‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Yes, he’s OK, even though I’m convinced he’s not entirely happy or settled in the army, but I think he’s too proud to say.’

  ‘Bless him. I spoke to Freya this morning. She’s home very soon but Peter isn’t coming any more. I’m not really sure what’s going on there, but he’s decided to stay with his parents for Christmas, so it’ll just be the four of us now. I rang Abbie too, but she didn’t pick up.

  ‘She’ll ring back soon and if she forgets, just try again.’ Ann said, starting up the engine and driving the car down the road.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ll try her again later,’ I said, staring out the window and thinking about Marcus’s invitation again.

  ‘You’ve gone quiet. Are you worried about Abbie?’ Ann narrowed her eyes at me, a funny, quizzical look on her face.

  I bit my lip; I was unsure how to put this.

  ‘Lizzie?’

  ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’ I asked.

  ‘Always good news first,’ she insisted, concentrating on the road ahead.

  ‘The good news is I don’t think Henry overheard our conversation yesterday,’ I began.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. Could you imagine that?’

  ‘Not really. It’s bad enough that he hardly ever speaks to me, never mind when he’s angry and talks at me.’

  ‘And the bad news?’ Ann asked patiently.

  ‘Marcus texted me this morning. He wants me to go to his work’s Christmas party as his plus one.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting that! By the look on your face anyone would think you’d just received the death penalty. Why so glum? I don’t understand. I’m assuming you declined the invite?’ Ann’s gaze flicked towards me while she changed the car into fourth gear and picked up speed along the dual carriageway.

  My voice came out all high-pitched. ‘I haven’t accepted or declined yet.’

  ‘Why haven’t you declined?’

  I shrugged. ‘Because I think I want to go. But then how can I possibly go out for the night with Marcus?’

  ‘Err, you put on your glad rags and off you go,’ Ann answered, trying to suppress a smile.

  ‘It’s not that simple though, is it?’ I said.

  Ann shook her head. ‘Joking aside, no, it isn’t.’

  I sighed.

  ‘Do you actually want to go?’ Ann asked, turning up the heater in the car.

  ‘That’s where the problem lies.’ I took a sideward glance towards her. ‘My head and heart are currently in a battle.’

  ‘Your head is saying don’t be ridiculous and your heart is saying can I really get away with this?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Ann drove in silence for a moment while concentrating on the roundabout ahead.

  ‘So why do you want to go?’ she asked.

  ‘Because it’s Christmas and I can’t remember the last time I was ever invited to a party. Because I’ll get to dress up and feel like a million dollars. Because I really like Marcus’s company and he makes me smile. Because every time I’m with him, I feel like my old self again,’ I relayed, not taking a breath.

  ‘And the reasons for you not wanting to go?’

  ‘That would be the small matter of my husband.’

  ‘OK, so think about this. The truth of the matter is that Marcus isn’t the familiarity you’re used to. He’s new, exciting and is paying you a little attention. You’re feeling flattered because it’s not forthcoming at home. Am I right?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, mulling Ann’s words over in my mind.

  ‘Do you fancy Marcus?’

  ‘No. Yes. Maybe. Oh I don’t know what’s going on! I’m all confused,’ I said, relieved I was finally getting this off my chest. ‘How silly is this at my age? You’d think I’d know better.’

  ‘I don’t think it matters what age you are. Feelings are feelings and you can’t help them. But one thing to remember is that as we get older, there’s normally more to lose. It’s not as though it’s a quick kiss behind the school bike shed and you’re hoping your childhood sweetheart doesn’t find out. You’re risking your home and your marriage for one night at a Christmas party. As much as you’re enjoying the thrill of whatever’s going on, there will be consequences. The truth always comes out in the end. And please don’t think I’m putting a dampener on your invite. If I didn’t point all this out to you, what sort of friend would I be?’

  ‘I know,’ I said. I knew she was talking sense. I’d had the same conversation over and over in my head umpteen times in the last ten minutes. But that didn’t help the fact that my heart was currently winning the battle and I really wanted to go.

  ‘Have you replied to Marcus yet?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, because not only do I have the small matter of a husband to think about, I also don’t have anything to wear.’

  ‘That’s not a major issue though, is it?’

  ‘What Henry?’

  ‘No, the dress! Not only are you a seamstress, meaning you could probably knock up a dress in no time, but look where we’re heading! The shops will be jammed full of dresses for the party season,’ Ann assured me.

  ‘Oh God! You shouldn’t be leading me astray by encouraging me to look for a dress.’

  Ann paused. ‘Lead you astray? Stick with me, Lizzie, I know a shortcut!’

  We both laughed heartily.

  ‘What if Henry discovers I’m out with Marcus?’ A tremor of fear ran down my spine and the mood turned sombre.

  ‘If you decide you’re going to the party, you’ll just have to be careful. I mean, surely Henry would notice you getting all dressed up and start asking questions. What would you tell him?’

  ‘You’re right, it’s all so impossible. What was I even thinking?’

  ‘All I’m saying is, make sure you’re 100 per cent sure before you do anything.’

  ‘I will,’ I answered reluctantly, even though my heart and my head were still at loggerheads.

  ‘Good – and if you ever need to talk, I’m always here,’ Ann said kindly.

  ‘I know. Thank you,’ I replied. ‘And another thing: I don’t even own a decent pair of heels – or a handbag. If I’m honest, the last time I wore a pair of heels was Freya’s christening, and how long ago was that?’

  ‘Too long!’ Ann exclaimed.

  ‘I’ve always preferred comfort to fashion.’

  ‘Today’s shopping list is increasing by the minute. We’ll need to hunt for shoes and a handbag too.’

  ‘All this sounds very expensive for a few hours out of the house.’

  ‘Well if you decide to go, you can’t turn up looking like a sack of spuds. You’ll be on the arm of the store manager and all eyes will be on you.’

  ‘Oh God!’

  ‘There’s no harm in looking while we’re here,’ she said, struggling to pull the car into a parking space.

  ‘Mmmm, I suppose we can look.’

  ‘You’re going to have to make your mind up though and let Marcus know, because if you aren’t going to accept his invite you should give him enough time to invite someone else.’

  My hands went clammy at the thought of Marcus inviting someone else. I glared at her; I didn’t like the thought of Marcus enjoying his evening with anyone else. I didn’t like it one little bit.

  I had no idea what I was going to do.

  21

  As I scurried towards the subway, trying to ignore the chilled caress of the falling snow, I was amazed how alive Lichfield was with Christmas shoppers for a Monday morning. Everyone looked energetic, swinging their colourful tote bags and bustling along the pavements.

  Ann was excited. ‘Now come on, where are we heading first?’ she asked as we clambered up the stone steps into the town square.

  ‘Look,’ I nodded towards the magnificent building posing in front of us – Bretton’s. We paused on the pavement and glanced up. ‘Look at those lights; they look like a million sparkling diamonds!’ Ann exclaimed.

  ‘So beautiful,’ I gushed.

  As we walked through the doors, we could hear the upbeat tune of ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’ filtering through the store. The lobby was completely awe-inspiring. Mannequins were wrapped to perfection, dressed in the latest trend of glittery dresses, and a trio of white sparkly reindeer statues stood at the foot of the spiral staircase that led to the next floor.

  ‘Where to first? Dress, shoes or handbag?’ Ann asked.

  ‘I’ve not made up my mind whether I’m going yet!’

  ‘Lizzie, how long have I been your best friend? I know you’re going, I can read you like a book. Otherwise you would’ve already declined the invitation.’

  ‘Mmmm, I suppose,’ I agreed.

  ‘There’s no suppose about it.’

  ‘Honestly, I’m still thinking, but like you said before there’s no harm in looking. Maybe we should look at dresses first, then if anything catches our eye we can match up the shoes and handbag later,’ I answered.

  ‘Good idea,’ Ann said, scanning the sign on the wall. ‘We need the third floor.’

  ‘How about the lift? It’s just over there,’ I said and pointed.

  The lift closed behind us and in no time at all we whizzed up to the third floor. When we stepped out on to the shop floor we were faced with more glitz and glamour than a TOWIE star with a vajazzle.

  ‘Wow, if you don’t find a dress you like on this floor, then there’s no hope!’ Ann exclaimed, her eyes dancing around the room.

  ‘I’ve never seen so many sequins in one place!’

  ‘Where do we start?’

  My eyes moved automatically towards the lift.

  ‘Ha ha, you aren’t going anywhere!’ Ann said, laughing and pushing me towards the jam-packed rails.

  We browsed through them, sliding the dresses back and forth, and Ann began to fling some of them over her forearm.

  ‘I feel like a personal shopper,’ she said. ‘Let’s take a few more into the changing room and then we can figure out which style and colour suits you best. Have you got any preferences?’

  ‘Definitely not that yellow one; I’ll look like a trussed-up chicken!’

  ‘Don’t worry – you’re in good hands with me. You will be the belle of the ball with whatever we choose. I promise.’

  ‘I’ve not decided I’m going yet,’ I protested.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said, laughing.

  After thirty minutes of browsing we staggered towards the changing rooms with armloads of dresses, and Ann settled herself down on a wicker chair just outside the curtain. ‘I want to see all of them on you,’ she insisted.

  ‘OK.’ A few moments later, I called nervously from behind the curtain, ‘Ann?’

  ‘I’m here. Is one the wrong size?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘I have no idea which is the front and which is the back – it all seems very exposed to me,’ I replied, standing perplexed in my bra and knickers. I held up the flimsy, sparkling silver dress and flipped it back and forth on the hanger.

  ‘Which one?’ Ann asked, as I thrust the dress towards her from behind the curtain.

  ‘Aha, that one! You’ll give Cheryl Fernandez-Versini a run for her money in that one. I bet you’ll feel a million dollars when you’ve got it on.’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, Ann, but I’m about five stone heavier than Mrs X Factor, and the only thing I’ll feel in this dress is the cold. I’ll end up catching hypothermia.’

  ‘This is the front, I think,’ Ann said and chortled, handing it back to me.

  I eased myself into it and looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror, wide-eyed with horror. The dress hugged every lump and bump possible. It seemed like only yesterday I could squeeze into a size 8 and eat anything and everything without putting a single pound on. Now, at forty-something, not only was I fighting gravity, I only had to look at anything unhealthy and the pounds clung to my body. ‘I don’t think Cheryl has anything to worry about,’ I shouted, pulling back the curtain to reveal the bulge-hugging dress.

  Ann giggled. ‘Blimey! That doesn’t leave much to the imagination.’

  I stood in front of her with my arms folded across my chest – for two reasons. The first being that I was freezing; the second because I was holding on to every bit of dignity I had left.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, pulling my arms down. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it!’

  ‘But I haven’t got it.’

  ‘Look, Lizzie, if you’re going to wear a dress like this, you need to wear it with confidence. I’ve never seen anyone more uncomfortable inside a human body than you.’

  My shoulders slumped even further.

  Ann looked me up and down. ‘Well, it’s definitely a statement dress – it certainly means business.’

  ‘You aren’t wrong. It oozes the wrong kind of business – the kind you sell by the hour down Clapham Street!’

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ Ann said, twirling me round so she could see the rear view. There was a deep slit that travelled all the way to the bottom of my spine.

  ‘What type of bra would I wear with this thing?’

  Ann howled with laugher, ‘You don’t!’

  ‘I am not parading these saggy things around in public! My breasts are nearly touching my waistline.’

  ‘You hold them up and in like this.’ Ann gestured with her hands.

  ‘What with?’

  ‘Tape.’

  ‘Tape? I am not taping myself up like a Christmas present!’

  ‘Ha ha, Marcus could unwrap you! Every cloud and all that.’

  ‘It wouldn’t take long, would it?’

  ‘I think this is the one! You’ll certainly put a smile on Marcus’s face,’ Ann said, winking.

  ‘Have you lost your marbles? Stop teasing. I think you’re deluded. Let’s pick something a little safer. If I slip out of this dress I could poke someone’s eye out – if I haven’t caught pneumonia first!’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘I’ll be the talk of the party for all the wrong reasons. Mutton dressed as lamb springs to mind. Nothing on this earth would make me wear this dress in public. Do people actually go out like this?’

  ‘It’s all the rage these days apparently.’

  ‘Gosh, how things change. A sign of the times I guess.’

  ‘Go on then, describe your ideal dress and I’ll have a quick look while you try on the other ones I picked out for you.’

  ‘My ideal dress would be black, plain and it would button up to here and here,’ I declared, waving from my neck to my feet.

  ‘You’re terrible, Lizzie. You won’t turn heads wearing something dowdy.’

  ‘I don’t want to turn heads. Can’t I just go in my jeans? I could be adventurous and wear black ones with a dressy top?’ I suggested.

  ‘Not a chance! Have faith. I’ll be back in two seconds.’

  I heard Ann chuckling as she disappeared back on to the shop floor and I hid behind the safety of the curtain.

  I had never been comfortable wearing a dress. I was a jeans and trousers type of girl. As far as I was concerned, jeans were the best invention in the world. The only dress I’d ever enjoyed wearing was my wedding dress.

  My wedding day had been the best day of my life. When I’d arrived at the church, the peal of bells had rung out and the light dusting of snow on the ground and the church steeple had given it a winter-wonderland feel. I recalled the shock and pride on Henry’s face as I’d walked through the door. He’d honestly thought that I’d turn up in my battered old dungarees – which I’d loved back in the day – or a trouser suit. He’d beamed from ear to ear as I’d walked up the aisle, my arm linked through my dad’s. Henry had looked so elegant, like a Hollywood movie star, standing at the altar in his tails. I’d worn a simple dress that wasn’t too elaborate, yet still beautiful. The occasion had been small and intimate, just the way we’d both wanted it. Ann had been my bridesmaid and Dave the best man.

  The wedding breakfast had been served at the Horseshoe Inn, an olde worlde pub near my parents’ home. The menu had been exquisite, with spiced pumpkin soup, roast lamb and an all-white wedding cake decorated with iced snowflakes.

  When I’d seen the room for the first time, it had taken my breath away. A real open fire had been crackling away, with Christmas trees decorated in gold and red on either side of the fireplace. The strands of fairy lights draped over the doorways, table and mantle had given everywhere a truly magical feel.

  Henry and I had greeted our guests with mulled wine or champagne and a homemade favour of spiced hot-chocolate mix in a pretty tin. It had been the perfect day, and I’d married the perfect man.

  I discarded the next three outfits before Ann returned.

  ‘I’m back,’ she called from the other side of the curtain.

  ‘You’re just in the nick of time. I was about to take this one off. I look like I’m auditioning for a part in a big fat gypsy wedding. There’s no way on this earth Marcus can see me wearing this. I’m sure it weighs about four stone,’ I jested, trying to tame the layers of frills.

  I slid back the curtain. ‘Ta dah!’

  Ann stifled a giggle and then beamed from ear to ear. My jaw dropped straight to the floor. Smiling back at me was Marcus, who was standing right beside Ann.

  ‘Look who I found on the shop floor,’ Ann said, grinning.

  His eyes travelled up and down my body. His smirk didn’t go unnoticed.

  A crushing pang dropped in my stomach; I didn’t want him seeing me in this.

  What a disaster.

  ‘Nice dress,’ Marcus said, standing back to get a better view. He was biting down hard on his bottom lip, trying not to let his laughter escape.

  I stared down at myself and quickly pulled the curtain around me in an attempt to cover up the monstrosity of the dress.

  ‘Aww, you look lovely,’ Ann said, noticing my embarrassment.

  ‘I think we all know that’s not true.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s the one,’ Ann said, giggling.

  ‘Really? I’d never have guessed,’ I grinned at her.