They were like new parents, each wanting to push the pram. Except it wasn’t a pram, it was a wheelchair, and I was perfectly capable of powering myself through the shop doorway. Sasha gave Wayne a ‘now-look-what-you’ve-done’ glare, which he pretended not to notice. Not for the first time I wondered if asking them both to accompany me today had been a huge mistake.
The thick pile carpet sucked at the wheels of my chair like quicksand, bringing me to a stop just inside the threshold of Fleurs Wedding Gowns. I glanced over my shoulder, fearful I’d see two black tramline stains from my wheels on the pale grey carpet. Thankfully, there were none.
The owner of the establishment was seated at an antique desk positioned to one side of the shop. She rose in a single fluid movement, like a black lily pushing up through the soil. Her dress was couture, I’d have bet Doggy Divas’ last month’s takings on it. I glanced nervously left to right at the wall-to-wall rails of wedding gowns. This was the bridal shop where Sasha and her mother had bought her own dress, and she’d been adamant that the search for my gown should begin here. ‘It’s the best place in town,’ she’d extolled, which was probably true, but it still didn’t feel very ‘me’.
Gwendoline Flowers, the owner of Fleurs, seemed to glide across the room to greet us, rather than walk. She extended an elegant, slim-fingered hand to me. The nails were long and painted the same blood-red shade as her lipstick. They were the only splashes of colour in her otherwise black ensemble. I liked the way she automatically readjusted her line of sight to look me in the face as we shook hands. Not everyone did that. Many people found it difficult to make eye contact with someone in a wheelchair. Worse, some people seemed to confuse an inability to walk with a lack of intellect. Mostly I just found it funny when people spoke slower and louder, as though severe hearing loss was the reason I was in this chair.
‘You must be my bride, Bella.’ I only just managed not to smile at her greeting, which made it sound as though I was about to get hitched to Gwendoline rather than the man I loved. ‘And of course Sasha I already know.’ I could see my old friend unconsciously standing a little taller as she greeted the older woman. Gwendoline was the kind of person who made you regret that you’d given up trying to walk with a heavy book balanced on your head. Instinctively I found myself sitting up a little straighter in my chair.
The shop owner’s eyes were gimlet sharp, like a raven’s, and they slid over Sasha and me before settling on Wayne, who was flanking the other side of my chair. ‘And is this our groom?’
All three of us laughed in that high, vaguely unnatural way people have a habit of doing when they’re nervous.
‘Noooo,’ said Wayne, playing up the camp in case Gwendoline needed further clarification. ‘I’m a very good friend of Bella’s. She’s asked me to come along today for my fashion sense.’
Gwendoline’s eyes swept over him, travelling down in a single blink from his mousse-ruffled hair to his burgundy pointy-toed shoes. ‘But of course,’ she said smoothly. My lips were twitching as she ushered us towards a velvet-covered chaise longue. Despite my initial misgivings and her air of hauteur, I’d already decided that I really rather liked this woman.
‘So tell me a little about your wedding. When is it to be, and how do you envisage looking on your big day?’
My fingers went to the exquisite princess-cut diamond on my left hand. It had sat on my finger for a little over two months, and I still couldn’t look at it without grinning. At uncomfortable moments – usually those in hospital consulting rooms – it gave me strength and courage. Which were definitely needed now, as I spoke the words every bridal shop owner must dread hearing.
‘That’s what might be a problem. The wedding is very soon.’
A single swallow, and the warmth in her expression dropped infinitesimally as she asked, ‘How soon exactly are we talking about?’
‘Six weeks.’ Strange how something I was so incredibly excited about suddenly sounded like an apology.
Sasha, as loyal as a Labrador and just as lovable, was quick to explain. ‘Bella has another operation scheduled for the end of the summer, so they’ve had to bring the wedding forward.’
I flashed my friend a grateful smile. Not to be outdone, Wayne chipped in with the answer to Gwendoline’s second question. ‘And the way she wants to look, is beautiful.’ He dropped me an enormous wink. ‘Although frankly you could probably dress her in a bin bag and she’d still manage to do that.’
I had the best friends in the world, I truly did. They might squabble like siblings, but there were no two people on the planet who were better suited to accompanying me today. For just a moment I felt a knife-like stab of sadness for the loss of the woman who should also have been here with me. I missed Mum constantly, but most of the time it was with a low, dull, manageable ache. Today the pain was sharper, more acute. This was a mother and daughter thing, and as great as my friends were, there was a Mum-shaped hole in my day that no one could ever fill.
‘My budget is rather low,’ I said, thinking I might as well hit the consultant with all the negatives in one go. I named a figure, and I’m pretty sure her porcelain-white skin blanched a little. ‘That’s as much as I want to spend. We’ve had a lot of expenses modifying our new home to make it accessible, and I don’t want to touch my compensation money for the wedding.’
Gwendoline smiled, and to be fair the expression on her face was more inspired than fazed. ‘So we’re tasked with finding a gown that fits your time frame, your budget, and works for someone in a wheelchair.’
A look flashed like a secret message between me and my friends. The shop owner’s eyebrows rose expectantly.
‘It also has to work when I’m walking,’ I said nervously. Looking down, I noticed that I’d superstitiously crossed my fingers. ‘I’m hoping to walk the twelve steps down the aisle.’
‘Eleven,’ corrected Sasha. ‘I paced them again the other day. There are only eleven.’
‘That’s still six more than I can currently achieve,’ I said worriedly.
‘Plenty of time. Loads,’ declared Wayne confidently.
Not for the first time, I was so glad I’d let my two friends in on my plan. Aside from my dad and my physical therapist, no one else knew. I fell asleep at night in the arms of the man I loved, dreaming of the expression on his face when I got out of the chair and walked up the aisle towards him.
‘Well, it looks like we all have challenges to meet,’ declared the owner of Fleurs gamely. Leaving Sasha and Wayne waiting on the chaise, I propelled my chair in Gwendoline’s wake as we headed for the changing room. Once the door was closed behind us, she stood statue still for a long moment, running her eye appraisingly over me.
‘Do you need to measure me or something? I can stand up for a minute if you do.’
Gwendoline shook her head. ‘I know exactly what size you are and what will suit you. In fact, there is a particular dress I have in mind…’ For a moment there was a flicker of indecision in her eyes; it was an emotion I was sure she rarely felt. ‘It’s from a cancelled order.’
‘The bride changed her mind about the dress?’
‘No. She changed her mind about the groom.’
‘Oh,’ I said, slightly shocked. ‘Well, I definitely won’t be doing that.’
Gwendoline gave a slow nod. ‘As long as you’re not superstitious and feel it might be bad luck to wear a dress with that history.’
I gave a rueful shrug and looked down at my legs. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve already had my share of bad luck. It’s time for the good variety now.’
I’d wriggled myself out of my button-through dress by the time she returned with a satin garment bag draped over the crook of her arm. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was so excited I could scarcely sit still. For the first time I understood why they made television programmes about this experience. It was actually tremendous fun.
Gwendoline teased down the zip on the garment bag and with each revealing centimetre I grew more and more certain that I was looking at the dress I was going to get married in. Perhaps, before the accident, I would have wanted a ball gown, a big poufy-skirted affair that made me look like a Disney princess. But those dreams were happily exchanged as Gwendoline shook the gown free from the bag and held it up for me.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ I breathed, my fingers reaching out and gently tracing the fine silver-threaded embroidery. Under the artificial light, the gemstones scattered across the bodice twinkled invitingly.
‘Are you ready to try on your wedding dress?’
‘It might not even fit me.’
Gwendoline’s eyebrows were extremely eloquent. They told me I was talking nonsense, and they were absolutely right. The dress could have been made for me. The unfortunate bride who’d ordered the gown and then cancelled her wedding could have been my body double.
I stood before the bank of mirrors in the changing room, one hand braced against the wall, the other supported in Gwendoline’s firm grip. The bride staring back at me looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. Thanks to the cinched-in bodice, my waist appeared half its usual size and my boobs considerably larger. I looked down at a cleavage I swear I’d never seen before rising from the sweetheart neckline and shook my head in disbelief.
Almost afraid to ask, I turned to the bridal shop owner. ‘Can I afford this? Is it within my budget?’
The moment of hesitation told me what I had already suspected. Beneath the ebony-covered exterior, this woman had the softest of hearts. ‘It is,’ she declared. We both knew she was lying.
*
Sasha cried. Wayne did too, which he made absolutely no apology for.
‘You look like an angel,’ he said, crossing over to my wheelchair, which I’d now returned to, and enveloping me in an enormous hug. ‘If that man of yours changes his mind about marrying you, I’ll do it myself.’
I smiled over his shoulder and winked at Sasha, who was working her way through her third tissue. ‘No one is changing their mind about anything. This wedding is definitely happening.’