‘Ooh, fancy,’ says Leonie, eyeing Kate and making her laugh.
‘Very fancy,’ agrees Emma, before turning her attention back to her reflection in the mirror. ‘I’m not sure if it’sthedress though.’
‘It’s only the first one you’ve tried on,’ says Clara, consulting her clipboard. ‘I’m going to give it a seven?’
‘There are plenty more to try on!’ trills the sales assistant, dashing to fetch a dress from the rails of silk and lace.
Emma’s cousin pours Kate a glass of prosecco and she settles into the velvet cushions as Emma disappears back into the changing room to try on the next dress. Rosie is still being cuddled on the other end of the sofa, so Kate lets herself sink back and sip her prosecco, enjoying herself.
There are a lot of beautiful dresses. There’s a minimalist white sheath dress that hugs Emma’s body as tightly and lovingly as a best friend comforting you after a break-up and an oyster tulle confection covered in pearls, among many others. Each one is given a score, but none of them are deemed quite right. The longer they go on, the more determined the sales assistant seems, appearing with new dresses they hadn’t spotted on the rails.
Finally, a loud squeal escapes from behind the curtain.
‘Guys! This is it! This is the one! I love it so much!’
As the curtains part and Emma emerges, the group of women take a collective inhale. Even the sales assistant, who is hovering at the back of the group with another pile of dresses slung over her arm, audibly gasps.
‘Oh, Emma. My darling, you look just perfect.’ Caren’s voice is soft with emotion.
Rosie, now back in Kate’s arms and sitting on her lap so she can see, opens her eyes wide in wonder.
The dress is made from the faintest blush silk dotted with lace flowers. A tight bodice hugs Emma’s frame perfectly before the fabric skims her hips and gathers in a shining pool at her feet. Tiny floaty sleeves hanging off the shoulder make her look like a Grecian goddess.
‘And look, it has pockets!’ Emma slips her hands inside them and twirls.
The women let out a collective ‘Oooh!’
‘It’s perfect!’ exclaims Leonie.
‘You look like a film star.’
‘The dress says princess, but the pockets say badass career woman.’
‘I’m writing “this is the one!” on the clipboard! In capital letters!’ says Clara, clapping her hands together.
Emma pauses in front of Kate and Rosie, her cheeks pink with delight.
‘Kate, Rosie, what do you think?’
‘I love it, Em. It’s perfect. Rosie, how about you? Don’t you think Auntie Emma looks beautiful?’
She looks down at her daughter and as she does, she noticesthat a frown has appeared on Rosie’s forehead. She opens her mouth and in one horrifying second, Kate recognises the expression on her daughter’s face.
‘No!’ Kate cries, trying to stop what is about to happen. But she’s too late.
Erin once told Kate that when her sons were babies they were able to projectile vomit a distance of up to three metres. Kate never believed her. Not until she watches her daughter open her mouth wide and empty the contents of her stomach directly onto her best friend’s wedding dress.
There’s a shocked silence as no one seems to know how to react.
‘Oh Emma. I am so, so sorry …’ Kate’s eyes fill suddenly with hot tears. Maybe she shouldn’t have come after all. She’s ruined Emma’s perfect dress and she’s ruined the day too.
But then Emma tilts her head back and starts to laugh. And before long, the others are joining in too, Clara handing Kate a handful of tissues and Caren helping her wipe up both Rosie and the dress.
‘At least she’s still only breastfeeding,’ says Caren as they dab at the material of the dress, while the sales assistant watches on in horror, mouth hanging open.
‘I feel awful,’ Kate says. ‘I’ll pay to get it dry-cleaned …’ But Emma reaches out and squeezes her shoulder.
‘Babe. I’m about to spend four grand on a dress. I think they can pay for dry cleaning.’
