Lucy in the Sky

looks like it’s been recently refurbished in neutral shades of cream and grey. Very stylish. I sit there for an hour or so, reading Molly’s old copies of NW and looking out through the new French windows at the pink and grey galahs in the fig tree.
    ‘There you are.’ Molly eventually appears in the doorway. ‘Still jet-lagged?’
    ‘Yes. And the bloody bat outside the window didn’t help.’
    ‘Aah, you’ve met Bert.’
    ‘Bert?’
    ‘Bert the bat. Or it might be Bertina, we’re really not sure. Cute, isn’t he?’
    ‘Er, not at five o’clock in the morning.’
    Molly just laughs. ‘Lucy, come here. I want to show you something before I go to work.’ She leads me up the stairs and into a large room.
    Aside from running the B&B, Molly is also a clothes designer and she works part-time in a shop in Manly where her boss lets her sell some of her own designs.
    Multicoloured patterned fabric spills and drapes over almost every surface, a large sewing machine takes up a good portion of the desk and ribbons and pins and scissors are scattered across the rest of the workspace.
    ‘This is my workshop,’ she exclaims proudly. ‘And this,’ she says, going to a large wooden wardrobe and pulling out a plastic-encased garment, ‘is for you.’
    I take it from her, intrigued and also, if I’m being honest, a little apprehensive.
    I feel embarrassed that I don’t own any of Molly’s designs. Icould order items from her website, but our styles are so completely different. She’s more wacky and funky whereas my look is more high street. I hate to think of her being offended, but I just wouldn’t look right in her clothes. I hope she understands.
    So, with a certain amount of trepidation, I lift up the plastic and see a long, silver satin gown.
    ‘This is stunning !’
    ‘Will you be my bridesmaid?’ Molly smiles.
    I squeal with excitement and proceed to jump up and down on the spot for a few seconds while she laughs at me.
    ‘Is that a yes, then?’
    ‘Are you kidding? I would love to!’ I lean across and give her a hug before turning my attention back to the dress.
    ‘I hope it fits. I had to call James for your measurements.’
    ‘You called James?’ I ask, surprised.
    ‘Yes–he was so sweet and helpful.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes, honestly. Lucy, I’m sure things will work out between you two,’ she reassures me.
    ‘I hope so,’ I reply quietly.
    ‘They will. You make such an ideal couple. That photo you emailed me of you two drinking through straws from the same cocktail–where were you again?’
    ‘Florida, a year ago.’
    ‘It was so cute.’
    I smile at her gratefully. I don’t want my personal dramas to take anything away from Molly and Sam’s Big Day and the lead-up to it, so I hope she doesn’t mind when I ask, ‘Do you want to see the text?’ I’m suddenly desperate to hear her verdict on that too.
    ‘Sure.’ She takes the dress from me while I run downstairs to grab my phone. When I get back, I hold the phone in front of her and scroll down slowly, so she can read the message.
    ‘And he reckons his friends sent it?’
    ‘When they were in the pub and he went to the bar, yes.’
    ‘Nice friends,’ she says sarcastically.
    ‘Well, they’re not really his friends, more his colleagues. So I don’t have to see them that often.’
    ‘Just as well,’ Molly says. ‘Lucy, I think you should delete it.’
    I look at her, unsure.
    ‘You must. It’s only going to make you feel like shit every time you look at it, and if he’s telling the truth, which I’m sure he is,’ she adds pointedly, ‘then why would you want to keep it?’
    I don’t know why, but I don’t want to delete it yet.
    She sees my hesitancy. ‘You are such a glutton for punishment. Just like when we were at school,’ she teases.
    ‘What do you mean?’ I laugh.
    ‘Oh, you know, always looking up the answers to questions, straight after maths tests, just to torture yourself when you knew you’d got some of them wrong…Reading the last page of novels because you can’t contain your curiosity, even though you know it’s going to spoil the rest of the book…Rummaging through sales racks for ages, just to see if you can find the skirt you’d splashed out on months before at a reduced price…’
    Falling for my lovely, brown-eyed schoolmate, even though I knew he was hopelessly devoted to my best friend in the whole world…I don’t say that one out loud.
    ‘Alright, alright!’
    ‘Go