We all burst out laughing.

  ‘Thank God for that. I wouldn’t have known what to think if you’d liked it,’ Marcus chipped in, relief written all over his face.

  ‘You pair chat amongst yourselves while I get dressed,’ I ordered, disappearing swiftly back behind the curtain.

  ‘I’ve got to get back to a meeting with a supplier, but I took the liberty of booking you a table in the restaurant. It’s booked under your name, Lizzie. Enjoy, and I’ll catch up with you later on.’

  ‘Very kind,’ I shouted from behind the curtain. ‘Thank you.’

  My whole body was sweating as I struggled to lift the weight of the dress over my head. I waited a couple of minutes before I whispered, ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘Yes, you’re safe.’

  ‘Thank God, Ann – I’m stuck. I can’t get this dress off!’

  I wriggled furiously but, my arms were stuck, and the dress wasn’t moving.

  Unexpectedly I heard a loud ripping sound.

  ‘Help!’ I shouted, my arms flailing above my head. Then I wobbled and lost my balance, stumbling straight through the curtain into Ann and knocking her against the wall.

  ‘Oh my!’ she gasped, flinging her arms out, ‘steady me.’

  ‘Has Marcus definitely gone?’ I shouted, flustered, from underneath the dress, knowing full well all of my shop front was fully on display.

  ‘Luckily for you, yes!’ Ann managed to say in between snorts of laughter.

  ‘Ann, you aren’t helping!’

  ‘If you can’t get the dress off, think of the trouble Marcus is going to have!’

  ‘Ann! You are not funny! Help me! I’m having a hot flush!’

  ‘That’s just your age,’ she giggled. Successfully, she tackled the zip and managed to pull it down, freeing me.

  ‘Can I help you two ladies?’ a snooty-faced assistant interrupted. She must have heard all the commotion. She looked straight down at us through the spectacles perched on the end of her nose.

  ‘No, no, we’ve got it all under control,’ I assured her, crimson with embarrassment. The assistant took flight but not before giving us both a stare of disapproval.

  ‘Who are you trying to kid? We’ve got it all under control,’ Ann said as soon as she was out of sight, giggling then putting her hands on her hips to mimic the assistant.

  ‘Stop it! She’ll hear you!’

  ‘Who does she think she is giving us a look like that?’

  ‘Thank God she wasn’t the fashion police, otherwise I would’ve been arrested. Just look at this dress!’ I thrust the ripped garment towards Ann.

  ‘Eek, you’ve ripped that good and proper.’

  ‘What are we going to do with it? And what are we going to do if Marcus finds out?’

  ‘We’re going to hang it back on the hanger and run! And as for Marcus, this shop is huge! I’m sure he has more important things to do than trawling through rails of dresses looking for rips.’

  ‘Oh God, you always lead me astray!’

  ‘It’s what I do best,’ Ann said, grinning. ‘Pass it here.’

  I hung it back on the hanger and shoved all the dresses in Ann’s direction so she could swiftly put them back on the rail.

  ‘Hurry up and get yourself dressed before the snooty one returns. Let’s get out of here,’ she ordered.

  I slipped my arms back into my coat and grabbed my bag. ‘I think I’ve worked up an appetite. Shall we go for lunch?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ Ann agreed as we scurried away.

  22

  Standing on the escalator, I watched the colourful third floor of dresses disappear beneath my feet and hoped I wasn’t scarred for life. I had never been so relieved to escape the clutches of so-called fashion.

  As we travelled up to the next floor, my mood lifted and I smiled, hearing the angelic sound of singing filtering from the floor above. A small band, accompanied by a group of local schoolchildren, was gathered at the entrance of the café. They were wearing Santa hats and clutching pretend lanterns as they sang. It was all delightfully festive. Ann and I watched for a moment while they sang ‘Silent Night’. Moved by emotion, tears welled up in my eyes; I blinked them away.

  ‘It’s so lovely,’ I said softly.

  Ann nodded.

  ‘It seems like only yesterday that the kids were singing at their school concerts. Time really does fly, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘Do you remember Abbie and Leo’s very first school Christmas play?’

  Ann nodded. ‘Their costumes were amazing; Leo was a shepherd and Abbie was an angel. You’d spend all evening knocking up their outfits on the sewing machine while I drank wine and chatted away to you. And the afternoon of the play, the pair of us sat blubbering all the way through in the front row while Henry and Dave passed us tissues. Even those two paid attention. Dave was convinced Leo stole the show with that one line he had and that one day he’d end up on the stage in the West End. We were all so proud.’

  ‘And now they’ve all grown up and left home. Where does the time go?’

  ‘I still feel like I’m twenty-one,’ Ann said in all seriousness.

  ‘You act like it, too!’ I said, grinning.

  She swiped my arm playfully.

  ‘Has Leo got a girlfriend?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. He didn’t have one when he joined up, and I felt for him to be honest. I think that’s maybe why he’s homesick. When he talks about the other soldiers they all seem to be receiving letters from their wives and girlfriends, or a quick chat on the phone whenever possible. It must give them something to look forward to, something to focus on. All Leo receives is his weekly letter from his mum.’

  ‘I’m sure he appreciates it. There’s nothing like receiving a good old-fashioned letter.’

  Ann nodded. ‘I know, but it’s not quite the same receiving a letter from your mum.’

  ‘I can remember Abbie’s face when she heard he’d signed up. It threw her off course for a fair few days after he left, if I remember rightly.’

  ‘Those two were always so close. The scrapes they got into climbing trees and paddling through streams in the woods… they were always joined at the hip. I honestly thought they’d be a couple one day.’

  ‘I know what you mean. It’s funny that Leo’s the same age as Freya yet became best friends with Abbie – but I suppose there’s only eighteen months between them all.’

  We stood and listened to the carol singing for a couple of minutes before walking towards the restaurant. A waiter was leaning against an oak easel; he looked up, smiled and fiddled with his cufflinks as we approached. ‘Can I help you ladies?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Yes, thank you, we have a table booked in the name of Lizzie Stevens,’ I answered. The waiter glanced down and shuffled through some papers then turned and smiled in our direction. ‘Special guests of Mr Bowman. I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve seated you in the exclusive area of the restaurant.’

  ‘Oooh, what does that mean?’

  ‘VIP area,’ Ann whispered quickly. ‘We’re about to see how the other half lives.’

  ‘If you’d like to follow me?’ the waiter asked before turning and snaking his way through the tables towards a set of double doors in the café. We trailed closely behind him. At the far end of the room, he bowed his head and held open one of the doors for us. ‘After you, ladies,’ he gestured, sweeping his hand towards the restaurant.

  We sailed forward, feasting our eyes on the exquisite dining room laid out before us. It was chic beyond chic.

  ‘Wow! Look at this!’ Ann exclaimed, whirling her face towards mine.

  The interior was warm. Huge paintings of landscapes hung on the walls in burnt-gold frames, and I was mesmerised by the vast slate floor. ‘You could eat your food off that floor,’ I whispered to Ann.

  ‘You could, but luckily for us they have tables,’ she said, smirking.

  There were approximately twelve dining tables, spaced to allow you a sense of privacy. The room was softly lit, with a relaxed atmosphere. A candle flickered on top of each white crisp tablecloth. In the corner, a pianist, dressed in a suit and bow tie, played a peaceful classical melody on a baby grand piano.

  As we followed the waiter to our table, Ann punched my arm lightly. ‘Look at this place! It’s out of this world.’

  ‘Out of our league,’ I murmured.

  ‘Will this table be OK for you?’ the waiter asked, pulling out a chair for me.

  ‘It’s perfect, thank you.’

  When both of us were seated, the waiter hovered next to the table for a moment. ‘Today, ladies, you will have your own waiter, who will take care of your every need. Let me introduce you to Pierre.’

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies. It’s lovely to see you both. I believe you are very special guests of Mr Bowman,’ he said in a very dreamy French accent.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ we said in unison, gazing up into the deep blue eyes of Pierre.

  ‘What can I get you ladies to drink?’ he asked, handing us both a menu.

  ‘As it’s Christmas how about sharing a bottle of Prosecco?’ Ann suggested.

  I nodded. ‘That would be lovely.’ Pierre dipped his head in acknowledgment before disappearing over to the bar area. He returned a few moments later and laid a basket of different-coloured seeded breads on the table with some fancy-looking dips. He popped the cork on the bottle of Prosecco and poured us two very large glasses.

  As she reached across the table towards the plaited bread, Ann’s napkin slid off her knee and glided across the polished floor. Pierre’s eyes skimmed her briefly before he bent down to pick it up.

  I watched Ann with amusement. Her eyes flicked towards his rear end immediately. She caught my eye and mouthed across at me, ‘Very nice.’ I was trying my very best not to glance at Pierre or encourage the playful look she had written all over her face.

  ‘Shall I give you a couple of moments to look over the menu?’ Pierre asked.

  ‘That would be great,’ I answered, taking a well-deserved swig of Prosecco.

  Ann watched as Pierre sauntered through the kitchen doors at the far end of the room.

  A part of me hoped Marcus would appear. My eyes darted around the room, but he was nowhere to be seen. Ann dug back into the basket of bread, ripping a seeded bun in half and promptly dipping it into the olive oil.

  ‘This is all very fancy,’ I said, copying Ann.

  ‘I know! It’s exquisite.’

  ‘It’s a bit worrying though, Ann.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I bet even the bread rolls are extortionate.’

  ‘Let’s worry about that later. It’s not often we treat ourselves, and if the worst comes to the worst, we could always offer to do the washing-up!’ she said, picking up her glass and clinking it against mine.

  ‘Cheers!’

  ‘Down the hatch!’ Ann said, swallowing the whole glass in one go.

  ‘What do you fancy to eat?’

  ‘I think I’ll go for the sea bass. How about you?’ she replied, firmly closing her menu and casting her eye around the room.

  ‘Penne,’ I answered, ‘with a side salad and garlic bread for me.’

  It took around fifteen minutes for our food to arrive. ‘Is there anything else I can get for you ladies?’ Pierre asked warmly.

  ‘Could we have a jug of water please?’ I asked. Pierre nodded and promptly disappeared again.

  ‘How’s your mum?’ I asked Ann.

  She took a breath and sighed. Her shoulders sagged and the mood suddenly changed.

  I let Ann steer the conversation.

  ‘It’s all so difficult, and I feel like I’ve been left to deal with everything on my own.’ Her voice became brittle.

  I looked down at her hands and saw they were trembling.

  ‘It’s always been so difficult for you all. I was talking with Freya a while back after she’d taken some photographs of a street that looked very similar to the one you grew up on. She was amazed when she found out how tough it was, especially for you.’

  ‘Growing up as the eldest of three on a council estate was certainly character building,’ Ann said, taking a small sip of her drink.

  I nodded. ‘Freya couldn’t believe you all squeezed into a two-bed terrace.’

  ‘That’s what it was like in those days. I was lucky I shared a room with Emma. John would sleep down on the settee most nights with a blanket thrown over him, trying to block out the noise of the couple next door arguing.’

  ‘And they’re not helping you sort everything out?’ I asked.

  Ann shook her head. ‘No, it’s been left in my capable hands. The joys of being the eldest I suppose.’

  Ann shut her eyes for a moment.

  ‘I’m disappointed in them both. I know it’s difficult for Emma – she earns next to nothing working every hour God sends at the corner shop – but all she does is moan. Every text, every phone call is always so negative. She never has a good word to say about anything or anyone. It’s got to the point where I don’t even want to ring her anymore, unless it’s urgent.’

  ‘It’s a shame it’s come to that.’ I squeezed her hand sympathetically. ‘Is John working now?’

  ‘He’s been unemployed for six months. He spends most of his days down the jobcentre complaining that he won’t work for peanuts. I don’t think he can afford to be picky.’

  ‘Good job you’re smart.’

  ‘I think I’m the only normal one out of all of us.’

  ‘Ha ha, you? Normal?’

  We both grinned.

  ‘Mum’s got to the point where she barely knows who I am. Some days are better than others. I usually visit her in the care home straight after work. But with the weather being so cold at the moment, I don’t usually want to venture out once I’m home. Her house is going up for sale, so I’ve got the pleasure of clearing it out over the next couple of weeks. I’m not looking forward to it. It’s a mammoth task.’ Her chest heaved with a deep sigh.

  ‘If you need any help, I’m always here,’ I offered, leaning over the table and touching her hand affectionately.

  ‘Thank you. I may take you up on that. Of course Dave’ll do what he can to help out in the evenings and at weekends, but I’ve barely seen him recently because his work is extremely busy, and as you can imagine, John and Emma are nowhere to be found. But I’ll guarantee they’ll both be fighting for the first place in the queue to claim any inheritance.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Please tell me you’re kidding.’

  ‘Nope, that’s all they ask about. There’s the house to sell but there isn’t going to be thousands stashed away. Once all the debts are settled and the care home paid for, there won’t be much left.’

  ‘It’s always the way,’ I answered sadly.

  ‘Anyway,’ Ann said in a more upbeat tone, ‘what are we going to do about your dress for the party? Have you made a decision about whether you’re going yet?’

  ‘It’s such unfamiliar territory for me. I’ve never been to a posh do like this before.’

  ‘Lizzie! That still wasn’t a no!’

  I wasn’t sure I relished this type of excitement. ‘I think maybe I’d feel more comfortable in a blouse and maybe posh trousers. What do you think?’ I asked, ignoring her outburst.

  ‘I think you need to think about this very carefully. What happens after the party? Will there be another invitation. You’ll find yourself wanting to spend more and more time with Marcus and where’s it going to lead? You’re playing with fire, Lizzie.’

  I sipped my drink and looked over the top of the glass at her. I knew she was talking sense but there was this niggly feeling inside me that didn’t want to listen to her.

  ‘How’s your food?’ Ann asked, changing the subject. ‘This sea bass is to die for.’

  ‘Absolutely delicious,’ I replied, stabbing my fork into the last morsel of pasta on my plate.

  ‘Where is all this going with Marcus?’ Ann said, changing the subject back.

  I placed my knife and fork down on the table. It was my turn now to sigh. My head was still a whirl thinking about yesterday; it had been so perfect.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I answered honestly.

  ‘Is he going to be a permanent neighbour?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but at the minute he’s rented the house on a short-term lease. He’s only covering the job here for a few weeks while the manager recovers from an operation. Then who knows? He might disappear back to Scotland.’

  ‘How do you feel about that?’ Ann asked tentatively.

  I frowned. ‘I’m not entirely sure.’

  ‘Can you patch things up with Henry?’

  ‘You’d need a blooming large Elastoplast. It’s not as though we’ve really fallen out. It feels like I’m living with my best friend but without any laughs. I’m not really making sense, am I?’

  Ann was watching me closely. ‘Yes, it does make sense, but marriages go through bad patches. Maybe you need to talk to Henry and tell him how you feel.’

  ‘He seems to have lost his sparkle, not only with me but with life in general. He goes through the same routine every day, and I can’t even remember the last time we had any physical contact. Take the other night for instance. When I got home after the ice skating, I tried to cuddle up in bed next to him. I draped my arm over him and he complained.’

  ‘What do you mean he complained?’

  ‘He said he needed his space in bed to get to sleep.’

  ‘Umm, that doesn’t sound good. We know he’s working really hard at the minute, but if that had have been Dave, he’d have jumped on me like a shot, thinking his luck was in.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do any more. I feel so lonely and unwanted.’

  ‘Whereas Marcus?’ Ann asked.

  ‘He’s just…’

  ‘He’s just not Henry. Do you want to sleep with him?’ Ann interrupted.

  ‘Whoa, steady on. I never said that! It’s been a long time since my lumps and bumps have been exposed to anyone. But Marcus is great fun,’ I admitted. ‘He makes me feel like me again.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie. That’s because he’s new and exciting to you. Just think about when the gloss wears off – what would happen then?’