That the dress was meant for her was a given. Madame Mullan had seized the sales opportunity gushing about how rare it was to find the perfect gown so quickly. Aisling fancied she could see the dollar signs in her eyes and hear her brain making a ker-ching sound. She’d only been brave enough to look at the price tag once she’d taken the precious dress off and had nearly fallen over at all the zeros. There was no going back though and a song had sprung to mind, Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares to You. It was now stuck in her head.
She downed what was left in her glass and dragged her eyes away from the dress. She might be sorted but nobody else was and time was a-ticking. ‘Right, ladies,’ she said, ‘what have you found?’ It was directed at her bridesmaids.
Moira was the first to hold a dress up. It was midnight blue with ruching around the waist and bell sleeves. ‘I love this.’
‘It’s gorgeous, but does it come in a different colour. Midnight blue’s not Leila’s colour.’ It would wash her out Aisling thought.
They all looked expectantly at Madame Mullan who shook her head with an expression that could have been about to convey the most tragic of news. ‘No, it is a one-off and as such only in the blue.’
‘A one-off,’ Moira said, clearly liking the idea as she stroked the silky fabric. ‘And I look very well in blue, so I do.’
‘Moira you’d look grand in a sack and remember who’s paying,’ Aisling said.
Moira put the dress back.
‘What about this?’ Roisin pulled a gown from the rack and showed them it. She’d checked the price and it wasn’t exorbitant although she hadn’t worked out the times three. It was very generous of Aisling to fork out for her, Leila and Moira’s dresses and she was grateful given her current financial situation. Thanks to her feckless ex-husband there wouldn’t be much of a financial settlement once the divorce was finalised and with the cost of living in London, she had to watch every penny. Unlike Moira, however, she didn’t want to send her sister to the poor house.
‘Oh, I like that!’ Leila exclaimed. Moira mooched over and gave a grunt that signalled she thought it was alright but wasn’t ready to relinquish her blue dress yet.
‘Mammy? What do you think?’ Aisling asked. She was feeling magnanimous toward her mammy after her effusive gushing over the dress, that and the champers.
Maureen came over and stroked the maroon silk fabric. ‘It’s a wrap style which is very flattering so it is and none of you’d have to worry about the sucky-in knickers but I’m not sure about the colour. It would be grand on Moira and Rosi but it’s on the dark side for Leila.’
‘What about this, ladies.’ Madame Mullan produced, seemingly from thin air, a blush velvet drop waist dress. ‘And I happen to have it in each of your sizes.’
‘Oh, I like that,’ Maureen gushed. ‘You won’t catch your death in it either. Sure, you could almost get away with a spencer underneath it.’
Leila bit back her smile at the look of horror on Moira’s face the mention of a spencer had invoked. ‘Maureen’s spoken, ladies, looks like we’re trying the velvet number on,’ she said.
‘This one is perfect for you, mademoiselle.’ Madame handed the dress to Leila. ‘I shall fetch the other two from out the back,’ Madame Mullan said, gliding off with the sort of speed that had Aisling checking to see if it were roller skates and not shoes on her feet. Roisin, Leila and Moira took themselves off to the fitting room to wait, leaving Maureen and Aisling alone.
‘Mammy, have you seen anything you like?’
‘I haven’t had a chance to look yet, Aisling. I was keeping an eye on Moira for you. She’s not got an ounce of common sense in that head of hers at times. It’s a winter wedding but she’d be following you down the aisle in a floaty sundress if it was up to her.’
Aisling agreed with her. It was hard trying to keep everyone happy but she had her fingers crossed for the blush pink numbers. Officially, Roisin was supposed to be helping Mammy with her outfit. Aisling had put her in charge of supervising her. She’d told her big sister in no uncertain terms that Mammy wasn’t to be so much as sniffing in the direction of anything silky and red. There’d be no China Beach, prostitute style dresses at her wedding, she’d declared out of earshot of Mammy while they’d sheltered from the rain under a shop awning, waiting for the bus to bring them here to the Bridal Emporium.
It wasn’t working out like that though and it looked like she was going to be the one overseeing what she picked out. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Roisin could have been looking for payback for the crochet toilet dolly wedding dress Mammy had talked her into wearing on her big day. ‘Shall we see if anything jumps out at you then?’ she asked, steering her over to the mother of the bride section. ‘It would be grand if we all went home with our dresses today. I could cross that off my list then.’ The handwritten list of things to organise between now and February 14 seemed never ending, even with Leila’s services, because it was still up to her, to yay or nay everything and Quinn wasn’t much cop.
‘Would you like any assistance?’ Madame Mullan simpered, with two more of the velvet dresses draped over her arm. ‘I won’t be a moment.’
‘No, thank you, but if you could keep an eye on them in there, that would be grand.’ Aisling inclined her head toward the fitting room from where fits of giggles were emanating.
‘Certainly, madam.’ She disappeared
