Page 12 of The Mother-in-Law

‘My lipstick? My hair brooch?’ Claire tries, but she’s stabbing in the dark now. I’ve already had my makeup done. My hair is out, in a loose wave, soon to be topped with my hat and veil. Millie, who is jumping on Dad’s bed now, will wear a flower crown, as will Claire.

There is a gentle tap at the door. ‘Come in, Dad,’ I call.

Despite my telling Dad repeatedly that it is not bad luck forhimto see me before the wedding, he has covered his eyes every time we’ve crossed paths this morning. I wait for his bearded face to appear around the corner, eyes closed, but the door remains closed.

‘Dad?You can come in.’

‘Lucy? It’s Diana Goodwin.’

Claire and I lock eyes. Silent horror travels between us. Diana is at the door. What on earth is she doing here?

‘Hello, Diana,’ I say tremulously. I wonder why there isn’t a rule forbidding the mother-in-law from seeing the bride on the day of the wedding. ‘Would you . . . would you like to come in?’

There is a short pause, and then the door handle twists. Diana’s face appears in the opening. ‘I’m sorry to show up like this. I just have something to give you.’

‘Oh?’

I open the door further and Diana casts a brisk smile at Claire and a slightly less brisk smile at Millie, who practically pauses mid-bounce on Dad’s bed. She stares at Diana. I get the feeling she is as terrified as I am.

‘I’ll give you a minute,’ Claire says, gathering up Millie and scurrying out the door. Diana waits for them to leave and then enters the room fully.

‘You look lovely,’ I say.

‘Thank you. So do you.’

It isn’t lip service, I’ve actually never seen Diana look so lovely. She’s wearing a navy linen shell top with a soft blue A-line floor-length skirt. She is wearing makeup—pink lips and smoky eyes—and she smells like a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers. I suddenly get a glimpse of Diana as a young woman, a beautiful young woman, and I understand why Tom always looks so pleased with himself around her.

‘Thank you,’ Diana says. ‘I called your father this morning to see if there was anything I could do and he told me you didn’t have something borrowed.’ Diana reaches into her clutch, pulling out a navy leather jewellery box, trimmed with gold. ‘I wore this on my wedding day.’ She opens the box and produces a silver necklace with a small, flat, twisted pendant. ‘It’s a Celtic knot. It represents strength. If it doesn’t go with your dress you could perhaps hide it underneath the bodice.’

‘I love it,’ I say immediately. ‘And I’m not hiding it anywhere. I’ll wear it around my neck where everyone can see it.’

Diana looks as pleased as anyone can look. She comes around behind me and I lift my hair for her to fasten it. When she’s done, she gestures to my hat and veil. ‘Do you need help with this?’

‘That . . . would be wonderful.’

Diana is tall, nearly a full head taller than me, and as she fastens the hat at my temple I can see her eyes. They are narrow with concentration as she fusses around, fixing the birdcage veil around my face and then smoothing the dress out around me. Of course I think of my mother. If she were here, she would have been the one fastening my necklace and smoothing my dress. A lump forms in my throat.

‘Thank you,’ I say turning and wrapping my arms around her. She stiffens slightly, neither returning my hug nor pulling away, but I hang on all the same. She is thin and knobbly and it feels like I’m embracing a sack full of coat hangers.

After a moment, I untangle myself.

‘Right,’ Diana says, clearing her throat. ‘I’d better get back to Ollie.’

And that appears to be that. I try not to focus on the fact that the hug wasn’t really returned. After all, she showed up! She brought me a beautiful, meaningful piece of jewellery that she herself wore on herwedding day. We’ve made progress. And I am going to celebrate it.

Diana makes it to the door before she stops suddenly, pivots back. ‘Oh, er . . . Lucy?’

‘Yes?’

‘That necklace is your something borrowed.’

‘I know,’ I say. I glance at it in the mirror again, marvelling at how perfect it is. It is actually hard to believe I almost didn’t wear it.

‘Good,’ she says, ‘becauseborrowedmeans you have to give it back.’

A long silence.

‘I understand that,’ I say slowly, and Diana gives a little nod and lets herself out of the room.