Silent Victim(51)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

EMMA





2017


Busying myself in the changing room, I carefully tidied the array of dresses that my indecisive bride had abandoned. Given it was her fourth visit, I was relieved she had finally made a decision. I checked my watch. Alex’s meeting with Theresa weighed heavily on my mind, stealing my focus from the job at hand. My trance was broken as the bell rang over the door.

‘Only me!’ Theresa said brightly as she shrugged off her suit jacket. ‘Sorry I’m late. Oh, are you with a client?’

‘Just left,’ I said, feeling my throat constrict as I spoke. ‘You look good. Been shopping?’

‘I thought I’d make more of an effort, although I’m not sure about these heels. Cuppa tea?’ Theresa breezed past me into the kitchen.

Did I imagine it or had she been unable to meet my gaze? Why was she suddenly making an effort with her appearance? Suspicion coiled around me like an ugly snake, and I busied myself as I tried to hold back the spiteful comments lacing my tongue. ‘No thanks . . . I’ve been trying to ring Alex, but he’s not answering his phone.’

The tinkling spoon came to a halt from the kitchen, and her response took a couple of extra seconds to come. ‘I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably with a client. Oh, Ems, have you seen the scissors? I need to snip off some tags but they’re not in the drawer here.’

‘No,’ I said, almost snorting at her desperation to change the subject. But Alex was a worry not so easily shifted. He had been growing distant; when he smiled it felt like he was putting on an act. But just the same, I found it hard to believe that he would betray me with my sister.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Theresa asked, sipping her tea. She stared intensely, her eyes feeling like they were searching the very corridors of my mind.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, unwilling to elaborate. My heightened anxiety had forced me to log into the nursery’s webcam three times already, just to make sure that Jamie was doing OK. My thoughts went round and round on a loop and by late afternoon I was feeling sick and emotionally drained. I had yet to bring myself to eat, but I was equally worried that if I started I would not be able to stop.

‘These shoes are killing me.’ Sitting on the chaise longue, Theresa crossed her legs and rubbed the heel of her right foot. ‘We’ve got Bridezilla coming soon. You know how demanding she is. If you’re not up to it then I’m sure I can manage her on my own.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, my nose in the appointment book as I worked out next week’s shifts. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘I hope the sun shines on her wedding day,’ Theresa said, ‘otherwise she’ll be blaming us for the weather too. God, I feel sorry for that fiancé of hers. Still, he must be as much of a wanker as she is, to want to spend the rest of his life with her.’

‘Not appropriate,’ I said, raising a smile. I often felt like the big sister in our relationship. Theresa had floated through life with a string of boyfriends, never actually committing to any one thing. We had all been thrilled when she’d finally settled down. Charles was considerably older, not what you called good looking, but I’d had a feeling at the time that his bank balance made up for the shortfall. It was just a shame he had such a roving eye. Theresa didn’t like to talk about him, and I didn’t push the subject.

‘Where would I be without you?’ she said, her smile freezing as she glanced towards the door. ‘Brace yourself. She’s here.’

I took a deep breath. Flapping a polka-dot umbrella, a wide-hipped woman barged through the front door. I had some beautiful dresses for curvy brides, but Victoria had been putting on weight at a ferocious rate, and the problems began when she tried to blame the ill-fitting dresses on me. She had not held back, citing ‘shoddy material’ as one of the reasons the gowns grew tighter with each fitting. I thought of my father’s saying, the one he used when my mother was in a bad mood: If the cat had kittens it would be my fault. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant. Now I was fully aware, as everyone in my life blamed all their problems on me. I plastered on a smile as I greeted Victoria, determined to make this appointment a pleasant one.

‘I’ll do the meet and greet, you get the dress for her highness,’ Theresa whispered, probably because she could see that I was not up to pleasantries today.

Victoria was her usual vocal self, her mother cowering behind her as she barked orders in her wake. ‘You sit there,’ she scowled, scraping back her plum-tinted hair which had grown frizzy from the rain. ‘No, not there, stupid, here where the light shines properly. I want you to tell me exactly what you think.’

Tell her what she wants to hear, more like, I thought to myself as I bustled between the dresses on the hangers looking for the tag with her name. I doubted anyone had ever dared tell Victoria what they really thought. I comforted myself that it was her final fitting, and I had pre-empted her weight gain by asking the seamstress to let her gown out a couple of inches more.

‘Here we go,’ I said, carrying the weighty gown in both arms. It was beautiful, one of our designer dresses that had cost me an arm and a leg. At over two thousand pounds, it was my first brand-new rental, and it appeased Victoria that she could hire a designer dress at a fraction of the cost of buying it. ‘Do you want to try it on?’ I said, wincing as the words left my mouth. It was just one of those things you said, but I knew she’d pick up on it straight away.