“If you don’t stand still, I’m going to stab you and then we’ll get blood on the dress.”
I was standing in my bedroom with my arms out while Bunty pinned the bodice of what, if the pattern was to be believed, would be Every Bride’s Dream Dress.
“The thing is,” I said, trying not to wriggle, “I underestimated him and that was a mistake.”
“It’ll be an even bigger mistake if I get this wrong and it looks like a sack,” said Bunty, through a mouthful of pins. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. He sounds a difficult character to deal with, and this is your first big project. Now move round a tiny bit.”
She deftly added the last of the pins and stood back to look at her work. “Not bad,” she said. “Now then, don’t move. I’m going to turn the record over and then you can look in the mirror and tell me what you think.”
It was Saturday afternoon, the day after I had met with Mr. Terry, and all talk of work was supposed to have been banned. With the wedding confirmed for the second Saturday in January, I had a wedding dress to make, and Bunty was keen to update me, as she and my mother had been plotting reception ideas on the phone.
Charles was coming up to take me out for the evening but wasn’t due to arrive for several hours, and despite my misgivings over the meeting the previous day, there was a definite feel of giddiness in the air.
Bunty leant over the gramophone, turned the record over, and put the volume up, so that when “Sing, Sing, Sing” started, it filled the room.
“DON’T DANCE!” commanded Bunty as I started jigging about. “This fabric is precious.”
When Charles and I had got engaged, my plan had been to make myself something new out of whatever fabric I could get my hands on, ideally a nice day dress that I could easily wear again and again.
This plan had changed, however, when two days after the engagement, my younger brother Jack, who was a pilot, turned up at the house in Pimlico on the back of his friend Chaser’s motorbike, wielding a large paper package. As Chaser waited on the bike, Jack ran up the steps to the house, rapped on the door, and after a brief kiss hello, shoved the package into my arms, and said, “There you are, Sis. Call it an early wedding present.”
I had forced them both to come in for a moment so that I could open the parcel, which turned out to contain a good five yards of parachute silk. It was ripped down one side, but Jack said not to worry, as no one had died in it and it had just been mucked up in a training session by an idiot none of the squadron liked. As Chase helpfully pointed out, there wasn’t even a grass stain, let alone any blood.
Jack said it was a shame to let it go to waste, although should anyone ask, if I could deny any knowledge of where it had come from, it would probably be for the best.
It was lovely of him, and I had to admit, it was smashing fabric by anyone’s standards. Before I could entertain any idea of getting the material dyed, Bunty had declared the training mishap an act of God (which seemed a bit of a stretch, even if we did all love the RAF) and talked me into making a proper white wedding dress.
“You can dye it afterwards and use it for informal evening events,” she said, which rather suggested she had been reading fashion magazines. “Then you’ll get two outfits out of the one.”
Going the whole bridal hog with a traditional long dress didn’t feel quite my thing, so I found a very nice pattern for a three-quarter-length frock with rather elegant panels at the front and long sleeves that would be ideal for a winter wedding.
“Do you think it’s a bit tight?” I said, breathing out as far as I could. “I want to be able to fit in that vest you knitted.”
Bunty looked horrified. “The one I’ve just made?” she said. “Why on earth would you do that?”
“Bunts, it’s going to be January. I don’t want to freeze.”
“You can’t go wearing a long-sleeved vest on your wedding day.” Bunty was aghast. “It’s the most romantic day of your life.”
“It won’t be if I get pneumonia,” I said.
“What’s Charles going to say?”
“I can’t imagine he’ll mind in the least,” I said. “He’s very practical.”
“Of course he’ll mind,” said Bunty. “Have you actually met a man before? You do realise a long-sleeved vest probably isn’t what he’s expecting on your wedding day, don’t you? You’re supposed to be a lovely young bride, wearing lovely things and looking, um, lovely.”
“That’s three lovelies,” I said. “I won’t be able to manage that many in one go, not even for Charles.”
Bunty was shaking her head, so I sought a compromise.
“How about if it’s cold I’ll wear the vest to the church and for the standing outside afterwards, and then when we come back here, I’ll sneak away and take it off.”
“Then the dress will be too big,” said Bunty, standing her ground.
“No, it won’t. And anyway, you and Mother and the girls from the station are planning so much food that after the buffet I’ll be lucky if the buttons don’t fly off during the first dance. I have no idea how many people you’ve coerced into contributing.”
Bunty surveyed her pinning work. “A decent list,” she said. “Everyone’s looking forward to a good do. How about making a little jacket? That’ll keep you nice and warm. I bet there’s enough fabric left.” She stood back from me with her hands on her hips.
I smiled at her. Not because of the dress or the vest or any of that, but because I realised that she had been standing without her walking stick for the last five minutes. Her left hand was definitely loads better than it had been as well. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but I was thrilled to see Bunty getting better. I knew how much it meant to her to get back, as far as she could, to her old self.
“Absolutely,” I said, happy now to agree. “A jacket is a super idea. I’ll go through my patterns to see what I can find.”
“That’s the ticket,” said Bunty, pleased to have won the vest debate. “Now then, have a look and tell me what you think.”
I waddled over to the long mirror, aware that a dozen pins were threatening to poke me should I make a wrong move. My hair was all over the place, as I hadn’t done anything with it that day, and I hadn’t a scrap of makeup on. I was also wearing thick socks and a pair of beige shoes that were too big but we thought the right height for the dress. All in all, I was not exactly making an effort.
But despite all of that, and I supposed because normally I would never wear white, I realised I looked unmistakably like a bride. Bunty’s handiwork had made a huge difference, and now that it was more fitted, the dress was beginning to hang as it should. The sleeves were just pinned in and everything needed finishing properly, but there was no doubt what it was going to be.
“Gosh,” I said, and then ran out of steam.
Bunty had sat down on my bed and was looking at the mirror so she could see the expression on my face. I turned round to look at her. Neither of us said anything, but we both had tears in our eyes.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think maybe it’s a bit much? What if I did dye it, a pale blue perhaps? I like blue.”
I looked too bridal.
I pushed off the shoes and stood awkwardly in my socks. I wanted to go and sit with my best friend, but the pins meant I had to stay standing.
Bunts got up from the bed, still managing without her stick, and came over to stand in front of me. Then she took both my hands. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Honestly, I promise. You’re going to look beautiful, Em. On your day, just as you should. As you deserve to. I know you’re worried about me, but please keep the dress white. I really want you to.”
“It shouldn’t be like this, Bunts,” I said. “It’s not fair.”
It was supposed to be Bunty and Bill.
“Now then,” said Bunty, and her voice shook. There was a tear running down her face and I knew I was about to follow suit. “We are both going to talk about it and probably cry, and then you have to promise me that from now on, you will only be happy about this wedding.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and then went back to holding my hand. “Em, you deserve all of this. And you have to be happy. For all of us. Please say you will.”
I took a breath and nodded. I would be happy. I was already. My grandmother always said that wishing was good time wasted, but I couldn’t help wishing more than anything that Bunty and William could be together. They should have had the happiness I’d been so lucky to find.
“All right,” I said slowly, “I promise.”
And even though hugging someone when you are dressed as a gigantic pincushion is a quite lunatic thing to do, that, very carefully, was exactly what Bunty and I did.
With the pinning all done and both of us having managed not to inflict mortal damage by harpooning each other, Bunty and I spent a happy afternoon tacking and measuring and then getting me to try the dress on again to make sure it would fit. Bunts and I were singing along to the gramophone, so neither of us heard the front doorbell ring. We also didn’t hear when Charles let himself in, followed the sound of “Beat Me Daddy, Eight to the Bar” up to my room, and even though the door was open, was chivalrous enough to knock on it loudly.
“Anyone in?” he called. “Everyone decent?”
We were. I was. But I was still wearing the wedding dress, albeit now with only one arm in, which wasn’t quite the look I was hoping for.
“No!” I shouted at the top of my voice, and then added, “Don’t,” which made no sense but was all I could come up with.
“GET DOWN,” Bunty shouted wildly at me. “CROUCH.”
As Charles didn’t have the benefit of being able to see her, it was understandable if he was in need of some clarification.
“Do you mean me?” he asked from behind the door.
“NO,” shouted Bunty. “STAY THERE. SHE’S IN THE DRESS.”
“Ah,” said Charles, laughing. “Can I see?”
“No!” Bunty and I shouted together, although you couldn’t hear me that well, as I was on my knees hiding beside the bed as if someone had just located an incendiary.
“Shame. I’ll sit on the stairs, then,” said Charles cheerfully. “Can I just mention that it has taken me three hours to get here?”
“Can you help me out? I can’t undo the back,” I whispered to Bunty, as if speaking at the proper volume would give something away. “We’re coming,” I added, beginning to feel a little bad about the reception poor Charles was getting.
“Are you all right?” said Charles. “You sound muffled. Are you going to marry me in some sort of hood?”
“Shut up,” said Bunty as I started to giggle, which didn’t help, as actually I was rather stuck. “Both of you.”
“Nearly there,” I said as Bunty finally managed to extract me from the fabric. “Well, at least we’ve found the neck’s a bit tight.”
“Shhhh,” said Bunty. “Don’t listen, Charles.”
I could hear him chuckle as I heaved on my skirt and shoved a jumper over my head.
“You can come in now,” I called. “No, hold up, we need to hide the… Wait, I’m coming out!”
I raced out of my room and onto the landing. Charles was sitting on the stairs opposite, his head bowed, with one hand covering his eyes and the other holding a bunch of flowers.
“I do hope that’s you, darling,” he said, standing up but not moving his hand from his eyes. “Or there’s an embarrassing danger I’m about to kiss your best friend. Mind you, Miss Tavistock is a very attractive woman.”
“I heard that,” called Bunty. “I’m staying in here.”
“I saw you first,” I said as Bunty put on “Song of the Volga Boatmen” at full blast. Laughing, I kissed him until I was confident he had made the right choice.
“Never in doubt,” said Charles eventually. “Never in doubt.”
It would have been the most romantic moment, apart from the fact that Charles then remembered he had just seen Mr. Parsons outside Durton’s, who wanted him to pass on some very important news.
“He said to tell you that the time has come for Pauline,” said Charles. “And that he’ll bring round some sausages next week.”
“Poor old Pauline,” I said. “She’s a lovely pig.”
“Mr. Parsons says it’s what she would want,” said Charles philosophically.
“I must dress,” I announced, slightly as if I were King Louis XV.
“Watch out for pins,” said Bunty, coming out of my bedroom. “There may be some on the floor. Charles, don’t even listen.”
“You’ve used pins?” he said. “Good God, you’ve virtually given away the whole frock.”
“She can still change her mind, you know,” said Bunty as he gave her a kiss. “Come on, I’ll make you a drink while you wait.”
I slipped back into my bedroom to find my decent going-out frock. Bunty had hung up the half-finished wedding dress on the wardrobe door, hidden again beneath the sheet we had been using to protect it from dust. Now on my own, I sneaked another look. The dress was definitely starting to look the part. I needed to do lots more work on it before it was ready, but for the first time I could see myself wearing it, standing next to Charles at St. Gabriel’s and taking our vows.
From downstairs I could hear chatting and laughter as Charles and Bunty headed for the kitchen.
With one last glance at the wedding dress, I carefully put the sheet back over the top. The dress would be lovely, but when it came to it, I didn’t really mind what it looked like. It was the man downstairs that mattered.
In just a few weeks’ time we would be married. As I began to change for the evening, I put on another record and began to sing along. It couldn’t come fast enough for me.