‘Charming!’
He grinned. ‘You know me. I can’t lie!’
While I crawled into bed, James went for a run. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to wash away my guilt.
An hour and a half later, Yuri and Lara were bouncing on me.
‘Wake up, sleepy-head,’ Yuri shouted.
‘Mummy, you smell yucky,’ Lara told me.
I actually felt worse after the sleep. I dragged myself out of bed and shakily poured their cereal into bowls. Thankfully, Claire arrived soon after. It was one of the days she came in early to do laundry and light housework. I almost kissed her when I saw her. I asked her to dress the children and take them to school, then went upstairs and tried, in vain, to make myself presentable for work.
Today we were filming the scenes where Babs takes the make-over volunteer shopping for some new clothes, which meant I could spend most of the day standing to one side, feeling sick without being noticed. We headed to a shopping centre near the studio, which had Topshop, New Look and Next. Babs had one hundred pounds to spend on each guest’s clothes. This time, she was making over Sandra, a single mother of seven children from Liverpool who worked part-time as a dinner lady. She was very overweight, but had a pretty face and lovely thick chestnut hair.
We headed to Topshop first, Sandra wearing tracksuit bottoms and an oversized sweatshirt. Babs was wearing a bright yellow bodycon dress, which looked sensational. She was still being very breezy with Gary and you could see he didn’t know what to think. I caught him staring at her stomach for signs of a bump. I shot filthy looks at him whenever he came in range of me, so he knew better than to try talking to me about it.
As the camera crew were setting up, Babs handed me an extra strong mint. ‘You absolutely reek of booze and you look like you slept under a bridge. Where were you last night?’
‘I met Lucy and things got a bit crazy. Too much white wine.’
‘Are you sober?’
‘I think so.’
‘I’ll do my own mascara today, thanks. I’m not having you poking me in the eye with your shaky hands.’
‘Probably a good idea,’ I whispered.
They began to shoot. Babs took Sandra by the arm and whisked her around the shop, picking up bundles of items from different rails as she went. Then she ushered her into the changing room and handed her the first outfit. It was a strapless black maxi dress, which Babs was matching with a short denim jacket.
‘I’m not wearing tha’,’ Sandra said firmly.
Babs waved the hangers at her. ‘Just put it on. It’ll work.’
‘Are you deaf, luv? I said I’m not putting tha’ on.’
‘Oh, shit, here we go,’ Karen muttered. The cameraman grinned at the soundman.
‘Excuse me?’ Babs glared at Sandra, who had the changing-room curtain draped around her to hide her underwear.
‘You need to get them ears seen to,’ Sandra said.
‘Oh, I heard you correctly. I’m just in shock. Do you not understand the show, Sandra? You come on looking like crap and I make you over.’
‘I understand perfectly, luv, but I’m not wearing no long dress. Me mates tell me I’ve got dead good legs, so I’m not hiding them under tha’ big tent of a thing.’
I watched as Babs rapped her blue fingernails on the hanger. ‘OK, Sandra, let’s be clear here. This is my show. You are a guest. When I tell you to try something on, you try it on. That’s how the show works.’
‘I’m not being bossed around by some jumped-up tart from Ireland.’
Everyone gasped. ‘Get a close-up of Babs’s face,’ Karen hissed at the cameraman. ‘This is dynamite TV.’
Babs smiled sweetly and brought her face closer to Sandra’s. ‘Your friends are a bunch of lying wenches. Your legs are like two tree trunks. Your only hope of ever looking in any way normal is if you get help from someone like me, who actually knows how to dress. So you can either shag off back to Liverpool in your saggy-arse tracksuit and have chips for dinner, or you can listen to me and go home looking like a human being.’
Babs was on fire. The crew were all trying not to laugh.
Sandra’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. Then she gathered herself. ‘I’ll stay, but not because I think you’re good at your job, but because I want the free clothes.’
Babs handed her the outfit. ‘Fine, whatever. Just put these on.’
Sandra snatched the hangers and snapped the curtain shut.
‘The cheeky cow,’ Babs hissed.
‘Keep your cool,’ Karen said. ‘The viewers are going to lap this up. It’ll be good for ratings.’
Babs flicked her hair back and smoothed down her dress. I watched her composing herself. The word ‘ratings’ was like a drug to Babs. Now she was even more obsessed with getting better ones, because that meant she’d get more attention from other channels. Then she could leave this show and, more importantly, Gary behind.
Five minutes later, Sandra came out of the changing room, looking, it has to be said, a lot better. She stood in front of the mirror, swinging left and right.
‘Well?’ Babs glared at her, arms crossed. ‘What do you think?’
Sandra wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s all right, but it’s a bit grannyish.’
‘You’re forty-seven and a size twenty. What do you want to wear? Mini dresses?’
Sandra pouted. ‘Just because I’m older don’t mean I have to dress all frumpy, like.’
Babs adjusted the jacket on Sandra’s shoulder. ‘This outfit is not frumpy. It’s cool, it’s flattering and it makes you look five stone lighter.’
‘What else have you got?’ Sandra was unimpressed.
Babs handed her a pair of streamlined charcoal grey trousers and a floaty pale grey chiffon top that was cut quite low at the front and had little cap sleeves. ‘The trousers are free of pockets and anything that will add to your bulk. The top will just land at the bottom of your stomach, hiding the worst part, and the cap sleeves will broaden your shoulders and cover the fattest part of your arms.’
‘Looks like something a secretary would wear to work,’ Sandra complained.
Babs’s eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly are you looking for? Smart-casual clothes or something to wear clubbing?’
Sandra rounded on her. ‘What I’m looking for, luv, is something to wear to the pub on a Friday night. I wouldn’t be seen dead in them boring trousers.’
‘Fine. Well, why don’t you go and choose yourself an outfit and we’ll see how you get on? Go on, Sandra, knock yourself out.’ Babs led her out to the shop floor and gave her a not-so-gentle nudge.
Sandra didn’t need to be asked twice. She raced around and came back with a white vest-top with big red sparkly lips painted across the chest and a denim mini skirt. She put them on and came strutting out of the dressing room like a model on a catwalk.
There was complete silence from the crew.
Babs pursed her lips. ‘Tell me, Sandra, how do you think this outfit enhances your shape? How are you hiding the flabby bits and showing off the best bits with these clothes?’
Sandra grinned. ‘Well, luv, I’ve got my tits on show, which is always a good thing as far as men are concerned. I look like a woman who wants to have a laugh and not like a woman who wants to look at spreadsheets. The only sheets I want to look at are bedsheets.’ She cackled.
Babs started laughing too. ‘You know what, Sandra? I have to tell you as a professional that you look an absolute state. But if you think you look good and you’re happy to go to the pub like that and have a laugh, well, off you go. I’m not going to dress you in clothes that flatter you because you won’t wear them. It’s clear you’re a woman who likes to party and I appreciate that. So, I’m going to get you some party clothes that are a bit less tarty than what you have on, but I’m not going to try to change you or make you over because you’re having fun and I like a woman who knows how to have a good time.’
Everyone laughed. By the end of the day Babs and Sandra w
ere the best of pals and Sandra went home with a bagful of sparkly clothes for her Friday nights in the pub.
Gary came back into the shop for the last part of filming and witnessed the fantastic dynamic between Babs and Sandra. Karen filled him in on the brilliant scenes they had shot earlier. I hovered near my sister when I saw him approaching her.
‘Well done, Babs. I hear the earlier footage is even better,’ he said.
Babs looked him directly in the eyes. ‘Yes, it is. I was on fire.’
‘So … you’re good? You’re back on track?’
Babs shrugged. ‘When was I ever off-track, Gary?’
‘Well, you know, what I mean is … that whole other drama is over. Right?’
‘What drama?’
‘Come on,’ he hissed.
Babs patted him on the cheek. ‘Chill out, Gary, you’re becoming paranoid.’
He grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t play games with me. Did you sort it out?’
Babs yanked her arm away. ‘I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.’ She strutted out of the shop, swinging her hips as she went.
29
That Wednesday, filming was cancelled due to some technical hitch, so Babs spent the day with me. Although she’d never admit it, she still didn’t like being on her own.
I was making coffee for us when my phone buzzed. Babs picked it up. ‘Bloody hell!’ she exclaimed.
I snatched the phone: I had hot sex with James yesterday. Now dont u think its time to bugger off back to Ireland. I let out a scream of pure frustration.
‘Jesus, my eardrums!’ Babs complained.
I was devastated. James and I had been getting on quite well since my illicit snog. We hadn’t received any parcels or messages and I was beginning to think maybe the ignoring tactic had worked and the stalker had stopped.
‘I can’t take much more of this.’ I was crying. ‘He must be cheating on me.’
‘Oh, God, don’t start wailing.’ Babs placed a cup of coffee in front of me. ‘You need to stay calm. Don’t jump to conclusions. None of this is proof that he’s shagging anyone, although I’ll admit it doesn’t look good.’
I tried to slow my breathing. My heart was racing. It was time I acted. I needed to get down to the rugby club and see the pregnant Harriet and any other women who worked there. ‘Lucy says I should call into James in the rugby club and see if the stalker works there.’
Babs took a large bite of a chocolate biscuit. ‘She’s right, but you can’t go looking like you normally do. You have to make an impression. You must turn up looking amazing and totally in control. Then if it is one of them, they’ll see you’re not a wimpy woman who’s going to just let her husband go. They’ll see you as a force to be reckoned with.’
‘I was going to get something new and fabulous to wear and have my hair done so I look my best.’
‘You’ll need a lot of help. But, luckily for you, I’m here.’
‘Great. I can’t think straight at the moment.’
As we put our coats and scarves on to protect us from an icy wind, Babs said, ‘By the way, I’m not styling you for free.’
‘I’m your sister!’ I pulled on my gloves.
‘You can cook me dinner later as payment.’
‘I’ll buy you a takeaway.’
‘Deal.’
We got a taxi to Fenwick’s in Bond Street. I’d never been there before, but Babs assured me that it was the best place to go for quick, stylish results. It was a very smart department store. Babs swished through the front door and headed straight for the escalator. On the first floor she walked straight to the L. K. Bennett concession.
I looked around. ‘Isn’t it a bit expensive here?’
Babs looked me up and down. ‘Emma, you’re not exactly young any more. You need to spend more money to look good.’ She handed me a dark purple, figure-hugging wrap dress. ‘Try this on. It’s long enough to cover your saggy knees, it’s tapered here on the stomach, which will hide your belly, and it has little sleeves that will camouflage your chunky upper arms. On top of all that, the colour will look good with your ginger mop.’
‘I don’t like the colour. It’s too dark.’
Ignoring me completely, Babs pushed me into a changing room and stood outside waiting.
I tried on the dress and was pleasantly surprised at how good I looked. The deep purple went surprisingly well with my hair and the shape did camouflage my lumpy bits. Best of all, the size twelve fitted me perfectly. I was thrilled.
As I was admiring myself in the mirror, I heard Babs’s voice outside: ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t let you buy that.’
I peeped out from behind the curtain. A woman of about fifty was standing in front of the shop mirror in a blue dress that was very tight and unflattering on her.
‘Excuse me?’ The woman turned to Babs.
Babs went over to stand beside her. ‘I’m a stylist, and as a professional I cannot allow you to spend money on that dress. It’s hideous on you. What are you buying for? A wedding?’
‘No, it’s for my son’s graduation.’
‘Well, he will not be happy to see you turning up in that. You look like Moby-Dick. Now, what you need for your shape – which is pear by the way – is this.’ Babs handed the woman a fifties style dress that went in at the waist and then kicked out.
‘Excuse me, madam, I am dealing with this customer.’ The shop assistant bustled over, carrying a pair of shoes.
Babs spun around to face her. ‘You obviously work on commission and have no conscience. How could you let this woman go home with this horrendous dress and be the laughing stock of her son’s big day?’
‘My customer looks wonderful.’ The shop assistant wasn’t giving an inch.
‘She looks like a whale.’
The woman puffed out her chest, put her hands on her hips and bellowed, ‘Excuse me, I’m not deaf. I’m standing right here and you are being very insulting.’
Babs thrust the other dress into her hand. ‘No, I am not. I’m just being honest. If you want to look good, in a dress that flatters all your good bits and hides the bad, then you’ll put this one on. When you see your reflection, you’ll realize I’m a genius and buy it. Otherwise, buy the blue one and look hideous. It’s up to you.’
‘Madam, if you do not stop harassing my customer, I’ll have to call security.’
‘I’m right and you know it,’ Babs replied. Then, to the woman, she said, ‘Good luck with the graduation. Take my advice and don’t embarrass yourself or your son.’
I didn’t want Babs being arrested before I’d had the chance to pay for my dress. I frantically waved my arms to catch her attention. She came over to the dressing room and looked inside. I did a little twirl.
‘Told you.’
‘OK, you were right, it does suit me. Now can you please stop harassing customers and staff? Let’s pay for this and get the hell out of here before you have us in trouble.’
Babs rolled her eyes. ‘Relax, that woman is going to thank me when she sees how flattering that dress is on her. Now, back to you, we need to get some shoes for the dress. Don’t move.’
Babs swished off and came back a minute later with a pair of very high black heels. I put them on. They looked great, but were so high that my body was pitched forward. They were extremely difficult to walk in.
‘I can’t get these. Too high.’
Babs wagged a finger at me. ‘No, they’re not. They’re perfect. They make you look taller and thinner, both very important for someone who is small and round, although you do seem to have lost weight. Stop being such a granny and get the shoes. You’ll get loads of wear out of black heels.’
‘I’m not buying shoes I can’t walk in.’
‘Fine.’ She sighed. ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. Try these.’ Babs handed me a pair of shoes half the height of the previous ones. They were still high, but I was able to walk normally in them.
Next she handed me a chunky silver necklace that sat perfectly at th
e curve of the neckline of the dress. It immediately made the dress look edgier. ‘Perfect,’ she said, nodding her approval.
Babs had found me a great outfit. I would feel confident, attractive and good about myself turning up to the club in these clothes. I bought the lot.
As I was paying, Babs got a tap on the shoulder. It was the other customer.
‘You were right, dear. This dress is much nicer. Thank you for the advice. Might I say, however, that you need to work on your approach? It’s a little assertive.’
I turned to her, laughing. ‘I’m afraid my sister is unfamiliar with the word “subtle”.’
Babs shrugged. ‘Why waste time beating around the bush? Are you both happy? Properly styled? Buying dresses that will make you feel and look good?’
We nodded.
‘Well, then, what are you complaining about?’
When we got back to my house, the children were playing cards with Claire. They seemed to be having great fun. Whenever I played cards with the kids, Lara’s attention span was all of one minute, Yuri got into a rage if he didn’t win and the ‘game’ inevitably ended in tears. Claire certainly had a knack with children – she had them playing properly, without any tantrums.
They jumped up and, as I put my arms out to hug them, they pushed past me to Babs.
‘STOP! Hands where I can see them,’ Babs roared.
Yuri and Lara skidded to a halt and put their hands up. Babs inspected them, front and back. ‘All right, they’re clean. You can hug me now.’
The children hugged her. I saw her wince as Yuri squeezed her stomach. She must still be feeling sore. They asked if Babs had any treats for them. ‘What do you think I am? A travelling shop?’
‘Look in your big bag,’ Yuri begged her.
‘Pleeeeeeeeease, Babs,’ Lara added, giving her puppy-dog eyes.
Babs made a big show of rooting about in her bag before producing a Galaxy bar. ‘This is actually mine, but I’ll share it with you,’ she said, as they whooped with delight. ‘Now, go and sit down and I’ll give you three squares each. Don’t give any to your mother. She’s just bought a new dress and there’s no room for any extra inches on her waist.’
Mad About You Page 26