How would Daphne advise her to handle this now? She’s lived a long time. She knows things.
Lucy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, wondering if she can will herself into another dimension, or planet, or universe, so she doesn’t have to deal with this.
Instead, she opens her eyes and says calmly, ‘You’re right, Russell. That’s all I care about.’
She stares at him. Now that she’s agreed with him, he can hardly rage at her. She’s being compliant. Like the good girl she is.
He stares back, then his eyelids droop ever so slightly.
Maybe she can get away from him.
Then a key turns in the front door of the shop and her mother is standing there, eyes wide.
‘Lucy,’ she says.
‘Hi.’ Lucy feels so relieved she wants to melt.
‘It’s gone dark. I was …’ Connie’s eyes flit to Russell. ‘Worried.’
‘Just packing up,’ Lucy says lightly.
‘Russell?’ Connie says. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It’s my business too,’ he says churlishly.
‘You’re normally not here at night.’
‘If it’s good enough for her …’ He points at Lucy.
Lucy exchanges glances with her mother. They’ve never been conspirators before, but maybe they are now.
‘Fine,’ Connie says. ‘We’ll leave you to it. Lock up when you leave. Lucy?’
Lucy hurriedly packs away her sewing and almost runs to her mother’s outstretched hand.
‘Wait,’ Russell calls after them as Connie shuts and locks the front door.
‘I’m not waiting,’ she mutters, then leads Lucy to the car.
Her mother must have been worried, Lucy thinks, to bring the car. They all normally walk between the house and the shop.
‘Sorry about that,’ Connie says. ‘He went to the pub. He seems to have had a few too many.’
Lucy simply nods.
Then, as the relief of her mother’s arrival fades, it occurs to her: she was driven out of home with her sewing; now she’s been driven out of the shop. There’s nowhere left for her to go.
Her breath catches, and she turns away from her mother to hide how upset she must look. Because, despite the rescue tonight, Lucy knows her mother will keep letting Russell get away with everything, the way she always has. And Lucy will keep feeling like there’s no place in this world that’s her own.
THE
1980s WEDDING DRESS
The wedding dress was made according to the bride-to-be’s instructions: big, puffy sleeves like the ones on Lady Diana Spencer’s dress from the year before; a V-shaped neckline like Diana’s, except more plunging; and without the ruffles and bow. The skirt was to be more straight down, no tulle underneath, and the colour a bright white, not ivory as Diana had worn. The bride intended to wear high heels, so the overall look of the dress had to work with those.
Ladies often didn’t think about the shoes they would wear with a wedding dress until after the dress was made, but the seamstress who created this dress thought it was important. The whole line, from the top of the bride’s head to her toes, had to work. Each piece had to complement the other. That’s why the choice of veil was also important, not to mention flowers. No point having a big dress and a tiny bouquet – the proportions would be off. Lady Diana had the right idea with her large waterfall bouquet resting against her voluminous skirt.
The seamstress – who sometimes called herself a dressmaker, although that could sound grandiose, and she deplored that – was well known to the bride and her family. Working from her home in the northern Sydney suburb of Lindfield, she had been making clothes for the girls and women of the area since she was herself not long out of girlhood. The bride could have gone to a weddingshop in the city, or to a designer – the family had the money for it. Instead she came to the seamstress, saying she would trust no one else with the most special dress of her life.