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BEFORE MAKING HER WAY back to The Old School House—the home she shared with her fiancé Jack—Megan made a detour to drop in at The Village Green Bridal Shop.
She’d already chosen her dress; a simple design that would take her from the ceremony, right through the day until the end of the celebrations that would follow, but the dresses for her Maids of Honour— her friend, Petal, her sister, Lizzie, and her daughter, Evie—were yet to be chosen.
As she parked her old mini outside The Duck Inn, she saw the previous owner of the bridal shop, Martha Connery, and her long-time companion, William Donahue, strolling arm-in-arm across the green.
“Hi Martha, hello William.” Megan waved as she jiggled the door handle of the old car. “Long time, no see! How was the road trip? Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“Oh, it was fabulous!” Martha smiled, a dreamy expression on her lightly-tanned, wrinkled face. “Getting away was just what we needed—I didn’t realise how much until we set off. Funny, isn’t it? After running the boutique for so many years, I thought that was my life. I certainly didn’t get much of a chance to travel, but these past few months have opened our eyes to new opportunities, haven’t they, William?”
Her companion, tall and upright beside her, with an abundance of fuzzy grey ear hair, nodded until his jowls wobbled. “We’ll certainly be doing it again. We had a wonderful time.” He gave Megan a curious glance. “Do you need a hand with that?”
“Hmm? Oh, you mean the door?” Megan shook her head. “Thanks, but it’s okay. It’s such an old car and the lock has a tendency to stick. There’s a knack to getting the key to turn at just the right time. I just have to lift the handle and wiggle it around and... there, it’s locked!”
“Just as well,” said Martha. “You don’t want to make it easy for car thieves, do you?”
Megan chuckled. “I don’t think they’d be interested in Vinnie the Mini, Martha. It’s probably older than most car thieves.”
“Vinnie?” asked Martha, with a little head tilt, and a slight lift of her eyebrows above her pale blue eyes.
“It’s what my daughter used to call him when she was young. I’m very attached to him... to it.”
Martha’s smile didn’t quite hide her bemused expression. “Are you on your way to the bridal shop? Just a lucky guess, what with your wedding fast approaching.”
Megan nodded. “I need to check on a few things. The list is never ending.”
“We just popped in to see how Lydia’s doing,” said Martha. “The shop looks completely different—you’d never believe it used to be my old boutique! I’m glad to see she’s doing so well. Just goes to show, the shop needed some new blood. I stayed there for far too long...” Her expression became melancholy. “Because of Bruce, I suppose.”
“Really, Martha,” said William, with a tight smile. “Do we have to bring up your ex-husband?”
“He’s not my ex,” Martha replied, sniffily. “He might have left me, but we’ve never divorced, as you well know.”
“Well, whatever the circumstances, do we have to talk about him now?” William forced a laugh in an attempt to lighten the tone, and tried to look unfazed.
Megan decided the conversation, which was getting more awkward by the second, had gone on for long enough. “Well, it’s been lovely seeing you. Will you be at the filming of the antiques show on Sunday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” said William. “I’m taking along some local pottery, and Martha’s taking some glassware. They always go down well when you see them on TV, don’t they?”
“Well, good luck with them,” said Megan, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “No doubt we’ll bump into each other again on Sunday. Bye for now.”
She pushed open the door of the bridal shop and stepped inside. Lydia Berman, the owner, looked round from the customer she was attending to and raised a hand in greeting. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”
“No rush,” replied Megan, as she browsed the selection of dresses and accessories. “I only popped in to have a quick chat about the Maid of Honour and bridesmaid dresses.” She stopped by a stand adorned with wedding veils, taking a short one with silk flowers attached to a silk headband that caught her eye.
“Are you thinking about having a veil now?” Lydia joined her and settled the band on Megan’s head, placing the delicate wisp of barely-there organza around her face.
“I’m not sure. You know I wasn’t keen, but I saw someone wearing one on a bridal show on TV and it looked so nice, I thought I’d try one on.”
“Well, why don’t you try it with your dress?” suggested Lydia. “It’s hanging in the basement storeroom until you’re ready for the next fitting, so it’ll only take me a minute to bring it up. Shall I go and fetch it?”
Megan was about to answer when the door opened and a young man rolled in a trolley stacked with silver glitter-covered boxes.
“Delivery for L Berman?” he said, dragging a tattooed forearm across his chin to catch the beads of sweat that threatened to drip onto the ivory carpet.
Lydia gave a little squeal and took the delivery note he handed her. “Oooh, I’ve been waiting for these. If you could leave them by the counter, please, and I’ll sort them out later.”
“They look interesting,” said Megan, looking at her reflection in the mirror from every angle, before taking off the veil and looking for another to try on.
“They are! You know I told you I was planning to offer a bespoke design option as well as the made to measure and off the rack dresses this year? Well, that’s all the bling—you know, the crystals, and sequins, and beads.” Lydia put another veil on Megan’s head and fiddled it into place. “What about this one? It’s a little different.
Megan’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of the veil adorned with embroidered peacocks and turtle doves and took it off. “It’s a little too different for me, I think. If I’m going to have a veil, it’ll have to be simple. Anyway, when are you starting the bespoke service?”
“I’m going to start advertising it today, but I wish I’d thought it through a little better.” Lydia sighed. “The thing is, at the moment, the clients will need to come in and sit down with the designer to chat about what they want, choose the fabric, and have their measurements taken but, after that, all the work will be done off-site by the dressmaker.”
“That sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” said Megan, “but you don’t sound too sure about it.”
“Oh no, I am sure about it, but I’ve realised that what I really want to do is build a workshop here, in the basement. The storeroom’s down there, all the bolts of fabric are down there, and there’s plenty of room for a couple of work benches. And the light streams in through those big basement windows, so it’s not as dungeon-like as you might think. It would make things so much easier if we had people on-site who could make the dresses, as well as doing fittings and alterations, without us having to send everything out. And it would give us the edge over other stores that don’t offer an in-house service.”
“That’s a brilliant idea!” said Megan. “That would really help to boost business, wouldn’t it?”
Lydia nodded. “Yeah, providing it takes off—which I’m sure it will,” she said, crossing her fingers. “My boyfriend, Max, would do all the building work, I just need to go over the numbers again to make sure it’s the right decision. I’m almost sure it is, I just need to be absolutely sure. And I haven’t told Mum and Dad yet, so don’t say anything if you see them, will you?” She placed another veil on Megan’s head and stood back, eyes narrowed, to appraise it. “That’s the one,” she said, with conviction. “That’s it. I’m going down to get your dress so you can see them together and then you tell me if I’m wrong.” She grinned as she went off. “But you won’t.”
As Megan waited, half-listening to the radio and her mind preoccupied with Lizzie and Evie’s upcoming visit and everything they had to do while they were in Bliss Bay, she heard something that shook her from her thoughts.
From the speaker on the wall, she heard the DJ say, “So if you’re out there, Jack Windsor, I hope you’re listening. Here’s your special song from your special friend.” She looked up at the speaker. He can’t have said Jack Windsor. I must have misheard.
She frowned, then called out to the other customers in the shop. “Excuse me. I don’t suppose any of you happened to hear who this song is for, did you? Who the DJ said it was requested for, I mean?”
The women shook their heads in unison and carried on searching through the dresses.
Megan shrugged at her reflection in the mirror. Jack was a popular name. Lots of people were called Jack. Her mind had been elsewhere and she hadn’t really been listening to the radio until she thought she’d heard something which forced her to start paying attention.
So she must be mistaken to think she’d heard the DJ say Jack’s name.
Mustn’t she?
“Here we are, here’s your dress.” Lydia’s reappearance at the top of the basement staircase, a garment carrier in her arms, shook Megan from her thoughts, and she followed her into a changing room like an obedient puppy.
“You alright?” Lydia asked, as she unzipped the garment carrier and took out the dress. “You look a little flustered.”
“Do I? Oh. Well, it’s just that...” Megan shook her head. “Do you know what? It’s really nothing at all. Just me being silly.” She looked at the dress and smiled, all other thoughts slipping from her mind. “Anyway, I have far more important things to think about.”
