A couple of mornings later, I was chatting to Marilise over breakfast in her room. It was the charity concert that evening and I wanted to check that everything was in place for Angela to help in my absence. But, predictably, Marilise didn’t want to talk about logistics.
‘It will all be fine,’ she said, waving me away. ‘Angela has looked after me for a long time, she knows what to do and can cope with the little extras.’ The ‘little extras’ involved some new medication and changes to Marilise’s evening care routine, but although I didn’t like handing my responsibilities over, I knew that Angela would handle everything beautifully. ‘Tell me instead about what you are going to wear this evening.’
‘I have the dress I wore to the party at your neighbours, the Westmans,’ I said. ‘I had it cleaned, so it’s ready to go.’
‘I see.’
I had got to know Marilise well over the weeks we had spent together, and I could tell she had more to say.
‘Don’t you think it would be suitable?’ I asked.
‘Well, my dear, it is a verynicedress…’Nice, I thought,being the death knell for my outfit.‘But I think this is the perfect occasion for something a little more spectacular. After all’ – she shot me a prize-winning side eye – ‘you are trying to convince them, are you not, that you and Nick are a couple? They must be stunned, not underwhelmed.’
Outmanoeuvred, I laughed.
‘True. But what do you suggest? I don’t have time to get something now.’
‘No, but I have some dresses tucked away that I think would be suitable.’ I opened my mouth to protest that we were totally different body shapes, but she pre-empted me. ‘They are not all mine, some belonged to my mother and some to my sister, and I am convinced there will be something perfect. Now, when you went to the attic to look for the Christmas decorations, did you see a large armoire?’ I nodded. ‘Good. There is one dress in there I have in mind for you – it is dark green with exquisite beading. See if you can find that.’
I took our breakfast things down to the kitchen, then went straight up to the attic, heading for the end room where Nick and I had found the tea chests full of decorations. It felt a little spooky up there on my own, but I hummed Christmas songs under my breath for courage and felt glad that I had remembered to wear a cosy cardigan against the chill. As I had recalled, there was a large armoire with elegantly carved scrolls above the doors and large ball feet. The mirror on one of the doors was badly foxed, but I could see a hazy reflection of myself as I turned the small brass key and opened the doors to reveal at least twenty clothes bags hanging neatly on the rail. Shifting slightly so that I could use the weak light of the single bulb, I gently pushed the bags aside and unzipped the first a little. This revealed a dress in champagne silk. I longed to get it out and look at it properly, but imagined Marilise sitting downstairs, waiting impatiently for me to return for my Cinderella moment, and moved on to the next bag. In this was a pale blue dress with a floaty chiffon neckline, which I tucked in carefully as I did the zip back up. I continued along the bags, revealing beautiful fabrics in a rainbow of colours before finding one that was as Marilise had described. I wasn’t sure how I felt about potentially borrowing this item which, as well as no doubt beingvery expensive, was far more glamorous than anything I had ever worn. I lifted it carefully off the rail before locking the doors again and heading back downstairs.
‘Is this it?’ I asked, showing her the top part of the dress that I had revealed.
‘Ah yes, good, that is the one,’ she said, sounding pleased. ‘Take it out of the bag.’
Carefully, I extracted the dress. It was a deep emerald green with two layers, the first of a heavy silk and the second, top layer, of chiffon, hand beaded all over with an intricate flower pattern that glinted in the light.
‘Marilise, it’s spectacular,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you want to lend it to me?’
‘Of course I am sure, I would like nothing more. And you are not to worry about it. This dress is beautiful, yes, but it is of more use having champagne being spilt down it or catching on a beau’s watch as he puts his arms around you than it is sitting patiently unworn in the attic as it has already done for so many years. Try it on!’
I hesitated.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, biting my lip. ‘I don’t think it’s really me. I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be in a dress like this.’
‘You do not think you merit such a garment?’ asked Marilise, her voice soft but her eyes looking at me closely.
‘It’s not that, exactly,’ I said feebly. ‘But dresses like this are made for princesses, not nurses. I don’t want to look odd, like a child wearing her mother’s high heels.’
‘Odd?’ Marilise frowned. ‘Laura, it is just a dress, not a magic spell. It is for whoever wears it.’ Her voice took on a stubborn tone. ‘You think you will look like you do not belong in it, but I say differently. Please, try it on. If you feel awkward, or we do not think the dress works, you do not have to wear it. This is nota police state!’ She grinned and swept her arm around, taking in the beautiful bedroom. ‘We are just having some fun, yes?’
I laughed, feeling more relaxed.
‘Yes!’
I took off my jeans and shirt and stepped carefully into the dress. As I pulled it up and slipped my arms into the elbow-length gauzy sleeves, I could tell that her expert eye had not let Marilise down; it was a perfect fit. I did up the zip as far as I could, then smoothed my hair over one shoulder and knelt down with my back to her, so that she could draw it all the way to the top. Then I stood in front of her, my residual self-consciousness pushed away by excitement. I watched her face as she looked me over, feeling relief when she broke into a smile.
‘It is perfect,’ she said. ‘As I knew it would be. How do you feel?’
‘Wonderful,’ I said honestly.
She nodded briskly.
‘It could have been made for you. My mother, whose dress this was, would agree, I know. Help me up.’
Quickly, I gave her my arm, and she rose to her feet and went over to her own wardrobe. After a few moments, she turned around, holding a finely knitted cream-coloured shawl, which she held out to me. It was as soft as a cloud, and I stroked it in wonder.
