The Memory Dress

Chapter Forty-Two

FORTY-TWO

Meredith

2015

So many people all buzzing around in one place. Meredith feels their excitement, she shares in it. She and William have arrived early, she likes it that way. Valet parking is quick and easy. They dispense with their luggage and now they have a little time to wander the shops, grab some last-minute suntan lotion before boarding their flight, and by tonight, they will be dining overlooking the Amalfi Coast. It’s their favorite hotel. William has been talking about this trip for weeks.

“I want to buy a book for the flight,” Meredith tells William. “Let’s meet at the gate in half an hour, shall we?”

“I’ll come with you, let’s go together.” William loops an arm through hers.

“No, go find a quiet spot and have a coffee. Honestly, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you know it.”

William lets her go, but Meredith recognizes that face. He looks just like he did when Fiona started meeting friends in town alone, declining his offers to drive her in and pick her up. It’s been so long since they’ve seen her, despite William’s attempts to make contact.

But she won’t let that thought take the shine off this trip to celebrate her sixty-eighth birthday. True, she isn’t as sharp as she once was, but she’s never done anything to make him feel she can’t be left alone for half an hour to buy a book.

“Okay, please don’t be late. We don’t have that much time until the flight will be called.”

Meredith wanders off in the direction of Waterstones, relieved to see him head to the upper floor and the small Italian coffee shop he prefers.

She runs a finger along the display of bestselling paperbacks, all competing for attention. What was the title she was looking for? She can’t remember the author’s name. Never mind, she’ll know it when she sees it. She picks up three or four, hoping for some recognition. The shop fills with people—stressed parents, excitable children, impatient businessmen. Pushchairs blocking the walkways. Carry-on wheelie cases clashing with the back of her ankles. Confusing announcements repeated over and over on the loudspeaker. The incessant beep, beep, beep of the tills. Someone crying. An argument about where the queue begins and ends.

Why did she come in here? What is this place with its fluorescent colors and plastic wrappings, its overstuffed shelves? Meredith wanders back beyond the entrance, into an even busier throng of people. She spins, trying to focus on something, anything that will tell her where she is and why she is here. She will remember soon, she knows she will. She raises her head and looks at the signs. The words are bleeding into one another, making her feel dizzy. Only one image seems familiar: the outline of a woman in a dress, an arrow pointing right. She follows it to a room full of mirrors, several closed doors, an astringent smell. She has been here before. The loud gush of hot air tells her so.

“Are you in the queue or not?” A woman in low-slung jogging bottoms that expose her hip bones can’t be bothered to wait for an answer and jumps ahead of Meredith, disappearing behind the one open door.

Meredith spins and sees herself in the mirror. She walks toward her own reflection, tries to relax her features. Then there is a woman beside her, wearing a pretty white cotton dress, its hem and cuffs edged in beautiful turquoise stones.

“Your dress is beautiful.” Meredith reaches out to touch the sleeve.

“Oh, thank you. It’s one of my own actually. I own a small boutique in Richmond, lots of this sort of thing, easy-to-wear pieces that are perfect for a flight. I can see you’re a fan of a good dress.” She nods toward Meredith’s pale green shirtdress, belted at the waist.

“You’re right. I do like dresses, yes.” Meredith nods slowly. Perhaps this woman can help her. “Do you sell anything like this?” Meredith opens her arms, giving the woman the chance to fully examine her outfit.

“Absolutely. Shirtdresses are probably our biggest seller in fact.” The woman finishes drying her hands on a paper towel and pulls her phone from a straw bag. “Lots of different lengths too.” She holds the phone toward Meredith, who watches as the women clicks through to another screen and a fresh series of dresses appears.

“The sale starts in two weeks, and look, I shouldn’t but I’m going to show you which ones will go in at seventy percent off. They’ll all sell out in the first few days, so you’ll have to be quick if you want one.” The woman guides Meredith to one side so they aren’t blocking others from using the sinks. “You’re lucky, my flight has been delayed by two hours so I’m in no rush.”

Meredith suddenly feels uneasy again. She shouldn’t be in here. She needs to be somewhere else. But the woman is talking, talking, talking, and she feels rude attempting to cut her off.

“I’m going to give you my card.” Now she’s pulling all sorts out of her bag, searching for her purse.

“I think that’s me, isn’t it?” Meredith suddenly asks.

“What d’you mean? Oh, there it is.” The woman hands her a business card that Meredith can’t remember asking for.

Meredith raises a finger in the air, appealing for the woman to listen.

“This is the final call for Meredith Chalis. Please proceed immediately to gate 43, where your flight is boarding.”

“Oh no, you better get going. Come on!” She takes Meredith’s arm and then the two of them are back in the main shopping concourse. “Gate 43, look.” The woman points to the signs above their heads. “Go!”

“She was wearing such a beautiful dress and we just got chatting.” Meredith can’t understand why William is so cross with her.

“You’ve been gone nearly an hour. Do you realize how close we were to missing the flight? They are about to close the gate. What on earth took so long?” William looks at the bundle of books in Meredith’s arms, the lack of a carrier bag.

“Meredith, did you pay for those books?”

Meredith looks at them, not remembering how she came to be holding them. “No. I don’t think I did.”