Frankenplot - The Gentleman's Wardrobe Part 3

 

Sylvia arrived at Impeccable Skin with ten minutes to spare. She sat in the waiting area, picked up a bridal magazine and flicked through the pages. It dawned on her that so much had changed since her own wedding, thirty five years ago. Weddings had become so sickeningly commercialised, custom made gifts for the bridesmaids, bespoke table settings, speeches written by a third party, a stranger.

 

It was all very vulgar and she resented Richard’s constant demands for further financial contributions, along with his perennial excuse of, we didn’t realise how much everything costs, a comment he made sure to garnish with a foolish smile to disarm his parents.

 

Those extras were totally unnecessary and simply for photos, to one-up their friends and make sure everybody was impressed by their thoughtfulness and the flush of funds at their disposal. 

 

‘Getting married?’ said one of the beauticians as she walked by.

 

Sylvia shook her head and laughed. ‘No, not me. My son…and his partner, or fiance, I should say.’

 

‘How exciting!’

 

‘Yes…it is. But there’s so much to it now, a whole industry it seems,’ she said with raised eyebrows.

 

The beautician paused and smiled sympathetically. ‘It’s just a day. I was very sick on my wedding day and all my plans went down the toilet, quite literally.’

 

Another head popped around a door. ‘Do you want to come through now?’

 

Sylvia got up and headed to the treatment room. The walls were decorated with meaningless framed messages, Life, Laugh, Love. She saw her reflection and thought how different she looked in this environment, the light was soft, peachy. It really did matter to her, how she looked, especially at her son’s wedding; deep down she acknowledged it was shallow, pathetic even but she wanted to look her best.

 

Asked to lie back and relax on the treatment bed, she stared at the spot lights on the ceiling, scattering orange and purple fluorescences which remained in her field of vision when she closed her eyes. It felt like an escape, a bit like being on an aeroplane where time stands still, nobody can bother you and you can’t bother yourself.

 

‘I notice you're wearing clip-ons. Have you ever thought of having your ears pierced, only we do it here.’

 

‘Yes, I have actually but I don’t like to see blood. I remember as a child, my mother coming home with bloody ear lobes and two gold studs poking through the red, clutching blood stained tissues. I thought, what has she done?’

 

‘Doesn’t usually bleed to be honest, not with modern equipment. And this procedure probably hurts more.’ 

 

The beautician continued to roll Sylvia’s face slowly with a cylinder covered with fine spikes, followed by an application of some serum made with tiny gold particles and then the fine spikes again. There was a pricking sensation but Sylvia didn’t mind it. Indeed the pain took her mind off things and sort of reset her anxiety, at least temporarily. 

 

‘Your face might look a bit pink and feel a little tight for the rest of the day but don’t worry. It’ll ease off and you should see the results straight away. I’d recommend waiting a month before another treatment.’

 

‘Sylvia automatically lifted her hands up to her cheeks and felt her skin. It tingled but she didn’t feel younger, she felt her age but covered in a tighter layer of wrapping paper.’

 

It was a short drive back to the house. Her heart sank as she observed Laura’s little car on the driveway, making it impossible to turn in. She parked up on the pavement, being sure to block her future daughter in law’s exit, just to keep a bit of control. The first thing she heard as she entered was her husband’s voice, he sounded annoyingly jovial.

 

‘I’d eat them for breakfast lunch and dinner,’ he said and Richard and Laura laughed in agreement.

 

‘Eat what?’ said Sylvia as she put her handbag down on the table.

 

‘Chocolate brazils.’

 

She ignored him. ‘Hello Richard…Laura,’

 

‘Mum, are you okay, you look unwell and hot.’

 

‘Yes, you look really flushed,’ said Laura, she turned to Ian and said, ‘Maybe it’s just a hot flush.’

 

‘I had my face done at the beauticians in town,’ she said, tapping her cheeks, ‘she said it will settle down tomorrow. I want to look my best for your big day.’

 

‘Have you managed to find a new outfit yet? Only I saw something suitable in Hobbs, I’ll send you the link.’

 

Sylvia stared at Laura. She looked almost like a child, her eyes shining, her lithe figure, limbs so loose and flexible, glossy hair down to her waist almost. It seemed absurd that Richard was getting married, he was still in his twenties, just about and she’d always imagined him having a string of girlfriends and perhaps settling down in his late thirties after travelling the world.

 

‘I’m not sure Hobbs stuff really suits me. Maybe I could look into dying the outfit that I already bought to make it fit your colour scheme, it was quite expensive, it would be a shame not to wear it.’ Sylvia knew that this suggestion was unworkable and said it to cause friction.

 

Laura looked at Richard for support but he was ignorant of such things and didn’t seem to comprehend the absurdity of it. ‘I’m not sure, Sylvia,’ she said, ‘It might end up looking like tie dye,’ she said.

 

Ian laughed. ‘I used to love a bit of tie dye. We could have a seventies themed reception, at least everyone would enjoy the food, chicken in a basket, black forest gateau. You can’t go wrong with that, in fact, I’m salivating just thinking about it.’

 

Laura placed her hand on her stomach and laughed. ‘So am I…weirdly.’ She glanced at Richard and something passed between them, something secret.

 

‘The food at Largo’s is usually very good,’ said Sylvia, ‘well at least it should be, the amount we have agreed to pay for it!’

 

Laura looked uncomfortable then annoyed. Richard shifted on his feet. ‘Do you want to show me the outfit you got, Mum? I haven’t seen it. Maybe the colour is different in real life..’

 

‘Yes, come up, Richard, I can show you the wardrobe,’ Sylvia said with enthusiasm and began walking towards the stairs.

 

‘The one from Uncle Leo?, Richard said, following behind.

 

‘Yes, it looks so much better in our house. I think it was made for our bedroom.’

 

They entered the bedroom which Sylvia kept immaculate. The bed was always made perfectly with the cream satin bedspread covering the entire bed evenly without creases and never any clothing left out. 

 

‘Oh that door is open again,’ she said, closing the door with the mirror, ‘that’s the only issue with it.’ She looked at her face in the glass and stood closer to inspect her skin thoroughly, ‘Smoother don’t you think?’

 

‘Always smooth,’ said Richard, and looking up towards the top of the wardrobe, he continued, ‘I think it’s leaning forward slightly. Maybe me and Dad could push it back and slip something underneath, a bit of cardboard would do it.’

 

‘Maybe. The only thing is..’ Sylvia heard a floorboard creak and she noticed Laura had come up silently and was now standing behind Richard. ‘Oh hello Laura, I didn’t see you there.’

 

Laura put her arms around Richard’s waist and leant into him, hiding her face. ‘The only thing is what, Mum?’

 

‘The only thing is, that just after we installed the wardrobe, some mercury leaked out and dripped onto the carpet.’

 

‘Mercury?’ he said, shocked.

 

‘Yes Richard, it’s a very old mirror, the glass is mercury backed. We think it got knocked in the move.’

 

‘Get out Laura!’ he pushed her back, being gentle but firm, ‘You can’t stay in here.’

 

‘What?’ said Laura, puzzled.

 

‘Leave the room, the mirror’s leaking mercury.’

 

‘Why?’

 

‘The baby, Laura!’

 

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