Romancing Robin Hood (10 page)

‘Not kidding,' Grace grimaced but with a smile to indicate to Daisy she knew she was being ridiculous, but couldn't help it. ‘I'm even sat here remembering how stubbly my legs are. I didn't even remember to check if my underwear matches. I'm being a crap bridesmaid and I haven't even got the dress yet.'

Fighting the urge to laugh, Daisy took hold of Grace's hand, ‘I don't give two hoots at the state of your stubble or your underwear, and I don't believe for a minute that you'll let me down. I know you don't like people looking at you, but you're beautiful, and it's about time you realised that. Stop hiding behind your work and your jeans.'

‘I am too fat, my hair is too straggly, and my boobs are too big,' Grace held up her hand to stop Daisy arguing with her, and added, ‘and anyway, you wear jeans all the time too!' ‘Of course I do, I have little creatures pooping down me all day. When Marcus and I go out I put something else on, though. I'm not always hiding behind denim.'

‘Oh.'

‘Honey, this isn't meant to be a torture session; it's meant to be fun. Let's be two silly people playing with posh dresses and take it from there shall we? To be honest, I'm pretty nervous as well. I don't actually like dress shopping myself, do I?' Daisy spoke as though she was encouraging a small child.

‘I'm sorry, Daze, thanks. I really don't want to let you down.'

‘You won't.' Daisy spoke with finality as she screeched the Land Rover back into gear and headed towards the city, ‘Now, let's forget dresses for a second. Are you OK to stay with me the night before the wedding? I've reserved a couple of rooms at the hotel nearest Hardwick Hall, but I need to confirm the booking really soon. Is that all right?'

‘That's a good idea. I'd like to be able to help you out before the off.'

‘Thanks, I'd appreciate that. It's called the Partridge Hotel. Marcus won't be staying there, his folks live nearby, and so he'll be with them. I'll confirm tonight.'

‘Thanks Daze, you're a star.'

‘True,' Daisy risked a glance at her friend, and was relieved to see that she no longer giving the impression that she was about to throw up, ‘It's a double room – just in case!'

Reclining on the cream leather sofa, Grace sipped her freshly squeezed orange juice. The shop was unbearably warm, probably due to the almost permanent state of undress of most its clients, Grace thought it wasn't unlike sitting in a greenhouse on a hot day.

Daisy had already tried on the first of the three dresses she'd reserved, but on this second try had decided against it. A decision Grace had to agree with. Lovely though it was, it wasn't low-cut enough, and squashed Daisy's boobs, giving her a figure that resembled a cottage loaf.

Grace could hear Daisy muttering happily to the assistant. She was supposed to be searching through the row of size 16 bridesmaid dresses the assistant has sorted out for her while she was waiting, but so far all Grace had done was run her eyes over them from the safety of the sofa, mentally discarding certain colours and shades. She was just considering if something in a rich plum colour would suit her, when the changing room curtain was drawn back and Daisy, a little flushed, but grinning broadly, was helped out.

One minute later Daisy was stood on an upturned box so that the assistant could pin up the hem to the required length. She looked incredible. The happy radiance to future bride's eyes told Grace that she'd fallen in love with the dress she had on already.

Ivory, but inlaid discreetly with a spattering of delicate beads within an occasional silver leaf and butterfly pattern, it flattered Daisy's figure perfectly. Little tank-style sleeves covered the very tops of her arms, and a crossover asymmetrical draping of the slightly dropped torso slimmed her rounded stomach. An A-line skirt completed the effect, slimming her even further.

Grace gasped as she got up and circled her friend. At the back of the dress a V-shaped panel was laced securely to help produce the required line, which then flared out at the back to form a neat chapel-length train. ‘I love it Daisy. I totally love it. You look incredible.'

Daisy glowed as the assistant, who after an hour of seeing her in her underwear, had introduced herself as Ashley, added to the compliments. ‘I have to have this one, don't I Grace?'

‘Damn right you do. God, I never knew you had a waist beneath those dungarees, you cow!'

Daisy laughed, ‘I haven't, this hidden corset business is holding in a multitude of sins.' She paused. ‘Do you think I should try on the last one I reserved as well?'

‘That's up to you,' Grace said, privately hoping she would, thus keeping her out of the limelight for a little longer, ‘but you do look totally incredible in that one.'

Trapped by indecision, Daisy appealed to Ashley, the assistant, who said, ‘Well, to be truthful, I think you should go with the one you have on. The other dress is lovely, but of the three this is the one that suits you best. Of course, that's only my opinion.'

‘And as you see women in these things all the time, you should know,' said Daisy decisively, a huge smile still plastered to her face. ‘Right then, this is the one! Do you think Marcus will like it, Grace?'

‘He'll love it. Trust me, I'm a doctor!' Grace couldn't help but beam back at her friend, who was positively alight with happiness, but experienced an unexpected wave of envy, which took her totally by surprise. Grace swallowed it back with a dose of self-disgust.

‘Now then,' said Daisy firmly, ‘it'll take me at least ten minutes to get out of this; you look at those bridesmaid dresses. I bet you haven't even peeked at them, have you?' One glimpse of Grace's sheepish face confirmed Daisy's suspicions. ‘We don't have to get one here, but it's a good place to start hunting. So hunt!'

Nodding meekly, Grace did as she was told, hoping there would be something she liked, and they would therefore be spared traipsing all around the city looking in other shops. Besides, she was getting hungry.

After ten minutes of baffled staring Grace appealed to Ashley. ‘I'm sorry, but I haven't the first clue what will suit me. Can you help?' Ashley smiled. ‘No problem. First things first. We need to see what styles suit your figure, and then we'll see what colour would be best. You'll need a dress made up, so don't worry about size as such. All the dresses are made way too big, and then we alter them to fit you once you're wearing them.'

‘Blimey,' Grace gave a nervy laugh, ‘really?'

‘Yup,' Ashley, seeing how apprehensive Grace was, gave her another bolstering smile, ‘I tell you what, I'll pull out three that I think could work for you style wise, and we'll go from there. OK? If you don't like any of them, don't worry, we'll chose three more, and so on.'

Thirty minutes later Grace and Daisy had swapped positions. Daisy was relaxing on the sofa with a much-needed cold drink and Grace was standing on the box having a chocolate brown dress pinned around her. She was trying to stand as statue-like as possible, as she had a childish fear of being pricked with a pin.

The first two dresses she tried on had already been declared, ‘OK if we can't find anything else'. This third one however had felt right even before it was pulled into place. Grace was a little embarrassed as the urge to grin at her own reflection consumed her, and could tell from Daisy's face that she liked it too.

The wide-scooped halter neck ran down to a midriff sash and a laced-up back panel, which helped pull in her waist and show off her chest to its best advantage, while stopping short of being indecent. Grace instantly compared it to the emergency top she'd bought from the charity shop yesterday. Perhaps Aggie had been right to insist on a lower neckline, it did seem to suit her. And remembering the brief but admiring glance that Rob Franks had given her, perhaps he liked that style on her too. The thought made Grace's cheeks colour as she admired the sleek A-line skirt which matched the form of Daisy's dress. It was plain and simple, and suited her perfectly.

‘Now,' Ashley put her hands on her hips, a fresh wave of determination on her young face, ‘the dress is you – but the colour isn't.'

‘Why not?' Grace loved it. The rich mocha fabric felt familiar and therefore safe.

‘Because, I bet you wear blue, brown, or black all the time. This is supposed to be different, special, and because, to be brutal, it would be good for you to wear a colour that complements your hair rather than one that matches it exactly.'

‘Dead right,' added Daisy, but on seeing Grace's distraught expression quickly added, ‘we're not saying brown doesn't suit you, honey, but I want you to be different, just for one day.'

‘OK,' Grace muttered sounding far from convinced.

‘What colour do you suggest, Ashley?' Daisy asked, ‘I don't mind as long as it goes with my ginger hair, and makes Grace look even more incredible than she does already.'

‘Well, the best colour really would be this one,' Ashley pulled a dress off the rack, ‘it would suit each of your colourings, and the rich shade would enhance your figure Grace.'

The friends burst out laughing, but on seeing Ashley's worried face, Daisy did her best to stifle her giggles, ‘Don't worry, we're not laughing at you.'

‘Is it the colour? I know some people can be funny about it, but honestly, it isn't unlucky at all, and it really is the ideal shade for each of you.'

Forcing herself to be more composed, jiggling about as she laughed had already caused a pin to jab her, Grace asked, ‘So, what colour do you actually call that shade then, Ashley?'

‘Bottle sage.'

‘Not Lincoln Green then?' Daisy and Grace burst into renewed fits of giggles.

Chapter Twelve

Lincoln Green! She'd never hear the last of it. Grace sat at her little desk in the converted bedroom that operated as her home study, and experienced a flutter of excitement. The dress had made her feel different. Special somehow, and although the irony of the colour wouldn't go unnoticed by Daisy's family at the wedding, it felt gratifyingly right that that particular shade of green suited her so well.

Grace's study was her favourite room in her two-bedroomed terraced home. Although it would have been a squash to use the second bedroom for anyone bigger than a very small child, it was just big enough for three rows of bookshelves, a filing cabinet of research notes, and her desk. The walls, unlike in her work office, were not bedecked with posters of Robin Hood and medieval landmarks, but held a myriad of photographs from various periods of Grace's life, stuffed into a variety of different-sized frameless frames.

Her childhood friends, birthdays, her parents, her family home, and her pets, all now long gone. The students she'd known, some briefly, some that she stayed in touch with via email and the odd letter in a Christmas card. Daisy was there in numerous guises, captured forever at various points in their lives over the past twenty years. Now, Grace thought as she swivelled on her chair, there would be wedding snaps to add to the collection.

Grace was still amazed that there would be. Daisy had been so adamant about not getting married, and here she was, neck-deep in arranging a wedding, honeymoon, and recruiting a band of helpers to feed and care for her animals while she was away. Grace hadn't ever made such a negative decision about marriage, though in fact she'd never really considered her future in that way at all. She'd wanted a career, and she'd got one. Exactly the one she desired. Grace had simply supposed she'd meet someone when the time was right, but suddenly, without it feeling as if any time had actually passed, she was almost thirty- nine, with forty looming at her from around the corner, single, and about to be the world's oldest bridesmaid.

Daisy had booked her a double room at the hotel, and somehow it seemed a waste of bed space that was there to mock her. It had been three years since Grace's last date, which had been such a non-event that she hadn't been in a hurry to repeat the experience. ‘Which is just as well,' she told a photograph of herself standing in front of Exeter cathedral with Daisy at the tender age of 19, ‘as there's no one I'd like to date out there anyway.'

Her mind drifted back to Rob Franks. He was the nicest man she'd met for ages. But he was so nice she couldn't believe he was single, and anyway, he was a handsome man. He could have any slim young student he wanted. ‘There's no way he'd settle for a sad, plump-ish, outlaw-obsessed almost forty-something, even if we do have work in common.'

Sighing with a hint of self pity, Grace switched on her email. She hadn't checked it since her return from Sheffield the night before, and now, early on Monday morning she faced the list of contacts with a feeling that life had rather defeated her.

Running her eyes down the list, searching for anything she could delete or legitimately leave until she got into work, she saw a message from Rob Franks.

Her heart jumped a little as she saw his name. ‘Oh for Christ's sake, girl, get a grip. You are too old for a teenage crush.'

Opening the message, Grace read,

Hi Grace, thanks again for a great viva. Christopher has already been on to York Uni with reference to a post-doc research post; which I am damn sure he'll get.

I've been thinking. We should write something together. A paper on ‘Official criminology during the Black Death' or something???

What you think? I'll be honest – a joint paper with a respected historian such as yourself would help consolidate my post at Nottingham – plus, I think it could be fun to work together.

Have you got time over what remains of the summer vacation?

Hope shopping was a success.

Best, Rob

Reading the email through for a second time, Grace was touched that he'd remembered about her shopping trip, flattered that he believed her worth collaborating on a paper with, but alarmed by the thought of such a paper taking up the rest of the summer holidays. She had planned to finish compiling the draft of her novel over the student break, and then finally get back to her textbook in the autumn term before Professor Davis despaired of her.