Chapter 58
Opening the envelope, Gary read the invitation and called out to his wife. ‘Tracy! Look at this!’ Tracy scurried over and read the cream card edged with gold.
‘“Lord Cavendish-Blake and Miss Taylor invite you to their wedding…” Blimey, Gary, I didn’t expect to be invited to that.’
‘Why not?’ he replied indignantly. ‘We are neighbours.’
‘Yeah, but…’ Her mind was already spinning with what to wear. Fancy her going to an aristocratic wedding – who would have thought? She pictured Sharon’s spiteful scowl and a degree of uncertainty shoved its way in. Gary picked up on it immediately.
‘Hey, don’t worry. We’ll have a ball, Trace. It was fine when they came here, wasn’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘You like Megan, and Finula is bound to be there, too.’
‘Yes. You’re right.’
He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s go into town and buy new outfits. We don’t want to let the side down, do we?’
All day they looked, and whilst Gary was soon fitted up with a slim-fit charcoal suit, Tracy just couldn’t find what she wanted. All the dresses had been the wrong colour, the wrong shape, too fussy, too boring, didn’t feel comfortable, didn’t look special, and Gary’s patience was wearing thin.
‘Surely there must be something you like, Trace? We’ve been in every shop!’ He was exasperated. ‘You’ll have to look on-line.’
‘No. I need to try it on. There must be somewhere else I can look,’ she persisted. Then she saw it.Thedress, staring at her in the shop window. ‘That’s it!’ she pointed. Gary turned in the direction of her finger.
‘Oxfam!’
‘Yes,’ she laughed, ‘so what?’
Shaking his head, he crossed the road, following Tracy, who had quickly run inside the shop. By the time he had entered and plonked down his shopping bags, she was in the changing room. Moments later she pulled back the curtain and his jaw dropped. She was right. It really was perfect. The fabric was silky with a silver-green background and bright floral pattern. It was sleeveless with a dipped neckline, slim fitting, tapering in at the waist and it fell just above the knee. It could have been made for her. He swallowed.
‘You look gorgeous, Tracy,’ he said gruffly, swiftly looking round to make sure nobody was listening.
‘Ah, thanks, Gary,’ she chirped, swaying round in front of the mirror. Then, turning to him she said, with as straight a face as possible, ‘Can we afford it?’
