“That’s true. But I do like the idea of a train…” I stare at her, gripped by a sudden thought. “Hey, Suze, if I waited a couple of years to get married, your baby would be two — and it could hold my train up!”
“Oh!” Suze claps her hand over her mouth. “That would be so sweet! Except, what if it fell over? Or screamed?”
“I wouldn’t mind! And we could get it a really gorgeous little outfit…”
“If we could just get back to the subject…” Cynthia smiles at us and surveys her clipboard. “So we’re after something either simple or elaborate, with sleeves or strapless, possibly with beading and/or embroidery and either with a train or without.”
“Exactly!” My eye follows hers around the shop. “But you know, I’m quite flexible.”
“Right.” Cynthia stares at her notes silently for a few moments. “Right,” she says again. “Well, the only way you can know is by trying a few dresses on… so let’s get started!”
Why have I never done this before? Trying on wedding dresses is simply the most fun I’ve had ever, in my whole life. Cynthia shows me into a large fitting room with gold and white cherub wallpaper and a big mirror and gives me a lacy basque and high satin shoes to put on — and then her assistant brings in dresses in lots of five. I try on silk chiffon sheaths with low backs, ballerina dresses with tight bodices and layers of tulle, dresses made from duchesse satin and lace, starkly plain dresses with dramatic trains, simple dresses, glittery dresses…
“When you see the right one, you’ll know,” Cynthia keeps saying as the assistant heaves the hangers up onto the hooks. “Just… keep trying.”
“I will!” I say happily, as I step into a strapless dress with beaded lace and a swooshy skirt. I come outside and parade around in front of Suze.
“That’s fantastic!” she says. “Even better than the one with the little straps.”
“I know! But I still quite like that one with the lace sleeves off the shoulder…” I stare critically at myself. “How many have I tried on now?”
“That takes us up to… thirty-five,” says Cynthia, looking at her list.
“And how many have I marked so far as possibles?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Really?” I look up in surprise. “Which ones didn’t I like?”
“The two pink dresses and the coatdress.”
“Oh no, I still quite like the coatdress. Put it down as a possible.” I parade a bit more, then look around the shop, trying to see if there’s anything I haven’t looked at yet. I stop in front of a rail of baby flower-girls’ dresses and sigh, slightly more heavily than I meant to. “God, it’s tricky, isn’t it? I mean… one dress. One.”
“I don’t think Becky’s ever bought one thing before,” says Suze to Cynthia. “It’s a bit of a culture shock.”
“I don’t see why you can’t wear more than one. I mean, it’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life, isn’t it? You should be allowed five dresses.”
“That would be cool!” says Suze. “You could have a really sweet romantic one for walking in, then a more elegant one to walk out… then one for cocktails…”
“And a really sexy one for dancing… and another one for…”
“For Luke to rip off you,” says Suze, her eyes gleaming.
“Ladies,” says Cynthia, giving a little laugh. “Rebecca. I know it’s hard… but you are going to have to choose sometime! For a June wedding, you’re already leaving it very late.”
“How can I be leaving it late?” I say in astonishment. “I’ve only just got engaged!”
Cynthia shakes her head. “In wedding dress terms, that’s late. What we recommend is that if brides think they may have a short engagement, they begin to look for a dress before they get engaged.”
“Oh God.” I give a gusty sigh. “I had no idea it was all going to be so difficult.”
“Try on that one at the end,” suggests Suze. “The one with the chiffon trumpet sleeves. You haven’t tried that, have you?”
“Oh,” I say, looking at it in surprise. “No, I haven’t.”
I carry the dress back to the fitting room, clamber out of the swooshy skirt, and step into it.
It skims sleekly over my hips, hugs my waist, and falls to the floor in a tiny, rippling train. The neckline flatters my face, and the color is just right against my skin. It feels good. It looks good.
“Hey,” says Suze, sitting up as I come out. “Now, that’s nice.”
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” I say, stepping up onto the podium.
I stare at my reflection and a feel a little glow of pleasure. It’s a simple dress — but I look fantastic in it. It makes me look really thin! It makes my skin look radiant and… God, maybe this is the one!
There’s silence in the shop.
“Do you feel it here?” says Cynthia, clutching her stomach.
“I… don’t know! I think so!” I give an excited little laugh. “I think I might!”
“I knew it. You see? When you find the right dress, it just hits you. You can’t plan for it, you can’t work it out on paper. You just know when it’s right.”
“I’ve found my wedding dress!” I beam at Suze. “I’ve found it!”
“At last!” There’s a ring of relief to Cynthia’s voice. “Let’s all have a glass of champagne to celebrate!”
As she disappears I admire myself again. It just shows, you can’t tell. Who would have thought I’d go for trumpet sleeves?
An assistant is carrying past another dress and I catch sight of an embroidered silk corset bodice, tied up with ribbons.
“Hey, that looks nice,” I say. “What’s that?”
“Never mind what that is!” says Cynthia, handing me a glass of champagne. “You’ve found your dress!” She lifts her glass, but I’m still looking at the ribboned bodice.
“Maybe I should just try that one on. Just quickly.”
“You know what I was thinking?” says Suze, looking up from Brides. “Maybe you should have a dress that isn’t a wedding dress. Like a color!”
“Wow!” I stare at Suze, my imagination gripped. “Like red or something.”
“Or a trouser suit!” suggests Suze, showing me a magazine picture. “Don’t those look cool?”
“But you’ve found your dress!” chips in Cynthia, her voice slightly shrill. “You don’t need to look any further! This is The One!”
“Mmm…” I pull a tiny face. “You know… I’m not so sure it is.”
For an awful moment I think Cynthia’s going to throw the champagne at me.
“I thought this was the dress of your dreams!”
“It’s the dress of some of my dreams,” I explain. “I have a lot of dreams. Could we put it down as another possible?”
“Right,” she says at last. “Another possible. I’ll just write that down.”
As she walks off, Suze leans back on the sofa and beams at me. “Oh, Bex, it’s going to be so romantic! Tarkie and I went to look at the church you’re getting married in. It’s beautiful!”
“It is nice,” I agree, quelling an automatic wave of guilt.
Although nothing’s been decided yet. I haven’t definitely chosen the Plaza. We still might get married in Oxshott.
Maybe.
“Your mum’s planning to put this gorgeous arch of roses over the gate, and bunches of roses on all the pews… and then everyone will get a rose buttonhole. She thought maybe yellow, but it depends on the other colors…”
“Oh, right. Well, I’m not really sure yet…” I tail off as I see the shop door opening behind me.
Robyn is coming into the shop, dressed in a mauve suit and clutching her Mulberry bag. She catches my eye in the mirror and gives a little wave.
What’s Robyn doing here?
“And then on the tables, maybe some sweet little posies…”
Robyn’s heading toward us. I’m not sure I like this.
“Hey, Suze!” I turn with what I hope is a natural smile. “Why don’t you go and look at those… um… ring cushions over there?”
