them best. She supposed her friend must be still grumpy about the badly timed phone call this morning. Or still hung-over. Whatever it was, Nat was snippy all day. As in the coffee shop, she’d say something snarky but then smile brightly or wink or laugh. Gemma was perplexed.
After a while she gave up trying to find something to wear to the wedding. She’d shop on her own some other time. She spent the afternoon following Nat around, trying to say the right things about the clothes Nat tried on, and trying not to mention Ben and her engagement, although it was all she could really think about.
Eventually they reached the top end of the High Street. Gemma suppressed a sigh of relief. ‘That’s that, then. No more shops. We’ll have to call it a day, I think. Maybe nearer the time there’ll be some new stuff in.’
Nat gazed down a narrow side street. ‘We haven’t tried La Belle Femme yet. She pointed at a boutique tucked into one of the historic old buildings along the street.
‘Bit pricey for us, isn’t it?’ Gemma had only looked in the window once or twice before but had seen enough to know it was out of her league. And she was pretty sure Nat earned a lot less than she did.
‘Speak for yourself. I’ll spend what I like on clothing, and I’d have thought you would too, as it’s your future sister-in-law’s wedding. I quite fancy that dress in the window.’ Nat pointed at a skimpy dress, the skirt of which was embroidered with a peacock feather design, the top half encrusted with sequins. It did not look cheap. She pushed open the door, which rang a bell somewhere in the back of the shop, and Gemma had no choice but to follow her in.
There were very few clothes rails in the shop. A shabby-chic leather sofa took up most of the space in the middle of the room, and a few dresses were artfully arranged on hooks on the wall. The lighting was…subtle, if Gemma was being kind. Dim if she was being truthful.
A woman wearing far too much make-up, dressed in a neat black dress and heavy gold jewellery emerged from the back room. Although she quickly put on an expression of polite helpfulness, Gemma had noticed her previous expression when she’d seen who was in the shop. Clearly she and Nat weren’t the right sort of customers. Her instinct was to spend about thirty seconds looking at the items on show and then leave. She glanced at Nat, who apparently had other ideas.
Nat was fingering a black silk dress with an asymmetric hem and feathers around the neckline. Not machine washable then, Gemma thought.
‘I’d like to try this on, please,’ Nat said to the sales assistant. ‘And the peacock dress in the window, while I’m at it.’
‘Certainly. This way, please,’ said the assistant, leading them into a small changing area at the back of the shop. Half the cubicle was taken up with a huge rubber plant. ‘Wait here while I fetch the garments.’
‘Classy place,’ Nat said, when the woman had gone.
‘What price are those frocks?’ Gemma whispered.
‘Dunno. Don’t care, either!’ Nat pulled a leaf off the plant and used it to fan her face.
‘But can you afford them?’
‘Course not. But it’ll be fun trying them on. You try them too. That black one would look great on you, with your blonde hair.’
‘Oh, no. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that if I’ve no intention of…’ Gemma broke off speaking as the sales assistant returned, with the two dresses each on padded hangers and covered with plastic. The assistant glared at her, then hung the dresses on a hook beside the rubber plant.
‘I’ll fetch a chair for your friend,’ she said, while Nat began stripping off.
‘Oh, no, please don’t trouble yourself,’ Gemma said, but the sales assistant only glared at her again and brought an uncomfortable-looking gilt-backed chair from behind the sales counter. Gemma perched on it. It was as uncomfortable as it looked.
Nat had the black dress on. ‘What do you think?’ She twirled around, admiring herself in the mirror.
‘Not with those shoes,’ Gemma said. Nat was still wearing her red Converse trainers.
‘Obviously. Well, this one’s nothing special. I’ll try the other.’
The peacock dress looked good on Nat, Gemma had to admit. It fitted her perfectly, showed off her lovely legs and curvy waist, and her long black hair was stunning against the glittery top half. ‘Wow. That’s just amazing on you, Nat. Show me the price tag?’
Nat twisted so that Gemma could peer at the label hanging from the zip at the back. ‘There’s no price on it.’
‘I guess, if you have to ask…’ Nat rolled her eyes dramatically and peeled the dress off. Gemma had a fit of the giggles at Nat’s eye-roll, and Nat soon joined in. This was more like it, Gemma thought. The whole shopping trip should have been a girlie giggle, rather than all the snide comments and snippiness. Perhaps Nat’s hangover had finally worn off. It was good to end the day on a high note.
‘What’s the verdict, ladies?’ asked the sales assistant when they exited the changing room.
‘I don’t like the black one on me. The peacock is nice, but aren’t peacock feathers supposed to be bad luck? I’m not sure I could wear it, for that reason. Something awful might happen to me. I’d be constantly fearing for my safety.’ Nat breezed out of the shop. Gemma hurried after her, one hand clamped over her mouth to hold back the laughter that threatened to erupt. The shopping trip had certainly ended on a high.
That evening, Gemma rang her parents to tell them of her engagement. They were as delighted as she’d expected they’d be. Her mother immediately started planning the guest list while her father jokingly grumbled that he supposed he’d have to buy a new suit, even though he’d just retired.
Later, Ben came round to Gemma’s flat for a meal. She’d offered to cook fajitas for him. Their first meal together as an engaged couple! She sang along to Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud as she chopped onions and peppers. Perhaps they should have that song as the first dance at their wedding? It was so romantic; it was definitely one of her favourites. She’d ask Ben later what he thought. He’d probably agree. Dear old Ben, he was generally happy to go along with what other people wanted. Gemma knew already that the wedding preparations would be largely up to her to decide upon. Although no doubt her mum would want to get involved.
She had the tiny table in her kitchen set, the food chopped and ready to quickly cook, and a bottle of wine open when her flat doorbell rang. Why didn’t Ben use his key? She’d given him one years ago. As she went to let him in she wondered why they’d never moved in together. They’d idly discussed it on a few occasions, but neither of their flats was really big enough for two people with many years of accumulated possessions. They’d both have had to sell up and buy something bigger together. Well, now they were going to get married they’d have to do that anyway. Gemma would miss her cosy little flat but was sure that she could make a house she shared with Ben just as comfortable and cosy.
‘Hey, gorgeous!’ Ben leaned over and kissed her as she opened the door. ‘My fiancée, no less! Mrs McArthur to be. Looking good, girl!’
‘Come on in, Mr Rowling,’ Gemma said, giggling.
‘That’s a bit progressive! I don’t mind if you don’t take my name but not sure I’d take yours. Well, something smells
