I wrote this for a few reasons: because the idea came to me whilst at Westfield one day; because I promised Sammie I'd write it; because I've not written anything in far too long and, primarily, because I just adore Carla and Hayley's friendship and would murder a minor relative for a scene like this but know we'll never get one. I wrote this on an iPad during lunch breaks at work and that night I drank too much wine, so excuse any typos etc.
"I told you, Hayley, I'm not letting you spend all those hours slogging over my dress without at least something in return."
"Yeah but, here? Are you sure?"
Carla slammed her car door shut, sighing in mock annoyance as she swung her handbag over her shoulder. "Yes, now come on! Remember where we parked".
Once inside the shopping centre, Hayley scanned the array of shops, noticeably intimidated. Seeing the expression on her face, Carla smiled and took her friend's arm. "You think your bad, you should've seen Peter in LA. He had to take refuge in Starbucks after about ten minutes!"
"I don't blame him!" Hayley joked, following her friend as they walked towards the first set of escalators.
_
Bright lights shone from every store sign; endless inviting doorways and window displays. As they dodged prams and slow moving people, Hayley began to feel like she was a child again, being pulled around a supermarket. Except she'd never have been taken anywhere like this. Not while she was still Harold.
"Honestly Mrs Connor, you really don't have to buy my dress. I'm still perfectly capable of paying my own way" Hayley protested for at least the third time since setting off that morning.
"It's not about being capable, 'ayley, it's about what I know you'd end up leaving with if I let you have free reign. You'd ruin all the photos!" Had anyone else made a comment like that, she'd have taken it as a deep insult, but with Carla she merely grinned back.
"Well, it gets me away from Roy and his fussing for a few hours anyway."
"Exactly. And for the last time, it's Carla."
"Sorry"
The younger woman slapped her playfully on the shoulder, before grabbing her by the arm and almost throwing her through the entrance of a shop Hayley didn't have time to note the name for. "First stop..." She declared in a sing song voice.
"...and this one, definitely this one" Carla thrusted a fourth dress at her friend, causing her to almost drop what was in her hands.
"I dunno, Ms- Sorry...Carla." She corrected herself in a self-depreciating tone, "It's not really very me..."
"Try it on" she grinned. "For me?"
Hayley sighed in mock acceptance. "Alright, for you."
"Good girl!"
"You done yet?" Carla called through the curtain of the fitting room.
"Sort of..." A quiet, unsure voice called back.
"Sort of?"
"Well, it's on but... No. No it's really not me, I'm gonna put the next one on."
"Uh, you will not! Get out here this instant, Cropper, or I'll be pulling that curtain open whether you're clothed or not!" Carla suspected she's said that somewhat too loudly as the fitting room attendant looked over, furrowing her brow suspiciously, and she was momentarily uncharacteristically shy. "Well... I won't literally but-"
"Fine!" The voice interrupted as the curtains were pulled open.
It took Carla a moment to compose herself; to swallow the lump In her throat. It was a stunning dress: a simple, straight shape with a slight detailing around the waist and alone the neckline. But the blood red shade served only to reveal pale, washed out skin underneath, and to highlight the redness under her eyes. For the first time since her diagnosis, her friend looked ill.
Aware that she was almost certainly doing an awful job of disguising her shock, Carla thumbled for the right words, praying she didn't stutter. "It's lovely...". She choked the words out quickly. "Really..."
Hayley pulled a face. "I look like somebody's grandmother that's raided the dressing up box!".
Carla forced a smile. "No you don't! But look, if you really don't feel comfortable in it then go for the next one." She was grateful to Hayley for giving her a tactical way to disguise her feelings, whether she'd intended to or not.
Her friend vanished into the fitting room once again as Carla allowed herself to fall back onto the sofa outside. She hadn't even prepared for that, and she suddenly felt exhausted,like she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry. It was really happening; she was losing her friend. Possibly the only person who had ever really understood her, who never had any alterior motives or designs on her, never intruded... She was dying.
Seemingly moments later, Hayley resurfaced, this time in baby blue, with matching jacket. Fighting back tears, Carla got to her feet and, taking a momentary glance, asked "what do you think?"
"Well... I like it but... I'll let you be the judge!"
The lighter colour disguised the paleness of her skin a lot better than the previous dress had, and it fitted in the right places. Right at that moment, that was all she cared about. "Screw what I think," she replied, daring to come closer, "you're the one who has to wear it".
Hayley pulled at the fabric subconsciously, before turning her back to Carla to look in the mirror again. "Yeah... Yeah I like it"
"Then go for it. Wear that one".
"You really think so?"
"Yeah," she smiled through watery eyes, "it's perfect."
There was a brief pause as the two exchanged knowing smiles, before Carla broke the silence with an exaggerated grin. "Right, shoes!"