“It was an old, neglected shop, falling down with age. I painted it with my own hands, dreamed up a beautiful café and created that look.”
“And it became a huge success?” Because Laura herself had nothing and was having to build a career from the ground up. Did things really work out so easily?
“My granny used to say, when you walk a step towards life, life walks two steps towards you. So yes, things worked out. It wasn’t easy, and I’m by no means rich, but what I have no one can take away from me by simply abandoning me.”
How was it to feel such faith in yourself? It was what gave Millie that gentle strength that radiated from her face, that made people love her.
“You are beautiful, Laura.” Millie took her hand and pulled her in front of the mirror. “And you’re funny and talented. That’s enough to make most women envy you. Look at all your blessings and say ‘thank you.’ Then start enjoying your blessings and make wonderful things come true for yourself.”
“So you like the dress?”
Millie’s face softened. “Love it. I never thought I could have something so perfect.”
“There’ll be more.” Laura gathered the two chiffon layers and lifted them to expose the silk underneath. Now we know it fits—”
“Like a glove,” Millie said, wonder in her voice.
“I will paint the little flowers along the hem and here,” she said, pointing to the lower part of the skirt.
“Why on the inside layer and not on the chiffon itself?” Millie asked.
“It would be too harsh, too obvious. I want it subtle, like seeing your favourite herbs and blossoms through a morning mist.”
“I think you can see into my soul,” Millie said. “How long will it take you?”
“I’ll finalize the stitching on the seams today and start painting tomorrow. It should take a week, which will give us three days in hand before the wedding day.”
There was more frantic whispering outside.
“What’s going on?” Millie inclined her head towards the closed door.
“It’s the women.; they want a glimpse of the dress. I’ve kept it hidden and the room locked. I think their excitement has reached fever pitch.”
Millie laughed. “Oh, I don’t believe in this superstitious nonsense about not seeing the dress before the church.”
“Are you sure?”
“Let them in, let them in.”
Laura opened the door and about twenty women almost fell through. Even Tirana was there, baby in her arms.
“Well?” Millie asked. “How do I look?”
It took them several minutes before anyone spoke, then they gushed, some in English, others in a range of languages, Albanian, Somali, Portuguese.
To Laura it was the most incredible confidence boost; she might cry herself seeing them almost too timid to approach Millie. Their eyes were all on the fabric.
“You cut on the bias?” Rovena asked. “Very good cut, it makes the fabric drape on the body.”
Tirana shifted the baby as she reached into her pocket for her phone.
“No pictures.” Laura quickly blocked her view. “You can’t post this on social media until after the wedding.”
Reluctantly, Tirana returned her phone to its pocket.
The girl lived half her life online.
In fact it was Tirana who, three days later, spotted the posts.
