’ I hug him.

He looks pleased, though he won’t come and drink celebra-tory cocktails with Janice and me afterwards, saying he has to meet Joff in the Bedford to talk about the Arsenal/Leeds United match. Janice and I drop him home and Janice says if we’re not going for cocktails she might as well take the Jeep back to Jasper’s. I go along for the ride.

‘We can even get him to mix us cocktails if he’s back,’ Janice says. ‘He makes a wicked martini.’

‘Excellent.’