‘Mammy, you’re not going to cry, are you?’
‘Not at all.’ Her voice wavered in a manner that said that’s exactly what she was about to do.
Aisling looked at her reflection and a smile began to form on her lips as she felt her anxiety unknot itself and float away. How could anything go wrong on her wedding day if she looked like this? Sure, she felt like a princess.
‘Mammy, I love it’ Her voice was quiet as she took in the sheer long sleeves and high neckline iridescent with crystals. The bodice beneath was corset styled and she held her hair up and looked in the mirror behind her so she could see the pearl beading which began at the top of the corset ribbons and finished at her neck. The heavy sateen fabric of the skirt had a lace overlay and it flowed from the waist without being full. She turned this way and that, not quite believing it was her looking back at her in the mirror.
‘Aisling O’Mara, you are perfect.’ Maureen sniffled, reaching for a tissue from the box on the occasional table and giving her nose an almighty blow.
Madame Mullan announced her presence, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Aisling as she made all the right noises before titivating with the fabric. Maureen was sniffling away and Madame Mullan passed her the box of tissues, well used to tearful mammies. ‘Why don’t you go and join the rest of the bridal party and ask them to take a seat?
Maureen gave a final sniff before doing as she was asked.
‘Are you ready?’
Aisling’s stomach fluttered at the thought of showing her sisters and Leila her dress and she nodded as Madame Mullan arranged her in front of the curtains before pulling the cord and opening them.
She was suddenly vulnerable as she stood under the lights. Would her sisters and best friend see what she and Mammy had seen or would they think the dress ostentatious? She knew she could count on Moira for an honest opinion. She smiled tremulously looking from one to the other. Delight and admiration was mirrored back at her and her worries settled as she enjoyed her moment in the sun. Roisin joined her mammy with the sniffling, Leila clapped her hands together and Moira got up and jumped on stage throwing her arms around her sister as she said, ‘You look amazing, Ash.’ It was all the confirmation she needed.
Chapter 11
Aisling sipped her champagne enjoying the sparkly, seductive flavour that was making her feel even more giddy than she already did. It was a lovely touch on Leila’s part, the cracking open of a bottle of Moet to celebrate her having chosen her dress. She’d arranged the glasses to be on hand prior to the appointment with Madame Mullan who’d declined a glass even though she should be celebrating given how much Aisling was going to be spending this afternoon. Leila had even thought to bring a bottle of bubbly grape juice for Moira, a gesture which made her want to hug her, so she did. ‘You’re the best wedding planner in the world,’ she’d gushed as Moira popped the cork on her fizz.
Now her gaze flitted to where her dress was hanging on the rack beside the counter awaiting the equivalent of a down payment on a house before she’d be allowed to take it home where it belonged. The sensible part of her brain, the part that told her nobody needed to spend that much on a dress decided to put in an appearance. But then she recalled how the dress had made her feel. It truly was a Cinderella dress and what sum did you put on a gown that made you feel like you were the star of your very own fairy story?
Would Quinn buy into her fairy tale dream or would he see pound signs when he saw her in the dress. Perhaps when she told him they were saving on the shoes he’d come around to what it cost. He could be quite thrifty when he wanted to be could Quinn. To appease him she’d wear the Prada satin pumps she’d tucked away from her first attempt at getting married. They would go perfectly and she held no fear of being jinxed where shoes were concerned, besides which, she knew she’d be hard pressed to find another pair she loved as much. So, it wasn’t much of a compromise at all on her part to roll with the shoes she already had but Quinn didn’t need to know that. Come to that there was no need for him to know how much this dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses, once decided upon, were setting her back. Men hadn’t a clue when it came to things like that anyway. Again, she ignored the niggle that given they were about to share the rest of their life together he should be privy to how much the wedding was costing them but, it wasn’t as if he’d asked. When she had tried to broach things with him his eyes had glazed over as if she were doing a long and involved maths equation.
She’d been reluctant to climb out of the dress; she’d have liked to have stayed in it forever and if she’d had her way, she’d have worn it home. She’d pictured herself riding on the top of the double decker bus as it rumbled through the streets of Dublin, waving to all and sundry. But then she’d seen it was still raining outside and had changed the fantasy to her sitting in the back of a taxi with tinted windows. The windows had to be tinted because people always wondered who was behind them. She could roll them down when they were stopped at the lights and give the peasants, whoops, pedestrians, going about
