Maxine Morrey - Winter's Fairytale

‘Hello?’ a voice called out as the bells above my door tinkled. Damn. I thought I’d locked that after Tash had left. I got up and walked across the studio space, my one indulgent pair of Louboutins clicking hurriedly on the wooden floor.

‘Hi!’ I greeted Natayla as she turned back from closing the door against the wind that was once more howling down the street outside my cosy studio.

‘I’m sorry to bother you. I wasn’t sure you’d still be here at this time but we were passing.’

‘Oh I’m often here late.’ I smiled, ‘No bother at all. It’s lovely to see you! How was the honeymoon?’

‘Amazing!’ Natayla gushed, ‘Sunsets, sandy beaches, cocktails and relaxing by the pool. We didn’t really do much else.’ she said, then blushed and smiled shyly.

I smiled back at her and touched her arm gently. ‘I’m glad it all went so well, Natayla.’

‘Thank you again for making me look so beautiful.’

‘It was my pleasure.’ I answered, honestly.

‘I brought you something.’ she said, and handed me a large envelope.

Opening it, I pulled out a black and white eight-by-ten photograph of Natayla and her new husband. The photo not only screamed at me how much in love they were, but also showed her dress off perfectly.

‘Oh Natayla! That’s beautiful. Thank you so much. I shall put it up first thing tomorrow.’

My client smiled her shy little smile again and I wavered.

‘Only if you’re happy with that, of course.’

‘Yes! Yes, I am happy. Very happy.’

‘Wonderful. Thank you.’

We exchanged a hug and I walked her over to the door, pausing whilst she pulled on her gloves and hat before I opened it. She stepped out and waved again, before hurrying off to a waiting car and disappearing inside. I shut the door, this time throwing the bolt before turning back.

I looked at the clock once more, and once more thought that I really should be making a move to go home. That was the problem with living somewhere you didn’t like. You never really wanted to go there. Instead I picked up my tea and wandered over to the wall covered in beautifully framed pictures. Sipping at my drink, I let my gaze drift over the happy smiles and gorgeous dresses. I lay the latest acquisition on Tash’s desk. There was no need for a note. Tash would know what to do with it. She’d been a great find and she was excellent at all the admin side of the business, and with clients, but I still wanted to increase the number of staff. Part of my business plan was to accept an intern. I’d learned so much when I’d done the same thing after getting my degree – about all different aspects of the job, things you just can’t learn in college – and I wanted to give someone else the chance to have that same experience. The thought of going to watch Final Collection shows with the view to employing someone, and then helping to nurture and develop that talent, gave me something to look forward to. My gaze went back to the photograph lying on the desk of the happy couple. The look of joy and love on their faces radiated out of the picture. I touched it briefly, almost as if by doing that I could experience that same joy, just for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, I took my mug and rinsed it out in the little kitchenette at the back of the studio. I slipped on my coat and belted it before grabbing the oversized leather tote bag I carried everywhere, and headed to the door.

***

‘When’s it going to stop?’ I asked my best friend, Mags, as I relayed the surprise visit I’d had during the week, ‘Honestly, I feel like the prime exhibit at a zoo! I have absolutely no idea who this woman was. I didn’t even know any of the people she reeled off as having told her the “devastating news” of my being jilted at the altar.’

‘Just ignore the old bag.’ Mags said sagely as she refilled my empty wine glass.

‘She even pointed out the irony of someone who makes wedding dresses for a living being left at the altar on her own wedding day. I mean, seriously! I felt like suggesting that she should join Mensa because, of course, that thought hasn’t crossed my mind once!’

‘Have you heard anything more from him?’

‘What, since he left me that thoughtful note saying he was going to go on the honeymoon alone as it “seemed a shame to waste it” and it would be good to “have some space between us”?’ I’d definitely had too much wine as I was doing finger quotes in the air. I never did finger quotes.

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

That was the good thing about living in London. It was big. You were much less likely to bump into people you knew than if you lived in a village. Of course Steven knew all our old haunts, and seemed to be having the good sense to stay out of them. I imagine he’d heard about my reaction in the church. I knew Rob wouldn’t have said anything out of choice but announcing that the wedding was off whilst trying to stem a steady flow of blood from his nose, together with the obvious lack of a groom, had probably meant that there wasn’t a whole lot of explanation required. Steven was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d likely worked out pretty quickly that going to the places we used to frequent together may lead to the possibility of the term ‘regular haunt’ becoming more literal than figurative for him.

‘How are your parents doing?’ Mags asked.

Mags and I had been friends forever. We were both army brats with our fathers serving in the same battalion, and I couldn’t remember a time when Mags wasn’t my best friend. When it had become clear that Steven wasn’t going to make an appearance at the church, she’d automatically known that the last thing I wanted, or needed, was a crowd of people fussing around me. She’d gone over to my parents, tactfully explained the situation, then sat with them whilst my dad stared at the flower display – silently, likely imagining several different ways to kill Steven with a gerbera – and my mum repeatedly asked how Steven could do such a thing, intermittently dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered linen handkerchief. Of course, had Mags known I was about to deck the best man, she might have altered her strategy.

‘They’re ok. Devastated. Concerned. But ok,’ I took a swig of the crisp, cool wine, ‘I think so long as they know I’m all right, they’ll be fine.’

‘And are you?’ Mags asked, looking at me directly, knowing I could never give her anything but an honest answer.

I drained my glass and thought about it. Was I ok?

‘Yes. I think so. Now the shock’s worn off. I still have days when I don’t really want to get out of bed, but then my stubborn side kicks in and I think that I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing what a bloody mess he’s caused.’

Mags nodded. I knew there was another question coming.

‘Ok. But what about how you really are? That’s the “showing the world I’m ok” bit taken care of, but how are you inside. Really?’

I loved Mags to bits, but sometimes I wished she wasn’t quite so insightful. I fiddled with the wine bottle cork as I let out a sigh.

‘I’m not sure, to be honest. He hurt me. Totally humiliated me. But I am getting through it. And that sort of worries me in a way. I mean, shouldn’t I be sobbing and wailing and declaring that my broken heart will never mend? It’s made me question whether he was really The One after all. I mean, I thought he was, obviously. But now – I don’t know! As much as I hate to admit it, I’m secretly wondering if he actually did me a bit of a favour. Would the marriage even have lasted, seeing as I’m not pining away for him?’

I took another swig. ‘Of course, I’d rather he’d told me prior to the bloody wedding day!’ I said, my voice getting louder as I finished the sentence.