“Are you decent?” Sal asked.
Relief swept over me. Never had I been so glad to hear my sister’s voice. If anyone could get me out of the mess I was in, it was Sal.
“It’s just that Mum’s wondering what’s taking you so long.”
“If you mean, am I dressed? Then the answer’s yes.” I steeled myself ready for Sal’s reaction as the door opened, and she stepped into the room.
“And abracadabra I’m back in the eighties.”
I wished my sister was referring to Mum’s pale green carpet, peach floral bedding, and not very convincing wood-effect laminate wardrobes, but she’d yet to take her eyes off me.
“You look so… so…” She sat on the bed.
“Regal?”
Sal put the back of her hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide in stunned recognition. Her hand fell to her chest. “Oh. My. God. Yes, that’s it!”
My attention was drawn to the dress’s skirt when something scratchy irritated my thigh. Forced to fight with the excess fabric in order seek out the problem, I hoisted it all up and wrangled it over my arm.
“What are you doing?” my sister asked.
“Something’s bothering me.” I frowned as I finally located the issue. “Looks like a dry-cleaning ticket.” I assessed the faded tag, before letting the skirt fall again, ready to get back to the matter at hand. “What am I going to do, Sal?” I asked. “I can’t walk down the aisle in the same gown as…”
Sal put a hand up to silence me. “Please don’t say it.”
“…Princess Diana.”
My sister struggled to contain herself.
“Even Louise Patterson’s dress was better than this.”
A snigger escaped Sal’s lips.
“One look at me and Leo’s going to run a mile.”
Sal’s sniggering got worse. “Honestly, you really do need to stop.”
“I’m telling you, he’ll ditch me before I reach the altar.”
Try as she might to stop herself, my sister burst into laughter.
“Sal, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m sorry, Tess, but yes it is.” Her eyes spied the metres of veil I’d yet to try on.
“Oh no,” I said, knowing exactly what Sal was about to suggest. “No chance.”
“Go on. Just for me.” She rose from her seat. “In fact, let me help.” She fiddled with the veil’s comb slide and fabric to secure it in place. Continuing to snicker, Sal stepped back to get a proper look, before producing her mobile from her back pocket.
“What are you doing?” I asked, as she swiped the screen.
“Taking a picture.”
“You can’t!”
Ignoring my protests, she held up her phone. “Ryan’s going to love this. Come on, Tess. Smile.”
Standing there, I wished I had something to smile about.
