Best-selling Dwarf Patio Fruit Trees
Liz has come up with an ingenious way of keeping her ‘bridezilla’ customers happy
My order
Apple Red Spur
Apple Golden
Pear Lilliput 3 Dwarf Patio
My details Title Address
Town www.yours.co.uk/life/shopping
Date of Birth (optional)
Email address
Spur
Fruit Tree Collection 3 for 2
Initial / /
Apple Red Spur
Surname
Postcode
Tel No £15.99 £15.99 £15.99 £31.98
Payment
■ I enclose a crossed cheque for £___________ made payable to J. Parker Dutch Bulbs (write your name, address and offer code YM058 on the back of your cheque)
■ Or debit my:
Mastercard
Visa
Maestro
Apple Golden Spur
stepped forward as Amy, a pretty 20-something, came through the door of my bridal gown store with her mother in tow. After friendly introductions, we got down to business.
“Shall we start with a size 16?” I suggested tentatively.
“Size 16? No way, Liz. I’ve lost quite a few pounds and should easily fit into a size 14,” Amy declared.
‘Really?’ I mused silently. Amy was, to put it tactfully, on the curvy side, if you know what I mean. But since I opened Yours Truly ten years ago, I’ve learned to keep my counsel. After all, this wasn’t going to be my wedding day.
Many years ago, I had been engaged – but the less said about that cheating love rat, the better. Opening a shop for luckier
Ibrides finding their ‘happy ever after’ had helped to heal my hurt. Amy fell for a lacy designer gown and asked to try it on in a size 14. I obliged, knowing full well that it was in fact two sizes larger. To satisfy the vanity of my brides-to-be I’d come up with a neat idea. I sewed small satin hearts over the labels on the larger sizes and colourcoded them so that only I knew the true size.
While her mum relaxed on the sofa with a complimentary glass of Prosecco, Amy slipped on the dress and I picked out silver shoes, a veil and some pearl jewellery. When she stepped out of the cubicle, I added the accessories.
“Oh my goodness, you look absolutely beautiful!” her mother dabbed her eyes with a tissue as Amy gave us a twirl.
I assessed her reflection in the full-length mirror. “The cut really flatters your figure. It doesn’t need any alterations at all.”
“I told you I’d lost weight,” Amy beamed proudly.
“That’s the one, Amy, love,” her mother said. “We’ll take it, please, Liz. And the accessories you’ve chosen.”
My spirits soared. “A perfect choice,” I assured them.
A few days later, I arrived in the morning to find Amy waiting at the shop entrance.
“Hello, Amy! Everything okay?” I greeted her warmly to hide my sinking feeling. Had she somehow uncovered my secret ploy?
Glaring at me, she fished out her mobile and showed me a photo. “When I got home, I made a discovery, Liz. Underneath the satin heart, I found the size label.”
In a panic, I wondered how I was going to get myself out of this pickle. It would be impossible to wriggle out of it so I decided that honesty was the best policy.
“Come in. I’ll make us a cuppa.” I turned off the alarm, switched on the kettle and arranged some chocolate biscuits on a plate in an attempt to sweeten Amy’s mood.
“I’d better not have any biscuits,” she said, as we settled ourselves on the sofa. “As you know, Liz, I’m dieting for the wedding.”
I took a deep breath. “Look, about the label. I didn’t mean to mislead you…”
“But you did mislead me, Liz. It was you who sewed the heart on to hide the size, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I confessed, dejectedly. “You let me believe I was a 14 when actually I’m still a 16.” Her eyes filled with tears and I felt awful.
“I’m so sorry, Amy. I really didn’t mean
to upset you,” I said, putting a reassuring arm around her shoulder.
“But why?” she asked.
I explained: “You see, most of my customers claim they have lost weight when they haven’t. These days we’re all used to wearing high-street clothes made from stretchier, looser fabrics but bridalwear isn’t as unforgiving. It’s all about tight-fitting bodices and cinchedin waists.”
Amy nodded doubtfully.
I continued: “As far as your mum and I were concerned, you looked the image of the radiant bride. I’m sure your fiancé will be stunned when he sees you walking down the aisle in that dress – he certainly won’t be wondering what size it is!”
“But I wanted to be a small size 12 on my big day!” she wailed, failing to notice the irony.
In my job, I’ve become used to dealing with ‘bridezillas’ and decided to try a sympathetic approach. “Organising a wedding can be very stressful. People don’t tell you that beforehand and brides can end up putting a lot of pressure on themselves,” I told her.
I breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note never to cover up the labels in future
Amy said: “Tell me about it! I’ve the guest list to do, hymns for the service to finalise, flowers to order – my head is spinning!”
“Well, at least you can tick your dress off that list. It’s just a suggestion, but why don’t you delegate some of those tasks? In my experience, families love to be involved.”
“That’s a good thought, Liz. My mum and my sister have both offered to help. Do you know, I think I will have a biscuit, after all.”
A week later I was busy rearranging the window display when the doorbell jangled and a smartly dressed man around my age walked in to the shop. “I’m looking for Liz,” he said.
“I’m Liz. How can I help?” I crossed my fingers, hoping he wasn’t an irate father coming to complain that his darling daughter was upset because she’d found her dress was two sizes bigger than she’d thought.
He pulled a list out of his jacket pocket. “I’m Amy Smith’s Uncle James. I’ve been given the job of picking up – um, what was it again?” He peered at his list: “Silver shoes, pearl jewellery and a veil.”
Phew! I breathed a huge sigh of relief and made a mental note never to cover up the labels in future. Instead, I would be gently assertive with my ‘tantrums and tiara’ brides.
I was glad that Amy had taken my advice and delegated jobs to her family. As I gave her uncle the carrier bag, he said: “Thank you. Oh, before I forget, Amy asked me to give you this.” He handed me a pale pink envelope.
It was an invitation to the wedding. Thinking I would cut a lonely figure without a Plus One, I murmured without much enthusiasm: “What a nice surprise.”
“She has told us all how lovely, kind Liz at Yours Truly made her come to her senses and calm down.”
“Oh, it was just a friendly chat,” I protested.
“My sister – Amy’s mum – said it made a real difference and organising the wedding has become much easier with everyone mucking in. If it’s not impolite, may I ask if you’ll be bringing your partner?”
“Actually, I don’t have a partner.” “Really? Neither do I! Would you do me the honour of accompanying me on the day?”
I beamed: “I’d love to!”
It might not be a ‘happy ever after’ ending, but ‘happy right now’ will do nicely for me!
Sharon has been writing poems and stories since she was a little girl. A big fan of Pam Ayres, she has had several of her poems published in Yours.