The Listmaker by Robin Klein

demanded respect. Aunt Dorothy, however, suddenly bounced into it, flourishing a long roll of buttercup-yellow material as though she was conducting an orchestra.
    â€˜Look what I found!’ she beamed. ‘It’s on special, too, marked down half price. Not that I’ve got any clues about girls’ dresses, but don’t you think the colour’s just –’
    Piriel didn’t care for it at all (maybe because Aunt Dorothy accidentally swiped her on the chin with the roll). She said that yellow always reminded her of thick banana custard. Aunt Dorothy seemed a little downcast and didn’t offer any more suggestions. They weren’t necessary, anyway, because Piriel chose an ivory-coloured cottage print, scattered delicately with lilac flowers. She was quite definite about it.
    â€˜It will suit Sarah
perfectly
,’ she said. ‘She’s such a quaint little article.’
    I felt the tiniest bit doubtful again, because I wasn’t sure I was a cottage print kind of person. (Or a quaint little article, either, for that matter!) But trusting her judgement, I was happy to let her pick out shoes, too, after we’d bought the dress material. Aunt Dorothy didn’t come with us on the rounds of shoe shops. We lost her at the first one, and had to backtrack to where she was riffling through a stand of books outside a newsagency. (She’d heard somewhere that detective stories made good reading for long plane trips, so that’s what she gave Dad every Christmas. I never had the heart to tell her he didn’t like them.)
    â€˜The rest of this business might take a while. We must be holding you up, Dorothy, with the Christmas shopping you wanted to do,’ Piriel said tactfully. ‘If you’d like to get on with that now, we could all meet again in the café next to the fountain, let’s say in about forty-five minutes. Would that be the best plan – what do you think?’
    It was remarkable, the smooth way she could get rid of someone and sound polite about it at the same time. Aunt Dorothy loped off quite obligingly, and we were able to look for shoes with no interruptions. The ones Piriel liked best were very plain ivory leather, with a narrow buckled strap.
    â€˜You don’t think they’re maybe a bit too much like … well, like little kids’ party shoes?’ I asked hesitantly. ‘And they’re
terribly
expensive …’
    â€˜They’re just right for the dress, Sarah,’ Piriel said. ‘So is this nice little matching bag I’ve just found on the other counter. And not to worry about how much it all comes to. I’m paying by credit card, and Brett will reimburse me for whatever I’ve spent. We can’t have you turning up at our wedding wearing cheap trendy rubbish, can we, honey? There, that’s everything taken care of, so now we can go and treat ourselves to a delicious lunch. I think we deserve it.’
    Aunt Dorothy was ten minutes late meeting us at the café, and when she did show up, knocked over the sugar bowl by dumping a large wooden doorstop on the table. The doorstop was a goose wearing a painted bonnet and apron.
    â€˜Christmas present for Nat!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Seeing she’s so keen on bird things because of the house name … oh, that reminds me, did you pass her message on yet, Sarah? About the wedding reception being at Avian Cottage?’
    It wasn’t nearly as awkward as I’d thought (maybe because that goose was so hideous nothing else seemed quite as bad). Piriel dealt with it skilfully.
    â€˜That’s generous of Nat. Tell her I’m very grateful for the offer, but I’ve already made a tentative booking at a restaurant one of my friends owns.’
    â€˜Bet they can’t make wine trifle as good as Nat’s,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘People always have trifle at weddings, don’t they?’
    â€˜Well, not
everyone
,