The Stepmother by Carrie Adams

self-consciously at the hem or the bodice, standing pigeon-toed and uncomfortable, longing to be skinned.
    â€œAnd now it’s Amber’s turn,” said my mother. She pulled back the curtain, and presented me with—
    My jaw fell. Soft midnight blue satin clung to my daughter’s alabaster skin and fell in a puddle on the floor. I had a sudden flashback to a happy family holiday in Wales when Amber was Maddy’s age, maybe a little younger. We’d found a pool with a waterfall. Entirely free of inhibition, Amber had stood naked under the water and pretended she was a mermaid. Now, as she held her arms over her head, the dress created the same effect, though the cascading water had revealed less of her body than the satin did now. I swallowed hard. She spun around to the applause of her sisters, her hair fanning out, then falling about her neck like a scarf. The dress was practically backless.
    â€œOh, my,” said Sally.
    â€œStunning,” said my mother.
    Over my dead body, thought I.
    Amber could not take her eyes off her reflection. I knew what she was thinking. I’d always known what my eldest child was thinking, even when, like a psychic, I’d wanted to block out the noise. West Side Story had been one thing, but this—this Amber person who needed nostage or costume, was real power. We stared at each other in the mirror. She knew me too. That was why she looked away and, with a glint in her eye, beamed at my mother.
    I relaxed. There was no way my mother would allow it. But the moment we could at last stand like comrades, she failed me again. “There’s no doubt about it,” she said, “you look magnificent. We’ll need a stole, of course.”
    What? No!
    Amber hugged her. “Oh, Granny, thank you.”
    Hey, I wanted to remonstrate, I wasn’t saying, “No.” I was saying, “Not yet.” I was saying, “Wait a bit, it will all happen in due course and the sooner you start the sooner it will end and the rest of your life is a very long time.” I had to think fast. “It’s beautiful, darling, but at least give us the fun of trying on a few more. Like the scene in Pretty Woman .” I hummed the opening bars. Pretty Woman was one of Amber’s favorites.
    â€œI do have some other wonderful gowns,” said Sally. “Let’s see what we can find.”
    Dresses came and went. Amber paraded around the room like a peacock in the kitten-heel shoes Sally had provided. She’s like a young Kate Moss, I thought, in her childish briefs and white cotton bra. All leg and pout.
    â€œAnd what about Mama?” said Sally, pulling another dress over Amber’s head. “What is she going to wear to the ball?”
    I waved my hands in protest, heat rising to my cheeks. “Today isn’t about me. It’s about my daughters.”
    â€œWell, you have to wear something,” said my mother. She obviously didn’t want my ex-in-laws thinking they’d got rid of bad rubbish, even if she thought that.
    â€œI’ll find something,” I said. “Hey, Amber, what about trying this red velvet one on again? The black isn’t so interesting.”
    â€œYour mother’s right,” said Sally. “I like the red best, too. Brings out the flames in your hair.”
    â€œCome on, Belinda, let me buy you something too. It’ll be my treat.”
    â€œIt’s okay, Mother, you’re doing more than enough.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. Sally, see what you can find for my daughter.”
    â€œYes, madam.” Sally retreated through the thick beige curtain that separated the large changing area from the fitting-room lobby.
    â€œHonestly, it’s far too late for this. It’s way past their suppertime already.”
    â€œDarling, you can’t always hide behind your children. You need something to wear, we’re at a dress shop, Sally is the best, and if she