“Yes, I really like this guy. He’s gorgeous and cute and funny. Although, to be honest, I’m not so sure he means to be funny, but he is. He’s a darling.”
Flo snorted. “‘Darling’ isn’t the word I’d have used to describe him, but then, hey, what do I know? I stuffed up the only meaningful relationship I’ve ever had.”
Amber glanced at her friend, whose face had dropped once more. “You didn’t stuff it up, my stupid brother did.”
She flung her arm around Flo and they walked back through the beautiful gardens on which Flo lavished all the energy and love that she’d once reserved for Amber’s brother, Rob.
“What you need to do, Amber, is to wow this guy when you go out so that he has no chance of walking away.”
“Wow him? Hm, I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Where is it you’re going to dinner?”
“St Augustine’s.”
“Oh! That’s not your usual stamping ground.”
“I know. I’ve no idea what to wear. But Rachel will. She’s been there loads.”
“Oh, Amber! You’re not Rachel! Wear your usual clothes; don’t try to be someone you’re not!”
“But that someone is what gorgeous David wants!”
“Well, let him find that someone elsewhere.”
Amber shrugged. “It’s just ‘dressing up’ like we used to do when we were kids. And it just might make him see me in a different way.”
“Honey.” Flo stopped outside the open French windows and took hold of Amber’s hands. “You’re you, and you’ll always be you, so why pretend to be anyone different?”
Before Amber could answer, Flo was called back into the house and Amber was left alone. Her gaze drifted back in the general direction of where she’d seen David disappear into a house in which she was sure he didn’t live. Where had he gone? Why all the mystery? And why did he ask her out if he wasn’t attracted to her? She sighed. Flo was wrong. Nothing wrong in a bit of dress up.
3
Amber had spent the afternoon on the phone spreading the news that Green Eyes—she really would have to try to stop herself from calling him that—had asked her out, and trying to find a dress which would allow her to fit into St Augustine’s. Flo had told her not to worry, that she should be true to herself and wear the orange floaty number with the purple fringe. But she’d managed to contact her big sister Rachel overseas and she’d come to the rescue by offering one of her dresses, obviously under the misapprehension that Amber was leaving behind her hippy phase. Amber didn’t have the heart to correct her beautiful sister.
The remaining hours before David came to pick her up were spent altering said dress to make it fit. Rachel was curvier than Amber but Rachel had given Amber permission to do whatever she wanted with it. So Amber attacked it with her mother’s pinking shears and the sewing machine.
“And I don’t know why he’s waiting until eight to pick you up. A bit late, if you ask me,” said Jim, flicking on the outside lights and peering through the curtains of the unlit drawing room.
“Pop! What are you doing?”
“Being prepared,” he murmured. “Like a good boy scout.”
“You’re a bit old to be a boy scout,” she mumbled as she adjusted the straps of her dress and smoothed the wrinkled seam across her hips. It wasn’t haute couture but it was the only thing she had suitable for St Augustine’s. Not that she’d ever been there, but Rachel had told her what to expect—glamor. She caught her anxious expression in the mirror. She didn’t do glamor, but she’d give it a go. For tonight, at least.
“Amber!” called Jim from the hall where he stood in darkness. “He’s coming. I’m sure I heard his car.”
Amber padded down the hall in her bare feet, flicked on the light and went into the drawing room. She sat on the couch and pulled on her shoes. “Don’t sound so alarmed, Pop.”
“I just want you to be ready.” He came into the room and his face fell. “You’re not even ready yet!”
“I amnearly. What’s the panic, anyway?”
Jim pointed in the direction of the car whose lights briefly tracked around the uncurtained room. “That man… he’ll be here any minute and he’ll expect you to be ready.”
She stood up, gingerly testing her walk in the high heels which Rachel had insisted she wear, and did a double-take when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. She frowned, plucked a tissue from a nearby box, and blotted her lips. She sighed at her reflection—too late now to do anything about it—and glanced at her father in the reflection. “That man has a name. David.”
“Whatever, he’s coming, and you’re not ready.”
