The Dress (28 page)

‘I know this is not your problem, Honor, but Daniel is a good man. Once he meets you and sees the predicament we are in, he will pull out all the stops to push this thing through really quickly.'

Honor was desperately uncomfortable, but Frank was taking charge, taking charge of this terrible situation she had found herself in.

They went straight from there to the Plaza, where Frank booked them both into a small suite. The staff knew him, but he put them both in under an assumed married name, Mr and Mrs Jones, and explained they would need the rooms indefinitely.

‘We'll live here, until the divorce comes through. Then, after we are married, we can get a proper home,' he promised.

The whole thing was happening with such speed and Frank was so driven, so focused, so powerful in his intention, that Honor felt she had no other choice but to roll along with him. He left her alone in the luxurious hotel bedroom, where she sat, wondering how it was that now, she was here starting a new life with Frank Fitzpatrick, when she had left work that lunchtime, with the intention of going for an illegal abortion.

Frank returned two hours later with a large suitcase.

‘It's over,' he said. ‘Let's celebrate. Where would you like to go, darling? You just tell me and I'll take you there, we'll hit the town.'

Honor was shocked. It was one thing leaving his wife to be with her but how could he be so cavalier, so callous? It also made her angry that he imagined she would want to go out and celebrate at such a time.

‘How is Joy?' she asked.

He shrugged, so she asked again. ‘Joy? How did she take the news? Was she very upset?'

She knew it was a stupid question, of course Joy was upset, but she wanted to hear Frank say it, for him to face up to what they were doing.

‘Tell me, Frank, I want to know what happened.'

Frank's face hardened. ‘It doesn't matter,' he said. ‘She doesn't matter.'

‘You can't say that Frank, she's your wife.'

Frank's jaw set and his eyes, always so soft, turned steely grey. He looked at her with a coldness that made her actually shiver.

‘Drop it, Honor.'

But she persisted. ‘Joy has been very good to me, Frank, I feel terrible about hurting her this way. If we are going to be together, we have to do what's right for Joy too.'

As she was talking, she noticed a change come over Frank again. His whole body stiffened, his mouth hardened and his large hands curled into fists by his side.

‘Don't mention that woman's name to me, ever again.'

Honor was about to reason with him, but as she opened her mouth, he said again, through gritted teeth, his body solid with rage, ‘I mean it, Honor, don't push this.'

In that moment, Honor realized she was afraid of Frank. She had actually agreed to nothing he had asked of her that day; the trip to the lawyers, to arrange his divorce, his intention to marry her, even having the baby, and yet she had gone along with him, acquiesced in everything he wanted.

For a fleeting moment Honor thought it was not just Frank's certainty, or her powerful feelings for him, that frightened her, perhaps it was Frank himself that she was afraid of. In the past few hours, somehow, Honor, who had always stubbornly ploughed her own furrow, had handed her life over to this man.

Yet, she thought, perhaps this was the way things were supposed to be. She did not know of any woman who would not jump at the chance to be with a man as handsome and powerful as Frank Fitzpatrick, to be taken under his wing. Frank wanted her and she felt, if not compelled, well then, at least obliged, to give him what he wanted. After all, wasn't that what love was?

Her mother had always done what her father wanted and they were happy. Honor had thought she was happy on her own, but things were different now. She was in love and being in love meant putting your own thoughts and needs aside for the other person, so that's what she did for Frank.

Over the next couple of months, as Honor struggled to hide her expanding waistline at work, and continued to feel sick and weak with her pregnancy, Frank took over every aspect of her life.

When she expressed worry about taking time off work, Frank smoothed things over with Breton. He even agreed to invest in the Frenchman's business and the two men conspired to buy a small shop unit, next door to Breton's atelier where, once the marriage was sealed and made public, they could open as a place to sell the ‘Honor Fitzpatrick' line of ready-to-wear clothes. All of this was presented to Honor as a fait accompli.

She would have preferred to plan all of this herself, but she felt too wretched to do anything, except the minimum amount of designing and some overseeing, while Colette took over her clients. Honor just counted herself lucky that she was marrying a man who would allow her to work, after they were married.

‘I just want you to be happy,' he kept saying. ‘What makes you happy, makes me happy.'

So Honor put all that she had known in her life aside, and hoped that the man who was to be her husband knew best.

London, 2014

‘How much does Sally know about your dress?'

‘Nothing, not much, a bit. Oh, I don't know, Jack, but I know Sally. She won't do anything bad.'

Lily didn't quite know why she was defending Sally to Jack. Shock, perhaps. She just could not believe that Sally would betray her like this. Perhaps there was some mistake?

‘She already has, Lily.' Jack's voice was shaking with fury. ‘Did you know she was talking to Durane about a job there?'

‘Well, yes, I mean, no. She was talking to them a while ago I think.'

‘Oh, Jesus Christ, Lily...'

‘She turned him down. Are you suggesting this is
my
fault?'

‘Of course not, it's just a real problem. I think they poached her just for the dress project.'

‘Actually, I remember her saying they approached her about a job ages ago, Jack.'

‘Really?' Lily thought he sounded hurt.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, then when Jack spoke again he sounded distant, business-like. ‘I suppose you're right, there's no reason I should expect any loyalty, from either of you.'

‘I didn't mean that Jack, I just meant that she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize this project. She's too professional.'

‘I hope you're right,' Jack said. ‘Anyway, I've a meeting now. We'll talk later, maybe have a progress report. Over dinner?'

‘That would be great,' Lily said.

As soon as they hung up Lily tried calling Sally but her phone went straight to voicemail. Lily knew that Sally always had her phone on. She was blocking her calls. It was at that point that Lily herself became furious. What the hell was Sally thinking? She had always been ambitious, but
this
, betraying her boss and her best friend in one swoop? How could she do such a thing? How could her oldest friend turn on her like this? This was so bad that Lily wondered if she knew who Sally was anymore. The idea of that scared her more than anything. Sally was her rock, her oldest – her best – friend. It was too unsettling to think she could hurt Lily in this way.

Sick at the thought of what was happening, Lily decided to throw herself into the huge pile of work she had in front of her. There was a mountain of research still to do and hundreds of calls to make which was nothing if not a good distraction.

First on the list was getting hold of some vintage Irish lace. No matter how much money you had, good lace, the kind of lace she needed, was highly specialized and would take months to make from scratch. So, after much mooching around online Lily found a dealer with some beautiful old Irish lace working out of Westport in County Mayo. She booked herself a return flight (on her new Scott's credit card) for the following morning and spent ages looking for a nice, mid-range hotel. She picked one that was not too expensive but had a spa.

Lily tried Sally again. No reply. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Sally was jealous of the friendship she had seen building between Jack and herself in Miami. Was it possible that Sally didn't want to see her friend succeed? That after all her nagging and concern for Lily ‘wasting her talent' she was now put out that Lily seemed to be muscling in on her client?

Lily and The Dress were moving into a room that Jack's secretary had set up in Scott's London design studio for her the following week, so she kept herself busy with the task of reorganizing her apartment. As she packed away all her sewing things, ready for the moving van to collect on Monday morning, she kept thinking how Sally should be there, helping her.

When that was done, Lily got all dressed up ready for dinner with Jack. She showered, shaved and body creamed, blow-dried her hair and applied her make-up. Then she picked out a black silk 60s shift dress and strappy sandals ensemble that would look equally appropriate in a local Indian restaurant or West End high spot.

By 7 p.m. Jack still hadn't called so she rang him.

‘Oh God, Lily, I am so sorry, I have a conference call with New York that I had completely forgotten about. Then there are two suppliers coming into town from China that I have to take out. I am so sorry; we'll do it tomorrow, yeah?'

‘Can't do tomorrow,' she said, holding her voice breezy. ‘I'm off to Ireland to buy some lace. I'm staying over in Westport, sounds like a nice place actually...'

‘Ireland's great,' he said. ‘You'll love it...' He sounded distracted already. ‘Look, sorry, I have to go. Call when you get back, yeah?'

‘Yeah,' she said. ‘See you.'

After he hung up Lily got undressed and put her pyjamas on. With her day's work done and nothing left to do, she felt completely flat and a little sorry for herself. She had been abandoned by her oldest friend
and
her new boss, it seemed. This was the time when she would have wandered over to her family home. Grandad Joe would have cheered her up and her parents would have made a fuss of her. Now her parents were grieving and her grandad was dead.

She stuck on a pair of headphones and watched
Singin' in the Rain
on her iPad; old movies always cheered her up. When it was finished she was up getting herself tea when she heard the doorbell ring.

It was nearly ten o'clock, so she threw her head out the window and saw Gareth's friend Fergus at the door.

‘Gareth asked me to drop this off,' he said, putting a package on the doorstep, before running off, obviously relieved she hadn't answered the door to him. If Gareth could be a bit awkward at times, his uber-nerd friend was the kind of guy who disintegrated as soon as a woman spoke to him. Lily felt disappointed that Gareth had not come himself. With all this nasty business with Sally, his comforting presence was just what she needed right now.

The package was about the size of a hatbox and as Lily carried it upstairs she was so curious that she started to peel off the brown paper and string immediately.

It was indeed an old hatbox, and inside that was a load of tissue paper, inside which was a beautifully preserved, 1950s couture corset.

She nearly cried. It was a perfect pale flesh colour with a clean, satin finish. This would save her making a bodice from scratch and thus, weeks of work. She could easily use this single vintage piece as a framework to build the rest of The Dress around. It was exquisite and must have cost him a fortune. She looked for a note, but couldn't find one. Typical, laid back Gareth. So she called him. His phone went straight to voicemail. She thought about putting a coat on over her pyjamas and running up to thank him in person but then realized the shop would be closed and in any case he must be busy, otherwise he would have brought it himself.

She would call by and thank him in person as soon as she got back.

The Dress may have robbed her of a friend that day but it had also sent her a magnificent building block for its foundation.

*

The following morning Lily woke at the crack of dawn feeling excited. She was going to Ireland!

This was, she realized, the first time she had ever travelled by herself. Either Sally or her parents had always been with her before. New Lily had a sense of grown-up independence as she arrived at Luton airport by taxi. While she was getting a coffee in Pret A Manger she got a FaceTime call from Zac.

‘OK, here it is,' he said without making any intro. ‘You are not going to
believe
this. Honor Conlon made The Dress with my Granny then disappeared without a trace. But get this – in 1959 a new designer called Honor turns up working out of The House of Breton couturiers, except she's called Honor
Fitzpatrick
.'

Lily gasped. ‘Oh my God, is it the same person?'

Zac closed his eyes, paused for dramatic effect then screamed, ‘Yes! We weren't sure – like, how mad would that be? But
then
my friend had a deep,
deep
dig, we are talking ancient books of newspaper cuttings – did you know there is this stuff from
before
computers called microfilm? Anyway, she found an article from
Harper's Bazaar
citing Honor Fitzpatrick as the second wife of Irish tycoon Frank Fitzpatrick! I got her to scan it – I'll email it across.'

Lily was stunned. Her face moved away from the screen and across the airport concourse. People were drinking coffee, looking up at screens, running towards departure gates, clinging to their baggage and Zac had found another Irish relative she didn't know about. Honor Conlon was also her great-aunt by marriage.

‘Is she still alive?' Lily knew it was a stupid question but it was the only one on her mind.

‘There's a few designs featured in
Harper's
, kind of a cool dress and day-coat combo, so she must have made a name for herself, but then absolutely nothing about her at all after 1959. I don't know,' Zac added. ‘Maybe she died... or retired?'