Yours Truly (3 page)

“
Try it
on then!
”
chides M
um.
“
We'll have to get it taken in.
”
Her eyes flicker down towards my stomach.
“
Or taken out. There isn't much time.
”

Is this for real? They haven't actually bought my wedding dress, have they?

“
A
- are you joking?
”
I murmur, my cheeks burning.

They grin at each other, mistaking my question for grateful disbelief

“
Nope,
”
says Dionne.
“
We said we'd pay for your dress. Well…
here you go!
”

They did say they would pay for my dress. I didn't mean for them to go out and buy it. Without telling me. Without letting me choose.

Isn't shopping for a wedding dress supposed to be a rite of passage? The free champagne, the seamstress fussing over me and pretending that she knew as soon as I walked through the shop door which dress I was eventually going to choose. Standing on that wooden box and pretending I'm much taller and slimmer than I really am, picking the dress that I absolutely could not
not
wear on my wedding day...

“
It's gorgeous, isn't it,
”
Dionne continues, fingering the hooks and eyes of the corset.
“
And look at all the diamante! We thought that diamante could be, like, the theme for the entire wedding.
”

Diamante? As a theme? Oh God. No.

I silently curse Olly for proposing last week and insisting we get married as soon as humanly possible.

It was a lovely proposal, mind. He'd gotten a discounted weekend at a health spa in Cheshire and got down on one knee after a delicious meal at the spa's vegan restaurant.

I look down at the ring displayed pride of place on the third finger of my left hand. A gorgeous heart shaped diamond on a platinum band. It's very shiny.

I thought I'd have at least a few months to get the wedding sorted, but then Olly surprised me by booking the church for next month.

“
Natalie, it was a cancellation It was either Christmas Eve or 2014. I’m not waiting till 2014! I want to marry you now! Plus, we get a reasonable discount for taking the space up.
”

I've had to rely on Mum and Dionne to help organise everything in super quick time. They’ve even been doing this checklist and emailing it to me each time we make even the slightest change to the plans.

I bury the groan bubbling in my throat. I'm being selfish. Their buying me a dress is just their way of helping to get everything sorted in time.

I suddenly spot hundreds of little bows stitched in along the hemline of the dress. Bows!

No. This is ridiculous. People choose their own wedding dresses. That's how it's done! When you think about it, it's bloody out of order to choose someone else’s wedding dress for them.

But then Mum and Dionne look so pleased with themselves. They genuinely think they've done a good deed. And they
are
planning the entire wedding in only four weeks after all...

“
Come on then, we want to see what it looks like,
”
urges Dionne, eyes sparkling like…
diamante.

Well...
I suppose there's no harm in trying it on, is there?

“
It looks extraordinary!
”
mum breathes as I shuffle into the kitchen to show them the dress. Her dark brown eyes are shining with tears of joy. Wow. It must look better than I thought it would. Maybe, shockingly, they
do
know me better then I know myself.

While I was getting changed they've brought down the full length mirror from my bedroom and propped it up against our kitchen table. Dionne pours everyone a glass of wine before gesturing that I should have a look at myself in the mirror.

I warily manoeuvre myself around to the other side of the table, being careful not to knock over the pan stand or the vegetable rack with the massive skirt. Nervously, I glance up at my reflection…

Wow.

Mum’s ‘Extraordinary’ is right. Horrendous, horrifying, horrible are also suitable adjectives.

I gawk numbly into the mirror, entranced by the way the diamante glistens under the fluorescent kitchen lights. The flab from my waist is compressed into this i
r
idescent bodice and is now making a bid for freedom by spilling over the top of my corset. I turn around to see the view from behind. Back fat. Definite fat of the back.

“
We are so GOOD!
”
cheers Dionne.
“
You look just like Katie Price. Except you’ve got no tits. Maybe you should buy some tits before the wedding, and then you’ll look perfect.
”
She grabs her own surgically enhanced breasts to demonstrate.

I look down towards my 32 Bs and sigh. They’re not
that
bad. They'd be improved considerably if I wasn't wearing a dress that flattened them into total oblivion.

Nope. No. Nuh uh. Noooooooo. This is not what I want to look like on my wedding day. I wanted Audrey Hepburn in
Funny Face
not Bridal Drag Queen in a Gypsy Wedding Sequin Frenzy. I take a breath. I must tell them. Meg said to stand up for myself, and that is what I’ll do, damn it. I’ll tell them that this is just not the dress for me. It’s not like they can force me to wear it.

“
Mum, Dionne. I don’t quite…
”
My voice goes all scratchy. I clear my throat and try again.
“
I don’t think -
”

“
You look just like I always wanted to look on my wedding day,
”
Mum interrupts, welling up.
“
I would have done, if i
t wasn’t for your bastard of a d
ad spending all our money on that stupid motorbike of his.
”

Dionne pats her gently on the shoulder.

“
Aw, Mum…
I’m sorry, but -
”

“
Just imagine. Diamante everywhere,
”
pipes up Dionne, brightly.

“
I’m not sure it’s really me,
”
I eventually get out, turning this way and that in the mirror.

My mother’s face hardens, imperceptibly.

“
Look, Natalie,
”
she says.
“
Dionne and I are trying to produce the perfect wedding, in only few short weeks. It isn’t easy.
”
She takes a shaky breath.
“
Do you not want us to be involved with this?
”

She looks so sad.

“
Of course I want you to be involved,
”
I soothe.

I do. I can’t plan all of this on my own, and Mum and Dionne together are like an unstoppable whirlwind of productivity. When they’re around things get done, things get sorted.

“
Your Dad would have loved that dress,
”
Mum says again, dabbing her eyes carefully so as not to smudge her mascara.

“
I know Mum. I know.
”
I neglect to remind her that Dad's not dead, just buggered off to India and we really shouldn't care whether he'd like it or not. It’s just us now.

I glance back down at the dress and notice that all the pearls have been stitched on in the shape of little love hearts. Jesus.

“
Are you not sure I should wear something a bit...
simpler? I don’t want to look…
flashy,
”
I try.

“
Definitely not,
”
says Dionne, hands on hips.
“
The idea of a wedding dress is that it makes you look better than usual. Not being funny or anything, but who wants to see the same old boring Natalie rolling down the aisle?
”

Mum wipes her eyes and juts out her chin.

“
This wedding is not just about you, love. It’s about all of us. Our family. God knows we could use a bit of happiness since…since.
”
She buries her face into Dionne’s sili
cone bosom and sobs loudly. Shit
.

“
I’m sorry Mum. I don’t want to upset you. I really don’t. But -
”

“
That is the dress you are wearing.
”
She looks up sharply.
“
A proper wedding dress. Not some flimsy, nothing dress you could wear any other time.
”

I don't say anything for a moment, just stare into the mirror. I look exactly like a toilet roll holder doll.

“
I'm trying to help you to make the best of yourself,
Natalie,
”
M
um goes on.
“
Do you not need my help?
”
Her voice wobbles again.
“
You don't, do you! You think I'm useless. Your Dad thought I was pointless and now you do too.
”

She dissolves into another round of tears and presses a hand to her chest, her expression pained.

“
Mum
,
are you alright?
”
I ask, worriedly.

“
It’s just indigestion,
”
she sniffs.
“
I’ll be fine. I’ll take a Rennie.
”

I don’t have any other choice.

“
Fine. We’ll get this one.
”
I plaster a smile onto my face and pat Mum on the arm.

“
Fantastic, darling! You’ll be a princess!
”

Mum and Dionne grin at each other and clink glasses. I smile weakly, take a glass of wine from the table beside me and neck it in one.

The dress of devastation is hung up on my bedroom door, silently mocking me. I glower at it and frown. A sequin flickers and sparkles under the lights, like an evil sequin wink.

For the past two hours M
um and Dionne have been chattering away about the wedding; how brilliant it’s going to be, how gorgeous I’m going to look (if I manage to drop a dress size in the next 30 days), whether there’s such a thing as edible diamante for the wedding favours and the probability of our vicar agreeing to wear a bedazzled dog collar. So me wearing a disco ball Barbie dress isn’t such a big sacrifice, when you really think about it. Considering how much they like it, and how much of a favour they’re doing me, planning the wedding and all. It’s the very least I can do.

I glance up at the alarm clock on my bedside table. Eight o’clock already. Olly should be round at any moment. Almost every weeknight he picks me up after he’s finished work at Dino's Suits and Ties. We head over to his executive apartment in Deansgate where we have dinner and then snuggle up in front of the TV with a blanket. It’s lovely just hanging out with him. Lovely, cosy, quiet and…
just lovely.

I'm trying to slick back my terrible hair with styling gel when Dionne bursts into my bedroom. She stops before the wedding dress and presses an acrylic nail adorned hand to her chest.

“
I can’t believe you actually get to wear it!
”

Me either.

“
I know! Lucky me!
”

“
You are like, so super jammy…
Anyway I was wondering if you'd do your little sister a massive favour?
”

A massive favour. I think back to other massive favours Dionne has asked of me over the years. Like that massive favour when she got me to break up with her high school boyfriend for her. The poor lad snotted and cried on me for two hours before trying to cop a feel. And then there was the massive favour last month when her kitchen flooded and I had to clean it up because she had a vital eyebrow appointment at the beauty salon. Once we’re living next door to each other, I suspect the massive favours will be coming thick and fast.

“
Go on?
”
I say wearily.

“
Bull just phoned and said he's going to take me for a romantic Madras on Saturday and I was wondering if you’d babysit Jean-Paul Gaultier. Please.
”

As massive favours go it's pretty tame. But Saturday night? The night I planned on doing nothing but trying out recipes for the perfect hollandaise sauce while Olly is out with his mates from the gym.