The Midnight Dress(68)

‘See what happens when you get a witch to make your dress?’ says Vanessa.

When Rose left the house she felt beautiful, transfixed by herself and the dress with its waterfall of twinkling glass beads, the solemn loveliness of its mourning lace sleeves. Is the dress she’s wearing a monstrous thing? She stands like that, holding the skirt, looking down.

‘Fuck off, Vanessa,’ says Pearl, moving from behind the others. ‘Rose’s dress is gorgeous.’

Pearl is wearing tangerine, an explosion of tangerine flowers across her bodice. She looks beautiful in a way that suggests she hasn’t even bothered: she’s just stepped out of the sea and straight into that dress.

‘It is,’ says Mallory, moving out of Vanessa’s golden corona. She’s in flowing fuchsia, beaming.

Vanessa narrows her eyes.

‘You look stunning, Rose,’ says Shannon.

Vanessa goes to flick her hair and remembers the basket weave of baby’s breath and stops. She turns away from the group and moves toward the back of the float.

‘All aboard,’ says Mr Harvey, and the girls have to climb up to assume their positions among the fruit.

‘Stay near me,’ whispers Pearl. ‘Please.’

They sit together on an apple.

‘I’m sorry,’ whispers Pearl, as the truck lurches forward. ‘I came to the house – did you know I came there when you were asleep, did Miss Baker tell you?’

Rose nods slightly.

‘I’m sorry I took him there. It was the worst thing I ever did in my life.’

‘It was ours,’ says Rose.

‘I know.’

‘I burnt it down,’ says Rose.

Pearl goes to speak but looks away into the crowd instead.

‘Wave at the crowd belle filles,’ says Madame Bonnick. ‘Smile and look pretty.’

Pearl waves, nudges Rose. Rose waves. Vanessa has a fixed smile; she’s standing by the banana, waving like a robot.

‘Jesus,’ says Rose. ‘Look at Vanessa.’

‘And it’s finished,’ whispers Pearl, the star pins sparkling in her tousled hair. ‘He’s no good. Mum made me see it. She made me understand. She said my aura was changing colour. He cast a spell over me. I told him I never wanted to see him again.’

‘Good,’ says Rose.

‘I’m back with Jonah.’

Rose looks at her then.

‘It was always meant to be,’ says Pearl, part-apology. ‘He’s got a surprise for me tonight. Hey, there’s your dad.’

‘Mr Lovell,’ she calls.

‘Shit,’ says Rose. ‘Don’t encourage him.’

But her father has seen them. He’s putting his fingers in his mouth for a God almighty wolf-whistle.

The mayoress speaks into the microphone and the feedback sets off the flying foxes again.

‘Shall we parade the girls now?’ says the mayoress, when the noise has died down.

The crowd cheers, and the girls begin to queue beside the stage. The older girls go first, with their huge hair-sprayed fringes and stiff curls and dresses with long revealing splits. They know how to pose at the end of the short catwalk. Men on the second storey of the pub shout out scores and whistle, until the mayoress holds back the queue and reminds the crowd that it’s a family evening.

As each girl walks onto the stage, the mayoress introduces them: ‘This is Corrine Black in a yellow chiffon gown with yellow sequin detail. Corrine likes to water ski and hopes to be a vet nurse. This is Amber Marchetta in a hot-pink satin dress and matching pink elbow gloves. Amber likes horseriding and wants to be a marine biologist.’

‘This is Vanessa Raine,’ says the mayoress, and the crowd goes wild. ‘She’s in a golden gown with a love-heart neckline and intricate bedazzle. Vanessa likes to do all sorts of aerobics and wants to be a swimwear model.’

Vanessa struts down the runway like a professional. She stands at the end with one hand on her hip and smiles at the crowd.

Rose knows she could leave the line. She knows it, but her feet won’t move. She stands where she is, paralysed. Mallory says, ‘Move forward, Rose. You’ll be all right.’

Rose moves forward as though she’s on stilts.

‘I haven’t got your details, honey,’ the mayoress whispers, waiting for Shannon Fanelli to finish her turn. ‘Did you put your slip in?’

Rose shakes her head.

‘Who are you, honey?’ says the mayoress.

‘Rose.’

‘Rose who?’

‘Rose Lovell.’

‘What do you like, honey?’

‘What do I like?’ says Rose, trying to think.

‘Come on, darling.’

‘I like climbing mountains.’

‘Gorgeous,’ says the mayoress. ‘And what do you want to be?’

‘A writer,’ says Rose.

‘Even better.’

‘This is Rose Lovell wearing an absolutely stunning midnight-blue dress with antique, is that antique lace, honey? With antique lace and antique beading. Rose loves climbing mountains and wants to be a writer.’

‘Tolstoy,’ her father shouts in the crowd. ‘That’s my Rose.’

She hears him clearly but can’t see him.