The Dress by Nicola Peckham

Read a runner-up entry in our 2007 short story competition

Nicola, 48, is a Montessori teacher. She lives in London and Suffolk with her husband Francis, and two children, Saskia, 15 and Felix, ten.

The Dress
Vonnie awoke on the morning of her fiftieth birthday and groaned. She rolled over, closed her eyes and tried to doze off again but it was no good, sleep was elusive. Sitting up she propped herself against the pillows and ran her hands through her hair. 'Happy Birthday love.' Tom appeared at the door with a mug of tea in one hand and a gift and a card in the other. He sat down heavily on Vonnie's side of the bed and planted a kiss on her cheek, 'and happy anniversary too'. He planted another kiss and handed her the present and card. Vonnie took it from him with a sinking heart as she felt the weight and shape of it in her hands. A book. It was her fiftieth birthday for Gods sake. Slowly and very deliberately she undid each end of the parcel and eased the book out. It was a big glossy cookbook written by one of the celebrity chefs she enjoyed watching on television.

'You like him don't you?' said Tom smiling. 'Don't worry, I've got you something else as well. I'll give it to you tonight, going to have to rush this morning for that meeting I told you about!'

'Thank you and happy anniversary darling,' Vonnie tried to sound enthusiastic. She opened the book at random and found herself gazing at a photograph of a huge pavlova oozing cream and passion fruit berries. It made her feel hungry and she closed the book with a bang.

'I'd better get up', she said, 'Simon will be wanting his breakfast.'
'Stay in bed a bit. It's your birthday,' said Tom, 'Simons old enough and ugly enough to get his own breakfast.'

But Vonnie was already up and pulling her dressing gown on. Downstairs in the kitchen her son was draining a mug of tea and pulling his jacket on. 'Happy Birthday Mum' he grunted, giving her a quick hug and the briefest of damp kisses. 'See you later.'

Tom was already at the front door on his way out, 'Have a lovely time at Erica's,' he called back over his shoulder, 'I bet she'll put on a marvellous lunch for you. You know how good she is at that kind of thing.'

Vonnie sat back on a kitchen chair and nursed her mug of tea. Erica was Tom's younger sister and everything that Vonnie was not. She was slim and elegant, ran a successful business and was the owner of a beautiful home decorated in muted shades of cream and beige and dotted with tasteful artefacts. When Vonnie had thought about having a lunch party for her birthday Erica had offered to host it, 'Invite your special friends darling and let me do all the catering and arranging.' Vonnie would have much preferred a casual get together at the local Italian restaurant but Tom and Erica had been forceful and she had to give in.

Privately she was convinced that Erica saw this as an opportunity to play the perfect hostess and to show off her pristine house to a new group of people, then sit back and bask in the compliments. She would never have dared to have voiced those thoughts to Tom though. After she had finished tidying up the kitchen the phone rang. It was Sophie calling from Uni, 'Happy Birthday Ma. How does it feel to be fab and fifty?'
'More like fat and fifty,' replied her mother with feeling.
'You know I love you just the way you are,' laughed Sophie, 'we all do. What are you going to wear for your lunch at Auntie Erica's?'

Vonnie felt her heart sink again. She had promised Sophie that she would buy something new and she had tried, really she had. It was just that nothing she liked came in her size and the only things that did fit were horrible and made her feel middle aged and frumpy. Which, she reflected ruefully, was exactly what she was.

'I'll have to wear my black skirt and that nice cardigan you chose for me,' she said, 'It'll be fine.'
'Oh, Ma.' Sophie sounded disappointed. 'You always wear that. You need to start making more of an effort now that you're 50.'

After Sophie's call the telephone rang again. It was Vonnie's mother, her voice strong and cheering across the miles from Cornwall. 'Happy Birthday my darling. And happy wedding anniversary too. I simply can't believe its been twenty four years.' Neither could Vonnie. And after she had finished speaking to her mother she walked across the hall and into the sitting room and picked up the large silver frame which contained the photo of her and Tom on their wedding day. Twenty-four years ago it had seemed exciting and romantic to get married on her birthday. But for many years now the coinciding of the two anniversaries had just served to remind her of the passing years and the missed opportunities. Looking at the photo today just emphasised how humdrum her existence was. She gazed at the image of her young, carefree self and thought how lovely she had looked in the heavy cream dress, the bodice embroidered with tiny seed pearls, the voluminous skirts enhancing her slim waist. She and Tom had just come out of the church and she was laughing, her head thrown back and her veil fluttering behind her in the wind. Their hands were tightly entwined and Tom was gazing at her as if she were the only person in the world. She closed her eyes and tried hard to remember how it felt to have been living that moment, to have been her twenty four year old self. But, try as she might, the exact memory eluded her and the sound of the post rumbling through the letterbox cut into her reverie.

Vonnie carefully replaced the frame before she went to sort through the post. Eleven birthday cards, she opened each slowly and carefully before arranging them on the mantelpiece in the hall. In her mothers, bless her, a cheque for quite a considerable amount. 'Spend it on yourself darling,' her mother had written in her dramatic black sprawling hand, 'not on the family, just on yourself. Perhaps a painting. Something you really, really want.' Vonnie folded the cheque up and slipped it in her bag.

As Tom had predicted, Erica had put on a wonderful lunch. Her house was full of huge vases of white flowers, the enormous oak table in the kitchen was groaning under the weight of an array of delicious platters and ice cold buckets of pink champagne were lined up on the black granite work surface. Although Erica had prepared the buffet herself, she had arranged a posse of girls to wait on her guests hand and foot. Erica looked exquisite in grey tailored trousers, a fitted white shirt with cufflinks and a wide black belt slung around her hips. It was impossible to imagine that she was a mere two years younger than Tom.
'What a sister in law to have,' commented her friend Jennifer quietly into her ear, 'So many talents and a wonderful hostess.'
Vonnie smiled, 'She's always been the same,' she whispered back, 'can't help herself.'

Erica insisted that Vonnie opened all her presents. There were six boxes of chocolates, a pale blue leather handbag from Erica that Vonnie knew she would never use, another cookery book and from Jennifer a little watercolour that she had painted herself which Vonnie would always treasure.

After lunch Vonnie made an excuse that she had to leave to have a meeting with Simons headmaster. She walked briefly to the station and passed a residential home where she deposited the six boxes of chocolates with the receptionist. As she waited on the platform for the train to arrive, she fingered the folded up cheque form her mother.

Half and hour later Vonnie found herself in Bond Street. It was late spring and the sun was strong in the sky. Vonnie sat outside a café and ordered a latte, luxuriating in the warmth. She watched the endless procession of shoppers, envying them their glossy carrier bags from shops she would never dare venture into. She walked up the street gazing in the shop windows and, when she saw a branch of her bank in a side street, she went in and paid the cheque into her account. She walked slowly back down the other side of Bond Street and that was the moment she saw it. In the middle of a window display was the most perfect dress. A plain cream silk shift dress with tiny seed pearls on the bodice and a hint of chiffon peeping out from underneath the hem. It was the most elegant dress that Vonnie had ever seen and there was something about it that reminded her of that dress she had worn twenty-four years ago today. With her heart in her mouth she pushed open the door and walked in. Inside there were two more of the dresses hanging on a rail. Vonnie picked up the first one and looked at the size label. It said it was a 10. Too big she thought. She picked up the next one and it was a size 8. Then she looked at the price. It was £5 less than the cheque from her mother. Without hesitating she took it to the counter and watched whilst the assistant wrapped it in sheaths of delicate tissue paper. Vonnie handed over her credit card.

'If this is for your daughter Madame,' began the assistant, 'it may not fit. She will need to be very petite.' She looked doubtfully at Vonnie as if to imply that it was impossible for anyone of Vonnie's size to have such a tiny daughter. 'You have 28 days to change it if you keep the receipt.'

Vonnie swallowed hard. 'Its not for my daughter,' she said as she punched the digits of her pin number into the machine, 'It's for me.'

She avoided eye contact with the assistant but she couldn't miss the sharp intake of breath. Never mind she told herself, it wasn't as if she was ever likely to come back here. She wrapped her fingers around the corded handle of the beautiful carrier bag and felt its weight in her hand. Holding her head high she walked out of the shop trying to ignore the titters from the shop assistants.

Next she went to a lingerie shop and purchased one exquisite padded cream silk hanger for a price that was equivalent to the Sunday joint. Finally, she found a wonderful stationary shop brimming with leather of every conceivable colour. She bought a beautiful pink leather notebook with pink crispy pages inside and the word 'Notes' embossed on the front in bold gold lettering.

At home later that evening she lovingly liberated the dress from its tissue wrappings and hung it on the padded hanger on the outside of her wardrobe door. She lay back on the bed, propped up with pillows, and opened the pink notebook at the first page. And then she began to write the words, “By the time I am 51…”

She was still writing when Tom came through the door with a cup of tea, 'Thought you had probably had enough champagne for one day love.' He sat on the side of the bed and the hanging dress caught his eye.
'What's that?'
'It's my birthday present from Mum.' Replied Vonnie simply, closing the pink book and slipping it discreetly under her pillow.
Tom spluttered into his cup, 'Your mother bought you that? So the old girl is finally going senile.'
'No,' Vonnie's tone was quiet and measured, 'I bought it for myself with the money that Mum gave me for my birthday.'
Tom stood up and walked over to the dress. He looked at the label and then sharply back at Vonnie. 'It must have cost a fortune. Have you gone mad Vonnie? We could have replaced the washing machine for that amount. Or had that weekend in Paris we've been talking about. And anyway, it won't fit you in a month of Sundays. What on earth were you thinking of?'
Later Simon came upstairs and hung around by the bedroom door.
'You feeling okay Mum?' he asked with unusual solicitude.
'Yes thank you Simon. Do you like my new dress?'
She watched his eyes widen in surprise. 'Yeah, its lovely mum, but isn't it a bit, umm small for you.'

Tom cooked dinner that night and presented Vonnie with a huge box. She could tell that he was being careful to avoid mentioning the dress again. 'Your main present darling,' he said smiling. It was a shiny stainless steel monster of a food processor. Simon gave her a box of chocolates.

At the weekend Sophie came home from uni so that they could have a family celebration for Vonnie's birthday. She was studying textiles and design and she had made Vonnie a beautiful necklace as a gift. Vonnie was really touched.
'Its beautiful Sophie. I love it.'
'It's a bit of a statement piece Ma. I think that you can get away with wearing something as bold as this.'
'Because I'm so big?' asked Vonnie.

Sophie came and sat on the bed next to her mother and gave her a hug. 'Don't be silly Ma.' Suddenly she caught sight of the dress. 'Wow Ma, what is that?' She jumped off the bed and inspected the label. 'Oh my God,' she said, unhooking the hanger and hanging the dress in front of her. It looked perfect against her slender body. 'Ma, is it for me? I mean, it cant be, its not my birthday or anything, but its just so me. Oh please say its mine.'
'Actually its for me. Gran gave me some money for my birthday and I decided to spend it on a new dress.'

Sophie gave her a long quizzical look and carefully hooked the dress back on to the wardrobe door. She came back to the bed and stretched out next to her mother looping one arm around her neck.

'Ma, are you feeling okay?'
'Funnily enough that's just what Simon asked me.' Vonnie smiled. 'I feel fine. Actually, better than I have done for a long time.'
'But Ma, you do realise that even if you lost weight, I mean a massive amount of weight, that dress wouldn't fit you,' Sophie hesitated for a moment, 'and, to be perfectly frank, even if it did it probably wouldn't be really that age appropriate for you. I don't want to hurt your feelings but…'

Vonnie covered Sophie's hand with her own. 'I am determined to lose some weight Sophie but I know perfectly well that I am never going to be skinny enough or young enough to fit into that dress. But can you try and understand that just seeing it hanging there on the wardrobe door makes me feel good,' she struggled to explain herself, 'a bit like having a lovely painting or a sculpture perhaps.'

Sophie shook her head, 'How can you feel good looking at something that is never going to fit you?'
'Because it's beautiful. Because looking at it makes me believe that anything is possible. Because it makes me feel good about myself.'
Sophie sighed, 'I do sort of understand Ma. But do you think I could borrow it some time?'

Later, when Vonnie went downstairs to prepare dinner, she found Tom and the children in huddle in the kitchen and they all stopped talking when she walked into the room. She could have sworn she caught the word 'menopause'.

For dinner she cooked coq au vin and the pavlova from the celebrity cookbook she had been given by Tom. The new food processor did a wonderful job of the meringue and the children proclaimed it her best ever. It was impossible for Vonnie to pass an opinion because she had a bowl of fruit instead.

The next year when Vonnie woke on her 51st birthday she stretched out in bed and felt the warm sun streaming through the blinds. She lay still for a moment, Tom snoring gently beside her, thinking over the past year. She slipped her hand under the pillow and eased out the pink leather notebook. She opened it and flicked through the pages nodding to herself as she did so. She had lost weight, not as much as perhaps she would have liked but enough to make a real difference to her appearance. She had joined the gym and felt more toned and energetic as a result. Last month she had gone to Florence with Jennifer on a painting course. She had asked her boss for a promotion and received it and she had volunteered at a local charity to help children who had been bereaved.

Tonight she was hosting her own party to mark her silver wedding anniversary and she had a new outfit to rival even Erica. And last month she had told Tom that, with her birthday and their silver anniversary approaching, what she would really, really like was that weekend in Paris, just the two of them. This time next week they would be on the Eurostar.

Vonnie looked at the dress still hanging in the wardrobe door and smiled. It still made her feel good to look at it, it was a stunning dress after all, but now there were so many other things in her life to feel good about that it didn't seem so important.
Perhaps she would even let Sophie borrow it for that party next month.


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