‘I have nothing to wear,’ Ailish had announced earlier, after she’d finally, reluctantly, agreed to go out tonight. Gwen’s glitzy career in interior design meant she already had a wardrobe full of gorgeous outfits (all of which would be way too small for Ailish), and Rhonda had mentioned earlier that she had already bought a beautiful dress for tonight. So that just left Ailish…
‘Of course you do,’ Rhonda argued. ‘Just wear whatever you wore last year.’
‘Snoopy pyjamas and socks with individual stripy toes. You all came and stayed at my house, remember?’
They did. It had been the first Hogmanay post-separation, and the removal men were coming two days later to pack up her stuff and move her out of the family home of her dreams, to a soulless box two miles away. Ailish had dug her heels in about going out and reliving the nightmare of the previous New Year’s Eve, and on that occasion, they’d gone along with her. However, this year was a different story.
‘Good point. Snoopy isn’t exactly high fashion this season,’ Gwen had agreed.
‘And all my old clothes don’t fit me any more since I discovered the Quality Street diet. I’ve gone up two sizes.’
‘Only one thing for it then,’ Rhonda was already scheming. ‘We need to go now.’
‘Go where?’ Ailish had asked, playing with the crust of her pizza slice.
Another conspiratorial look had passed between Rhonda and Gwen. ‘Well, the thing is,’ Rhonda had begun, ‘when I was up guarding Gwen against life-threatening injuries while sheshowered, we were discussing how maybe a trip might be in order.’
Rhonda was clearly squirming, so Ailish was intrigued. ‘A trip where?’
Gwen had interjected. ‘We can’t drag this out. Pull the Band-Aid right off, Rhonda.’
Rhonda threw her hands up. ‘Okay, fine. Right. Well, Gwen needs a wee post-hospital makeover to get her ready for tonight, so while we’re there, we thought that… Aw, bugger, I’m just going to say it. The truth is, and this comes from a place of love – Ailish, you look awful. You’ve got roots the size of my wrists, your skin hasn’t seen moisturiser in months and you’re bordering on a unibrow up there. So I called the manager at one of my salons and they’re fitting us in for hair and make-up at three o’clock. And while we’re there, they’ll take a Flymo to those eyebrows.’
Ailish’s first reaction had been outraged indignation. ‘What does it matter how I look? It hasn’t exactly been one of my priorities over the last year.’
Gwen had nodded thoughtfully and Ailish thought she was about to get a win. Surely if anyone could understand how trivial and unnecessary all that surface-level stuff was, it would be Gwen. ‘We understand.’
Ailish had wanted to cheer, until her friend went on…
‘But the reality is, Rhonda and I are incredibly shallow and we’re the ones that have to look at you. So we’re going to sort you out and you don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s tough love, doll.’
‘And if we leave now, we can nip into the boutique next door to the salon and pick you up something to wear,’ Rhonda had said. ‘I’m always in there and they’ve got lovely stuff. It’s actually where I bought my dress for tonight, so I need to pick it up anyway.’
‘Yes! Perfect plan. That’s what we’ll do,’ Gwen had agreed. Ailish had opened her mouth to object, but Gwen spotted it and came back with, ‘And you can’t say no to me, because you know… cancer.’
Ailish had winced. ‘Seriously? Are you still doing that? Stop with the blackmail. My heart can’t take it.’
Gwen’s grin had stretched from ear to ear. ‘But you’re going to say yes, aren’t you? Because you love me?’
Ailish threw down her pizza crust. ‘Aaaargh. I give in. Yes. Okay. But as soon as you fully recover, I’m getting new pals.’ Two could play at that game. And, of course, Gwen knew she was joking and let out a cackle of triumphant laughter.
That’s why, at half past two in the afternoon, they were now trooping into a way too trendy boutique, with Ailish panicking because she was going to be trying on clothes, and she knew she was wearing huge, grey knickers and a bra that she’d fished out from under the dining table this morning. She couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t exactly the usual attire of this place’s clientele.
As soon as they got in, Rhonda took charge. It was absolutely no surprise that she’d been in here many times, given the immediate proximity to her salon and a shopping habit that bordered on requiring therapy.
‘Chanel!’ she greeted the owner with a hug. ‘These are my pals, Gwen and Ailish. Girls, this is Chanel.’
The very tanned, glamorous Chanel flicked her waist-length platinum hair back from a face that had impossibly full lips and cheekbones like sausages, and extended a hand past her voluptuous double-G chest and miniscule waist as she greeted them. Ailish felt her grey pants curl up and die.
‘Right, Chanel, I need to pick up my frock for tonight. But that aside, and much more importantly, you’re on a mission. This one here,’ Rhonda gestured to Ailish, ‘Size…’
‘Sixteen,’ Ailish replied. Her weight had fluctuated all of her life, so she didn’t mind in the least that she was bigger than before. She’d spent her whole life encouraging Emmy to have a positive body image no matter her size, and she truly believed in that.
‘Size sixteen, and she needs something fabulous to wear tonight. She wants to look like a goddess.’
‘I don’t,’ Ailish clarified. ‘I want to stay on my couch. But these two are forcing me to go out. It’s getting close to a hostage situation at this stage. However, if I’m going to go, I may as well look like a goddess, apparently.’ She knew she was rambling. She always did that when she was nervous.
Chanel scanned her from top to toe, and Ailish began to sweat. Just when she was sure she was about to be written off as a lost cause, Chanel clapped her hands. ‘I’ve got just the thing. Come with me.’
