‘Oh, my, that is marvellous,’ said Joy, eyeing Sarah in admiration.
Sarah turned to look in the mirror. Never had she felt more foolish. An apron covered her body. An apron. Not the pastel taffeta dress she’d hoped for.
‘Do you like it?’ asked Kate. ‘I had it made especially. I saw the fabric in a charity shop and fell in love with it. The flowers are the exact type we’re having at the wedding.’
‘It’s great,’ said Sarah, her voice monotone. Kate was right about the fabric, it was pretty. But as presents went, Sarah had never felt so undervalued. ‘Sorry,’ she said, pulling off the apron and putting it back in the box. ‘I have to go. I picked up Fran’s phone by mistake and need to drop it back to her.’
‘Oh,’ said Kate, her smile fading. ‘That’s a shame. I thought we were going for a drink after the fitting.’
‘Yes, sorry about that. I’d love to go another time.’
‘OK. Oh, and Sarah?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t tell Fran about the apron. I’ve had one made up for her too and I want it to be a surprise.’
‘OK.’
Sarah found her way out of the house, despite her vision being blurred by tears. All those hours she’d spent with Kate, thinking they were friends. All those hours listening to her moan about seating plans, grumble about her mother-in-law, pore over floral arrangements. All that time given in the hope of friendship, and all along, Kate only saw her as the hired help.
Chapter 37
‘Hattie,hi,it’sSarah.’
‘Sarah? Is everything OK? You sound upset.’
‘I’m fine,’ lied Sarah. ‘It’s just hay fever.’
‘That’s good. Not that you have hay fever I mean, but I’m pleased you’re not upset. You sound like you’ve been crying.’ Hattie laughed, and Sarah choked out a bitter laugh of her own. ‘How did the dress fitting go?’
‘Yeah, great. The reason I’m calling is that I picked up Fran’s phone by mistake. Could you give me her address and I’ll drop it back to her while I’m in town?’
There was a pause on the line.
‘Hattie? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, sorry. Um, how about you bring it back to the café? Fran will be in tomorrow and you can give it back to her then.’
‘That’s stupid, as I’m in Bodmin now. I may as well take it back to her while I’m here.’
‘Yes, but I’m not supposed to give out staff details.’
Sarah laughed. ‘Hattie, this is Fran we’re talking about. I work with the woman every day. What do you think I’m going to do, burgle her house?’
‘Fine, I’ll give you the address, but could you post the phone through the letter box? Fran hasn’t been too well and she might be sleeping.’
‘She seemed fine this morning.’
Hattie sighed down the phone. ‘Look, just put it through the letter box, please. I’ll text you the address.’
‘OK,’ said Sarah, hanging up the phone.
After walking for ten minutes, Sarah stopped to check the map on her phone. She turned down a narrow street, ramshackle terraced houses packed together on either side of the road.
Number nine stood out from the other houses. A trimmed hedge lined the border between the property and the road. Herbs grew up between the gravel, trimmed into uniform sizes. A window box housed coloured bedding plants and a crazy paving path led to the front door, where two stone lions guarded the entrance.
The house was well cared for, but Sarah had been expecting something a little more homely, a little less regimented. As Sarah walked up the path, a net curtain twitched. Hattie had been specific about not knocking, but now, seen, Sarah felt she had little choice.
