A Dress with Instructions
At three on Saturday afternoon, Tess received a dress and a set of instructions. The instructions were written on stiff white paper. The dress was wrapped in an old cotton sheet. Both belonged to a woman who was not there.
"My mother says the skirt must stay exactly as it is," said the young woman carrying them. "But she says you can make it fit me. Apparently those are the same thing." She unfolded the sheet on Tess's worktable. Pale green silk spread across the scratches in the wood. Below the waist, the fabric fell in generous folds. Small covered buttons ran down the back. Tess had seen the dress before, in the photograph taped to the instructions. In the picture, a laughing bride stood beside a red car. A man's hand rested on her shoulder; most of him was outside the frame. The young woman had the bride's wide mouth.
"I'm Alys," she said. "My sister is getting married tomorrow. Mum wore this for her own wedding. She told everyone I was going to wear it before she actually asked me." Tess looked from the narrow waist to Alys's shoulders. The dress had been made for a different body. Tess checked the shoulder seams, then the narrow waist. "Have you tried it on?" Alys nodded. "With the buttons open. Mum said you would know what to do." At the bottom of the page, beneath several measurements, someone had written in capitals: CUT NOTHING.
Tess had rented the tiny shop six months earlier. Most customers brought trousers that were too long, or curtains that were too wide. She enjoyed those jobs, but she had once made whole dresses. A folder of her own designs lay beneath the till, waiting for a customer who might ask. This job looked more interesting than curtains, and an urgent Saturday alteration would pay for part of next month's rent. She moved the folder out of the way. "Let's see what happens when you're inside it," she said.
Where the Seam Gives Way
Alys came out of the changing space holding the back together. Tess pulled the little stool towards herself and examined the seams. There was hardly any spare fabric inside them. Letting the dress out would gain only a little room. "I could put a panel down each side," she said. "New fabric, from under the arm to the waist. But the colour wouldn't match exactly. And I would have to open the old seams." Alys looked at herself in the long mirror. "Could you make it shorter as well?" "I'd need permission from its owner." "Right. Of course." She stopped holding the back, and the dress slipped lower on her shoulders. "I keep forgetting that isn't me."
Her mother arrived ten minutes later, carrying green shoes in a paper bag. "I found these at the back of the wardrobe," she announced. "Almost the same colour. You could hardly see the difference in photographs." She was shorter than Alys, with grey hair cut neatly at her chin. She introduced herself as Marianne, then went straight to the mirror. "Oh, that's lovely." "It isn't fastened," said Alys. Tess explained the panels. Marianne listened with one finger pressed against her lip. "Would they show?" "Yes," Tess said. "I wouldn't promise otherwise." "Couldn't you just loosen it a little?" Tess showed her the small allowance inside a seam. Marianne touched the stitches carefully, as though they might reveal more fabric if she asked in the right way.
"It's only for one afternoon," Marianne said. Alys reached behind her. "Then let's try the buttons." Tess fastened the lowest one, which sat above the waist. She left the others open and asked Alys to breathe normally. Alys raised an arm towards her hair. There was a brief, dry sound. A tear opened beside the seam under her right arm. All three women looked at it. "I wasn't pulling," Alys said. Marianne's face lost its bright expression. Tess undid the button at once. "Please don't move your arm again. Let's take it off carefully." Alys disappeared behind the curtain. The green shoes remained in their bag.
On the table, the damage looked smaller than it had on a person. Tess examined the edge without stretching it. The stitches were still there; the silk beside them had split. A pale repair could hold the tear together, but it would be visible. "Did the needle catch it?" Marianne asked. Tess opened her hands. "I haven't put a needle into it." She could hear how defensive that sounded. She fetched a plain length of cotton and showed how a seam could remain while the cloth around it gave way. "I can't tell you exactly why this silk tore today. I can tell you the damage is beside the stitches. Opening the seams would not solve this part." Marianne laid both hands on the worktable. "It survived thirty years in a box."
Alys came out in her jeans and cream shirt. "Perhaps a box was easier." Her mother looked up sharply, but Alys's eyes were on the dress. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to close it." "I told you not to force anything." "You told me Tess would make it fit." Tess remembered a wedding dress she had altered in the factory where she used to work. The supervisor had measured a bride, then written the wrong number on the order. Tess had noticed it and been told to follow the paper. The bride had cried in the fitting room. Afterwards, nobody at the factory could remember who had made the decision. Tess folded Marianne's instruction sheet in half. "We need to decide what this job actually is," she said.
The Clothes in the Bag
Marianne sat on the stool. "My husband won't be there tomorrow," she said. Tess glanced at the photograph. Alys leaned against the wall. "Dad's coming to the ceremony. Just not the lunch." "Exactly. Two separate tables would be ridiculous." Marianne straightened the edge of the cotton sheet. "Your sister doesn't need to worry about us. She has enough to organise." Tess had assumed the man in the photograph was dead. She was glad she hadn't said so. Marianne looked at the green skirt. "When I told your sister about this, she was delighted. A little piece of our wedding at hers. Something that hadn't gone wrong." Alys's face softened, but she kept her arms folded. "You could have asked me first."
"Would you have said yes?" "I don't know. I might have wanted to. Now I feel as if I have to rescue a photograph." Marianne took the picture from the folded paper. "We were happy that day." "I know." Alys sat on the edge of the changing platform, opposite her mother. "I'm not trying to change that day. I just have to get through tomorrow in a body that can sit down." Tess checked the clock. Her shop closed at five, and the wedding began at eleven the next morning. There was time to do careful work, but not time to invent more of the original silk. She explained two choices. She could repair the tear and return the dress for storage. Or, with Marianne's agreement, she could repair it and add the side panels. Neither choice would produce the dress in the photograph.
"What if we cut off the skirt?" Alys asked. "I could wear that with a different top." Marianne reached for the fabric. "You'd turn my wedding dress into two things." "Two things I could actually wear." "And what would be left for me?" Alys opened her mouth, then closed it. Tess understood the question. The green dress wasn't Alys's to cut, however much pressure had been put on her to wear it. Marianne's permission mattered. So did Alys's permission to spend the wedding inside it. "You don't have to choose the same answer," Tess said. Marianne stared at her. "We came for an alteration." "Yes. I'm finding out which garment to alter."
Alys looked towards the chair where she had left her canvas bag. "I brought something else." She took out black trousers and a cream shirt with a soft collar. The shirt looked like the one she was wearing, but its sleeves were longer and the fabric had a quiet shine. "I bought these for a work dinner last winter. The sleeves cover half my hands. I thought, if nothing could be done with the dress..." She laid the clothes beside the silk. Marianne said nothing for a moment. "Trousers?" "The invitation says to come ready to dance. It doesn't say I have to wear a skirt." "You'll look as though you've come from the office." "I wear old trainers to the office. You know that." Her mother's mouth almost moved into a smile.
Tess could have suggested making a new skirt from fabric in the shop. It would have been an expensive rush job. Instead, she asked Alys to put on the trousers and shirt. The trousers needed no work. Tess pinned the sleeves, then watched Alys lift her arms, sit, and bend to pick up the paper bag. In the mirror, the difference was clear. Alys looked less guarded. "What about the shoes?" Marianne asked. Alys held a green shoe against her black trousers. "Wrong colour. And wrong size." This time they both smiled, briefly. Marianne rose from the stool. "Please mend the tear," she said. "But nothing else yet. I need some air. Don't cut the dress while I'm gone." "I won't," Tess said. Alys watched her mother leave. Then she took her own purse from the bag. "But you can cut these sleeves. I'm the one who bought them."
Something That Still Fits
After Marianne left, the shop became an ordinary shop again. Tess marked the sleeve lengths and explained the price. Alys asked her to repair the tear as well. "Mum can decide what to do with the rest another day." "She has agreed to the repair," Tess said. "But I'll keep the dress intact." Alys waited while Tess worked on the shirt first. She sat beside the window and called her sister. "There may be a change," Tess heard her say. Then, after listening, "Not the car. My clothes. I'll bring the sandwiches, whatever I'm wearing." When she ended the call, Alys was laughing. "She thought I'd decided to bring a different car. She wants my boot space for the flowers."
Tess finished the sleeves, checked them on Alys once more, then began the small repair under the dress's arm. She used fine thread and kept the cloth flat. This would support the damaged area for careful storage; it would not make the tight dress suitable for Alys. The repair remained visible, as she had promised. Alys looked through the design folder Tess had left on the counter. "Did you make these?" "I drew them." "Have you made any?" "Some. A long time ago." Alys turned a page. "You should put one in the window." Tess almost gave her usual answer about waiting until the shop was ready. Instead, she asked which one. Alys pointed to a loose blue jacket. "That looks as if someone could live in it."
Marianne returned at a quarter past five. Tess had left the door unlocked for her. She carried a small box rather than the green shoes; Alys had put those back in the paper bag. "I went home," Marianne said. "I was looking for your grandmother's necklace. Then I found this." In the box was a yellow silk scarf with a thin green border. She held it beside the cream shirt. "This might be better than the shoes." Alys touched the scarf. "Can I borrow it?" "Yes." Marianne paused. "If you want to." She examined the repaired dress without asking Tess to hide the stitches. "Will it be all right if I hang it up?" Tess suggested keeping it flat in its sheet. Marianne nodded and began wrapping it herself.
Tess charged Marianne for the repair and Alys for the sleeves. The total was much less than the side panels would have cost. Neither woman argued about the bills. At the door, Marianne asked whether Alys had a proper coat for tomorrow. Alys said she did, then offered to pick her up at ten. "You'll have the flowers in the back," Marianne said. "You can sit in the front." Her mother nodded, looking down at the wrapped dress. They left together, Alys carrying the black trousers over her arm. Tess watched them pause at the corner. Marianne said something, and Alys shook her head. They had not finished disagreeing. But they turned in the same direction.
On Sunday morning, before leaving for her own walk, Tess stopped at the shop. She put the drawing of the blue jacket in the window, propped against a wooden reel. Her phone showed a message from Alys: a picture taken on the way to the wedding. The cream sleeves ended neatly at her wrists. The yellow scarf was tied to the handle of her bag, where it would not get in the way of loading flowers. Beside her, Marianne was holding one end of a large cardboard box. Tess enlarged the picture to check the sleeves, then reduced it again. Nothing in it had been arranged to match the old photograph.
