Girl in the Mirror: Two Stories. Cecelia Ahern

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      ‘Well in that case I’m putting goat’s cheese back on the menu so your mother can be cured of her imaginary allergy to it,’ Lila fumed.

      ‘Lila. Calm down. I said I’m sorry. I know. I completely understand. I adore Ellie as much as you do. I was just trying to look at a bad situation positively.’

      ‘There is no bad situation. Call him back and tell him he’s to put the curtains back up or I’m doing it myself.’

      ‘Okay, I’ll do it. Now calm down and concentrate on that road.’

      Lila calmed herself, waited for her blood to stop boiling.

      ‘Well, two hours from now, you’ll be my wife,’ he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

      ‘Then I can reveal my true colours and stop acting like this perfect saint now that I’ve snared my man,’ she said, then laughed evilly.

      He laughed. ‘This is you as a saint?’

      She smiled. Looked at herself in her mirror. She looked happy. She was happy. Had never been so happy.

      ‘I love you, monkey,’ he said.

      ‘I love you, hippo,’ she said, smiling at herself in the mirror.

      She hung up just as Grellie’s house came into view and the excitement rushed through her. She couldn’t think of anybody more appropriate to spend the special morning with and also to accompany her up the aisle.

      The front door was open before the engine had stopped and though she couldn’t yet see Grellie through the wild garden, she could sense her excitement too. It drifted out from the black-and-white weather-beaten arch above the door, through the bluebells and nettles, hydrangea and dandelions. It skipped over the cracked, randomly dotted flagstones in the grass and greeted her at the creaking gate, which hung from one hinge.

      She carried the dress over her arms as though carrying an exhausted sleeping child home. As soon as she neared Grellie she held the dress out.

      Grellie’s hands automatically reached out and felt for the fabric. Her old fingers moved gracefully like a ballet dancer on point, over the silk.

      ‘It’s ivory,’ Lila whispered, not wanting sound to take away from Grellie’s senses.

      Grellie was quiet as her fingers inspected the dress. Lila closed her eyes, listened to the waves crashing below, and the wind’s effect on the overgrowth and if she wasn’t about to marry the man she loved, she almost would have wished for that moment to be frozen in time.

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