Canard (n.) – A false or unfounded rumour or story
‘Now if you hate it, you have to tell me,’ Shelley ordered for the forty-ninth time, holding her sample sale wedding dress wrapped up carefully in its bag for the seamstress to work her magic on. We were on our way to meet Lars, the wedding planner extraordinaire, to try on the bridesmaid dresses that Shelley had picked out for both of us.
‘I’m sure I’m going to love it,’ I said, linking my arm with hers and picking up our pace through the busy streets. There was also no way I’d wake the beast and kick up a fuss, even if it did look hideous.
‘I hope so!’ She squeezed my arm and pushed open the door to the wedding dress shop.
She went to speak to the girls at the counter, leaving me to check out some of the dresses hanging up. Flicking open their price tags made my eyes water. I was shaking my head at another extortionate price when I heard someone call my name.
‘Georgia!’ I turned around to see a man who was in his late fifties, wearing a well-fitted three-piece suit, and who appeared to have styled his hair to resemble a polished conker.
‘Lars?’ I guessed, as he took my hand.
‘That’s me! The one and only. Ah, now I can see this is going to work effortlessly!’ He grinned, still holding my hand in his, but now making me do a twirl, which was harder said than done seeing as he was almost a foot shorter than me.
‘What’s going to work effortlessly?’ I blinked. Shelley was trying not to laugh at my reaction to this funny little man who was now pulling out a tape measure and making me hold my arms out like I was going through airport security.
‘Your dress! From your colouring and complexion, the gown that Shelley and I have picked out is going to work wonders on your sallow skin, giving it the lift it certainly needs, darling,’ he whispered behind his wrinkled hand, ignoring my look of shock. Maybe I was looking a little peaky and I wasn’t wearing much make-up, but still that seemed a little harsh.
‘And the future Mrs Priors, you’re looking as radiant as ever.’ He twirled Shelley around. ‘Is Lars to be mistaken or is this …’ He placed a hand to his chest and paused dramatically, before whispering loudly, ‘Is this the dress?’
Shelley hung up the bag containing her gown and nodded excitedly. ‘Sure is!’
‘Oh wonderful. The Cecile Coco in Heavenly?’ Lars dared to ask, and then shrieked as Shelley nodded. ‘I don’t know how she did it or who is looking out for her up there.’ Lars flicked his eyes up to the ceiling. ‘She is one lucky lady getting this gown.’
‘Mmm.’ I glanced at Shelley, who was unzipping a bag that was hanging from a long silver rail, trying to catch her eye to check if this man was actually a real person and we weren’t unsuspecting fools on a hidden camera show.
‘So, Georgia. What do you think?’ she asked expectantly, as the bag she was messing about with opened to reveal a champagne-coloured silk dress tumbling out of it. Lars was clapping his hands together in excitement before taking it out from its casing as gently and carefully as if handling a butterfly with a broken wing.
‘Wow, Shelley.’ I grinned.
The fabric seemed to flow through my fingers. The floor-length dress in a soft, almost buttery satin was the colour of pale fudge and it glimmered under the chandelier lights in the dress shop. Intricate lace panels at the top acted as capped sleeves, and a cinched-in waist was finished off with a spectacular diamanté brooch on the hip. It was stunning.
‘Do you like it?’ She had her hands to her mouth, trying to hide her excitement as she flicked her wide eyes between me and the dress. It was something a Hollywood film star would wear.
‘Like it? I love it!’ Suddenly all worries of me flouncing around in some awful, puffy-sleeved gown with over-the-top Little Bo Peep frills melted away.
‘And do you know the best bit?’ she teased.
‘Oh my God, what?’
‘It has pockets!!’ She shrilled. Every girl knows that there is nothing better than a dress with pockets. Nothing.
Lars dabbed at his eyes with a spotted handkerchief that he’d pulled from his top pocket. ‘Stunning, stunning. Don’t forget the pièce de résistance.’ He whipped out a blinking great floral crown from behind his back. A member of staff I hadn’t spotted earlier began clapping like a child watching a Punch and Judy performance.
‘Oh. Wow,’ I stuttered, with less enthusiasm than everyone else in this room. It was enormous. Huge, blousy, peach blooms were wrapped around a crown dripping with ivy; it looked like the ginormous Snapchat filter that Kelli had once made me pose with.
‘Don’t you just love it!’ Lars shrieked, plonking the creation on my head. I winced at the weight of it.
‘You and Cara have matching ones!’ Shelley added, admiring the flower mess. Great, I bet Cara styled hers like a bloody woodland nymph, whereas I looked like some overgrown May Day flower girl.
‘Now you need to try it all on.’ Lars ushered me behind a heavy velvet curtain at the back of the shop, commanding the sales assistants to make way for us. They all gave him bitchy looks as we passed. Shelley was told to wait in the seating area for the big reveal as she tried to phone Cara to see where she was so she could try on her matching dress.
‘Erm, do you mind, just …’ I bent down to take off my shoes and smiled awkwardly at Lars to leave so I could get undressed.
‘Oh, okay. I’ll be right outside.’ He gave the dress one last lingering look and swiftly glanced at my hands, as if to check I was clean enough to hold such beautiful fabric. I must have passed, as he flounced off and closed the curtains to wait for me to get changed. I gazed up at the dress and hurried to get down to my underwear. I couldn’t wait to feel the soft silk against my skin. Apart from the wedding dress that I had been going to wear, I don’t think I’d ever tried on anything as fancy as this before.
‘Ready, darling?’ Lars barged back into the changing room. I was still standing in my mismatching bra and knickers.
‘Oh, I …’ I clasped my hands over my almost naked body to protect my modesty.
‘Shush. Don’t worry. Lars has seen everything before. Now, let me help you get into the dress. If you turn around …’ He placed his hands on my waist and steered me into position, not feeling the slightest bit embarrassed at invading my personal space like this.
‘I’m sure I can manage myself,’ I tried to protest, but it went unheard as he flicked the gown off the hanger and had it outstretched for me to step into.
‘Come on now, chop, chop,’ he said.
‘I can pull it up myself,’ I said firmly, getting hot and flustered at sharing this space with a man I’d only just met, who was currently tugging at the dress to ease it over my hips. The material that I had thought was billowing suddenly seemed to have shrunk in size. I sucked in my stomach to get it to inch up a little further, but it was as if there was a button or a fastening still done up that was blocking its path. There was no way it would go up and over my hips.
‘Oh my, oh no.’ Lars stepped back dramatically, leaving me to grab the dress before it fell to the floor.
‘What? What do you mean “oh no”?’ I asked, feeling extremely self-conscious as he looked my body up and down. I wished I’d at least been wearing matching underwear.
‘Right. not to worry.’ He clapped his hands together and fixed his eyebrows into a determined knot. ‘We’ll try going from the other way. Step out of it and we’ll go over your head.’
As before, he took control and almost made me stumble backwards into the ornate full-length mirror that was propped against the wall behind me. The dress was bunched between his expert hands as he ordered me to hoist my arms in the air and then carefully place one through each sleeve. I did as was told, feeling like a giant twat being dressed by this perfect stranger. I’d managed to get my arms through each armhole and he’d been able to pull the material down over my squashed breasts. But there was not a chance that the dress would get over the rest of my lady lumps.
‘Oh my God, it doesn’t fit!’ I squealed in a hushed whisper. Shelley would be furious. I felt like one of Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters, shoving my nasty feet into the delicate glass slipper. My bridesmaid dress didn’t fit! ‘What size is it? Maybe you’ve picked up the wrong one, the smaller one meant for Cara?’ I was clutching at straws and I knew it.
Lars clasped his hand to his chest, looking mighty pissed off that I had suggested he would make such a mistake. ‘This is the size that Miss Shelley ordered. It is you that is wrong, not the dress.’
‘Do you have a larger size in stock?’ I hissed, ignoring his sly dig.
I really didn’t want Shelley to freak out about this. I knew I’d been eating larger portions since moving in with Ben and my clothes had felt a little tighter, but I’d never expected that I wouldn’t be able to fit into the damn dress. I couldn’t have changed that much since giving her my measurements a few months ago. Lars took the dress and hung it back on the hanger in silence. I braced myself for him to give me a lecture about my diet or how I’d ruined the wedding. Instead, he took a step back and pulled my hand into his.
‘Georgia.’ He looked into my eyes, his voice a soft and measured whisper. ‘How long have you known about this?’ He nodded his head up and down my body as he emphasised the last word.
‘This? What do you mean this?’ I stuttered, trying to get my hand out of his grip so I could put some clothes back on. I needed to face the music with Shelley and see if we could find a good seamstress, and pronto.
Lars sighed, closed his eyes – was he wearing mascara? – and gently shook his head at my denial. ‘Darling, like I said, Lars has seen it all.’
‘Okaaaaay,’ I said slowly, trying to follow along with whatever he was getting at. I already felt like a heifer. I didn’t need his judgy looks or mean-girl comments on how I could try a colonic or maybe do a three-day juice cleanse. Although both of those things might help with the dress being slightly less snug – there was no way they would make it fit.
‘All okay in there, guys?’ Shelley’s worried voice floated through the curtain. ‘Cara says she’s on her way. I can’t wait much longer though!’ she sang. ‘Georgia, do you love it?’
‘Mmm,’ I replied. ‘Just give us a minute!’ My voice didn’t sound like my own. Lars was still holding my hand, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘You need to find a bigger size; she’ll be crushed if I can’t wear this!’
‘Georgia.’ He was starting to freak me out by how calm he was being. Thankfully he’d dropped my hand so I could at least try and put my jeans back on. ‘Answer Lars, how long?’
‘What the hell are you on about “how long”? I don’t know what you mean! How long have I been fat? Is that what you’re trying to say? I’m sorry but that’s not a very nice question to ask a woman!’ I was struggling to get my right leg into my jeans under his fixed gaze.
My eyes filled with tears; I felt like a dumpy meat pasty crossed with a bloated beached whale and I just wanted to get out of here. The changing room was too small and hot, never mind this weird man staring at me in this uncomfortable way. I then had to go out and tell Shelley that she needed to find another dress and quickly.
‘Georgia. The baby?’ Lars said.
‘What baby?’ I replied, louder than I meant to.
‘Baby? What are you talking about in there?’ Shelley called. ‘Cara’s just arrived so we need to get a move on so she can get in there and put her dress on.’
‘Why, you’re pregnant!’ Lars clapped his hands together just at the moment Shelley pulled back the curtain and saw me still in my bra with one leg in my jeans and the stunning dress back on its hanger.
‘What?’ we both asked in high-pitched unison. Cara’s mouth dropped wide open as she peered around to see what was going on.
‘Georgia, you’re … you’re pregnant?’ Shelley’s face dropped as her eyes immediately flew to my doughy stomach. I self-consciously used an arm to cover myself and tried to get into the sodding jeans properly. ‘Why are you not in the dress? Wait – you’re pregnant?’ It was as if she couldn’t work out which part of this new information to deal with first.
Lars was dancing about and clapping his hands together like a demented seal.
‘I’m not pregnant!’ I shouted, wishing that he would stop that. ‘I’m just fat!’ I wailed.
‘But, wait, why did you say that?’ Shelley twisted her head to Lars, allowing me to finally get my jeans up.
‘Because look at her! Of course she is pregnant. Her breasts do not stay in her bra—’
‘That’s because it’s a cheap Primark one,’ I replied. Wait, why was I defending myself to this odd little guy?
Lars ignored me and carried on. ‘Her stomach is pronounced and she has this aroma. Lars has smelt it many times before and I just knew. Pregnant!’ He made a motion with his hands as if a light bulb had gone off over his head.
‘A pregnant aroma? Oh purlease,’ I snorted in indignation. I’d never met a ruder man in my life. I turned to Shelley, who was still looking at me as if I was hiding something from her.
‘I thought you looked different!’ she squealed before clocking my horrified expression.
‘I knew it!’ Cara matched Shelley’s high-pitched noises. ‘I thought you looked bigger than the photos Shell has shown me of you! I told you, didn’t I, Shell?’
‘What? Different how? And no, I’m not pregnant!’ My cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
‘Oh. Sorry. No, not different, just happy …’ It was Shelley’s turn to fade out sheepishly. Cara mumbled something about good lighting and photo angles.
‘Shelley, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a bit fatter since going out with Ben and well, the thing is, I can’t fit into the dress. It’s just too tight. I am SO sorry! But I’m sure there’s time to find a bigger size or get it altered somehow?’
‘Wait – you’re not pregnant?’ Shelley stuttered.
I shook my head forcefully. ‘No. I’ve just piled on the pounds.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’
She let out a breath I hadn’t realised she’d been holding, then broke into a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘Thank God, because that would really ruin the wedding day!’
‘Lars is always right!’ Lars piped up, feeling left out that the conversation wasn’t involving him.
I glared at him and his preposterous suggestions that I might be ‘with child’. I’d just put on a little bit of weight – okay, judging from how tight that dress was and how they’d looked at me in my underwear, maybe it was slightly more than just a few pounds – but apart from that everything was normal.
‘Erm, so the other thing.’ Shelley had stopped laughing and was holding the price tag between her fingers. ‘Are you all right to pay for this? Cara has covered hers and I just figured that with you running your own business you wouldn’t mind chipping in?’ she hurriedly added.
‘Oh, erm, yeah sure,’ I blustered. God, this was awkward, but I would have paid any amount of money to be out of this changing room.
A grateful smile broke over her face. ‘Thanks, Georgia. Cara’s seen these amazing shoes she thought you could both get too.’
‘Cool.’ Oh, great.
‘Alterations are extra,’ Lars unhelpfully piped up. ‘It will cost more because of how late you’ve left it to get the first fitting too.’
‘Fine,’ I said through gritted teeth, handing over my credit card.