That earring was very familiar. So was her face. I suddenly pictured her with her hair pinned up and wearing a pinafore dress.
‘It’s Miss Hope!’ I gasped. ‘Dad, Dad, look, it’s Miss Hope, my teacher!’
‘Good heavens! Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Miss Hope always seems so serious and schoolmarmy, but she looks amazing now. If it really is her.’
We still weren’t absolutely sure, and we couldn’t go up to her and find out because the wedding meal was being served: melon and Parma ham, then spaghetti carbonara, then chicken with green beans and sauté potatoes, and then delicious creamy tiramisu, with coffee and little amaretti biscuits. I could hardly move after eating all that, and I breathed shallowly so I wouldn’t strain the seams of my bridesmaid’s dress too much.
Every now and then Dad and I peered over at Miss Hope – or indeed Miss Hope’s twin. She was chatting with this person and that, gesturing and laughing.
‘She absolutely can’t be Miss Hope,’ said Dad.
But she absolutely was. She came over to the top table when we were at the coffee stage, her hips swaying, wearing extraordinary high heels.
‘Hello, Mr Andrews. Hello, Tilly. My goodness, don’t you look beautiful! And you haven’t spilled the tiniest drop on your lovely dress. Unlike your slurpy old teacher – look!’ She pointed to an unfortunate stain on her front. ‘I was so eager to eat my tiramisu that I took an enormous spoonful and half of it went down my dress. I’m going to the ladies’ to see if I can mop it off.’
‘I can’t believe you’re here too, Miss Hope,’ I said.
‘Simon and I are old chums. We met when we did our teacher training and we’ve kept in touch ever since,’ she said.
‘Well, we only met him a couple of weeks ago,’ said Dad. ‘Tilly here put an advert in the newsagent’s—’
‘Renting herself out as a bridesmaid – I know!’ said Miss Hope, laughing. ‘But I had no idea she was hired for this wedding too!’
‘Hey, Sarah, how do you know each other?’ Simon called.
‘Tilly’s one of my pupils!’ she said.
‘Well, lucky Tilly!’ said Simon.
‘No, lucky me. Tilly’s one of my favourites,’ said Miss Hope.
‘I thought teachers weren’t supposed to have favourites,’ said Dad.
‘We’re not. You’re not meant to have heard that!’ she told him.
One of the Italian waiters put some music on – ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ – and Simon and Matthew got up to do a slow dance in the middle of the floor while everyone clapped. Miss Hope sat in their place and started talking to Dad. Simon’s mum was talking to me, admiring my dress, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying properly. I think it was about me, and I heard Dad ask something about my drawing. Miss Hope sounded very reassuring when she answered.
Then Simon came back and asked me to dance. I felt a bit shy because I had no idea how to do that kind of slow dance, but luckily it was a bouncy tune so we could just jiggle about as we liked. Then Matthew asked me to dance, and by this time there were lots of couples on the small patch of floor.
I looked round – and saw Dad and Miss Hope dancing! At first I thought they looked the most unlikely couple in the world, Miss Hope so blonde and curvy in her red dress and high heels, and Dad so slight and pale and grey in his best suit – but after a while I got used to the way they looked. They seemed more used to each other too, shouting over the music and laughing. Dad’s usually rather a hopeless dancer, very shy and stiff, but he was getting much better, even giving Miss Hope a little twirl every now and then. Yes, they were getting on really, really well.
I started drawing on one of the paper napkins, borrowing a biro from Simon’s mum. I drew another wedding couple. The bride was wearing a long, slim, elegant dress. The groom was smiling. I drew a girl in a beautiful bridesmaid’s dress too.
Dad and Miss Hope danced together a lot, right up to the end of the evening. Simon and Matthew kissed and hugged everyone goodbye, ready to drive off for their night flight to Boston.
‘Right, Tilly, here’s your wages for today,’ said Simon, handing me an envelope.
I’d told them I charged five pounds, but there seemed to be several notes in the envelope.
‘No, please, I don’t want all this!’ I said.
‘You’ve earned it, sweetheart,’ said Matthew. ‘We absolutely insist!’
‘And we’ve bought you a little present too,’ said Simon, giving me a small blue leather box.
I thought it was going to be another necklace, but this time it was a silver bracelet with a heart charm. It fitted perfectly. I loved it so much I kept putting my arm up and down in the air so my bracelet could slide about elegantly.
‘It’s so lovely. Look, Miss Hope, isn’t it the most beautiful bracelet?’ I said.
‘Yes it is. Really special. Though you’d better not wear it to school on Monday!’
‘Oh, I want to show Matty and the others,’ I protested – but not seriously, because I knew we weren’t really allowed to wear jewellery to school.
To my great delight, Dad offered Miss Hope a lift home and she said yes. We got in the car, Dad and Miss Hope in the front and me in the back. I hadn’t sat in the back seat for ages. I didn’t mind at all.
I spread my pink silk skirts out over the seat so they wouldn’t crease and sat there happily in the dark while Dad and Miss Hope chatted to each other. They weren’t saying anything important, just talking about Simon and Matthew and the wedding, but the soft steady buzz of their words was so soothing I fell asleep.
I was so sound asleep I didn’t even wake up when Miss Hope got out of the car, though I had a very hazy memory of her leaning over her seat and patting my shoulder. The next thing I knew, Dad was helping me out of the car, half lifting me as if I were a baby.
‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ he said.
‘Where’s Miss Hope, Dad?’
‘She’s gone home, silly.’
‘Oh, I wanted to see where she lives. Is it a house?’
‘She lives in a big old house, but I think she just has a garden flat.’
‘What did you two say to each other when she went?’
‘Mmm? Goodbye, of course!’ said Dad.
‘Did you kiss her?’
‘What? No! For heaven’s sake, Tilly, she’s your teacher!’
‘Yes, but you were dancing with her for ages.’
‘I know, but it was a wedding. Everyone was dancing. You were dancing. Come on, let’s dance you up to bed,’ said Dad, opening the front door.
He clasped me tight and did a funny waltz with me down the hall, and then he two-stepped me all the way up the stairs.
‘Oh, Dad, I do like it when you’re funny like this,’ I said.
‘I do like it when you’re chirpy too, little Till,’ said Dad, giving me a kiss on the end of my nose. ‘And it’s all down to you that we’ve had such a lovely day.’
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? So can I put another rent-a-bridesmaid advert in Sid’s window?’
‘No, enough is enough! You’ve had two fantastic weddings in one month. I bet very few girls are so lucky.’
Chapter Fifteen
I DREW PICTURES of the wedding most of Sunday. I did a really big picture especially for Simon and Matthew, with us all in the Italian restaurant, clapping while they danced. I couldn’t remember all the guests, so I mostly made them up, but I did quite good likenesses of Simon and Matthew, colouring their shirts very carefully, and of course I knew what Dad and I looked like. I drew me at the end of the table, so that I could show all of my bridesmaid’s dress and my pink shoes. I also paid particular attention to Miss Hope, with her new hairstyle and her amazing red dress.
I did a little private drawing of Miss Hope and Dad dancing together. I drew thought bubbles above their heads. Miss Hope was thinking: Oh, Mr Andrews, I wish you were my boyfriend, and Dad was thinking: Dear Miss Hope, I think you look absolutely stunning.
When I got to school
on Monday, I ran to find Matty in the playground.
‘Did the wedding go OK?’ she asked.
‘Yes, it was lovely, and Simon and Matthew gave me the most fantastic silver bracelet and it matches the silver necklace the Flowers gave me, so I’ve got two pieces of real jewellery now. But you’ll never guess who else was at the wedding, Matty. Miss Hope! I hardly recognized her at first, she looked so different. She had her hair all long and curly, and she’d grown her chest and her bottom, but in a good way, and she wore ever such high heels that made her wiggle.’
‘Don’t be daft, Tilly! Miss Hope?’
‘It’s true, I swear it’s true. I couldn’t believe it was actually her, but it was, and my dad danced with her half the evening,’ I gabbled. ‘She looked so glamorous.’
Matty was looking over my shoulder. ‘Glamorous?’ she said.
I peered round. Miss Hope was crossing the playground. Her hair was scraped up in its usual scraggy bun. She wore her old blouse and her navy pinafore and her flat moccasin shoes. She gave us a little nod – but she didn’t come over. She didn’t say, ‘Oh, Tilly, you looked wonderful being a bridesmaid on Saturday.’ Neither did she say, ‘I had such a great time dancing with your dad half the evening.’ She certainly didn’t say, ‘Now we’re all such good friends you and your dad must come round for supper.’ She didn’t say anything at all, just carried on sloping across the playground and through the main entrance.
‘There!’ said Matty. ‘I knew you must be mistaken. I knew Miss Hope would never wear a tight red dress and high heels.’
‘It was her. I knew it was her. I recognized her by her moon earrings,’ I insisted.
‘Oh, Tilly, are you totally nuts? Heaps of ladies wear those earrings,’ said Matty.
‘Look, she was talking to us. And to my dad. And they danced together lots.’
Matty looked at me in an infuriatingly pitying way, her head on one side. ‘You’re telling stories, Tilly, but I know they’re not really lies. It’s just what you’d like to have happened. It’s not really wrong. Lewis does it all the time,’ she said.
‘Well, I don’t! It was, was Miss Hope. Look, I’ll ask her when we go into the classroom and then you’ll see,’ I said.
So when the bell went, I marched into school, pulling Matty with me. Miss Hope was sitting at her desk, peering at the register, adding up all the little ticks.
‘Miss Hope, Miss Hope, did you enjoy the wedding on Saturday?’ I said.
She frowned. ‘Oh, Tilly, you’ve made me lose count!’ she said, starting again at the top of the column.
‘Sorry, but Matty doesn’t believe me. You were at Simon and Matthew’s wedding, weren’t you?’ I persisted.
‘Tilly! Go and sit down,’ said Miss Hope firmly.
‘There!’ Matty said, rolling her eyes.
I ground my teeth helplessly. I knew I wasn’t telling stories. Although I was almost starting to doubt myself. I kept staring at Miss Hope. Her hair had been so different on Saturday. It was hard imagining her scragged-back topknot could ever be long soft blonde waves. And could the really bulky body underneath that dull pinafore ever display itself so glamorously in a bright red dress? Would her sensible flat feet ever squeeze into white high heels?
I drooped at my desk as our Maths lesson started, my numbers wavering as I blinked at the squares on my page. Miss Hope strolled round our tables, checking we were all working properly. She hovered over me.
‘I think there’s a little mistake in your working out,’ she said. Then she bent closer. ‘Yes, I did have a lovely time,’ she whispered. ‘But I don’t like to talk about out-of-school things when I’m at school. OK?’
‘Oh, it’s very OK, Miss Hope. I understand now,’ I said, as if I were talking about my arithmetic.
Miss Hope had whispered, but Matty was sitting right next to me and she had sharp ears. Her eyes were popping and her mouth was open.
‘See!’ I hissed, and gave her a little nod.
I hoped Miss Hope would come and whisper more things to me, but she just went back into teacher mode. The days went by and she didn’t mention the wedding again. She didn’t mention Dad either. I’d so hoped she’d talk about him, maybe even give me a little message for him.
Then, on Friday morning, Simon Perkins came running into our classroom, flapping the Argus, our local newspaper.
‘Look! Look, Miss Hope! Page six. It’s Tilly! Her!’ he said. He tried to poke me in the chest but I stepped back sharply, because I hated getting anywhere near the fingers that spent so much time up his nose.
Miss Hope took the newspaper and peered at page six. ‘Oh my goodness, it is you, Tilly, in your lovely bridesmaid’s dress.’
Everyone came crowding round to see. It was a while before I could focus properly on the page. There was a big photo of Simon and Matthew and me. To my great irritation, I was actually pulling a silly face in this picture, my mouth open as if I were exclaiming ‘Oh my!’ but at least my dress looked beautiful.
The headline beside the photograph said:
KINGTOWN COUPLE RENT A BRIDESMAID!
‘Wow! You’re famous, Tilly,’ said Matty, reading over my shoulder.
Two popular Kingtown men, Simon Smith, 45, headteacher at Larch Road Infant School, and Matthew Castle, 42, who owns Castle Books in Market Lane, tied the knot at Kingtown Registry Office on Saturday. They hired pretty-as-a-picture Matilda Andrews, 9, as their bridesmaid. Matilda had been given a bridesmaid’s dress as a gift, and advertised herself in Sid’s Newsagent’s in Dudley Road.
‘She’s really made our day,’ said Simon.
The happy couple and their little bridesmaid celebrated at La Terrazza in the High Street with a large gathering of family and friends of the two grooms.
‘You could have said I gave you the bridesmaid’s dress!’ said Matty.
‘I didn’t realize they were going to put that in the newspaper!’ I said, still stunned.
I told Dad that evening when he collected me from Matty’s house. On Saturday morning we walked to Sid’s to get our own copy of the Argus.
‘Tilly’s in the newspaper this week, Sid,’ Dad said proudly.
‘I know she is,’ he said. ‘It’s been a talking point. Lots of folk have commented on it. Lucky job you popped in here for the Argus. I’ve got a letter for you, Tilly!’
‘Oh good Lord, what is it this time?’ said Dad.
‘I bet someone else wants to rent her,’ said Sid. ‘She’s obviously getting really popular. And so am I! I’ve had quite a few peering in the window, looking for that rent-a-bridesmaid card. I think I’m going to have to fish it out again. You can have a week’s free advertising, Tilly.’
‘I’m not sure I’m too happy about that,’ said Dad. ‘I’m starting to worry about all this publicity. Anyone might be trying to get in touch with my daughter. Let me have a look at that letter, Tilly.’
‘It’s addressed to me, Dad!’
We read it together.
Dear Matilda,
I read the article about you in this week’s issue of the Argus with great interest. I’m getting married the last week in July and I’m planning on having several bridesmaids, plus two matrons of honour. I’ve had such difficulty finding a suitable design that will suit all of them. I’d set my heart on something traditional and pretty with lots of flounces – but tasteful too. Your bridesmaid’s dress absolutely fits the bill! Please could you ask your mother where she found it?
I loved reading about you advertising yourself! You look so pretty in your dress. I’d be thrilled if you would also be a bridesmaid on my big day.
Yours sincerely,
Mandy Bygraves
‘Oh, Dad, can I be her bridesmaid?’ I begged. ‘It sounds like a really big wedding – lots of bridesmaids and two matrons of honour! Oh please! Just one more wedding.’
Dad gave a big sigh. ‘All right. Just one more. Though it doesn’t sound as if this wedding will be as much fun as the Flowers’ or Simon and Matthew’
s. Why does one bride need a whole bunch of bridesmaids and two matrons of honour! Perhaps she’s going to have two bridegrooms too!’
I phoned up Matty when I got home. Angie answered the phone.
‘Hi, Angie, it’s Tilly. I’m going to be a bridesmaid again!’
‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so happy for you! Who is it this time?’
‘It’s this lady called Mandy and she’s having a great big wedding with lots of bridesmaids and she wants them all to wear dresses like mine, so please can I have the email and address of the lady who made my bridesmaid’s dress?’ I asked.
‘Of course you can. Hang on a tick, I’ll find them for you. She lives in Springfield Road but I’m not sure of the number.’
I waited, hanging onto the phone. I could hear Matty laughing in the distance and someone else talking. Was it Lewis? It didn’t really sound like him.
‘Here we are,’ said Angie. She gave me the house number and the road and read me the email address, spelling it out twice to make sure I’d got it down correctly.
‘Thanks so much. And thank you for giving me the dress in the first place!’
‘You’re very welcome, Tilly. I’m so happy that you’re getting some use out of it! Matty told us about the piece in the Argus. Your fame is spreading!’
‘Can I speak to Matty, please?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said. I heard her calling, ‘Matty, it’s Tilly on the phone.’
There was a little pause.
‘Hi, Tilly,’ said Matty. She sounded funny. Friendly, but cautious.
‘Hi, Matty,’ I said. ‘I could hear you laughing just now. What was funny?’
‘Oh nothing. I was just messing about,’ said Matty.
‘With Lewis?’
‘Mmm.’
That wasn’t quite a yes.
‘Do you want to come over and play?’ I asked.
I heard Matty breathing. ‘You never ask me round to yours,’ she said.
‘Yes, well, I’m asking now,’ I said. ‘And Lewis can come too, of course.’