by Lynda Renham
What a relief. I try to work out which of these women is my competition, but it is impossible.
‘Binki Grayson,’
I turn to see a tall, long-legged woman holding a folder. I stand up, ignore the curious eyes that follow me and approach her.
‘Yes, I’m Binki Grayson,’ I say.
‘Follow me. Mr Lucas is ready to see you.’
I follow her into an office which houses a large oak desk and three comfortable leather armchairs. The man seated at one stands and extends his hand to me.
‘Martin Lucas, nice to meet you Binki, that’s an unusual name?’
At least he didn’t say Ah Binki, the anytime anywhere girl.
He gestures for me to sit.
‘Yes, my mother is a great Mills and Boon reader and I’m the product of one of her favourite characters unfortunately.’
He laughs, and I take the opportunity to study him. I don’t think he looks like a Ben Newman. He has brown hair which is greying at the temples. He wears a wedding ring and there are photos of his wife and children on the desk. Best of all, there isn’t a wart in sight.
‘It’s unique,’ he says opening a folder. I’m presuming he means my name and not the contents of the folder. This is the folder that no doubt is full of my sexual exploits with Ben Newman, sex over the desk, and oral sex under it. Not to mention the crazy shagging on the office floor and the hanging from the light fittings. Christ, I wish I had that kind of energy. Oliver would be thrilled I’m sure. Right now I can barely do it on a bed, although it has to be agreed that at the moment it does rather feel like I’m having sex on the high seas in a life raft. I’m surprised Oliver hasn’t wanted me to wear the sailor outfit. I feel myself blush as Martin Lucas lifts his head from my folder. It must be like reading The Confessions of an Office Slut.’
‘Mr Lucas, my last job …’
He flicks through the folder.
‘At Temco,’ he nods.
I feel myself blush even more. Oh God. I rummage in my bag nervously.
‘I do have a glowing report from my previous job before Temco,’ I say pulling papers from my bag along with a chocolate penis which before I can stop it, has rolled across the floor and landed at his feet.
Bollocks and piss it. Well, that’s that then. I’ve just confirmed that everything he has heard about me is true. I like cock so much I even carry one around with me, I could die of shame and scoff the whole penis, I feel that depressed. He leans down and picks up the penis, handing it to me with a smile.
‘Cheap chocolate,’ he says.
‘They are quite reasonably priced. Actually they were freebies from my last job,’ I admit truthfully.
Well, it’s all out in the open now isn’t it? I’ve lost the pissing job anyway so why bother even trying.
‘The thing is, my boss at Temco …
He lifts a hand and stops me mid-sentence.
‘Piers Roche advised me I’d be crazy not to employ you.’
Piers Roche? How did he know I was applying for this job?
‘Piers Roche,’ I echo.
‘You didn’t give references in your application. You just mentioned that Ellis Financial Investments was the last place you had worked. I phoned Mr Ellis who was in a meeting with Mr Piers Roche at the time, and they both gave you glowing references.’
‘They did?’
‘I have two more people to see but having looked through your portfolio, you seem ideal. You’re exactly what I’m looking for Binki Grayson, and I’m talking office skills. I’m sorry to hear of your experience with Temco but rest assured nothing like that goes on here.’
I can’t believe my luck, although I rather wish William and Piers Roche had not had a say in it. Still, this is not the time to be proud is it? Otherwise Oliver and I will end up living in a big fat gypsy caravan, and although Victoria Beckham might be happy to live with David in a dustbin I’m afraid I couldn’t even stretch to a campervan as fond as I am of Oliver.
‘When would you be able to start?’
‘Immediately,’ I say and bite my lip. Was that too quick a response?
‘I don’t have a job to give notice to.’
I’d told Luther I couldn’t come back. Oliver had put his foot down quite forcefully on that one. No fiancée of mine works in a sex shop, he had said and I’d felt quite touched until he had added, what would our friends think?
‘I was going to ask about your strengths and weaknesses but a reference like that from Piers Roche is more than enough for me.’
He stands up and I quickly follow suit not wanting to outstay my welcome. Now if I can just walk to the door in these heels and not fall arse over tit there is a good chance the job is in the bag, and we may be able to get that mortgage and move out of that damn flat which I swear is covered in a film of Amanda Rowland’s perfume.
‘We’ll be in touch,’ he says, shaking my hand. ‘I only ask that when you start, you bring in more conventional chocolate for your break.’
I smile and thank him. I make it safely to the door and want to scream I’ve got a job. Still, mustn’t get too excited, after all he did say he has another two women to see but it looks hopeful. I clip-clop in my heels to Georgia’s brasserie. Muffy is sipping a latte.
‘Well,’ she says, looking hopeful.
‘I think I’ve got it,’ I say, kicking off the shoes and stealing the freebie biscuit from her saucer.
‘That’s great Binki,’ she says, gesturing to the waitress.
‘Piers Roche and William gave references apparently.’
Her eyes widen.
‘I thought you wanted nothing from William Ellis, except his body of course,’ she says slyly.
‘I do not and I never have wanted William Ellis’s body unless it is on a slab,’ I say bitterly.
‘You liar, and why did you give him as a reference?’
‘I didn’t. I just said he was my last employer. I couldn’t put Ben-wart-on-the-nose-Newman could I? His reference would be how good I was at having sex over a leather couch and up against the accounts drawer. It goes without saying I couldn’t mention the sex shop but a chocolate penis fell out of my bag. He took it rather well actually, and it wasn’t the final nail in the coffin as I thought it would be. Apparently, he phoned William after seeing he was my last employer and he was in a meeting with Roche and it seems they both said glowing things about me,’ I say, taking the menu from the waitress.
‘So, you’re totally over William?’ she says, looking at me closely.
‘There was nothing to get over. I don’t know what you’re on about.’
‘So, you won’t be in the least bit bothered by this then,’ she says, pulling a folded piece of newspaper from her bag and pushing it across the table.
‘William is engaged. It was announced this morning in The Times. Andrea’s doing most likely. I can’t imagine …’
‘What!’ I exclaim, grabbing the cutting. ‘He can’t be. He’s not the marrying kind.’
‘He obviously is now,’ says Muffy, ordering two salads. I don’t want salad, I need chocolate.
I stare at the cutting and feel a rollercoaster of emotions run through me.
Laurier and Mervyn Garcia are proud to announce the engagement of their daughter
Andrea Garcia to William Ellis
‘But …’ I begin.
She couldn’t handle his work hours, I thought. He isn’t the marrying kind I thought. Seems I think a lot of fucking rubbish doesn’t it. Andrea, I mean Andrea, long-legged, everything positioned just nicely thank you very much, Andrea. Bitchy horrible Andrea, how could he? Is he trying to throw his life away? Has he gone totally crazy? He could at least have given Vicki a chance. Chances are she would have grown out of True Blood, or William could have got into it. Bloody Andrea will always be after his blood, that’s for sure. I don’t believe this, I really don’t.
‘Two Waldorf salads,’ says the waitress, placing them in front of us.
‘Can I have a double choc
olate ice cream with whipped cream?’ I ask
The waitress gawps at me.
‘Cock it,’ groans Muffy, ‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘Now, you want the ice cream now?’ asks the waitress.
‘Yes, ASAP in fact,’ I say.
‘You’ll never get into the dress if you go on like this. You’ll be walking down the aisle like Gemma Collins. You’ll be the star of your own TV show called My Big Fat Notting Hill Wedding.
‘I’m not that overweight,’ I scoff.
‘Yet,’ she quips.
‘But Andrea, I mean why the hell would he get engaged to her, aside from the long legs, big tits and well-proportioned body and shaved pubis …’
‘How would you know about her pubis?’ asks Muffy, tucking into her salad.
‘It’s obvious. She’s Miss Perfect isn’t she?’
‘She doesn’t shave her pubis actually,’ says Muffy quietly.
I widen my eyes.
‘And how would you know about her pubis?’ I say stunned.
She shrugs.
‘Okay, I follow her on Twitter,’ she says stabbing a lettuce leaf with her fork.
‘You what?’ I say disbelievingly.
She sighs.
‘It’s not what you think, she tweets beauty advice. It’s good stuff, that’s what she does and …’
‘I’m really not interested,’ I say petulantly.
‘You asked how I knew …’
‘God, she puts stuff about her pubis on there?’
‘Not exactly, anyway you hate Twitter.’
‘Yes, because you can’t say anything in 140 characters. It’s bloody frustrating.’
I feel a stab of envy and hate myself for it. I suppose she will go to dinner with William and Piers now, instead of me. My ice cream arrives and I push the salad to one side.
‘I still can’t believe he got engaged to her. I mean her of all people.’
‘I imagine he got engaged to her for the same reason you got engaged to Oliver. He’s in love.’
She raises her eyebrows.
‘So did you get a bed?’
I nod miserably.
‘A thing with an orthopaedic mattress, dead exciting,’ I say. ‘The bed man had a permanent smile stuck to his face.’
I stuff my mouth full of ice cream much to Muffy’s disgust.
‘Do you think I should invite him to the wedding?’ I say thoughtfully. ‘After all, it seems a bit off not to.’
‘The bed salesman,’ she says with a grimace. ‘Well, I suppose you could. A bit unusual but …’
‘Not the bed salesman stupid. William. Do you think I should invite William to the wedding? God, I wonder if he’ll invite us to his.’
I push the ice cream away.
‘Don’t you want that salad?’ asks Muffy, eyeing it hungrily. How anyone can covet a salad is a mystery to me. I shove it towards her. My phone is ringing and I pull it from my handbag. It’s Oliver. Shit, I forgot to tell him how the interview went. Honestly, he seems to be the last person on my mind these days. That can’t be right can it?
‘How did the interview go?’ he asks.
‘I think I got the job,’ I say proudly.
‘Well done, I knew you could do it. Well done honey, I’m proud of you.’
I smile and feel a warm glow run through me. I do love Oliver. I only wish I felt sure I was in love with him. He will make a good husband and a brilliant dad.
‘I’ve got an interview at Munroes next week. They want a senior surveyor, the agency thinks I’ve got a good chance,’ he says, sounding dead chuffed.
‘That’s great Oliver, it really is. I bought a bed too, the sleigh one.’
He’s really trying.
‘Oh yeah did you hear, Ellis has got engaged.’
He had to go and ruin everything didn’t he? I pull the ice cream back towards me but what was left has melted. I debate the penis but even I have principles and would never suck one that has been around a bit and let’s face it that one certainly has.
‘Yeah, Muffy mentioned it,’ I say dismissively. ‘I’d better go Oliver, Muffy only has an hour and we have the fittings today.’
I click off and beckon the waitress. Muffy pushes my hand down.
‘Unless it is the bill you’re getting, forget it.’
Honestly, I thought friends were supposed to be supportive.
‘Let’s pay for this lot and get to the fitting, and you’d better pray that sodding dress still zips up. I don’t know how many fittings I can cope with.’
Don’t you just hate weddings, and even more so, other people’s weddings? I wonder if William will invite us. Oh God, I hope not.
Chapter Thirty-Four
One week later and I’m dieting for England. The dress doesn’t fit. I’ve dipped into the chocolate teapot one too many times and even with a spanx it still won’t bloody zip up.
‘Don’t worry,’ Andrea had said, the dress fitter Andrea that is, not the other one. I wouldn’t let her near my body with a bargepole.
‘We’ll have you looking like Kate Moss when you walk down the aisle.’
Muffy had scoffed.
‘Huh, work wonders and shit miracles do you? Perhaps you can make me look like Angelina Jolie while you’re at it.’
To make matters worse we are dining with Oliver’s parents this evening at a posh restaurant, and I just know I’ll be tempted by the menu.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ Oliver asks as I walk out of the bathroom. I look down at my long black skirt and white cashmere cardigan.
‘Yes why?’
‘It’s just a bit …’
‘A bit what?’ I say defensively.
‘I don’t know, it’s okay, I just think that cardigan makes you look a bit dumpy.’
A bit dumpy, oh my God, I look dumpy. I rush into the bedroom and look at myself in the mirror. I suppose I do look a bit dumpy.
‘I’ll have to change.’
He sighs.
‘There isn’t time now. You’ll have to go like that.’
Like that, meaning dumpy I suppose. I grab my coat and handbag and waddle my dumpy body out of the doorway. Honestly weddings, they are such a stress. There is such pressure to look perfect. The closer to the day we get the more nervous I am that the dress won’t fit, or if I do squeeze into it then it will burst open at the back as I am halfway down the bloody aisle. I keep wondering if William has his wedding date and find myself scrutinising the newspapers for an announcement, but there is nothing. Twice I’ve come close to phoning him on the pretext of thanking him for the reference but I always stop at the last digit. Then I type a text, thanking him and asking how things are, only to delete it after staring at it for about half an hour. Twice I’ve been tempted to drive past Driftwood but chickened out at the last minute. I did read in the FT that he had replaced his accountant. There was a short piece on Nathan, saying he had been offered a terrific opportunity in Dubai, which he could not turn down and as much as they hated to part company they both felt it was for the best.
Oliver rests his hand on my knee and I place my hand over his. Things have been a lot better between us since the new bed arrived. What a difference a bed makes. Tonight is a celebratory dinner to toast my new job and Oliver’s job offer at Munroes, and that we have finally got our mortgage offer. Muffy had quipped you’re very much becoming Mr and Mrs Average.
Oliver’s phone rings and he removes his hand from my knee to answer it.
‘Hi, really, blimey that’s a bonus. I’ll just tell the driver. See you there in fifteen minutes.’
He hangs up and leans forward to the driver.
‘Could you take us to Marcells instead? Thanks mate.’
Oh no, why are going to Marcells?
‘I thought we were going to The Manor,’ I say, trying to stop the tremble in my voice.
‘Apparently they’ve had a fire. Luckily they managed to get their customers into other restaurants. Marcells is pretty upmarket
. We were lucky to get rebooked there.’
Oh please don’t let William be there. Why am I being so stupid? Why should he be there? There are a hundred places he could be. Anyway, he probably isn’t even eating out tonight. Most likely he is getting a Chinese, he likes that and we often did that on a Friday. My heart sinks at the memory. The taxi pulls up outside Marcells and Oliver’s parents, Sylvia and Robert, are waiting outside. Sylvia enfolds me in a crushing hug.
‘How are you darling?’
‘Fine, how are you?’ I say untangling myself.
‘Have you gained weight?’ she says, holding me away from her and studying me intently. Of course she would have to do this in public wouldn’t she? Anyone else would have had a quiet word in the loo, but not my future mother-in-law.
‘Yes she has,’ replies Oliver.
Why is it I feel not only fat but invisible all at one and the same time?
‘Oh dear, is the dress going …’
‘It’s fine,’ I say hurriedly. ‘The dress fits perfectly.’
Well, it will eventually so I’m not lying as such.
‘Oh dear,’ she mumbles.
‘Shall we go in?’ says Robert, my future father-in-law.
I’d prefer not to but seeing as I have no choice. God, it would be tonight that I look dumpy wouldn’t it? Of all the nights that I could bump into William it is the night I look dumpy and overweight. I must be if Sylvia noticed. I’m beginning to think this Kate Moss thing is something of a dream on the part of Andrea. My phone rings and I pull it from my bag as we enter the dining area.
‘I’m at my beauty therapist having my nails done,’ says Muffy.
‘I need to know this do I?’
‘Okay, no need to be sarky. She’s got the answer to your bridal dress problem.’
I walk past the red velvet curtains that cover the windows and peep behind one to see the river and remember how William and I gazed out of the window when we were here. I follow Oliver and his parents to a table at the back of the room.
‘She knows how to perform miracles does she?’ I say, allowing the waiter to pull back a chair for me.
‘Colonic irrigation.’
‘What, I’m not having anything poked up my arse thank you very much,’ I say, totally forgetting I am with Oliver and his parents. There is a brief silence and I blush furiously.