He smiles with relief and takes a deep breath.
‘Well – I don’t know where to start. It seems to me that this guy – Clive – is royally fucking you over. It’s heart-breaking. You’re funny, bubbly, beautiful and sexy. But, for whatever reason or reasons, you’ve got this boyfriend, fiancé whose bloody career or money or whatever it is, is far, far more important to him than you are. He’s probably convinced you that he’s doing it for you in some way, or for the both of you, but I think he’s only doing it for him. He doesn’t have to work or live six thousand miles away from you, but he does. He’s made that choice, knowing that it would be damn impossible for you to join him and you’re waiting here like some…fucking…piece of furniture that he’s bought and put into storage until he’s ready to…use it again, sit on it, keep his clothes in it or whatever sort of piece of furniture it is. I don’t even know him and I want to punch him. He’s not a man, he’s a worm. I’m sorry. That was all off the top of my head. It got a bit sticky with the furniture metaphor there. Could have been wittier, I suppose…’
‘It was OK. It was quite funny. Not brilliantly funny, but…’
‘You’re not just saying that?’
‘Under other circumstances I’d have laughed slightly.’
‘It’s good that you didn’t. I wouldn’t want the clients outside to hear laughter coming from in here. I might get a bad name.’
We both say ‘listen’ at the same time.
‘You go first’ I say.
‘Hm. What are you going to do now? For Christmas, I mean. Have you got family you can go to?’
I mention my sister, but I suppose my lack of enthusiasm must have been shining through. Both of my parents are visiting my dad’s brother and his family in Carlisle, so that’s not really an option. James is pursing his lips together, thinking about something and I think I know what it is, or should I say what I hope it is.
‘Listen. If you don’t want to impose yourself on any friends or relatives – and I guess you don’t want to keep explaining yourself as to why your boyfriend, fiancé thing isn’t with you or what’s been going on with him – and you don’t fancy staying with his family, and I can’t blame you under the circumstances, well, if you’ve got absolutely nothing else you can do and you don’t fancy being alone…’
He scratches his head and looks serious.
‘Sorry. Forget that. I’m temporarily inarticulate. You don’t know me, but I’m not a psychopath or anything, or at least not diagnosed as one yet. If you’d like to stay with me over Christmas, you’re quite welcome. No strings attached. I’ll be out with the camera most of the time, anyway. I’ve got a spare room with a futon bed in it. I don’t really ‘do’ Christmas very much, so if you’re interested, you can avoid the whole thing. Just an idea. You can take it or leave it. I won’t be offended if you say no.’
I think of my alternatives. Trekking up to Carlisle and being bored out of my skull, the Christmas from hell with Clive’s parents, my sister’s continuous concerned and sympathetic glances or sitting in my flat, watching films on TV that I’ve already seen a million times and eating ready meals and After Eights. Actually, that last bit sounds quite good!
‘It’s very nice of you, but I don’t want you to do this ‘cause you feel sorry for me in some way or other. I could get that at my sister’s.’
‘It’s nothing to do with that. Really. This is just really weird for me. I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s just – I just feel that it’s the right thing to do. Everything about it is right. D’you know what I mean? But it’s nothing to do with feeling sorry for you. It’s miles away from that.’
We look at each other for a few seconds. It seems like an hour. He gently places a finger under my chin, tilts my head up and kisses me once, very softly, on the lips.
‘Then what is it to do with?’ My voice is quiet. Am I shaking slightly? Surely not. He stares past me, a serious expression on his face, like he’s attempting to put something really profound and important into words.
‘It’s because it wouldn’t really be Christmas without Holly.’
I punch him on the chest. We both laugh. In my head, I’m already working out my next text to Clive and, more importantly, the best time to send it. Does three a.m. (his time) on Christmas Day sound OK to you?
If you enjoyed The Spa Day you might also enjoy Yes Chef, No Chef by Susan Willis, also published by Endeavour Press.
Yes Chef, No Chef
Katie looked at her new black cocktail dress hanging on the wardrobe door and shivered with excitement - she couldn’t wait for the party tonight at The Savoy. It seemed forever since she’d spent any quality time with Tim and hugging herself with anticipation she did a little pirouette to reach the stool in front of her dressing table. Dreamily she thought of how the champagne would flow and how they’d dance the night away wrapped in each other’s arms - surely this would help to get them back on track, she mused, glancing at the bedside clock and praying he wasn’t going to be too late.
Her mobile rang and when she saw his name on the screen she snatched it up. “Where are you?”
With a note of wariness in his voice, he said, “I’m still at the restaurant.”
“But you rang at five o’clock to say you were on your way, and the taxi will be here soon.” Katie exclaimed.
Tim sighed with exasperation as though he was talking to a child, “I know, darling, and I’m so sorry but Jim phoned in sick at the last minute and I’m going to have to stay and cover service for him, and…”
“What!” she yelled into the mobile, imagining him holding it away from his ear and pursing his lips with irritation. She could hear the clatter of pans from the kitchen and an electric whisk whirling, and then a girl’s voice calling for him which made her want to scream in frustration. “Shit, you can’t do this, Tim. Not tonight of all nights?”
“Look, Kate, I can’t just leave the restaurant without a chef on duty. It’s my responsibility, you know that. You’ll be fine with all your work mates and friends,” he cajoled, “I know you’ll have a great time.”
But the hurt and disappointment was raging though her and losing her usual control she snapped, “But it’s my big night and you promised me nothing would stop you from being there. I mean, it’s The Savoy and the tickets cost a fortune, and I have my new black cocktail dress…” she tailed off seething inside.
“Bloody hell, Kate, I’ve more things on my mind than new dresses,” he shouted, “I’ll give you the money for the damn tickets!”
Tears of dismay were pricking at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t coming and letting her down again.
“Look, I’ll make it up to you later,” he crooned. “And keep your new dress on so I can see it when I get home.”
Her mouth was dry with anxiety and she only managed to click her tongue in amazement at his patronising tone.
The noise from the kitchen faded and he said softly, “Oh, come-on, you’ll still enjoy yourself. Just make an excuse about work pressures for me and then give them my apologies.”
You can grovel as much as you want, she thought lifting her chin in defiance, but you’re not getting the upper hand. She managed to clear her throat and speak in a calm but detached voice. “I’m sick to death of making excuses for you, Tim,” she said clicking her mobile off.
Her hand trembled while she poured herself a glass of wine. How could he, she raged, he’d actually gone back on his word again. The night had been planned for months and it was supposed to be her chance to impress the new management bosses from the company - everyone was making a special effort to attend the party to launch the new advertising campaign. Well, everyone except Tim of course. She’d imagined herself in the classy cocktail dress walking serenely with her arm through his, chatting confidently and making polite conversation whilst sipping champagne.
But now she’d have to walk around on her own, she seethed and glared at his happy smiling face in the framed photo
graph on her dressing table. ‘You knew how important this night was to me,’ she hissed and slammed the photograph face down. She took another mouthful of wine for Dutch courage and felt a surge of determination sweep through her - she wasn’t going to let him ruin her night, by God, she wasn’t, she’d go to the party on her own and shine like she’d never shone before.
Looking into the mirror she swept blusher majestically across her cheeks and admired the hairdresser’s handy-work with her usual brown mousey hair. The cut was excellent making the long bob swing effortlessly when she moved her head from side-to-side and the vibrant dark brown colour emphasised her hazel eyes. With a final nod of satisfaction she decided her make-up was as good as she was going to get it and swivelled around on the stool to look at the dress, remembering the day she’d bought it with her friend, Lisa.
They’d been in Selfridges at the end of an exhausting four hour shopping trip and just when she was about to give up she’d spotted it. Plain black crepe in a sleeveless classic style, the dress fitted her figure perfectly from the moment she slipped it over her head and wriggled it down over her slim hips.
“Even the two inch length above my knee is perfect for me,” she’d said to Lisa who’d nodded in agreement.
“It’s just right, hon,” Lisa had said, “Because although you want to show off those lovely slim, tanned legs you don’t want to look like a slapper in a mini dress. Yep, it’s simple, yet chic, and just the thing to impress the bosses.”
Katie had hugged her in thanks and then later when her other close friend, Sarah, joined them she had loaned her a fine string of pearls and pearl stud ear rings which complemented the outfit perfectly.
Picking her mobile up she pressed Lisa’s number.
“Hey, there,” Lisa said. “How’s the dress look?”
Katie moaned and told her what had happened, and then held the mobile at a distance ready for the blast of derisory comments.
“The bastard!” Lisa fumed. “What the hell is going on with this guy?”
In the past she would have defended Tim to the end of her days but now she simply couldn’t find the strength anymore. “I don’t know,” she said. “Within the last two months alone he’s missed his parent’s silver wedding, my cousins’ engagement, and Sarah’s thirtieth birthday party, and that’s without arrangements to meet after work to see a film or go to the quiz nights at the pub.”
She could hear the pathetic whine in her voice and struggled to keep the lump in the back of her throat down. She pleaded, “What am I going to do, Lisa?”
Lisa’s voice changed instantly as she went into full support mode. “OK. At the moment you’ll do nothing. You’re going to get to that party and knock the socks off them. And then on Saturday we’ll meet with Sarah for lunch and talk it through together and try to sort this crap out.”
Katie swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “You, know, I could kill him for doing this to me at such short notice, Lisa, and what makes it worse is that if I’d known he wasn’t coming earlier, either you or Sarah could have come instead of wasting £150 for the ticket.”
Lisa giggled. “Oh, sweetheart, I would have done but I have a hot date with this gorgeous guy who’s just to-die-for…”
Katie smiled. “And Sarah is out with Mark, too,” she said. “So, I’ll just have to go to the ball like Cinderella and make the best of it.”
“Tsk,” Lisa tutted. “But you don’t need him. I’ll admit he would have been an asset to have by your side because he is so passionate about food and it does make him charming to talk to but you’ll be fine on your own, won’t you?”
Katie took another deep breath and reassured with Lisa’s support she agreed she’d be OK with as much conviction as she could muster.
“Of course, you will,” Lisa replied firmly, “I mean, you’ve slogged for eight years since you joined the company as a junior and now look at you, a fantastic team leader ready to step up to the project manager’s position. You can do this job standing on your head and as for selling yourself, well…”
Katie grinned at her friend’s confidence in her. Lisa Harding worked in PR and everyone they knew reckoned she was the best at what she did. Lack of confidence wasn’t even on Lisa’s radar and if anyone knew how to pitch themselves it was her. Katie wished her luck with the new guy and then listened to another round of instructions: shoulders back, smile on your face, and knock ‘em dead.
Draining her glass of wine she thought fondly of Lisa who had the knack of turning a bad situation around so that you always came away feeling better, and then realising the taxi was due she slipped the dress on. She smoothed her hands over her hips and for a moment saw herself how she hoped Tim would have seen her, generous breasts with a tiny waist and slim shapely legs. But sadly that wasn’t going to happen tonight. A sudden idea of charging into the restaurant’s kitchen and showing him exactly what he was missing and then throwing his tuxedo at him or into a pan of boiling soup flashed into her mind, but this would only make her look foolish. Grinning with the thought of how much it would embarrass him though she grabbed her clutch bag, pushed her feet into black patent heels and ran out of the apartment.
Daylight was fading and the bright street lights heralded the start of London’s busy night-life as the taxi manoeuvred its way along the Strand. Throngs of people spilled out of restaurants and hotels onto the pavements as the juggling mixture of buses, cars, and bicycles fought their way into positions. The window of the taxi was pulled half-way down and the noise of people laughing and shouting filled Katie’s quiet space while she shuffled trying to pull her dress further down because her legs were sticking to the plastic cover on the seat. She thought of how much Tim would have enjoyed the buzz and laid her hand on the empty space on the seat – she missed him being next to her.
What was she going to do about their relationship? She groaned silently, it was petering-out fast and she didn’t know how to get it back on track. They’d been so happy living together in the apartment for nearly fourteen months now, or at least she had. But, maybe he wasn’t and wanted something more or someone else? Shaking the bad vibes from her mind she promised herself she wouldn’t think of it again until she got home.
The party was held in The Lancaster Room at the Savoy and Katie marvelled at the interior. The website had described it’s décor as ‘sparkling with timeless elegance and glamour’ and when she walked into the room she decided they had it in a nutshell. Although it was a large room with high ceilings, it was warm and she gazed upwards at the glittering lights from four huge chandeliers while listening to the quiet soft notes of Gershwin’s music. It was the ideal choice for the party because it had a clear floor space for dancing and even a small stage where the chief executive would make his speech to open the new advertising campaign. She walked through the room from the tall white Art Deco doors and spotted her two junior technologists, Harry and Alice who were looking at the seating plan pinned to a clip board and she called out a greeting.
Alice smiled sheepishly at her with excited bright eyes. “Is my dress OK?” she asked Katie nervously.
Katie knew this was Alice’s first big function with the company and was determined to enjoy herself but at the same time didn’t want to let the department down in any way.
“It’s perfect, Alice,” she said hugging her warmly.
Harry stepped forward and kissed Katie’s cheek. “And will I do?” he asked her, grinning broadly in his black tuxedo and freshly gel-spiked hair. He was only twenty one and fresh out of University but she loved his open, sincere personality and eagerness to learn.
“It’ll do very nicely,” she said beaming back at him.
Waitresses and waiters in the obligatory black skirts and trousers with clean white shirts wandered amongst groups of people with trays of champagne flutes and Katie inhaled the heady mixture of strong female perfumes.
“I think we are sitting at table six,” Harry said as they helped themselves to a glass of champagne and manoeuvr
ed their way in between round tables covered with white tablecloths and gilded chairs with cream upholstery. Table six was towards the back of the room and they found their names on place cards propped up in front of white linen napkins, and silver and blue decorations. A silver candelabrum stood in the centre of the table with three white candles and Harry lit them while Alice delightedly fingered her card which had a blue background and her name in silver print.
Excitedly Alice squeezed Katie’s arm and looked in wonderment around the table. “Oh, isn’t it all just beautiful?”
“It certainly is,” Katie agreed while counting ten tables strategically placed around the room. “I just wish we could have been on a table nearer the front.”
Awestruck, Alice whispered, “Well, we couldn’t expect to be sitting at the management tables.”
Katie sipped her champagne thoughtfully. “Of course we couldn’t,” she said, but looked longingly at table three where ten of the company’s project managers were seated and gritted her teeth in determination - she would get her name card onto that table next year if it was the last thing she did.
The room buzzed now with more colleagues arriving and loud greetings with the expected air kissing of cheeks, and by eight o’clock there was only one remaining empty seat at their table, which of course was the seat meant for Tim.
Oh, God, here we go again, she thought smiling brightly and explaining Tim’s absence for the third time in only fifteen minutes. Irritatingly, she knew as long as the chair remained empty it would continue all night - and then as if she’d been sent a gift from heaven her senior food technologist, Frances, arrived.
Frances was an old hippie. She was nearly forty with wild, uncontrollable, frizzy ginger hair, protruding grey eyes that often looked as if they were standing out on stalks, and was very overweight.
“Hiya,” Katie said pulling out the spare chair for her, “I thought you would be sitting with your sister on the other table?”
The Spa Day Page 7