Page 11 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

She shuddered. ‘You’re braver than I am then.

I’d rather face a hundred ghosts than one of those eight-legged monsters.

Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind? Mr Swain was just telling me that the ghosts have decided they don’t want to be left out of this Dickensian weekend, so they’re staging their own production of A Christmas Carol .

Can you imagine? They wanted Silas Alexander to be Ebenezer Scrooge and Perks said he was apoplectic when they asked him! ’

Her eyes sparkled with glee, and I chuckled despite everything, having heard all about the grouchy vicar. I decided that I’d wallowed enough for one day and that I was going to make sure Callie and I had a good time, despite the weather.

We caught a taxi from the station and headed to Bradwell’s Creative Costumes, noticing hopefully that the rain was finally dying down and we might be able to get from the car to the shop without getting drenched.

We’d visited Bradwell’s back in early October, when Callie had first mooted the idea of having a Dickensian weekend.

Jack’s uniform was being made by Garrett’s, the estate’s usual costume provider. He and Tom were to wear dark blue trousers, white shirts, and black neckcloths. They were also being given peaked navy-blue caps.

Brodie had apparently visited Bradwell’s online and had chosen what he wanted to wear from the website.

‘I’m not so sure about him being Inspector Bucket, you know, but apparently Bleak House is his favourite Dickens novel.

I’ve never read it, but he told me all about it, which is why I’m going as Lady Dedlock.

I wanted him to dress more like Aubrey. He looks so elegant.

Did I tell you we’ve recently found his portrait in the Hall?

’ Callie asked as we travelled in the taxi.

‘It was in one of the many unused rooms in the attics. Lawrie thinks he remembers his father storing it up there when they were decorating the bedrooms, and it just never came back down for some reason. We also found a portrait of Agnes’s late husband, but she wouldn’t let us hang that back up and I suppose I can understand why, given her current living arrangements. ’

I didn’t want to hear about Aubrey and Agnes, so I said, ‘I’m hoping my dress still fits. Maybe I should have ordered a bigger size.’

Callie frowned. ‘Don’t be daft. You only ordered it, what, six, seven weeks ago?’

‘The rate I’m expanding that means nothing,’ I said, only half-joking. God, what if it didn’t do up? I’d be mortified!

The taxi pulled up outside Bradwell’s, and Callie leaned over and paid the driver, refusing my offer to pay as she’d bought the train tickets.

‘You can buy me a sticky bun or something,’ she said. ‘Or we can go halves on that afternoon tea if you fancy it?’

‘Let’s see how we feel after we’ve tried these dresses on,’ I suggested, my heart sinking as I wrestled with the very real fear that I was about to be thoroughly humiliated.

Bradwell’s was far from the usual fancy dress shop, being what I’d have termed swanky.

They didn’t just have costumes in the shop but were able to source them from around the country and even had dressmakers to make them from scratch if you wanted to own your outfit and were willing to pay for it.

They had provided period clothes for various film, television, and theatre productions, and there were signed photographs of actors and actresses in Bradwell’s costumes dotted around the walls.

The shop assistants couldn’t have been more welcoming, which wasn’t surprising given the big order they’d had from the Harling Estate, and how much money they must have been making from it.

‘Miss Chase and Mrs Milsom,’ said a blonde woman with black-rimmed glasses and an impossibly tiny waist, as she scanned a computer screen for information on our order.

‘Ah yes. They came in last Wednesday. I’ll fetch them to you, and you can try them on, then we’ll see if everything’s to your satisfaction. ’

‘Ooh,’ Callie said, her eyes bright with excitement, ‘this is going to be brilliant! I can’t wait to see how I look as Lady Dedlock.

’ She scooped up her hair and held it against the back of her head.

‘I’ll need an updo,’ she mused. ‘I’ll have to see if Ingrid at the salon will do it for me, although Mia’s pretty good at that sort of thing.

Did I tell you she’s going as Nancy from Oliver Twist ? ’

Mia, the housekeeper, cook, admin assistant, and general Girl Friday at Harling Hall was good at everything, so it didn’t surprise me she could style hair too.

She was also incredibly attractive. I’d bet she’d look stunning, even dressed in the sort of thing poor Nancy, the thief and prostitute, would have worn.

The elegant blonde assistant arrived back carrying the two dresses in zipped costume bags over her arm. ‘If you’d care to follow me.’

She led us to the back of the shop where a row of changing rooms stood and checked our names before handing each of us our dress.

Callie gave me an excited thumbs-up before disappearing inside her cubicle and drawing the curtain shut.

I looked ruefully at the bag over my arm and headed into my own cubicle.

I made very sure that the curtain was fully drawn and that there wasn’t even an inch at either side where anyone might see me.

There was a full-length mirror in the cubicle, but I didn’t want to look at that. One quick glance as I’d walked in had been enough to give me the horrors.

I hung up the dress, shrugged off my coat and kicked off my trainers, then slowly and reluctantly I removed my jumper and jogging bottoms, my back firmly to the mirror. At last, dressed only in my underwear, I reached for the costume bag and unzipped the cover, carefully removing the dress.

‘If you need any help just let me know,’ the assistant said, sounding frighteningly close. I eyed the curtain suspiciously but there was no movement.

Heart thudding, I stepped into my costume and began to pull it up.

I’d chosen a mid-Victorian dress without a hoop which, frankly, was so generic I could have been any character.

I’d decided, if asked, to say I was Bob Cratchit’s wife from A Christmas Carol .

I’d said no to a corset. God help me trying to lace one of those up!

‘How are you getting on?’ Callie called.

‘Er, nearly done,’ I said, putting my arms through the sleeves and tugging the dress up over my shoulders. ‘How about you?’

‘Ready to show you.’

‘Okay, hold on a minute.’

Frantically, I smoothed down the dress then reached round to do up the zip. It was impossible. There was no way I could manage that on my own.

‘Callie,’ I said at last. ‘Can you come in? I need help with this zip.’

Callie pulled aside the curtain and just about managed to squeeze inside the cubicle with me. She looked lovely. Her dress was a striped dark green, with a bateau neckline, and long sleeves, though I had to admit I’d never have known she was Lady Dedlock.

‘Shut the curtain,’ I begged her, not wanting to attract the attention of the assistant who was no doubt still hovering somewhere close by.

She managed to shut it, with some difficulty, given how little space there was and how voluminous our dresses were, even without the crinolines.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Turn round and I’ll do you up.’

I groaned inwardly, knowing that to turn round meant I had to face the mirror.

Callie began to slide the zip up, but she hadn’t got far before I realised she was having difficulty.

‘Er, Clara,’ she whispered, ‘are you sure you ordered the right size?’

I knew it! Hadn’t I guessed that I’d put too much weight on for this dress to fit me, even though it had only been a few weeks ago that I’d ordered it?

‘It should be,’ I said weakly. ‘What size does it say on the label?’

She had a look and read it out to me.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘that was my dress size. Evidently, it’s not now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as if any of this was her fault. ‘Look, slip it off and get dressed, and we’ll see if we can order one in a bigger size.’

‘I don’t want to order one in a bigger size,’ I said, on the verge of tears. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother. Sorry, but I’m not going to get a costume after all.’

‘But – but I’m sure there’ll be?—’

‘No, Callie, honestly! It’s too uncomfortable anyway.

My stomach’s permanently bloated and my back aches and I really don’t want to be squashed into a dress when I feel like this.

’ The tears were spilling down my cheeks now, and I didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse than I did at that moment.

I wrestled my arms free of the sleeves and, past caring, I pushed the dress down to my ankles.

I heard a gasp from Callie and looked up, seeing her shocked expression as she eyed my reflection in the mirror. Well, thanks for that. As if I didn’t already know I looked…

My mouth fell open and I stared at my own reflection, hardly able to believe my eyes.

‘Clara…’

‘No!’

‘Turn to the side,’ she said gently.

In a daze, I did as she said, staring in horror at the mirror.

‘Didn’t you know?’ she whispered, at my shocked expression.

‘I can’t be! It’s not possible. I’m going through the perimenopause!’

‘Maybe you are,’ she said, squeezing my shoulders sympathetically, ‘but unless we’re both very much mistaken, I think you’re also pregnant.’