‘I hope the sun shines on her wedding day,’ Theresa said, ‘otherwise she’ll be blaming us for the weather too. God, I feel sorry for that fiancé of hers. Still, he must be as much of a wanker as she is, to want to spend the rest of his life with her.’
‘Not appropriate,’ I said, raising a smile. I often felt like the big sister in our relationship. Theresa had floated through life with a string of boyfriends, never actually committing to any one thing. We had all been thrilled when she’d finally settled down. Charles was considerably older, not what you called good looking, but I’d had a feeling at the time that his bank balance made up for the shortfall. It was just a shame he had such a roving eye. Theresa didn’t like to talk about him, and I didn’t push the subject.
‘Where would I be without you?’ she said, her smile freezing as she glanced towards the door. ‘Brace yourself. She’s here.’
I took a deep breath. Flapping a polka-dot umbrella, a wide-hipped woman barged through the front door. I had some beautiful dresses for curvy brides, but Victoria had been putting on weight at a ferocious rate, and the problems began when she tried to blame the ill-fitting dresses on me. She had not held back, citing ‘shoddy material’ as one of the reasons the gowns grew tighter with each fitting. I thought of my father’s saying, the one he used when my mother was in a bad mood: If the cat had kittens it would be my fault. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant. Now I was fully aware, as everyone in my life blamed all their problems on me. I plastered on a smile as I greeted Victoria, determined to make this appointment a pleasant one.
‘I’ll do the meet and greet, you get the dress for her highness,’ Theresa whispered, probably because she could see that I was not up to pleasantries today.
Victoria was her usual vocal self, her mother cowering behind her as she barked orders in her wake. ‘You sit there,’ she scowled, scraping back her plum-tinted hair which had grown frizzy from the rain. ‘No, not there, stupid, here where the light shines properly. I want you to tell me exactly what you think.’
Tell her what she wants to hear, more like, I thought to myself as I bustled between the dresses on the hangers looking for the tag with her name. I doubted anyone had ever dared tell Victoria what they really thought. I comforted myself that it was her final fitting, and I had pre-empted her weight gain by asking the seamstress to let her gown out a couple of inches more.
‘Here we go,’ I said, carrying the weighty gown in both arms. It was beautiful, one of our designer dresses that had cost me an arm and a leg. At over two thousand pounds, it was my first brand-new rental, and it appeased Victoria that she could hire a designer dress at a fraction of the cost of buying it. ‘Do you want to try it on?’ I said, wincing as the words left my mouth. It was just one of those things you said, but I knew she’d pick up on it straight away.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve got to make sure it fits. Three years I’ve been planning this day. Three years and of all the companies I’ve dealt with I’ve never used one as unprofessional as yours.’
My smile tightened because I knew this was a lie. I had many contacts in the wedding industry and what Victoria didn’t realise is that we all discussed our clients. She had given every one of them a similar speech in the hope of a discount. I tugged at the zip, in no mood for her sniping comments today.
‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ Theresa said as we extracted the gown from its protective covering. It sparkled beneath the light and I found myself looking forward to seeing it on the new bride. The Prosecco was on ice, and fairy lights twinkled on the centre platform, all waiting for her special moment. But it was lost on Victoria as she greedily grabbed the dress from my hands.
‘Gently,’ I said, being rewarded with a red-faced glare.
But as she pulled the gown from its encasement, she emitted an ear-piercing squeal. ‘What’s this? My dress! What have you done to my dress?’
My head swivelled from Theresa and back to Victoria. This had to be a record. Usually her complaining began when she tried the gown on. My eyes widened as Victoria plunged her fingers into what looked like torn material. ‘What the hell is this?’ she raged, pulling at the slashed fabric and waving it in my face.
My mouth dropped open. I was dumbfounded. Surely I was not looking at a dress that had been ripped to shreds?
‘Let me see that,’ Theresa said, taking the dress from Victoria’s grasp. I held the hanger as she spread it out between us, her fingers trailing down the jagged rips in the satin.
‘I say, someone’s taken a knife to it,’ Victoria’s mother piped up, like Miss Marple in the background.
But as I peered closer, I could see that the implement that had been used was more likely scissors. Someone had speedily cut through as many layers as they could. I looked down as sprinklings of diamante dropped to the floor. ‘This can’t be right,’ I said, my words fading as my sister and I exchanged horrified glances.
‘My dress, my beautiful dress!’ Victoria emitted a low howl of despair and plump tears streaked down her face.
I could not blame her for her outburst. It was a week until her wedding, and the dress that she had so painstakingly chosen was now reduced to a tattered mess. However, it was just as horrific for me, given how much money I had invested in buying it. I felt sick, and shocked I had not noticed the damage sooner. ‘It must be a different gown,’ I said, grasping for answers. ‘The seamstress must have sent me back the wrong one. This can’t be yours, it can’t. There’s got to be a mistake.’ My words tumbled out, and I continued speaking quickly until I stopped making sense. I fought for air, feeling the world close in on me as everything in my life went wrong.
Victoria’s face reddened until it was almost puce. Her fists clenched, she grabbed me by my shirt, giving me a violent shake. She pressed her face against mine. ‘What. The fuck. Have you done. To my dress?’ she snarled.
I closed my eyes to the spittle landing on my face, my teeth rattling as this larger-than-life woman took hold. Throwing the gown to the floor, Theresa came between us, releasing Victoria’s grasp. I left her to deal with the mess and, with my arms swinging by my sides, strode into the back room with as much dignity as I could muster. Slamming the door behind me, I slid to the floor, giving in to the tears that had built up in uncontrollable waves. It had happened again. My tormentor had returned to haunt me, breaking down each segment of my life until I had nothing left to give. Theresa’s voice carried from the other room, saying that she did not know who could have done this. But I did. And he wasn’t going to stop there.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
EMMA
2017
I don’t know how long I was sitting on the floor before Theresa came to find me. Curled up in a ball, I had wrapped my arms around my knees, feeling like a child once more. Tentatively she approached me, her face clouded in concern.
‘Sweetheart, are you OK?’ She gently touched my shoulder, helping me rise to my feet.
Pins and needles spiked my legs, and I leaned on the kitchen counter for support. I felt dazed, as if I had been in a car crash and lost all sense of time. But the only car crash here was my life. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth, and I swallowed, my words croaky as I spoke. ‘I . . . I don’t feel very well.’ I clung tighter to the counter as the memory returned. ‘The dress,’ I said, recalling Victoria’s angry face, her thick fingers digging into my shirt. ‘Is she . . .’ I stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘Is she gone?’
‘Here, let me get you a drink,’ Theresa said, pushing a glass beneath the tap and guiding me to sit at the table. ‘When’s the last time you’ve eaten? How about a sandwich, eh? You need some food inside you.’