by Nikki Moore
She was smiling as she turned away, and still was a few minutes later.
***
‘I said, here are the shoes that go with it,’ Millie extended a pair of black stilettos to Frankie, and she got the sense it wasn’t the first time the personal shopper had tried to hand them to her. ‘We’re going to get locked in, and you’re going to be late.’
‘Th-thanks.’ Frankie shook her head, ‘Sorry.’ Slipping them on, she checked her reflection. ‘Okay, good to go.’ She hesitated, ‘Do you know where I’m going next?’
‘No,’ Millie placed a black wrap around Frankie’s shoulders and handed her a matching handbag. ‘All I know is there’s a car waiting at the front entrance to take you to the next stop. Now, don’t worry about your jacket and clothes, a courier will run them home to you tomorrow. I put your phone, money, keys and other things in the bag. Let’s move.’
‘Thank you. I feel like a celebrity with her own entourage,’ Frankie admitted as they rode the lift down to the ground floor.
‘Let’s hope you’re going somewhere fitting then,’ Millie replied, leading her out to the entrance on Knightsbridge, signalling to a driver standing next to a silver limo. ‘Just promise me you won’t act like a diva.’
‘I won’t,’ Frankie grinned as they both stared at the luxury car. ‘Although it might be hard. Thank you for all your help,’ she said, sashaying over to the car door the driver was holding open, and sliding in carefully in the tight dress.
‘Just doing my job.’ Millie stooped to peer in at her, shaking her head in disbelief at the ready poured glass of champagne Frankie was already holding in her hand. ‘If you think it’s appropriate, I’d love to know how you got on.’
Frankie took a sip of fizz, sneezing as the bubbles went up her nose, ‘Of course I’ll let you know,’ she replied.
‘Great. And if you could arrange for the limo to circle back and drop me home, even better,’ Millie quipped.
Frankie nodded and winked, ‘I’ll do my best.’
As the car drew away from the kerb and the waving personal shopper, Frankie leaned forward to speak to the driver, ‘Do you know where we’re going?’
‘Not far, Madam,’ he replied, ‘not far at all.’
A minute later they were pulling in beside Hyde Park Corner, Frankie having only drunk half of the glass of delicious champagne. ‘We’ve only come about half a mile.’ She peered out at the grey statues, arches and columns.
‘Just under,’ the driver said, eyes meeting hers in the mirror, ‘but you wouldn’t want to walk it in those shoes, would you?’
‘I guess not,’ she said wryly, looking down at the pin-sharp heels. ‘So what now?’
He gestured her forward and she shuffled toward him. ‘For you.’ Handing her an envelope. ‘I’ll wait while you read it. You have to tell me where we’re going.’
‘Right.’ She took another sip of champagne and set the flute aside. ‘Here goes then.’ The envelope was smaller than the others but with a bulkier object in one corner, so she opened it with care, unfurling the scented paper.
A world class hotel, with old world glamour,
A slice of pink heaven, refined not with clamour,
Louis sixteenth design, art easy on the eye,
Best dining rooms in Europe, that’s FYI.
Bronze gilt and sumptuous chandeliers,
join me for dinner, it won’t end in tears.
? x
P.s. wear these.
She tapped the envelope against her palm and a square jewellery box fell out. She flipped back the lid, holding her breath. A pair of twinkling diamond earrings nestled on the velvet pillow. This was too much. Getting her iPhone out, she did a google search and then texted Kate.
Hey, hope you’re having a good NYE so far. Decked out in designer togs, with hair & make-up done. Heels, bag, expensive jewellery – the lot. Looks like it’s Christian and I’m going to a famous hotel. Will catch up with you later, F xx
Frankie tucked her phone away, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘I know where we’re going,’ she announced to the driver.
‘Where shall I take you Madam?’ he raised an eyebrow.
‘The Ritz, please. But can you circle the block a few times? I need a couple of minutes.’
‘Of course,’ he replied automatically.
‘Thank you.’ She said softly, sinking back against the seat, gazing out at Hyde Park Corner, where she and Zack had gone for a walk on their lunch break only a few weeks before.
***
Zack was leaning up against the inside of the impressive Wellington Arch, traffic streaming past them, roaring and beeping. His breath was puffing out in front of him in clouds. It was the coldest day so far, and personally Frankie would much rather be in the staff room warmly wrapped up, but Zack had convinced her to jump on a bus and get some fresh air. Well, as fresh as you could get in the middle of London.
‘It’s the anniversary, or close to it, isn’t it?’ he asked her, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets. ‘You look sad today.’
Frankie nodded, wrapping her purple scarf tighter around her face. ‘Mum died a year ago today,’ she gulped. She’d told him about her mum’s premature heart attack over lunch one day, when he’d picked up a health magazine and made a comment about an article in it. They’d had a debate over what caused heart attacks and how devastating the unexpected ones were for families and friends. A swift departure for people who were supposed to be around for a long time yet. ‘I suppose I should be over it a bit more by now.’ She sniffed, hunching her shoulders, hoping he wouldn’t hug her. If he was sympathetic, she might cry. And she wasn’t the crying sort.
‘Rubbish,’ he said bluntly, ‘a year isn’t that long, and everyone is different. People react differently,’ thankfully he seemed to pick up on her body language, staying where he was against the arch, ‘some people need routine, or a longer time to assimilate. Some need to take a break from work; others need the normality of getting up every day, having a purpose.’ He gazed at her. ‘Unfortunately death is something that everyone has to deal with at some point or another. No one is exempt.’
‘It’s part of life,’ she mumbled, recalling the words Christian had thrown at her during their last argument.
‘Yes. But it’s a horrible, shitty part of life,’ Zack expanded, ‘probably one of the shittiest parts. You have to give yourself time, until one day it doesn’t hurt so badly.’
‘I guess. It’s just that it was so sudden, so quick. One day she was there at the end of a phone, and we were planning a visit, and then…she was gone. I hadn’t seen her in months.’
‘Don’t feel guilty,’ he looked at her, dark blue eyes intense, ‘I can see that’s what you’re doing. But she would have known you loved her. You were her daughter. You’re still her daughter. You’re here, and you remember her. That’s what matters.’
‘And my dad,’ she agreed fiercely, ‘Dad still loves her. He remembers her.’
‘And loads of other people too, I can almost bet on it.’
‘Yes.’ Frankie nodded, gulping again, tears filling her eyes. She blinked. ‘Do you mind if we change the subject?’
‘Sure,’ Zack nodded. ‘But am I allowed to ask if you got hurt before or after she died?’
‘It was a few weeks after,’ she said, ‘I was in an accident. I’d rather not talk about that either though. It happened, I got better, now I’m largely fine, apart from the odd bad day when I ache. I don’t like thinking about it.’
‘I understand,’ Zack pushed away from the wall, ‘Brr, that was freezing!’ He offered her his arm, ‘Take a five minute spin on this,’ he said, ‘and then we’ll head back to work.’
She looped her arm through his companionably, ‘Sounds like a plan. Thank you for listening to me, and not pushing.’
‘Happy to, and it’s not an issue. Just one thing though Frankie.’
She ground to a halt, knowing he was serious from his use of her first name. She’d al
most started answering to weird girl recently. ‘What’s that?’
‘Sometimes to go forward, you have to look back.’
***
Zack’s words rang in her head as she walked up the stairs of The Ritz and through the gold revolving door, having received welcoming nods from the staff dressed in smart, gold buttoned uniforms and top hats. Was this going to be her chance to confront her past? Or was it going to be an opportunity to move forward? Who was waiting for her at dinner?
She bit her lip to hold back a gasp as she entered the reception area, thinking of the clue. It really was a slice of pink heaven, and she could totally understand why the interior architecture was so praised, with high vaulted ceilings and impressive bronze detailing and fine art hanging from or painted into every available space, glittering chandeliers and large vases of deep blood-red roses. It screamed refinement and luxury and old money. She’d never been here with Christian; he’d always preferred the more modern establishments. No matter what happened, she couldn’t regret coming on this scavenger hunt. The destination was beautiful and definitely worth the journey.
She walked along the red and white patterned carpet. It was busy, lots of people milling around and seated in a lounge area with a piano, with guests walking along to the ornate dining room. Chatter filled the air, but it was still muted somehow, like everyone was too polite to speak or laugh too loudly.
‘Miss Taylor?’ A man in a tux appeared next to her.
She nodded, and he slipped the wrap from her shoulders. ‘You’re to come through to the Rivoli Bar please, while your table is prepared.’
She followed him as he lead her into an art deco ante-room equipped with a bar, all dark wooden wall panels inlaid with gold details, gold raised ceilings from which chandeliers hung, white and gold curtains gathered in at the centre with what looked like large gold coins with tassels hanging from them, black and white animal print chairs, smooth round yellow tables with glass candle holders, parquet floors with tasteful but modern block multi-coloured blue, gold, red and white rugs laid down on it.
‘Here you are, Madam.’ The waiter gestured to a table, his body blocking Frankie’s view of the guest sat at it. For a moment, before he moved, she had an instant, crazy, confusing hope it might be Zack sat there.
‘Oh. Hi.’ She was disappointed to see Christian’s dark-haired sex godlikeness lounging in the chair, looking as cool and collected as ever. He always looked good, super slick and super cool. Tonight he was wearing a white, open necked shirt over a suit jacket. But slick and cool wasn’t always the preferable option. She was starting to realise she might like warm and quirky and nice instead.
‘Don’t look so pleased to see me.’ Christian stood up and came round the table, kissing her on the cheek.
She edged away slightly as his aftershave hit her, the same one he’d worn when they were together. It brought back memories of frustration and sadness, feeling low and uncontrollably angry. And then, bitterly disappointed. ‘Sorry, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I wasn’t sure it was you.’
He pulled her chair out for her and she sank into it with a murmured thanks. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he asked, sitting down across from her. ‘And who else would be doing all this for you? Have you got a boyfriend or admirer I should know about?’
Surprise number two, he hadn’t pulled a chair out for her in a long time. It was like he’d started forgetting his manners the last year or so they’d been together. But maybe that was as much her fault as his. She should have called him on it.
The waiter appeared next to them, handing them white and gold embossed cocktail menus. Frankie took hers with a smile, noticing that Christian uncharacteristically did the same. ‘No admirer or boyfriend,’ she smiled coolly, ‘but I was told a young boy delivered the envelope to the dealership, and a woman booked the personal shopper at Harvey Nicks. The sizing of the dress was spot on too.’
‘I called in a few favours,’ he lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug, running a finger down the menu. ‘Let’s get a drink before we talk more.’
She bit her lip in annoyance but another minute of suspense wouldn’t kill her. ‘So,’ she leaned forward once they’d ordered their cocktails, a Red Fruits Manhattan for her and a New York Sour for him, ‘why am I here?’
‘You look stunning,’ he grabbed her hand, stroking her wrist, and she quivered. ‘Absolutely gorgeous.’
‘Thank you, the dress is beautiful, the shoes too.’ She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She extracted her hand subtly.
‘But you’re not wearing the earrings.’ He frowned.
‘I didn’t know what all this was, who they were from. They’re too expensive, I felt uncomfortable. Now stop avoiding the question Christian, why am I here? And why aren’t you in Bali?’
‘I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to go without you.’
‘And you’ve waited an entire year to tell me that? Even though you wouldn’t talk to me when I came to get my stuff? You couldn’t have got in touch before? You had to wait and do all this?’
‘I was hurt and shocked when you ended it. Flabbergasted, actually. But I’m telling you the truth, I have missed you.’ His clear blue eyes shone with sincerity.
‘That would probably be romantic,’ Frankie said drily. ‘If I didn’t think, sorry, know, that you’ve probably had a series of women parade through the apartment since I left. Don’t forget I knew all about your playboy reputation when we got together the first time,’ she reminded him.
He looked at her, opened his mouth then closed it. She stared back steadily ‘Come on, don’t try and pretend you’ve been pining away without me, living a celibate lifestyle.’
He flushed, cheekbones going dark red, ‘So I’ve dated. There have been other women-’
‘A few I’m guessing.’
‘But none like you,’ he insisted.
‘Oh, really?’ She sat back in her chair as the waiter brought green olives, nuts and mini crackers to the table in a silver and white snack holder, swiftly followed by their cocktails. She took a sip of the tangy, crisp Manhattan and set it back down. ‘How’s that then?’ she prompted him.
He put his cocktail down with a slight clink against the table. ‘They were all kind of…plastic. Not real, like you. You’ve got opinions and values and a good sense of humour.’
‘You found my opinions and values annoying when we were together. Sometimes you said I had too many.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. I was wrong,’ he reached for her hand, and she let him hold it while he apologised. ‘They agree with everything I say, everything I want. I thought it would be what I wanted, but it’s boring.’
‘You always picked women who were into vanity and society, until me,’ she pointed out, ‘if you’ve reverted to type, what else do you expect? To be honest I’m not sure I understand how we were together for three years. We’re so different.’ She lowered her voice, aware that a touristy-looking couple at the next table were trying to listen in. ‘It doesn’t make sense, and now that we’ve been apart-’
‘You’re wrong,’ he said anxiously, clasping her hand tighter, ‘And I’ve changed.’
‘Have you? Even so, you weren’t there for me when-’
‘We were good together.’ He whispered, ‘I treated you like a princess. I was there for three years. I messed up once-’
‘You bought me a lot.’ She conceded, seeing real pain reflected in his eyes. ‘You kept me safe and gave me a life of luxury. But I was a princess locked in a tower. I never saw my friends, barely went home to see my parents,’ she closed her eyes briefly, ‘something I’ve regretted ever since. It had all become about you, the dinners and parties. That was okay for a while. At the beginning it was fun, living that kind of life, but ultimately…even without what happened, I was starting to feel trapped. That’s why I went and got the job. You didn’t listen to me, barely engaged in conversation, talked about your day but never asked about mine.’
He lifted his hand from
hers, ‘Most men are like that,’ he excused, ‘and maybe that was because all you really did was shop and lunch. How much was there to ask you about?’
‘You wanted it that way!’ she said furiously, forgetting where they were, throwing the rest of her cocktail back and then choking with the sting of alcohol. She cleared her throat. ‘You wanted me to be available and on call all the time, wanted me to look good and dress right. That’s why you didn’t like me getting a job.’ She took a calming breath, ‘Yes, you bought me things but you were never thoughtful,’ her mind settled on Zack driving her across town, and making her fresh coffee every day, and something in her stomach hitched, ‘you never made me a fresh coffee, or cooked for me.’
‘I didn’t need to. I have people to do that.’ He’d had specialist coffee delivered every morning by a high end catering company.
‘Yes, but you could have done it anyway, to show you cared.’
‘I do care,’ he insisted, ‘and I have changed. You can do whatever makes you happy.’
And perhaps he had changed. After all, the old Christian never would have organised a romantic scavenger hunt, never would have made the effort to put something so elaborate together, just for her.
‘Come back,’ he moved his chair closer, rested his arm against hers, stroking her cheekbone. Her pulse quickened. Oh, he was good. Sex had never been an issue, they’d always been compatible, she’d always found him attractive. He was a good looking guy.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, shifting away.
‘Come home, back to the flat. Quit that horrible retail job with the long hours and live with me. You can get another job that you like, or I can set you up in business. I can scale back my hours, we can do more together. Let me pay your debts off this time, so it’s not hanging over you, and we can make a fresh start.’
The thought was incredible appealing.