Romantic Comedy Box Set (Helen Grey Series Books 1 & 2)

by Hodge, Sibel

  The night before had taken its toll. Bags had appeared under my eyes and blobs of make-up stuck to my eyelids, which had the rather unattractive effect of making me look like I had one big eyelash on each eye. I scrubbed my face with a flannel and scrutinized my skin – oh, God! What the bloody hell was this? I’d developed about ten wrinkles overnight. Putting my fingertips beneath my eyes, I stretched the skin down nice and taut – damn, that didn’t work. You could still see them. I had to buy some anti-wrinkle cream immediately. I’d better start now, I thought, and catch them early. I’d read somewhere they can creep up on you overnight, and I could be looking just like one of those wrinkly looking Shar Pei dogs quicker than I could say collagen serum. I stuck out my tongue, frowning at the white lines on it. Urrgh, I must read through the Gloria Cox Bible again and find out what that meant. Outwardly, I hadn’t changed in the last eleven days – well, apart from the odd grey hair and a few winkles – but inwardly, I now knew what I really wanted.

  ****

  A huge bouquet of velvety, blood-red roses greeted me as I pulled open my front door. Retrieving the fragrant bundle from its resting place on the floor, I searched for an accompanying envelope and ripped it open, reading it in disbelief:

  Dear Helen,

  I’m really sorry about the other night. I can’t live without you.

  I promise I’ll change if you just give me one more chance.

  All my love

  Justin XXXXXX

  ****

  Slowly, I lifted the flowers to my nose, drinking in their spicy perfume. Was it true? Could he really change? Had I made a mistake? I wished – not for the first time in my life – that I had a magic crystal ball. Because if I’d known then what I know now, I would’ve kicked myself for being so stupid.

  After putting them in some water, I traipsed up to Ayshe’s very slowly for fear that any sudden movement might bring the early morning Kango back to life and make my aching legs worse. Ayshe wasn’t in a much better state when I arrived.

  ‘God, my head.’ The palm of her hand rested on her forehead. ‘Good night, though, wasn’t it? I can’t believe Felicity got a date.’

  ‘I know, she’ll probably be married before me,’ I muttered. ‘I hope we’re not doing anything energetic today.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we can take it easy. We’re going to a health farm.’ She smiled. ‘Ooh, remind me not to move my face, it hurts. I think my brain’s bruised.’

  ****

  We drove slowly up the long winding driveway which led to Felsham Hall Health Farm whose glowing reputation preceded it. State-of-the-art pioneering beauty treatments and a famous list of clients made it second to none. The setting was beautiful: large panoramic gardens, mature trees and vast acres of manicured lawns. Stepping out of the car and into the rain, we crunched over the mossy gravel and found ourselves in a very impressive, stark, white hallway with a sweeping marble staircase in the centre and a check-in desk to the right.

  ‘May I help you?’ A flawlessly made up lady stood behind the desk. Her long blonde hair was pulled so tightly into a bun that it made her eyes slant upwards.

  ‘We’re booked in for a spa day,’ Ayshe informed her.

  She took our names and scanned the register. ‘You have been booked in for a traditional Mediterranean steam bath massage, a seaweed body wrap and a pedicure. This is your timetable.’ She handed us a sheet of paper, pointing to a list. ‘If you go to the treatment waiting area five minutes before your appointments, they will call you from there. The rest of the day you can use the swimming pool, sauna and steam room, and take any of the fitness classes listed on this sheet.’

  ‘Very nice.’ This was just the ticket: a lovely, lazy, relaxing day to get rid of the hangover.

  ‘The changing rooms are over there.’ She pointed across the hall. ‘There are dressing-gowns and towels for your use during the day, and lunch is served between twelve and three.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’ We gathered up our forms and headed off to get changed.

  ‘Wow, these dressing-gowns are a bit soft. Mmm, they feel lovely.’ Ayshe picked one up and looked at it.

  ‘How do they get their things so white?’ I examined the soft, fluffy towels.

  ‘Look at all these beauty products.’ Ayshe picked up a tub of rejuvenating cream from a selection of various tubs and sniffed it.

  I grabbed a miniature pot of anti-wrinkle cream and applied most of it in one go, rubbing it in eagerly until my skin shined with grease.

  I swung round to Ayshe. ‘Have the wrinkles gone now?’

  ‘Don’t know what you’re worried about, anyway. I can’t see any.’ She stared at my super-slimy face.

  ‘Shall we go to the pool first and lounge around there?’ I suggested. ‘Don’t feel like doing anything energetic until I’ve woken up, and my legs are agony. They’re a bit better now that I’ve warmed up a bit, but walking downstairs is a definite no-no.’

  Ten minutes later, armed with our swimming gear and towelling bath robes, we lay side by side on comfy sun-beds in the warm conservatory around the pool area. Murals of Mediterranean gardens had been painted on the walls and large exotic palm trees in terracotta pots were dotted around. To the side of the pool there was a jacuzzi together with a freezing cold plunge pool that I definitely wasn’t going in – no way! Some more changing areas led off to the side with a steam and sauna room. Two men lounged on sun-beds in the opposite corner of the room. The older one, in his fifties, was asleep with his mouth open, emitting a curious ticking sound from the back of his throat. The other one had his Speedos pulled up to his man-boobs and was thoroughly engrossed in a paperback.

  ‘What about yoga?’ Ayshe studied her sheet.

  My gaze flew up to the ceiling. ‘I had an embarrassing experience during yoga once. Don’t fancy repeating it, really.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I farted.’

  ‘Probably everyone farts during yoga.’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t out of my bum.’ I gave her a wry smile.

  ‘How about a step class?’

  ‘Too energetic.’ I still felt grumpy and tired, which wasn’t helping to lift my mood. ‘How did Atila’s stag night go?’ I closed my eyes

  ‘He strolled in around four, so I think he had a good time. The most important thing is that he came home fully-clothed, not handcuffed to some inanimate object, and completely untarred and unfeathered, which is always a bonus on a stag do. The only problem was that Dad got so confused about the public toilet etiquette thing, he locked himself in one of the cubicles and then couldn’t get the door open for an hour.’

  ‘Mmm, crazy.’ My eyelids began to get heavy, and I drifted off into a semi-sleep.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I spoke to Kalem about the dreaded Emine.’

  I perked up all of a sudden. ‘Oh, yes.’ I did my best impression of being casual. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He said she could do whatever she liked. He finished with her ages ago.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t he say anything?’ I sat up.

  ‘You know what he’s like, he hates discussing things like that.’

  How could he not tell anyone? ‘Why did he dump her?’ I was all ears.

  ‘He said she was “a jumped-up, superficial tart”, but then we knew that anyway. Don’t know why it took him so long to find out.’

  ‘I’d agree with that.’ I smiled to myself.

  ‘I think he’s interested in someone else.’ She looked at me.

  A crushing feeling gripped at my chest. ‘He didn’t say who?’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t tell me. I tried to force it out of him, but he wasn’t having any of it.’

  ‘Oh.’ I plopped back on the lounger, my thoughts reeling.

  Who was the mystery woman? It was bound to be someone refined, gorgeous and calamity free. And how was I supposed to pretend I was happy for him when I wished it was me he was with? Maybe it was the sister of one of his mates, like the tall and stunning Zerdali with the huge doe
-like eyes, cascades of brown hair and legs which went up to her armpits. She was absolutely gorgeous with a husky voice that made everything sound seductive, and she was really nice too – which was seriously annoying. She was basically a woman’s worst nightmare. I bet she didn’t have grey hair and wrinkles.

  I felt a weight of dread descend on me. If there was no hope for me and Kalem, should I take this ‘change-your-life’ stuff one step further and change it completely? Maybe I should move abroad somewhere to keep as much distance between us as I could. After all, I could do my photography anywhere, and this challenge had shown me that there was definitely a big, wide world out there waiting to be discovered.

  ‘Come on.’ She leapt up. ‘Let’s do a few laps.’

  I grunted. ‘You’re obviously feeling better, then.’

  ‘Much, now come on.’ She took my hand and pulled me up.

  ‘God, that’s a bit cold.’ I stalked into the pool and did some splashy breast-stroke.

  ‘It’s lovely, it will wake you up.’

  We managed a gentle warm up, chatting as we glided up and down. But I couldn’t shake off the sinking feeling which was beginning to wash over me like the chilled water.

  We swam for another ten minutes doing a leisurely back-stroke, and then I could hear a dirty titter coming from the two men on the loungers.

  ‘What’s up with them?’ I whispered to Ayshe.

  ‘Don’t know. Ignore them,’ she said as we came to the end of the pool and swam off again.

  I concentrated on the lights in the ceiling so that I knew roughly when I would get to the edge of the pool and not whack my arm on it like I’d done the first few goes. As we drew closer to the men again, one of them said, ‘Cor. That’s a bit of all right.’

  ‘Urgh! Dirty old men.’ Ayshe gave them a disgusted look, then carried on swimming.

  ‘Go on, come to Papa,’ one of them whispered to the other.

  ‘What are they talking about?’ I faced my head to Ayshe as we lay on our backs.

  ‘Who knows? Bunch of perverts I think.’

  ‘That’s quite impressive.’ one of the men went on.

  I glanced over at them and saw them leering at me. ‘For God’s sake, what are they looking at?’

  ‘Ignore them.’ She pushed off from the edge again.

  When we’d finally had enough, I held onto the bar at the edge and floated on my back, letting the water hold me up with ease.

  ‘Oh, I know what they were looking at!’ Ayshe glanced at my chest and pointed to my boob.

  I looked down. ‘What?’ Then I realized that my right boob had wormed its way out of my bikini top and was on full display. ‘Aagh!’ I stuffed it back in and turned my back on the men. ‘How embarrassing.’ A wave of shame almost drowned me.

  ‘Could have been worse, I suppose. It might have been your bottoms,’ Ayshe cackled.

  I slapped her on the arm in mock horror. ‘Come on, let’s go to the sauna,’ I hissed.

  After a sweaty half hour in the sauna we hurried off to find some lunch before our treatments began. The dining room was empty when we arrived so we helped ourselves to the impressive buffet which provided rabbit-food healthy options and fully-laden calorific ones. I loaded up my plate with an organic chicken salad. Ayshe had gone for grilled salmon with roasted vegetables and a banana. She eyed my plate.

  ‘What?’ I frowned.

  ‘Wow! Gloria Cox must have talked some sense into you. That’s the healthiest thing I’ve seen you eat for years.’

  ‘I know. I told you I’m trying to take it all seriously.’

  ‘Kalem would be really proud of you.’

  ‘Yes, he would.’ I beamed.

  ‘Oh, my God, I can’t believe I’m really getting married on Sunday,’ Ayshe gushed as we sat down.

  ‘Ooh, I know. I’m so happy for you.’ I put my hand on her arm.

  ‘Kalem’s going to pick the flowers up for me on Sunday morning and bring them round the house while we’re getting ready. And I wanted you to take some casual shots at the flat before we leave for the Priory.’

  I rubbed my hands together. ‘I can’t wait to get started on your wedding book. I promise to have it done by the time you get back from your honeymoon.’

  ‘I’ve been practicing my new signature. It’s really odd when you’ve had the same one all your life, and then you suddenly have to change it. Shame he hasn’t got a nice surname, though – I mean, I’m going to be Mrs. But.’

  ‘You’ll be the butt of all the jokes, then, won’t you! Ha-ha. Or, you could keep your old name, I suppose, or have a double-barrelled one.’ I bit into my chicken.

  ‘Mmm.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t think Mustafa-But sounds too good, though. Sounds a bit kinky!’

  ‘Charlie would absolutely love it!’

  Chapter 22

  I studied my timetable as we waited in the treatment area. I was first up for the massage and Ayshe was booked in for the seaweed wrap at the same time.

  ‘I wonder if it makes you lose a few pounds. It says here it’s supposed to detoxify you and make you lose inches, apparently.’ Ayshe read the information sheet.

  ‘Maybe I could have one a day.’

  ‘Ms Grey.’ A giant of a man, built like a Russian shot-putter with a foreign accent, called out my name and motioned for me to follow him.

  He led me into what looked like a miniature Turkish Bath room. There was a round marble bench in the centre of the dome-shaped room, and jugs of water, presumably to increase the steam power, were placed at regular intervals around the outside. The concave ceiling had round holes cut out of it, which were fitted with multi-coloured stained glass, so the room took on a soft, tinted glow.

  ‘Can you tek off your undervare and wrap zis towel round you and lie face down ‘ere, pleeze.’ He pointed to the centre of the bench. ‘I’ll be back.’ He sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  I stripped off my bra and knickers, placing them on a chair in the corner of the room. Didn’t really want to mess with shot-putting Arnie. I could feel the warmth rising up from the marble, permeating my skin, and I began to feel very drowsy. When he stepped back into the room, he placed a big bowl of thick, soapy water next to me and dunked a round sponge into it. Then he was off – sponging me dynamically with the mixture which was actually rather nice and soothed my painful muscles. He began on my legs, working his way up to my buttocks. I jumped a bit when he got too close to my bits and bobs, but if he noticed, it didn’t bother him, and he carried on up to my shoulders and back, which was heavenly. I nodded off, mentally whispering Justin’s message over and over in my head. When Arnie asked me to turn over onto my back, I woke up disorientated, wondering who was massaging me. I rolled over, holding onto the towel to protect my modesty and then fell back into a relaxed, dreamy state again as he travelled up my legs once more. Again he was getting a bit too close to my nether region for my liking, and this time he abandoned his sloppy sponge in favour of his own, firm hands. I opened my eyes and glared at him suspiciously, but he ignored me and carried on. After another twenty minutes, he whistled a version of, We Wish you a Merry Xmas and finished off with my arms.

  ‘You can reeelax and stay ‘ere for five minitz,’ he said before heading out the door.

  After a few minutes, I sat up feeling light and feathery. I slipped out of the towel and pulled on my bra. But…wait a minute…where were my knickers? I looked under the chair. Nothing. Strange, I could have sworn I left them there. Had I brought them with me? Or had I left them in the changing room? I frowned, eyes scanning the room for any sign of them. I shook my head. I was losing the plot. I’d had so much on my mind lately, I’d probably just forgotten to put them on and had left them in the changing room after all.

  When I got back into the waiting room, Ayshe had already finished her treatment and was flicking through a beauty magazine.

  ‘How was it?’ she asked.

  ‘Um…interesting.’ I flopped down next to her. ‘How about the wrap th
ingy?’

  ‘Good, I think I’ve lost half a stone.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Nah,’ she tittered as the shot-putter called her name.

  Another woman sitting next to me leaned over and whispered into my ear, ‘Have you just had that Mediterranean massage?’

  I turned to look at her. ‘Yes,’ I whispered back. ‘Have you?’

  She leaned in closer. ‘Did you lose something in the treatment room?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did. Did you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘My knickers!’

  ‘Me too!

  ‘How disgusting. Right, that settles it, we need to speak to the manager. Come on.’ She charged off towards the reception desk with me bringing up the rear. ‘Excuse me, could we have a word with the manager, please?’ she said to the waif-like teenage girl with tragic-looking eyes sitting behind the counter.

  ‘What seems to be the problem?’ the Waif’s voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

  ‘We’ve both just had one of the Mediterranean massages, and we had our knickers stolen!’

  The receptionists’ eyes widened. ‘Really, madam?’

  I nodded in agreement. ‘Is that part of the massage?’

  ‘Not at all. I’ll get the manager right away.’ The Waif dashed off and left us both standing there, simmering away like hot springs.

  ‘I’m not letting him get away with this!’ the woman shrieked.

  I looked round the waiting area and a few of the other women who were milling around drew closer. ‘Did you have your knickers stolen in the Mediterranean massage?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Yes, you too?’ I said.

  ‘Absolutely, it’s disgusting, the man should be sacked.’

  ‘And I did, too,’ another woman piped up.

  ‘I am the duty manager here. What seems to be the problem, ladies?’ A short, dumpy-looking woman addressed the group. The buttons on her blouse strained under the weight of her abundant bosoms and her eyebrows had been plucked to almost non-existence, giving her a look of constant surprise.