‘I wouldn’t let that put you off,’ Kirsty stated. ‘There will be a few of you and you can all chip in together.’ She stopped. ‘D’you need a loan? Are you skint after Glasgow?’
‘No,’ Heather laughed, ‘I’m fine for money, but thanks for the offer.’ She smoothed one of the leather gloves between both hands as she walked along and then she started the same smoothing procedure with the other. ‘Och, there’s a good chance that Gerry Stewart will be there if Jim Murray’s there – they always spend the New Year together. I really, really
don’t
want to meet up with him on New Year’s Eve.’ She gave a big sigh. ‘God knows what he might say and do. I just don’t feel I could handle it if he started. I’ve had enough arguments recently to last me a lifetime. I’d far rather sit in with my mammy and daddy. Anyway, I think they’re all going over to Mona’s to watch the television because they’ve got some special Hogmanay shows on. Lily’s being allowed to stay up late as well, so I’ll be quite happy sitting yapping away to her or playing games with her.’ Lily was on her second visit home and Mona had reported this morning that she was a lot more cheerful and amenable than she’d been over Christmas.
‘I feel bad that I’m working or I would have gone out with you,’ Kirsty said, tutting to herself.
‘Well, you shouldn’t feel like that,’ Heather told her. ‘This is your big chance. You’re not saying you’d rather be at a New Year’s party in Motherwell instead of singing in a nice posh hotel?’
Kirsty pulled a face. ‘There’s one half of me dead excited because it’s the biggest thing that’s happened in my singing, but there’s another half of me dreadin’ it.’
Heather looked at her sister. ‘Are you over all that stuff with that Larry Delaney fella?’
They hadn’t really discussed what had happened in any great depth since that night.
‘Oh, definitely!’ Kirsty said quickly, colouring up at the mention of his name. ‘God, I’ll never know what came over me that night to make me act so daft. I often think about it, trying to work it all out. I wonder if it was the couple of drinks? Surely it couldn’t have been that?’ Her brow wrinkled and she shook her head. ‘If I thought that was the cause of it, I’d never let strong drink past my lips again.’
‘Well, you weren’t drunk or anything when you came in,’ Heather said kindly, ‘so I don’t think it was that . . .’
‘You didn’t tell anybody else, did you?’ Kirsty asked in a soft, fearful voice.
‘Who would I tell?’ her sister replied. ‘Liz is interested in talking about nothing else apart from Jim Murray and the flaming wedding.’ They were heading up to Liz’s house now to give her the dates of the two Saturdays that Kirsty was available to sing with The Hi-Tones for Liz’s wedding. Since it was now out in the open, and Liz had got over the awkwardness of telling people, she was full of plans for the smallish wedding she was planning.
‘Would you normally have told Liz things like that? If she wasn’t so busy with her own plans?’
Heather shook her head. ‘No . . . not when it’s somethi
ng serious about you. I’d only tell her daft things like when we’d had an argument or if you bought something new, or I might tell her about your singing – that kind of thing. I’d never tell anybody about anything that was really personal.’
‘Good,’ Kirsty said, a smile spreading across her pretty face. ‘I used to think you told her everything – especially all the bad things about me.’
Heather looked at her sister now, irritation etched on her face. ‘You’ve got a lot of faith in me if you thought that.’ She halted. ‘Do you talk to all your pals about me? I know you talked about me and Gerry at times.’
Kirsty looked vaguely injured, but knew she couldn’t deny it as she’d been caught out on several occasions. ‘Only the same daft stuff you’ve just mentioned. I’d never tell a soul about anything that was really serious.’
‘Well, that’s OK then, isn’t it?’ Heather said, feeling very heartened.
Things were looking up when she and Kirsty could talk in such a mature, grown-up manner. It made Heather feel better about not having Liz around so much, especially after the horrible episode in Glasgow with Sarah. She’d told Kirsty all about it, and Kirsty had said that Barbara was obviously jealous and there was no point in getting dragged into an argument that could affect her work situation. She’d told her to go back to work after the New Year and just pretend that nothing had happened.
‘Has Liz said anything to you about a bridesmaid’s dress yet?’ Kirsty asked as they turned onto the main road in Rowanhill.
‘No,’ Heather said. ‘I suppose she’ll mention it when we’re in the house now.’
‘D’you think she’ll have the nerve to get married in white?’ Kirsty giggled. ‘Or d’you think she’ll go for a suit? I think her mother’s the ould-fashioned kind that will make her go for a suit.’
Heather shrugged. ‘I haven’t the faintest . . . she used to talk about wanting to have a big white wedding when we were younger, but things have obviously changed.’
The
y sat in the Mullens’ kitchen eating home-made shortbread and drinking cups of sweet Camp coffee, which Liz had painstakingly made with boiled frothy milk – telling the two Grace girls that it was just the way Jim loved it.
‘I think we’ll go for that second Saturday in February,’ Liz said, looking at the brand-new holy calendar that someone had sent her mother for Christmas. ‘I mean, we’re not in that big a rush to have to make it the end of January.’
Kirsty didn’t look near her sister, for fear of smiling at the wrong time and getting into trouble. ‘You’ll still have plenty of things to organise for February,’ she told Liz, as though she organised weddings every day of the week herself.
‘Well, it’s not going to be a great big occasion,’ Liz said cautiously. ‘That’s OK if you want to wait for years and save up for it . . . but I’d far rather get married now than have all that waitin’ and savin’.’ She held her hands out and shrugged. ‘If you waited for years for these things – God knows what could happen in the meantime.’
‘That’s right,’ Kirsty said, a mite too enthusiastically,
‘Jim could meet somebody else and run off and get marrie
d to them!’
‘Well, thank you, Kirsty Grace, for that vote of confid
ence in Jim Murray,’ Liz said, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
Heather threw her sister a look that could have killed at ten paces.
‘Och, I’m only kidding,’ Kirsty said, pushing Liz’s arm. ‘Come on, Liz, don’t lose yer sense of humour!’
‘It’s a good job I know you,’ Liz said, smiling wryly in spite of herself. ‘And it’s a good job I can’t get anybody else as good to sing at the wedding, or I’d be hunting you straight out of that front door.’
‘Tell us,’ Kirsty said, ‘what about your dress? Have you decided on anything yet?’
‘Plain empire-line,’ Liz said in a definite tone. ‘Three-quarter length with a matching coat . . . you know the kind of thing. Definitely not a suit – but something akin to it.’
‘And will you wear it with a veil?’ Kirsty enquired, taking a drink of her coffee.
Liz pursed her lips together and shook her head. ‘I’m not bothering about all that palaver – a nice wee feathered half-hat is far more fashionable, and I can wear it again. You only get one wear out of a white dress and a veil.’
As she heard her friend’s statements, Heather could hear Mrs Mullen talking instead of Liz. They had obviously hammered it out, and Liz had been forced to come down on the side of finance and practicality.
‘Have you seen your outfit yet?’ Heather asked, feeling obliged to show some interest, and that it would be better if she asked more tactful, ordinary questions than the kind of blatant things that her sister might ask.
Liz shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’m waiting until the sales start. My mammy was saying that you never know what you could pick up in them. We’re going to go into Glasgow next weekend and have a look in Lewis’s and the other big shops.’ She paused. ‘If I don’t see anything I really like, I thought I might ask your mammy to make it . . .’
‘Well, you’ll still have about a month,’ Heather calculated, ‘so she should have time to do a nice job for you if you need her.’
‘And what about your bridesmaid?’ Kirsty asked, since there had been no mention of it.
Liz looked up at Heather. ‘I’ll see what there is in Glasgow, and if I see something that suits you, I’ll ask them to put it aside for you. You’ll be able to go in and look at it during your lunch
break, won’t you?’
‘Aye. Of course I will,’ Heather replied, suddenly feeling sorry for Liz and all this wedding organisation that had been thrust upon her and the unknown things that lay ahead. ‘Just let me know as soon as you decide.’
The girls finished their coffee and chatted for a while longer about this and that. Heather didn’t mention the fiasco with Sarah in Glasgow and just made out she had had a good time, and she was grateful to Kirsty for neither contradicting her nor laughing. Then Liz asked all about Kirsty’s big hotel debut and they talked about that for a while.
‘Listen,’ Kirsty said, looking at her watch, ‘I’ll need to go. I’ve to be at May Ingles to get my hair done at half past three, and I’ll have to get my bath first.’
‘You’re not going to go straight outside after a bath, are you?’ Liz said, her face aghast at the thought. ‘You could catch pneumonia.’
‘Of course I am,’ Kirsty laughed. ‘I do it all the time.’
Liz turned to Heather now. ‘Are you sure you won’t come to that party in Motherwell with me and Jim tonight? There’s a good crowd going.’
Heather shook her head. ‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m happy just staying in. I had enough gallivanting going in to Glasgow the other day.’
‘But there’s a minibus going from Rowanhill at eight o’clock,’ Liz insisted, ‘and there’s quite a few girls and fellas going on their own.’ She rhymed off the names of local girls they often went dancing with. ‘Och, don’t miss it, Heather, it should be a great night.’ She suddenly halted. ‘Is it because of Gerry?’ She gave a big smile. ‘He’s not going – honest! That wee lassie he’s going out with has asked him to go to a party out at her house in Wishaw.’
‘Hey, less of the “wee” if you don’t mind,’ Kirsty put in, ‘she’s actually about the same size as me!’ She rolled her blue eyes in mock indignation and they all laughed.
‘What d’ye think?’ Liz asked. ‘I’d love you to go, becau
se once Jim gets a few drinks in him he’ll be off chatting to the other lads and leavin’ me like a wallflower as usual.’
‘He won’t do that now that you’re engaged . . . surely?’ Kirsty said, knowing full well that Jim Murray was quite likely to do just that. If they were married for ten years he would probably still do it. He was the type that never changed.
Liz pretended not to hear Kirsty’s comment as she waiting for her friend’s answer.
Heather thought for a moment. ‘Are you sure Gerry’s not going?’
Liz nodded her head vigorously. ‘Definitely – you know I wouldn’t do that to you. Jim definitely said that he’s goin’ to that lassie’s house.’
‘You should go to the party,’ Kirsty prompted her. ‘You never know who you might meet.’ Her eyes suddenly widened with delight as a great idea came to her. ‘Ooooh, you can take a loan of one of those fancy dresses I have in the wardrobe – I don’t have to give them back until next week! That black lace one would look brilliant on you.’ She gestured towards her bust. ‘You’ve got more to fill it than I have.’
‘OK,’ Heather suddenly said, picturing herself in one of the glamorous dresses. There was no point in sitting at home moping when she could be out having a good time. It might just make up for the big let-down she’d had last week. ‘I think I will.’
Chapter 43
Heather sorted her clothes out for the party while she waited for the water to heat up again after Kirsty had had her bath and rushed over to the hairdresser’s house. Heather had picked out a few of the dresses to try on, but after she tried the black lace one on she knew there was no point in trying any of the others. It looked absolutely fantastic, and the small neat size fitted her to perfection.
‘Good God!’ Sophie had said, when Heather had called her mother up for her opinion. ‘I hadn’t realised you’d lost so much weight, that dress really shows off your lovely slim figure. You look like a film star in it.’ She put her glasses on to look closer at the boned lace bodice and the thin spaghetti-style straps. It was all hand-sewn and must have taken ages to make – and cost a fortune.
‘In fact,’ Sophie said now, ‘I’m sure that’s the very same dress I saw Diana Dors wearing in one of the
Photoplay
magazines. If it’s not the same dress, then it’s as close as you can get.’
Heather turned around, looking at herself in the long wardrobe mirror. ‘You don’t think it’s too low and tight for me?’ she asked. ‘I feel a wee bit self-conscious . . .’
‘It’s low right enough, but I don’t think it’s
too
low, and those dresses are all the fashion,’ Sophie said. She smiled indulgently at her daughter. ‘Och, it’s New Year and it’s a party, isn’t it? All the girls will be dressed up to the nines.’
‘I’ll wear a stole with it,’ Heather decided. ‘There’s a plain black satin one that goes with one of the other dresses and a pair of long black satin gloves, so they’ll help to cover me up a wee bit more.’