India nodded.
Marianne smiled my way. “You ready?”
I too nodded, although after all the gown-related issues I couldn’t deny I felt nervous.
She guided me from the kitchen into an inner hall. “You go and pop it on and I’ll be up shortly. Upstairs, door straight ahead.”
As I followed Marianne’s directions, my heart rate picked up pace. There’d been so much stress surrounding this dress, I couldn’t believe it was ready for me to try on. Reaching the door, I paused, wiping my hand down my jeans before turning the handle.
Stepping into Marianne’s whitewashed bedroom, I found the space as bright and relaxing as the rest of the house. It was dominated by an oak-framed bed, made up with crisp white linen, sumptuous pillows and cushions, and a colourful floral eiderdown that had been folded over halfway down the mattress.
An old painting of a vase containing red, white, and orange flowers on a turquoise background hung above the headboard, while a long wooden seat leant against the foot. With its simple rustic bedside tables, antique pine drawers and wardrobes, and unfussy light fittings, everything looked perfect. Including my wedding dress.
My breath caught at the mere sight of it and I had to swallow. Hanging against a tall free-standing mirror, it was like a piece of art.
I took in its clean-cut V-neck, sheer half-sleeves, and full A-line skirt, before lifting my hand to touch the lace appliqué that sat on the bodice. Marianne’s stitching was exquisite. “How did you do this?” I asked, mesmerised. The whole dress was an exact replica of Marianne’s drawing. Pulling myself away, I began to undress so I could try it on, smiling at the sound of chatter as it filtered in through the open sash window.
“Does she know how talented she is?” Marianne asked Sal, clearly talking about my platters. “I mean, look at this design. These flowers.”
I heard the smile in the woman’s voice.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to use them they’re so wonderful.”
I couldn’t believe a woman as gifted as Marianne was praising my work like that.
Turning my attention to the wedding gown, I carefully slipped it on. I filled my cheeks with air and exhaled, before turning to the mirror. As I eyed my reflection, I’d never looked so glamorous and I twisted and turned first one way and then the other to admire it from all angles. I gathered up my hair and wound it in a bun-like fashion on the top of my head. Letting it fall again, I stood there. Thanks to Marianne, I felt like a Hollywood star.
A gentle knock on the bedroom door interrupted my concentration and I turned to see Marianne pop her head in.
“Here, let me,” she said, her arms out ready to finish zipping up the back as she entered. Marianne stood in silence for a moment staring at my reflection in the mirror. “So, what do you think?”
My smile grew. “It’s stunning.” Unable to help myself, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined. Thank you.”
As I took in the gown once more, I suddenly felt overwhelmed. Marianne’s dress was a shining light amongst the quagmire of stresses and strains. A tear fell down my cheek and not wanting to spoil the evening or burden Marianne with my problems, I quickly wiped it away in the hope that she hadn’t seen.
“Tess,” Marianne said. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I don’t mean to cry.”
“This isn’t just about the dress, is it?”
I couldn’t bring myself to answer.
Marianne sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. “Come on. Tell me.”
As I began to open up, it was clear that Marianne wasn’t only a fabulous dressmaker; she was a great listener, who seemed genuinely concerned about what I’d been going through. Not once did she interrupt me, she simply let my tears flow as I told her about how my and Leo’s engagement had unleashed a monster in Mum.
Marianne shook her head in all the right places as I snivelled my way through the Gregbrook Manor debacle. And she tutted and sighed when I outlined how I’d never felt so out of control over anything. As Marianne became increasingly worried, I almost didn’t tell her about the competition between Mum and Grace. But having started to properly let things out, I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Oh, you poor love,” Marianne said, when my tears finally ran out.
“So now you know why this dress makes me so happy. You made me exactly what I asked for, instead of deciding it for me.”
“You know what I think?” Marianne said.
I shook my head.
“I think you should talk to your mum. Be honest. Tell her exactly what you’ve just told me. Because despite… How shall I put this? Her enthusiasm. She will understand.”
