‘Grace!’ my mother calls as I draw closer. ‘I was just asking this lovely gentleman if he knows you. David, this is my daughter, Grace,’ she says. ‘Isn’t she lovely?’
Nodding, David says to me, ‘Your mother has been an absolute delight.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Lovely to meet you both, have a wonderful evening.’ He scuttles away.
‘Mummy, what are you doing here?’
‘Well, I didn’t know where we were meeting, dear. You said inside, but it’s so crowded. I’m sorry I’m so late. The car had all sorts of trouble getting me here. The roads were blocked, and I’d promised your father I wouldn’t walk around town by myself. Anyway, I’m here now and that’s all that matters.’
And then I realise. I screwed up the invitations. The rush for the train – I’d pulled the wrong envelope from my purse. I’d left my mother the invitation to the TIARAs instead of to the luncheon at Fortnum and Mason.
Seeing her here, I can’t imagine her anywhere else.
My mother’s dress is full-length navy satin with a neckline plunging to her cleavage. Tall and willowy, as elegant as any woman in the room who’s half her age, she’s wearing it well. Her silvery-white hair is coiffed into a neat chignon. Ravishing burgundy on her lips.
‘How do I look?’ she says.
‘Mummy, you look beautiful. Grace Kelly would be envious.’
‘That’s what your father said. Grace, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.’
‘I’m glad you’re here. I must warn you, there might be a small mix-up with the seating to resolve...’
This isn’t the Baker & Staines Annual Advertising Awards evening I’m crashing. It’s the TIARAs. I’ve no idea how I’ll wangle an extra seat – I don’t wish to be rude and dump a second person with no notice, but with circumstances again mitigating, if I have to, I’ll ask Jordan to leave. There’s no way I’m letting my mother down now.
‘Of course, dear. Is that Judi Dench over there?’
‘You know, I think it is. Come on, let’s find Faith and Jordan and the others.’
‘Are you here with Jordan, dear?’
‘Oh, Mummy. I have so much to catch you up on. Let’s get our seats sorted first.’ I take her hand in mine. ‘Follow me.’
We’re crossing the floor together when a thundering crash stuns the room, a commotion at one of the fire exit doors.
Unfortunately for me, the commotion was caused when Carlos burst through the fire doors chased by a swarm of burly security men.
Carlos hollers a ludicrous mix of Spanish and broken English, peppered with the word Crazie.
Clearly, he did not understand my communications – nor I his. His suit is not the black Tom Ford tuxedo Poppy bought for him with my money. It’s shiny silver, and far too tight around his crotch. He spots me standing here, shrinking.
‘Ola, Crazie! Crazie!’
‘Dear, is that a mad fan calling for you?’ My mother grips my hand.
‘He’s not a fan, Mummy. He’s… Carlos. Oh my gosh. Mummy, can you stay right here a moment? Jordan will be back with drinks any minute. Everything’s fine. I have to sort this.’
Skirting the edge of the room, not daring to clock how many guests observe me moving towards the disturbance, I make my way to him as quickly as possible.
‘Crazie.’ Carlos waves his piece of paper, the photocopy of the TIARA invitation I’d given him at the studio. ‘He say no good. Es good, sí? Carlos with Crazie. Sí?’
‘Lady, is he with you?’ asks an angry security guard who, like Gordon, bears a remarkable resemblance to Duncan.
‘Well, it’s a funny thing, really,’ I begin to explain.
‘Crazie give to me, Carlos. I am Carlos,’ Carlos continues to rant.
‘Yes, he’s with me. I’m sorry for the trouble. I, um, lost the original invitation. And… oh, thank you kindly,’ I say, as security steps aside. ‘Thank you so much.’
A vision in silver, Carlos bounds up and clasps me to him. Fumbling, he attaches a pink carnation to my lapel. It comes complete with a tiny fondant of fern and smells like it’s been sprayed with toilet freshener.
‘Es nice?’ Carlos asks, stepping back admiringly.
I don’t have the heart to disappoint him.
I look over to where my mother is waiting, staring at us with some alarm.
Jordan is approaching her.
As for my conversation with Harry… I want to circle back on that.
They’re all here – Harry, Jordan, Carlos and my mother. By my own hand, it’s one almighty Freudian slip.
Now, what do I do?
35
Amid hushed whispers, Harry appears at my side. As the room returns to its own business, he escorts Carlos over to Poppy and consigns him to her care. With a grin as wide as an ocean, he asks me what the devil I’ve been up to now.
It’s my chance to explain that I invited Jordan here as a friend, and as a last resort, having tried to cancel Carlos – and the subsequent miscommunications with both him and my mother. Harry dissolves in hysterics. Then, as usual, he sorts out everything for me.
Sending Bip and Ban happily off with a wad of cash, he creates a space for my mother, and Carlos, to join him at the SC6 table. To avoid a further scene, he arranges alternate seating for Jordan and me away from them all.
It’s not what I’d like to be happening – and I hope I make this clear.
Given the options, it beats spending the evening wedged between two exes, in front of my mother and him, cameras rolling.
For a while, Harry is busy dashing back and forth between us. For all his chivalry, he doesn’t revisit our earlier conversation. By the time everyone is ushered inside to be seated for the awards, I haven’t had the chance to raise it with him.
Jordan and I make our way to a table four back from the others, where none of the guests we’re seated with are recognisable.
‘Who have you managed to upset?’ Jordan whispers to me, not as quietly as he should have.
‘Jordan, shhh,’ I say, smiling at our new companions. The fat lady beside me and the balding man beside her overhear. They scowl furiously at the pair of us. ‘Jordan, there was a mix-up with some extra guests, as you probably saw. It isn’t a problem.’
It hasn’t gone unnoticed by me that where Jordan was all kisses and compliments earlier in the foyer among the who’s who of showbiz, he’s grown surly.
The lighting dims. An orchestra begins to play. To see proceedings at the front, Jordan turns his back to me. Mel and Sue appear on stage to a round of applause. For a good ten minutes, the room is entertained with excerpts of comedic television moments and banter that, to my absolute delight, centres around cooking.
Laughing heartily, Jordan turns briefly to me to say, ‘They’re really very good. They’d be perfect for a new canned fruit campaign I have in mind. Can you introduce us later?’
I tell Jordan I don’t know them personally, so this might prove challenging. I see the fat lady and her bald companion exchange swift glances.
‘Harry seems well connected,’ he continues, unabashed. ‘I wonder if he could help?’
I nod and sip my water. I miss my friends.
Jordan downs his champagne and waves a waiter to top him up. He’s been knocking them back since he arrived.
Four tables away, my mother is chuckling intimately with Harry. Both Lucy and Carlos appear to be flirting with Sonya Sokolov. Poppy seems suitably amused. Faith is looking adoringly at Toby and Joanna is whispering in Timothy’s ear. Zelda has her eyes closed and could even be chanting. On stage, the presentations commence.
We are several award categories in when Sonya is called up on stage. I’m clapping when Jordan turns to me. ‘Is she the girl from the cartoons?’
‘Yes. But this award is for a dramatic role she took on last summer.’
Jordan nods, deep in thought. ‘We’ve been pitching to Mattel. She’d seal the deal.’
I suggest I can introduce them
later.
His smile is electric.
I watch the entire SC6 table rise from their seats in applause at Sonya’s speech. Too shy to stand on my own, I stay seated.
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ Jordan says.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘You do look incredible.’
‘Thank you.’
Then, out of the blue, because I’m not thinking about him or us or that skinny cow from his office Rhiannon, Jordan says, ‘I miss you, Grace. I’m sleeping on a futon in Robert’s studio. I’m barely eating. I’m not sleeping.’ Jordan rambles on nervously. Quietly, because we’re not supposed to be talking, although the whole room seems to be as people strut on and off the stage in between laughter and applause. ‘Not that Robert is home much. I’ve practically got his place to myself. He’s been putting himself about left, right and centre, as only Robert can. I have a few tales to share...’
He laughs lightly. Instinctively, I do too. Robert’s romantic misadventures.
Only, this isn’t jovial. Jordan also had his own shot at putting himself about, how quickly he took up with Rhiannon. And why is he telling me this now if he’s still with her?
‘Jordan, missing me looking after you isn’t the same as missing me. Why don’t you move in with your new girlfriend?’ I don’t bother to hide my bitterness, because while my words may be scathing, my heart isn’t holding a grudge for what Jordan put me through. My heart is free. And if I can find the courage to chase it down properly, ready to love again.
‘She lives with her parents.’ Of course she does. ‘Also, we broke up. Rhiannon left Baker & Staines. I had to change my number. She wouldn’t leave me alone.’
‘That’s what you get for dating a twenty-one-year-old,’ I say.
Without warning, Jordan turns in his seat to face me. Dramatically putting down his glass on to the table first, he kisses me – I expected a rebuke for my sharp comment. Instead, right here at the table at the TIARAs, Jordan leans his face right up close to mine, parts my closed lips with his tongue, and kisses me.
Compared to the way Carlos seduced me, every time, it’s devoid of passion.
Compared to the way Harry looks at me, always, it’s without feeling.
I put my hand to Jordan’s chest and push him off me.
Jordan studies me warily, the way he always has done.
‘I don’t want Rhiannon,’ he says. ‘She was a mistake. Robert tried to warn me. Grace, I want you. I should have always only wanted you.’
I glance at the SC6 table and Harry is staring at us.
My world shrinks. Sounds muffle. My breath catches. Pennies fall.
I remember the late nights Jordan worked. The shirty phone calls when I rang his office. The wine glasses in my kitchen. The tangled bedsheets on our bed. Oh God, was he even with her at Christmas?
‘Jordan, how long were you seeing her? Was she in our home? Did you sleep with her in our bed?’
The audience claps wildly after another announcement.
Jordan sends furtive glances around our table as though he does care what the nobodies here at the back might make of him after all.
‘Jesus, Grace.’
Of course, Jordan turns this around on me. But the answer is in his face.
‘Jordan, you need to leave now and I won’t see you again. I haven’t missed you.’
‘Then why ask me to come to this?’
‘Joanna forced it on me.’
‘I’ve had enough of this.’
‘Good. Me too. So go.’
Scowling furiously, and not at all sexily, Jordan gets up from his seat and storms off.
Two seats away, the kind bald man shoots him a parting death stare. The lady beside me passes me a napkin. I didn’t realise I was teary. Smiling gratefully, I dab my wet eyes. I’m not crying for me. I’ve grown so strong. These tears are for the old me, who lay in bed, alone, countless nights, sobbing herself to sleep, unloved and undesired. I wasn’t needy, but I needed someone. It was supposed to be Jordan, and I know now that it wasn’t my fault he couldn’t show up for me. The prick just doesn’t have it in him.
Thank heavens for waterproof mascara, and that I’m at the back of the room out of sight of the cameras.
I check on Harry, but his head is down, and he doesn’t look over at me again. Faith whispers in Toby’s ear and gets up out of her seat.
‘Oh pet,’ says the lady who has the warmest smile I’ve seen. Irish. A lovely warm Irish smile. ‘Don’t mind that one. He’s best off long gone. What’s meant for you, won’t pass you by.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, drying my cheeks. ‘I’m sorry for the fuss. I’ll leave you all in peace now. Please, enjoy your evening.’
I slip out discreetly and Faith joins me in the lobby.
‘I saw Jordan leave,’ she says, hugging me at once. ‘Darling, are you okay?’
‘I believe I’m in love with Harry.’
‘Um, okay. Is that why Jordan left?’
‘No. Jordan cheated on me.’
‘Oh, my darling.’
‘Faith, what should I do?’
‘About Jordan? I know what I’d like to do to him…’
‘About Harry. He told me earlier he’d invited me here as his date. And I’m not sure exactly what that means, because we were interrupted by Jordan, and then my mother, and the commotion with Carlos…’
Faith checks me over and decides I’m not devastated by the news my ex-boyfriend cheated on me.
I shrug, and half smile at her.
‘Well, no one does drama quite like you, Gracie Louise Porter.’ Faith laughs. She looks at me lovingly and takes my hands in hers.
I laugh, too.
Faith squeezes my hands. ‘Darling, Harry has left. He said the girls had texted to say they’d broken their key in his front door and he had to go.’ Faith swallows hard. ‘He didn’t say he was coming back.’
‘Do you think he saw Jordan kiss me?’
‘Oh my gosh, I don’t know – I didn’t see that.’
‘It wasn’t anything to see, believe me,’ I say.
‘I have no clue what’s going on with any of you any more.’ Faith shakes her head. ‘Lucy’s been snogging Sonya. Carlos is telling Poppy you told him to ditch the Tom Ford suit for that ghastly silver pimp number.’
‘Faith, I think I might have.’
Faith jolts a little and then carries on. ‘Your mother and Joanna can’t stop nattering. Timothy is thoroughly charming them both and Zelda is quite pickled and reading the waiter’s palms.’
‘It all sounds very entertaining,’ I say.
‘I’m pleased Toby is here. Gracie, I think I’m falling in love, too. Can you believe it?’ Faith is radiant.
‘Yes, darling, I believe it.’
‘Why don’t you join us? You can take Harry’s seat.’
On reminder of Harry’s departure, I squeeze my eyes closed.
When I open them, Faith is looking at me with her lips pursed.
‘Of course, there is another option,’ she says.
‘Go and find Harry?’
‘And tell him how you feel. Properly, this time. For real.’
‘What about him being our agent?’
‘I was wrong about that. Plenty of people meet through work. Look at me. Gracie, you should go for it.’
‘Shall I go to his flat now?’
‘You’ll only be a pest if you stay here…’
I hesitate.
Faith smiles. ‘I’ll take care of your mum. You know what she’d tell you to do.’ She plucks the pink carnation from my lapel.
‘I’m not sure I’m brave enough to chase him, Faith. What if this is another wrong turn?’
‘What if it isn’t?’
I look down at my hands. They’re shaking.
‘Zelda asked me to pass on a message.’ Faith bundles me off towards the exit.
‘What’s that?’
‘No rain, no rainbow.’
36
I
arrive at Harry’s apartment giddy with nerves, to find a broken key jammed in his front door. I knock quietly. Nobody answers. When I knock again, the door swings open.
‘Hello,’ I call out. ‘Anybody home?’
I enter the flat, pulling the door mostly closed behind me.
I walk around inside. The girls aren’t here. Harry is outside on the balcony, looking out over the Thames river. The pretty blue and white lights over Tower Bridge are sparkling. The air is warm, a gentle breeze. I sidle to the railing beside him.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’ Harry must be surprised to see me, but he smiles.
‘You left me?’
‘No, the girls…’ He trails off. ‘Gracie,’ he says, gazing into my blue eyes with his pools of dark chocolate. ‘Gracie,’ he repeats, staring right into me.
‘Dance with me, Harry.’
There’s no music. Just the faint sounds of the traffic below, and my heart, pounding in my chest. Dance with me, Harry, I pray to the universe.
Harry steps closer. Wrapping his arms around me, his hands on my waist, I slip mine around his neck. My fingers curl into his thick, blonde hair. We start to sway.
Zelda had warned me of the storm, of the rain I’d have to endure. And now, here I am, in the arms of the man of my dreams.
‘I know it’s been a bumpy road,’ I whisper into his ear. ‘I know you’re my agent, and things can get complicated.’ I pull away to look Harry in the eyes as I finish. ‘I also know I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more in my life. Harry, you’re all the good that came out of all the bad, and because of that, I trust you. I trust you to be there for me. To make me laugh and to have fun with, and to take care of me. To see the best in me, when I’ve forgotten how to do it for myself. You’re my rainbow, Harry. You are.’
Whatever comes of it from here, I’m proud of myself for finding the courage to say this.
‘A rainbow, hey?’ Harry says. He nuzzles my neck with his short stubble and kisses my skin and my body and soul heave with relief. He wants me, too. He does. ‘I’ve been called worse. And I suppose you’re my Crazie?’ he laughs.
Look At Me Now Page 27