“Grandma! Am I pretty? Tell me!” chirped Emily, twirling and dancing in front of the mirror.
The little girl burst out of the changing room in a soft pink dress, embroidered with beads and sequins, its wide, flowing skirt adorned with ruffles of tulle and a scattering of rhinestones. Yes, this dress was every little girl’s dream—utterly magical! Like a tiny fairy, Emily, fluttering out of my memories, brought back a long-forgotten tale from my own childhood.
The tilt of her head, the sparkle in her deep, mischievous grey eyes—where had I seen that before? I wondered, gazing at my granddaughter. Ah, yes. Just like my daughter at her age. How could I have forgotten?
“Positively splendid,” my own mother would have called this dress, had she still been alive. How I wished she could see my grandchildren now!
And Emily was glowing with happiness! What more could a six-year-old girl ask for? Her mum and dad by her side, holding her hands, and a beautiful dress—one with dazzling shoes peeking out from beneath.
“Of course, my princess! That dress suits you perfectly—you look absolutely enchanting. I can’t take my eyes off you!” I replied with a smile, blinking back tears. “But wait, darling—we must find the right shoes and a handbag to match. Let’s leave the dress at the till and pop over to the shoe department. And perhaps a little accessory or two to make you absolutely irresistible!”
“You won’t change your mind, will you?” Emily asked softly. “Mum said no—she said it was too expensive. But I’ve dreamed about this dress! It’s so special, Grandma—sparkly and covered in beads! No one else has one like it. There’s only one left in the shop. Will you really buy it for me?”
“Have I ever let you down?” I asked.
“No, never!” Emily beamed. “Can I wear it home?” Her pleading look melted my heart like ice cream left in the sun.
“Of course, my love! We’ll pay for it right now. And then, Em, we’ll make a proper celebration of it—just you and me. Let the world wait!” I laughed as we rushed to the till.
“She’s the spitting image of you,” the shop assistant remarked, handing me the receipt.
“This is my grandma,” Emily announced loudly, revealing all our family secrets with childlike honesty. “Mum and little William stayed home—his teeth are hurting, and he won’t stop crying. Grandma’s visiting—she’s on holiday.”
Under my careful guidance, Emily found a handbag to match her new dress. The shoes took some time to pick, but we chose wisely—dark pink patent ones with delicate bows on the straps.
“I’m a real princess!” Emily declared for the hundredth time, admiring herself in the mirror. “Let’s go home—I want to show Mum what you got me!”
“Emily, darling! We must mark this special occasion. Just around the corner is a café I used to visit with my parents when I was your age. Shall we go?”
“I want a chocolate muffin and hot cocoa!” she sang, grabbing my hand and skipping along.
Sitting in the café, I watched her devour the sweet treat, her face alight with joy. How wonderful it was to see her so happy!
Memories flooded back—coming here with my own parents. Mum would order me a custard tart and a milkshake, while Dad proudly pulled a Cadbury bar from his briefcase. There wasn’t a happier girl in all the world! But then my parents split. I stayed with Mum, and though Dad visited often, that golden glow of childhood dimmed.
When we returned, my daughter Kate opened the door, little William in her arms.
“Good heavens! Emily, did you sweet-talk Grandma into buying that dress?” She winked. “Reminds me of someone.”
“Mummy! Grandma got me the dress AND shoes AND a bag AND hair clips!” Emily chanted, hugging me. “And we went to a café—I had the yummiest cake!”
“You two are brilliant,” Kate sighed, setting William down. “I’ll never forget how you and Grandmas Annie and May got me ready for my first day of school. That backpack was the best in class! And my uniform—white silk blouse with pearl buttons, a pleated pinafore, frilly socks, and shiny black patent shoes! Nobody had shoes like mine.”
When Kate started school in 1997, money was tight. But between three generations, we scraped enough together to make sure she had everything. At that first assembly, she was the smartest girl there.
“After the bell, we went to a café,” Kate recalled, her voice catching. “You bought me cake and a glass of sparkling juice. I never understood why you didn’t have any—now I know you skipped so I could have mine.” She hugged me tightly. “Thank you for giving me such a perfect childhood.”
Tears welled as we embraced, Emily and William joining in.
Another memory surfaced—me at sixteen, my waist-long blonde braid over my shoulder, shopping with Mum and Dad for a dress. Back in 1987, it cost seventy pounds—a small fortune. I’d lingered outside the department store every day, mesmerised by the window display.
There it hung—a deep burgundy dress, embroidered with lace, boat-necked and bat-winged. To me, it was the height of elegance, womanhood, beauty.
And one day, I dared to ask.
My parents exchanged a glance—then said yes. Stepping out of the changing room, radiant as the morning star, I watched them wipe away happy tears. I wore it home that day, and to every special occasion after.
When I married and moved towns, the dress vanished. Over the years, I’ve worn countless others—simple, stylish, even extravagant. But never have I forgotten that first one, that first thrill.
Later that evening, as the children slept, Kate knocked on my door.
“Mum, why spoil Emily so? She showed me your ruby necklace and earrings—your treasures from Grandma. Aren’t they precious to you?”
I smiled. “Darling, seeing those I love happy brings me more joy than any keepsake. Remember—there’s greater happiness in giving than in receiving.”