‘Do you remember when we were teenagers, Lotts? We used to talk about our weddings. You wanted to be carried off from the altar by Carver Doone.’
‘A much-misunderstood man. Lorna Doone was a fool not to marry him,’ said Lottie firmly.
‘He was the villain.’
‘He was sexy.’
‘So basically you didn’t want to be married, you wanted to be ravished?’
Lottie considered. ‘No-oo. No, I don’t think so. I think I just wanted to drive a man mad with lust. Preferably in front of all my friends and relations, including Jemima Crane from next door and Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. Of course, then they’d have to chase after us and rescue me. But, hey, I’m a drama queen. What can I tell you? I don’t think it was anything more sinister than that.’
‘I can’t remember what I wanted.’
Lottie canted round on the sofa. ‘You chopped and changed. You wanted to be married in a woodland glade, in secret, I remember that. Oh, and you always had that picture on your wall, with that woman with long flowing sleeves knighting a handsome young man in chain mail.’
Bella wriggled. ‘Oooh yes, The Accolade, I can’t remember the artist, but the woman wore the most gorgeous dress, with those long flowing mediaeval sleeves and all that golden embroidery. Ah, I’d love a dress like that …’
Lottie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Actually long mediaeval sleeves aren’t a bad idea for a princess. Why not go with something like that.’ She looked at her watch and swung her feet to the floor. ‘That’s me done. Back when I’ve excavated.’
When she returned Bella said reflectively, ‘Neither of us was really into trailing down the aisle in a big white dress, with a piss-up afterwards, were we?’
Lottie peered at herself in the sitting-room mirror. ‘The skin is definitely softer. And there aren’t any shadows under my eyes. I think this is good stuff.’
Bella yawned. ‘Good. I’m nodding off here.’
‘You can’t do that. We have Bridal Wear to nail.’ Lottie turned round and put her hands on her hips. ‘Is it time to open a bottle?’
Bella stretched. ‘Mmmm.’
‘Come on. You can’t go to sleep. We must work.’
‘I saw Richard last night,’ said Bella dreamily. ‘Got to bed very late.’
‘Good for you.’ Lottie had fetched a bottle and was applying a corkscrew with brisk efficiency. ‘That’s the idea. Concentrate on him. What do you think he wants to see walking down the aisle towards him?’
‘The Curse of the Mutant Wedding Dress.’
Bella told Lottie about her fantasy moment when Lady Pansy was boring on, and they both cackled.
Lottie agreed. ‘No, you don’t want one of those giant meringue things that looks as if it could walk on its own.’
‘Walk, hunt, kill,’ intoned Bella.
‘Very probably. How much did you drink last night?’
‘One bottle of champagne between us. Honestly, Lotts, I’m just tired. I’ve got three proposals which deserve funding and I’ve only got the money for two. I need some time to evaluate the comparison and bloody Lady bloody Pansy rings me all the time about what colour stationery I want to write my thank-you notes on.’ She leaped up, looking at her watch. ‘Hey, I’ve gone over time. I’ll be burned to a crisp.’
She scooted down the hall into the bathroom and later could be heard swearing
Lottie poured herself a glass of wine and set about arranging the magazines round the floor, open at pictures she liked.
Eventually Bella came back, watery-eyed. ‘I got some stuff in my eyes when I was getting rid of the sediment,’ she explained. ‘But you’re right. My skin does feel softer.’ She poured a glass of wine for herself. ‘I shall tell Lady Pansy, so she can start another sodding file. Face masks, brides for the use of.’
She plonked herself down on the rug in front of the fire and crossed her legs. ‘So, right, let’s have a look at the meringues.’
But Lottie had opened all the magazines at photographs of day dresses. Tailored day dresses, floaty day dresses, knock-out cream wool belted day dresses. Skirts of all lengths. Waisted jackets; loose, unstructured jackets; almost-a-man’s-dinner-jacket jackets. And silky cocktail trousers with piratical silk sashes and high-collared shirts. Even multi-layered grunge-with-attitude outfits where you couldn’t tell which bit went where.
‘What are these for?’
‘The photoshoot next week? Remember?
‘Oh, God, Yes. OK.’ Bella surveyed them all quickly. ‘I like that,’ she said, looking at the cream wool stunner with a sigh. ‘But I’d spill coffee on it or something.’