We’re holding the competition in the library, where we can push back the bookshelves like they do on court days. Dan’s hosting it from the podium used by the magistrate and the contestants will walk up the middle of the room. They’ll use the space behind the bookshelves at the backas a green room. I’m baking up a storm in the cottage kitchen: sausage rolls, mini pasties, ham sandwiches, and tuna and cheese puffs.
A car horn beeps on the drive and I run to my bedroom and look out of the window. Margaret’s getting out of the car, holding her coat around her against the wind. I can see her looking around for signs of Sean. Once again that guilt takes hold of me. How could I go from feeling so positive about life to feeling this low again?
I take down the dress that Maire’s altered for me from my wardrobe door. In return I’ve made another delivery of oyster shells to the art shop. Then I go to the kitchen and pick up the trays of sausage rolls. I open the front door and Margaret sails in on a gust of wind and excitement.
‘Oh, wow, you’ve done an amazing job here,’ she says, slipping a sausage roll into her mouth. ‘I can do your make-up again tonight, if you like.’
‘D’you know, I think I might have a go at it myself tonight,’ I say as we head to the door.
‘Cool,’ she says, still chewing on the sausage roll. ‘Use my stuff, whatever you want.’
‘Thank you.’ I want to tell her what a good friend she’s been and what a crap one I’ve been. But I can’t.
‘Are you OK, Fi?’ she asks before we head to the car.
‘Yes, fine,’ I say, checking on Grace and keeping my blushes to myself.
‘You seem … different,’ says Margaret, helping herself to another sausage roll.
‘No, don’t be daft, I’m grand,’ I say, realising I’ve slipped into local-speak.
‘Hey, is there something you’re not telling me?’ She’s expanding further with hot air and excitement by the minute.
‘No, there’s not, nothing, really … Now, come on,’ I usher her out, our arms full of bite-sized morsels. ‘And don’t eat any more on the way!’ I say bossily, deflecting attention from my guilty secret. Margaret keeps looking sideways at me all the way to the library.
I’m clearing down the last remaining books from the librarian’s desk and arranging the sausage rolls and tuna puffs on it. Rosie and Lily are going to do teas and coffees.
‘I’ve got it!’ Margaret shouts.
‘I wonder if we should’ve offered a bar,’ I say, looking at the table of food. Margaret waves away my worries.
‘They can have a drink afterwards. Otherwise they’ll be up and down to the bar and we’ll never get the important business done. The festival is only a week away and we need to crown a Pearl Queen. Anyway, are you listening? I said I’d got it!’
‘Got what?’ I look around her. Raffle tickets, money box, microphone. I can’t think of anything we’ve missed.
‘It’s Dan!’ she beams. I look round. I hadn’t seen anyone come in.
‘Where?’
‘Not here. But it is, isn’t it?’ She’s grinning and clutching a poster for the event to her chest, sellotape in each of the corners.
‘Sorry, Margaret, what are you talking about?’ The poster’s stuck to her. I peel it away.
‘You and him.’ She rolls her eyes from side to side. ‘You finally got it on!’ she announces, and my mouth drops open, just as the door blows itself open, sending the poster up into my face.
‘I knew it,’ Margaret mouths as she grabs the poster back off me and slides off to put it up outside. I have no idea where to go with this. Do I keep denying it or do I let her think it’s Dan? Maybe then that’ll be an end to it.
As we head back to the pub to get changed, Margaret links her arm through mine, chuffed to bits that she thinks she’s found out who’s put the glint in my eye. Wickedly, I decide not to dissuade her. Not for the time being anyway.
‘It was just a one-off,’ I say, as she tries to quiz me some more, swallowing hard and trying to get rid of the bitter taste of lies from my mouth.
‘I think it’s lovely.’ Margaret has a soft, dreamy look on her face as she takes down her dress from the back of her bedroom door. ‘I just hope Sean decides to finally have a moment of madness with me.’
I am cringing inside.
‘Just going to use the bathroom.’ I stand up, grabbing my own dress and taking it with me.
I slide my altered wedding dress down over my hips and it hugs me in all the right places. It feels perfect, not like before. Before, this dress made me feel like someone I wasn’t. Now it feels like me. Shorter, simpler, stripped of all the unnecessary trimmings. I love it.
