The Last Dress
My love, you remember my friend Mrs. Smith from work? Her daughters getting married, and theyd like you to make her wedding dress. Could you manage it?
Oh Mum, I really canthonestly, Im swamped with work. They’ll have to find someone else.
She insisted it had to be you, darling, you sew so beautifully. Everyone recommends you.
I just cant, Mum…
Alright then, Ill let them know. Theyll be disappointed…
Heather worked from home, bustling with clients, more than she could take on. Shed known since childhood shed sew for a living, a certainty born from stitching outfits for her dolls. When she finished school, there was never any doubt about what came next.
Everything she made fit perfectlyher clients raved endlessly. Sewing gave her joy and a tidy income too. Even with rails of clothes in the shops, many still longed for a tailors touch.
A week later, her mother arrived, tears in her eyes.
Oh love, its terrible news… Mrs. Smiths daughter, Emily, who wanted the dressshes died. Both she and her fiancé were in a car accident on the way to visit family in Manchester. He nodded off at the wheel in the night. The car flew off the road and right into an old oak. They were so young, so happy, and now, instead of a wedding, therell be a funeral. Its monstrous…
Heather felt the unfairness throw itself around her chest. Life could be so bloody cruel.
Now they’ll have to find a wedding dress for Emily to bury her in. They never managed to order one Imagine, burying your own child…
Heather worked late into the night, heart heavy. Fate had left her childlessthe doctors had called it early, announced she was barren. The pain once gnawed at her, but over the years, she’d accepted it.
Besides, shed just turned forty-threenot exactly the ideal time to think about children. Still, she mourned for the parents, a quiet ache. The thought of burying ones own childunimaginable grief.
Suddenly, the window in her sewing room flung open. Heather blinked in confusion and went to close it; she lived alone, the hinges were stiff, and yet here it was, agape on its own.
Returning, she found a girl standing beside the table. She looked nearly transparent; Heather could see the faded wallpaper through her.
Oh great, Ive finally lost it. Need sleep, thats all
Would you sew a dress for me, please? I never did get a chance to walk down the aisle here… but maybe I could leave in something of my own choosing… My last dress… James and I are together now, always will be. Thats how its meant to be…
Who are you, really? Is this some sort of twisted prank?
Im Emily Only you can sew the way I dreamed…
I was allowed to glimpse what’s to come, and it truly is wonderful. Im not afraid, not now, not beside my love But I want to be beautiful, just once more, before I go.
Heather stared, stunned. This was the sort of thing you’d see in movies, not in your own room, not to you. Nonsense.
She must need rest, that had to be itthe strain of the tragedy, the ghost of a bride haunting her conscience…
She retreated to bed and drifted into a deep sleep. In the morning, she took up her work as if nothing had happened, dismissing the nights visitation as nothing but a mind over-stretched.
That evening, she tidied up her space and made to turn in early, when the girl reappeared amid a haze of shimmering mist.
Funny, Im starting to get used to this being neither here nor there. The worst part is watching Mumshes breaking. I tried reaching her, but shes too lost to sense me. Somehow, you can. Not many people can do that.
Emily, what happens after the funeral? Do you leave for heaven, or?
My guide told me I’d remain awhile, here, close to where I once lived. After that? I’m not allowed to say more. Many things make sense now. Theres nothing scary about dyingits just a doorway, a shift. Theres a different place ahead, where Ill live on. One day, Ill come backmaybe not even as a girl. But for now, I want to make my exit as a beautiful bride. Will you help me?
Heather ran her hands through her hair. How could she possibly sew a dress for someone already gone?
But I dont even know what you wantthe design, your size And what would I tell your parents?
Just sew, dont overthink it. Everythingll fall into place. Herelike this.
Emily twirled around the room, the lace bell of a white dress spinning as she did. Heather watched, etching every detail into her mindthe sleeves sheer, the bodice peppered with delicate stitching, a shimmer in the skirt.
She sat down and began sketching, focusing furiously on every detail. As her pencil slowed to a finish, the girl faded away, leaving the room empty but for the page before her.
When morning came, Heather glanced at her sketchbookit was all there. Not a dream, after all.
She headed out, purchased the finest white lace and silk she could find, guessing Emilys size from memoryshed always looked so slight. Back at home, Heather poured herself into sewing, losing track of time.
Her husband found her at the machine, shaking her shoulder.
Heather, you alright love? Youve been acting different lately. Is something wrong?
Ill explainits a mad story, youd laugh or call me daft. Best you dont mind it…
Two days later, the dress was done. Never had she sewn so quickly or with such easeit was as though invisible hands guided her. When she slipped it onto the mannequin, her breath caught; it was perfect, heartbreaking that Emily never got to be a bride in life…
That evening her mum came by, pink with news.
You wouldnt believe it, they cant lay Emily to rest! First the mortuary delayed, then trouble with papers… Thenher family couldnt buy a dress for her anywhere, as if the shops refused. Its the oddest thing, poor Mrs. Smiths beside herself.
Mum, I made Emilys dress… Let them have it.
But you said you hadnt the time, didn’t even measure her…
Mum, please. Just take it to them. Its the right thing.
Next day, Emilys relations collected the dress. Heather wouldn’t take a penny.
Emily and James were buried together, side by side. By some miracle, the dress fitted as if hand-tailored. Somehow, her body had softened, supple long enough for her to wear it.
She looked beautiful, love. Just beautiful. A tiny smile on her lips. May she rest in peace with James…
A few days on, Heather dreamed of Emily. She was whirling round a dancefloor, clutching her fiancé, a radiant smile on her face. Around them stretched a garden strung with strange blossoms, birds chattering, somewhere a stream trickled.
After the dance, Emily glanced towards Heather.
Its gorgeous, thank you! Im happy! And… soon, someone named Alice will find her way to you. I helped her along
Heather jerked awake. Emily was content, the dress suited herand still, who was Alice?
Heather returned to her sewing, escaping from the ache and the echo of midnight. Sometimes, shed spend an evening with her old friend, chatting over strong tea, sharing stories of when they were girls.
Vera, pet, I havent felt well lately, my stomachs churning; I think Ive overdone it with work. Havent seen the gynaecologist in agessuspect my times up, periods stopped ages ago. Ill go private tomorrow, cant manage the NHS queues.
Its about time! You look worn to the bone, working all hours!
***
Mrs Baker, youre pregnant. I knowits rather odd, not many manage it at your age…
Dont jokeIve been declared infertile for years. Run your tests again.
No need. Herelook at the screen. See the little arms and legs, that strong heartbeat? Shes perfectly healthy. And, yes, its a girl. Congratulations!
Heather left the clinic cryingtears of disbelief, but brighter than she imagined. After all these years, a miracle had found her… A daughter. This… this must be the Alice Emily spoke of.
She bought flowers and walked through the cemetery, hunting for Emilys grave. Oddly, she found it straightaway, though shed never been there. Her feet just knew where to go.
Thank you, Emily. Youve given me the dearest gift… my child. I hope you and James are happy, wherever you are.
She set the bouquet down and walked home, hand resting on her belly, a smile bright as spring. Had she not sewn the dress, Alice would never have come. Give goodness, and it comes home to you…
