He glances at me briefly and then mutters into his glass. ‘I just told Astrid you wear red a lot.’
Okay, then.
Astrid rummages in one of the garment bags while Bea peers in. ‘Miles thought you were a size ten, and it looks like he was spot on.’
Miles has been sizing me up? My flush is deepening. I can’t even look at him.
Does he know my bra size, too?
‘Be a darling, Miles, and put the clothes somewhere we can try them on?’
Miles springs into action at Astrid’s command, gathering both huge bags up flat in his arms, and carrying them into the spare room like a straight-backed butler. Astrid winks at me.
‘Come on. Let’s go have some fun. Bea? You want to come and help Saoirse pick out a party dress?’
The dresses are amazing. Astrid has brought eight different ones, in black, forest green, off-white (on a farm? No way) and, my favourite, scarlet. She’s also brought the most enormous faux-fur black coat. It’s so snuggly that Bea instantly bends over the bed to lay her face on it and strokes it like a pet. She has the right idea.
Astrid gets to work, unzipping the dresses as I strip down to my underwear.
‘Shall we try the scarlet first?’ she asks. ‘If Miles was right, and it is your favourite?’
‘He’s right.’ I sigh. ‘I wear red every day in winter. I feel so flat without it.’
‘If I had your colouring, I’d wear red every day too. Here you go.’ Astrid bends and holds the dress open so I can step into it, and then she zips up the back. The sensation of the silk against my skin is incredible, weighty but slinky. I swish a little, and Bea’s face lights up.
‘Saoirse’s so pretty!’
‘She is,’ Astrid agrees. ‘Miles was right.’ She winks, and my tummy does another little flip. I can’t ignore this, can’t miss this opportunity for an insight into the weird and wonderful workings of Miles’ mind. I turn my head away from Bea and whisper.
‘What did he say, exactly? About me?’
Astrid gently gathers up my hair and puts it over one shoulder so she can fasten the tiny covered buttons at the back of my neck.
‘He called me this morning and asked me to do him afavour and lend you a dress. But he said I wouldn’t regret it; that you were a knockout.’
A knockout.
Good Lord.
The flipping in my stomach moves further south to between my legs. That phrase is so strong coming from Miles, who seems detached from everything. The fact that he could see me every day, in my cheap clothes and old tights, and actually conclude that I’m in any way aknockout, is so odd, and so unbelievable, and so utterly captivating that I feel light-headed.
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper. ‘I mean—I’m sure he was just being polite.’
‘I doubt that very much, somehow,’ Astrid says quietly and slowly, in a tone I would use with Bea if she was being obtuse. ‘Is there a mirror in here?’
I lead her into the huge marble ensuite that has so many mirrors that instantly I’m reflected back at myself to infinity: a glorious red flourish amid the white and grey and glass. I twirl in the dress. It is beautiful. So beautiful. It’s by far the most exquisite thing I’ve ever had on my body. It could have been made for me.
The heavy silk glides over me, miraculously skimming my boobs and hips while fitting perfectly on the waist. There’s a light, gathered bodice that disappears into the high neck, and long sleeves, also in the lighter material. It flares out from the hips, ending just below my knee. It’s ladylike yet festive. It’s spectacular. I can definitely face the great and good of Sorrel Farm in this.
I finger the fabric. ‘What kind of silk is this?’
‘It’s a heavyweightcrêpe de chine, lined in the same fabric for extra weight. The bodice and sleeves are georgette. It works brilliantly for winter.’ Astrid stands behind me and folds her arms. ‘It really does look fabulous on you.’
‘Thank you so much for letting me borrow it. I’ll guard it with my life, I promise.’
‘It’s my pleasure. I sponsor the winter party at Sorrel Farm, you see, so tomorrow’s a bit of a showcase for my brand. So I’m thrilled to have as many guests as possible walking around in my clothes. It’s great publicity for us. Let me fetch the coat.’
She comes back with the coat. Bea’s still attached to it, holding it against her face.
