‘That sounds great. The ceilidh’s always ma favourite part.’ Fiona gave Deb an appraising glance. ‘This one looks killer on ye. But ye should try on the other one too.’
‘All right.’ Obediently, Deb went back to the changing room and slipped out of the red dress. The black dress was one of the bandage-style bodycon dresses she’d seen models wearing in shop windows. She’d never envisaged herself wearing one, though: it felt so daring. But, the fact that Fiona had said how nice she’d looked in the red dress had bolstered her confidence. She reached back and did the thick silver zip as far as she could, and then went back to Fiona.
‘Can you do the zip for me? Couldn’t quite get it to go all the way up,’ she explained, smoothing her hands over her hips and stomach. ‘I can’t believe it fits, to be quite honest. I don’t think I’ve been this thin since I was eighteen. I hardly recognise myself.’
‘You’ve lost quite a bit, then?’ Fiona did the zip up deftly and stood back to look at Deb. ‘Ye know what? I like this one more. The colour’s even nicer wi’ yer hair, an’ the dress shape is very flatterin’. I like that pencil skirt length. To the knee. Very elegant an’ sexy.’
‘Thank you. It’s surprisingly comfy.’ Deb walked around the little fairy-light bedecked area. ‘I guess because it’s stretchy. I feel like I could run around in this one. You know, because as the event organiser, I’ll be working all night. I can’t be wearing something I can’t move in.’
‘Fair enough. I can understand that.’ Fiona handed her a stylish gold costume jewellery necklace. There was a chain at the back, and the front featured six large gold coins that, when Deb held it up against herself, sat nicely on her collarbone.
‘Oh. That’s nice.’ Deb admired herself in the mirror for a moment. ‘Do you really think I can get away with this dress?’ She turned and looked at herself from the side, not quite believing how flat her tummy was. ‘Thing is, I had endometriosis for a long time. I was always really bloated – some days, I looked six months pregnant. I had an operation a few months back, but I’m still getting used to… my new body, I guess.’
‘Of course. Ye look fab.’ Fiona nodded. ‘An’ as I say, ye’ll have the shawl on as well here an’ there. An’ you’d be surprised how many ladies come in who’ve had similar things. Or still do. Bein’ a woman is hard, hen,’ she sighed. ‘I envy ye – hysterectomy, was it?’
Deb nodded.
‘Aye. I’d love not tae have a uterus anymore. Nothin’ but trouble.’ Fiona shook her head. ‘An’ when it comes tae hormones, sometimes I think, how much of how I am is ma actual personality, an’ how much is the hormones, ye know?’
‘Oh, I know.’ Deb blew out her cheeks. ‘I’m grateful to have it done and dusted. I do sometimes think about what it would have been like to have a child, though. But that’s never going to happen now.’
People had even asked Deb, sometimes, when the baby was due. Once, on a train, someone had stood up and let her have their seat, obviously believing that she was with child.
Now, she never would be. The thought gave her a pang of loss, even though there had never been a baby to lose. It was more that one potential future life had disappeared, or, more accurately, had had to be sacrificed.
The condition had also made it almost impossible to lose weight. She hadn’t ever been one for dieting, but she had tried various exercise regimes, because she wanted to feel fit and healthy. Before the endometriosis, Deb had been a keen jogger and enjoyed dancing. Yet, when it got really bad, she hardly had the energy to walk to the shops, some days. The prospect of running a few miles wasn’t all that appealing when you had to wear a maximum strength tampon and a brick of a sanitary towel just to leave the house. Plus, the various hormone-based medicines the doctor had tried with her had made her feel depressed and lethargic – and, she was convinced that they stopped her losing weight, too.
So, it was really weird to Deb that now, without paying any attention to it at all, she’d dropped probably two dress sizes. All as a result of having healed from the hysterectomy, not needing to be on any hormone medication anymore, and the endo itself having been shown the door. Finally, her body was able to regulate itself normally. And, with a busy lifestyle, and eating well, this was apparently the result.
‘I’m sorry, hen.’ Fiona frowned. ‘I know we’ve just met, but I’m here if ye want tae talk aboot it. Anytime.’
‘Thanks, Fiona. That’s kind of you.’ Deb felt a little uncomfortable, but only because she wasn’t used to opening up to strangers. Yet, she was also grateful to Fiona for being so nice, and she liked her. ‘It’s nice to make a new friend, as well. Especially one with such good fashion sense,’ she said with a grin.
‘Back atcha, darlin’. Now. Have ye got shoes? Nice ones, but I guess heels that ye can still run around in, if ye need tae?’ Fiona put her hands on her hips, all business again.
‘Yeah. I’ve got some comfy heels. Black.’ Deb nodded. ‘That should be all right. Okay. I’ve decided. I’ll take the black dress.’ She gave another little twirl in front of the mirror. ‘You’re right. It does look good.’
‘Aye, be brave, hen.’ Fiona gave Deb’s shoulder a little squeeze. ‘You’re gonna rock that party, ah promise ye. There willnae be a man there who can keep their eyes off ye. An’ some of the lassies, too,’ she laughed.
Unbidden, Kyle Abernethy’s face popped into Deb’s mind. Had she been actively trying not to think about Kyle since their run in at the Post Office? Yes. Had it worked? Not in the slightest.
He wouldn’t be at the party, so it didn’t matter. Kyle wouldn’t see her in her new, beautiful dress. Anyway, she wasn’t there to be pretty. She was there to do her job, which she was being paid handsomely for. And that should be enough.
TWENTY-SIX
The castle looked magical.
It had rained all day the day before, causing Deb to almost tear her hair out with worry – she didn’t want people to be tracking mud from the fields into the castle, and she also didn’t want it to be raining when the fireworks were planned – or the bonfire, which was such a key part of the May Day celebrations. But, the forecast had promised a dry, fine day for the day of the party, and by the time the evening arrived, the castle grounds felt reasonably dry underfoot, and Angus, who was managing the fireworks, had been happily setting them up in the topiary garden a couple of hours earlier.
She had had the dream about the skipping girl again. It wasn’t an anxious dream, or a memory. Deb knew that she wasn’t dreaming about herself. It was as if she was watching a sepia reel from something in the past.
It played on her mind, but she couldn’t think about it now. The party had to be her main focus.
As far as Deb could see, everything was set, andmostlyeverything was perfect.
Not everything, of course. As with any event, there were always a few things that didn’t go to plan. The fireworks andthe bonfire were under control, the band had arrived and had started playing, the bar was running under Dotty and Eric’s expert supervision and the caterers had arrived and had settled into the castle kitchen.
However, the glassware that Deb had hired for the evening had arrived with half of the wine glasses broken, and the napkins had come in the wrong colour: she’d ordered forest green, and she’d gotten a very un-Scottish mint colour which didn’t match any of the decorations. Still, if that was all that was going to go wrong, then she’d take it. She’d managed to get Anna to make up the shortfall in the wine glasses from the castle’s own supply of crystal – which she did feel a little cautious about using but, frankly, she had no choice – and they’d use the paper napkins that the caterers had brought as standard, instead of the fabric ones that Deb had planned.
