‘Isn’t it?’ Daphne moves toward her. ‘This lass brought it in – her grandmother had it in a wardrobe for years. Probably wore it herself. The fabric has held up well.’
Christina rubs it through her fingers. ‘Is it silk?’ she asks.
‘Yes. No label, of course, because most ladies who wore clothes like that had a dressmaker.’
Christina places her hands on the back of the skirt and pushes it, to give it air. To imagine how it would move on a body.
She’s always loved the costume part of her job. The decisions about what the character would wear. The fittings.
Once, an older, more famous co-star told her to stop spending so much time in wardrobe, chatting to the women who worked there. ‘Be more aloof,’ she advised, ‘if you want to win an Oscar.’
Christina isn’t interested in being aloof when it comes to the crew of a movie. She’s even less interested in winning an Academy Award.
She thinks about what she could do with a dress like this. The parties she would wear it to – if she still had parties to attend. It’s likely that those days won’t return, so … maybe she could just wear it around the house. It’s not as if there’s anyone to stop her.
‘Would you like to try it on?’ Daphne says.
‘No, thank you. I won’t need to.’ Christina has been in enough fittings to know on sight which clothes are likely to fit her. ‘I’ll take it.’
‘Just like that?’
Christina’s eyes meet Daphne’s and they exchange a smile.
‘Just like that,’ she says.
Daphne takes the dress to the cash register. ‘Was she always this decisive, Joni?’
‘I think so,’ Joni says softly, and Christina is touched to hear what sounds like pride in her mother’s voice. ‘She’s determined when she knows what she wants.’
‘And you want this green dress!’ Daphne looks delighted as she rings up the purchase and wraps up the dress.
Christina thinks it would be lovely to be so pleased. She’s not sure she’s ever been that way inclined. Dissatisfaction – primarily with herself – has been the engine of her art.
‘Come back and show me how you style it,’ Daphne says after Christina’s handed over cash and received the dress in exchange.
Christina finds herself agreeing, even though she has no idea whether she’ll be staying in Sydney long enough for that.
Her mother takes her arm and they walk toward the car.
‘She’s a marvel, that Daphne,’ Joni says. ‘She’s been in that shop fordecadesand still looks like she loves it.’
‘Is that her full-time job?’
Christina’s curious about Daphne, about the older woman’s energy – there’s something powerful about it. Something almost irresistible. Star quality, she might have said once, even if it’s contained in a small shop at the bottom of the world.
‘Not any more – the place is run by volunteers,’ Joni says.
‘Oh – of course.’
Joni stops and turns toward her daughter. ‘You know …’ She looks thoughtful. ‘You could do a day a week there.’
Christina is taken aback. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Volunteer at the shop. Just one day each week.’
‘Um …’ It’s been years since she’s done any work other than acting. Will she even know how?
‘Darling, you know I love having you at home, but …’ Joni puts a hand on Christina’s cheek. ‘You’re too gorgeous to be a caged bird.’ Her smile is wistful. ‘You belong in the world.’