And despite the heat, Deena’s make-up was
still perfect, while Rose’s, like Erin’s, had started to run and crease. And of course Deena’s jet-black hair was still perfectly in place and gleaming, whereas Erin’s, like her mum’s was looking pretty limp and bedraggled.
Some things, Erin thought, were simply not fair. But at least Nalisha had declined Deena’s invitation to join them on the grounds that this had to be an outing for the bride and the mums only. Erin had blessed her for that.
‘Right, no time to lose,’ Deena said briskly. ‘Come along.’
They dived headlong into the fray.
‘Oooh, excuse me.’ Erin’s stomach suddenly rumbled as she caught wave after fragrant wave of hot syrup and frying samosas, and tantalising wafts of every spice imaginable drifting from practically every doorway.
Neither her mum nor Deena appeared to have heard. Thank goodness. As she’d skipped breakfast, she really hoped that Deena had factored food into the shopping trip, but felt it was possibly best not to ask.
They came to an abrupt halt, due to the crowds, and Rose turned and looked expectantly at Deena. ‘Oh, there are so many lovely shops to choose from. As we’ve stopped, shall we try this one first, and then work our way along the row?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Deena frowned at the window display. ‘We’ll leave these at this end until later. I know exactly where we need to be first. And if they can’t suit, then we’ll have to try again, so we can come back to this one. Just push your way through.’
Erin, now getting quite adept at sidestepping
knots of Asian ladies in full-throttle, trotted alongside Rose as they tried to keep up with Deena. You had to admire the way she weaved neatly through the throng, Erin thought. Especially in those spiky heels. Conversation was impossible thanks to the noise of the traffic, the shouts of the vendors and the non-stop chatter of the shoppers, so Erin and Rose simply exchanged encouraging and slightly bemused grins.
It was all very exciting. And exotic. And very, very hot.
‘Right, this is where we start and hopefully finish, Rose, darling.’ Deena came to a halt in front of a double-fronted shop that looked much the same as all the others they’d passed. ‘This shop is pretty special, and Rajesh is a miracle-worker, believe me.’
‘Lovely.’ Rose beamed. ‘He’ll need to be if I’m going to look as spectacular as you do. Is this where you buy all your clothes from?’
‘No, not really.’ Deena laughed. ‘Only on very special occasions. Or when I don’t buy direct from India. Or, of course, I can go to Leicester or Wembley for my Asian outfits, and I do – the shops there are equally as good.’
Rose shook her head in amazement. ‘Fancy travelling all the way from Birmingham to London or Leicester just to shop for clothes.’
Erin closed her eyes and held her breath.
‘Solihull,’ Deena said sharply. ‘It’s Solihull. Tavish and I live in Solihull.
Not
Birmingham.’
‘Isn’t it the same place, though? Like a suburb?’ Rose frowned. ‘Or am I thinking of Edgbaston?’
‘I sincerely hope not.’ Deena looked a bit frosty. ‘And as Erin will tell you, I personally find off-the-peg outfits from Per Una or Phase Eight suit me perfectly for my day-wear. And those, of course, I can buy anywhere. But, for an outfit for an occasion as exceptional as my only son’s wedding, I couldn’t possibly shop in a
chain store
.’
The words ‘or a Sydney second-hand
shop’ hung unsaid on the hot, spice-filled air.
Unperturbed, Rose continued to smile happily. ‘So, is this the shop where you bought your frock for the wedding?’
‘No, Rose, darling. One, I’m not wearing a frock at the wedding. I’m wearing a ceremonial sari. And two, no, I didn’t buy it from here. I had several designed and made specially in Delhi and flown over so that I could choose one at my leisure.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Rose looked at Deena in awe. ‘I’m never going to compete with that, am I?’
‘It’s not a competition, Mum,’ Erin said quickly, hugging her. ‘You’ll look gorgeous in whatever you wear.’
Rose laughed. Deena looked highly sceptical.
Erin ploughed on. ‘You
will
look fabulous, trust me. You’ll both look absolutely gorgeous. Anyway, shall we go in and get started?’
And then, she thought, there might be time to get something to eat. Was it very wrong to be craving a curry so early in the morning?
Deena pushed open the door.
‘Oh.’
‘Blimey.’
Rose and Erin stared round in complete astonishment.
The shop was vast, brightly lit with glittering chandeliers, and was floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall crammed with colour. There were racks and rails of ready-made saris and salwars, and bolts of every jewel-encrusted fabric under the sun, glimmering and shimmering and stretching into the far distance.
And customers. There were millions of
customers. All talking at the tops of their voices without listening to the answers, hauling outfits from the rails, pulling pieces of fabric towards them, trying things on in the aisles.
It was completely manic.
‘It’s never like this in BHS,’ Rose whispered to Erin.
Erin giggled. BHS was the only shop she’d ever known her mum buy new clothes in. Ever.
Deena, with Rose and Erin in tow, strode forwards through the mêlée, apparently not noticing the mayhem.
‘Rajesh!’ She held out both hands to a tall, middle-aged man at the back of the emporium. ‘Lovely to see you!’
‘And you, Deena. Looking as wonderful as ever.’
There was a lot of mwah-mwah air-kissing and ritual hugging.
‘Raj.’ Deena extricated herself. ‘I want you to work your usual miracles on my dear friend, Rose here. Rose is the mother of this lovely girl who will, next weekend, become my darling daughter-in-law. Rose, therefore, needs a spectacular outfit for the occasion.’
Raj looked Rose up and down with the sort of eye usually reserved for bloodstock specialists purchasing a new brood mare.
‘Hmmm … That colouring … She’s a typical English Rose.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘And you, Deena, my dear, won’t want to clash, I assume? The battle of the mothers is to be avoided at all costs?’
‘Oh, absolutely.’ Deena nodded. ‘I’m wearing traditional red and gold.’
‘But not purchased from here?’ Raj looked a little hurt. ‘I may be growing old, but I’m sure I’d have remembered fitting you in a wedding outfit. I didn’t, did I?’
‘No.’ Deena tapped his arm
playfully. ‘Not this time. I bought direct from Delhi. Don’t sulk, Raj, darling. Now, what do you suggest to make Rose look amazing?’
Rose leaned closer to Erin. ‘Do you think all the mother-of-the-bride dress and jacket outfits are in another part of the shop? I can only see … well … Indian things so far.’
Erin frowned. ‘I’ve no idea. We’ll just have to leave it to Deena, but you don’t have to be forced into anything you don’t want, Mum. I know she can be very persuasive, but stand up for yourself. OK?’
Rose nodded.
Raj smiled at them. ‘Rose, my dear, you have such beautiful porcelain pale skin, and that lovely hair the colour of sunlit cornfields. And your eyes … such an unusual and captivating shade of blue.’
Rose preened.
‘The very essence of Englishness. So, you must,’ Raj continued, ‘make the very most of the gifts you have been blessed with. You must harmonise and accentuate your natural beauty.’
Rose blushed.
Erin shook her head.
‘So,’ Raj carried on, smiling wolfishly, ‘I think we have the very thing. Come along, ladies. Follow me.’
They followed, pushing their way through entire families wrapping themselves in various saris and posing in front of long mirrors, and grandmothers holding squawking children as younger women pulled on salwars, and gorgeous giggling young girls with smooth toasted-honey bodies sliding themselves into skintight silks.
‘I knew the suits and what-have-you would be at the back,’ Rose said happily to Erin. ‘And Raj seems like a very nice man, doesn’t he?’
Erin just smiled
and nodded. Since she and Jay had been a couple she’d met many an entrepreneur like Raj. Charming, sweetly complimentary, they never let you leave empty-handed if they could help it.
‘Here we are.’ Raj eased his way through an archway so crammed with piles of material that it looked as though it would collapse at any minute. ‘Here you can chose the perfect wedding
lehenga
.’
Deena clapped her hands.
Erin whimpered. Not a
lehenga
! Nooo. She’d seen Nalisha in a
lehenga
. On young and svelte Nalisha the
lehenga
had looked sensationally, sexily gorgeous.
But on Rose? Her middle-aged mum?
‘Deena.’ Erin touched her arm anxiously. ‘Surely, a
lehenga
won’t be suitable for my mum? All that exposed midriff and stuff? And I don’t think, honestly, she was expecting to wear an Indian outfit. I think …’
‘And I think, darling,’ Deena said, patting Erin’s hand, ‘that we must leave it to Raj and Rose.’
Raj was rattling through rails, causing cascades of silks and satins and taffetas to billow around Rose like a falling rainbow.
‘Ah, I knew I had one just for you.’ He eventually pulled out a hanger from a rack of thousands. ‘Rose, this will be absolutely perfect.’
Floaty acres of turquoise, lilac and silver drifted from the hanger. Multitudes of deeper blue and purple jewels and sequins glittered amongst the folds.
Rose clasped her hands together and grinned delightedly.
Oh dear God, Erin thought.
‘Oh, it’s so
beautiful.’ Rose stroked the fabric lovingly. ‘Absolutely gorgeous. But, is it a frock? With a little bolero? Or a suit? I can’t quite make it out.’
‘It’s a wedding
lehenga
,’ Raj said smoothly. ‘I’m assuming that as it’s a Hindu wedding ceremony, and as mother of the bride, you’ll be wanting to be not only traditional but also show-stoppingly fabulous?’
‘We’re having a fusion wedding,’ Erin said quickly. ‘
Fusion
. A meeting of both cultures. And I think my mum was expecting to wear an English mother-of-the-bride dress and jacket or something.’
Rose flapped her hands. ‘Well, yes, I was, but now I’ve seen this, um,
lehenga
? Is that right? Yes? Good. Well, I might just have to change my mind.’
Deena looked extremely smug. ‘And honestly, Erin, darling, did you expect Rose to find a nice little suit in a shop like this? Why, darling, do you think we came to Southall Broadway?’
Probably so you could further
hijack my wedding to your son, Erin thought, but seeing the absolute delight on her mum’s face she didn’t say it.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It certainly never occurred to me that you were going to persuade Mum to wear an Indian outfit.’
‘I’ve done no persuading at all.’ Deena laughed. ‘I’m just showing Rose that there are other options.’
‘And,’ Rose interrupted, still stroking the
lehenga
, ‘I’m absolutely delighted that you did, Deena. This is simply beautiful. Can I try it on, please?’
‘Of course.’ Raj gave a little bow. ‘Over here, madam … Would you like Deena and, um, your daughter to help you?’
‘Oooh, no thanks.’ Rose chuckled. ‘If I look truly dreadful I’d rather no one knew. If I need any help I’ll shout.’
As Rose disappeared into the small fitting room and Raj drew the curtains behind her, Erin tried not to speak. Anything she said to Deena now would come out all wrong. And after the
mandap
fiasco and so close to the big day they really couldn’t afford another fall-out. But, honestly … Her mum? In a
lehenga
? Oh, heavens, what on earth was happening to her previously perfectly planned wedding?
Deena and Raj immediately whooshed into a conversation about mutual friends, and clothes, and Jay and Erin’s wedding.
Still determined not to join in in case she said the wrong thing, Erin stared instead at the other customers, all swarming and chattering and trying things on. Maybe Rose would decide the
lehenga
wasn’t right for her, and they’d find a nice little silk suit somewhere … Please, please, please …
Then the fitting room curtains rattled back and Rose stepped out into the shop.
‘Wow!’ Erin blinked in
delight. ‘I really wasn’t expecting that.’
Unlike Nalisha’s, Rose’s
lehenga
didn’t have a midriff-displaying cut-off top, but one that fitted beautifully to the waist, with elbow-length sleeves to hide even the slightest hint of a middle-aged bingo wing.
The multiple layers of the skirt skimmed elegantly down to the floor like a jewelled waterfall. The colours made Rose’s skin glow, her eyes shine and her hair gleam with fire.
It was, Erin had to admit, a gorgeous, totally fabulous, mother-of-the-bride outfit.
Even if it wasn’t a nice frock and jacket from BHS.
‘Mum!’ Erin swallowed the huge emotional lump in her throat. ‘You look amazing!’
‘Oh, that’s absolutely wonderful, darling,’ Deena gushed. ‘Perfection. Told you Raj could work miracles, didn’t I?’
Rose, stunned into silence, twirled in front of the mirror admiring the transformation, as with a superior smirk, Raj twirled his tape measure and tweaked and fiddled with various bits of the
lehenga
.
‘As I knew they would be, the colours are exactly right for you, English Rose. However, I think I may need to make some slight adjustments. The petticoat needs shortening, even if you’re wearing heels to the wedding.’
‘I am. I’ve got a nice pair of two-inch courts,’ Rose said, looking across at Deena. ‘And they’re brand new.’
‘But highly unsuitable,’ Deena said. ‘You can’t wear court shoes with a
lehenga
– you need lovely sparkly sandals. We’ll sort those out later.’
Raj nodded and continued his tweaking. ‘So, we’ll need to shorten the petticoat to just sweep the floor so that your pretty shoes show in tantalising little peeps when you walk. And, see here, Rose, the blouse needs a bit of taking in on the waist as you’re so lovely and slim and we need to show off your nice slender figure, but otherwise …’
‘Oh no.’ Rose stopped
smiling and twirling. ‘Alterations? We haven’t got time for alterations. The wedding is just over a week away. I love it so much I’ll take it as it is and use safety pins.’