New York Valentine

by Carmen Reid

  ‘But you look so lovely,’ he said and winked.

  As she was just finishing her main course, Annie took a moment to look around the packed dining room just to make a surreptitious check on the other diners. What were they eating? What were they wearing? Where was the fun in eating out if you couldn’t do a little people spotting?

  There was a woman over on the far side of the room who caught her eye. She just looked so good in that wonderful, possibly Halston, dress. It framed her face, set her apart … it had almost definitely been chosen for her … by Annie!

  ‘I’ve just spotted a client,’ Annie told Ed, ‘I think I’ll go over and say a quick hello.’

  ‘Go for it,’ Ed said, ‘but if you spot any St V parents, I’m hiding. I don’t want any conversations about the up and coming violin exams.’

  As she approached the table, the woman in the beautiful dress looked up, and recognized her immediately.

  ‘It’s Annie Valentine, isn’t it? Guy, look, this is the lady I was telling you about, the one who helped me buy the dress. Did you recognize me, by the way, or did you recognize the dress? I’m Joanne Kettner, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Joanne, of course I remember you. You sent me to New York,’ Annie said and reached over to take Guy’s hand which was being offered to her. ‘Hello, Guy.’

  Annie did remember the dress and the day when she was in The Store mourning her lost TV series, and how Joanne had told her that if she had to go to New York to be true to herself, then she had to go.

  ‘How was New York?’

  ‘New York was fabulous. Unbelievable. I’m kinda homesick,’ she said with her best accent.

  ‘How did the dress business grab you?’

  ‘I loved it. I loved it just as much as television. It’s very hard to choose.’

  ‘Who are you here with, tonight?’

  ‘My husband, Ed, we’re at the should-we-or-shouldn’t-we have a dessert moment.’

  ‘Us too! Why don’t you join us?’ Joanne suggested, ‘we’d love that.’

  Guy smiled and waved his hand welcomingly over the table. ‘Please come over, my wife was just talking about you and I’d love to meet you properly.’

  ‘Guy’s in business, finance,’ Joanne began, ‘but he’s currently obsessed with the idea of making a personal finance TV series … something with a popular touch.’ Joanne’s eyebrows raised and Annie understood her meaningful look immediately.

  ‘Right, I’m going to go and get Ed, then I definitely think we should have dessert. I’m hearing the siren call of the crème brûlée. And yes, I’m prepared to risk the seams on my Spanx just for that.’

  Guy looked baffled, but Joanne gave a hoot of laughter. ‘I know, damn dresses. Really we should all just wear elasticated waists out to dinner.’

  ‘There is no good way to wear an elasticated waistband.’ Annie said. ‘Believe me, I have tried.’

  Ed and Annie strolled arm in arm along the riverfront, wrapped up against the stiff October breeze.

  ‘I love this walk along the Thames,’ Annie told him, ‘all the lights reflecting in the water. Plus, this is the watery, beating heart of London: Houses of Parliament up that way, Tower Bridge and the Tower of London down there, swanky riverside apartments, everywhere you look. It’s old, it’s brand new, it’s brilliant.’

  ‘But it’s not New York.’

  ‘No-oo.’ She pulled his arm in tightly: ‘It’s OK. New York is always there. It’ll still be there when I’m ready to go.’

  ‘What about Perfect Dress? Will it still be there?’

  ‘Yes! It’ll be a multinational superbrand that I’ll be honoured to have such a good connection with. Hopefully, Svet and Elena will be able to give me a great job.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Ed stopped, so that they could face each other properly, ‘I don’t want to be the person who pressed the pause button on your dreams.’

  ‘Very poetic,’ she said and kissed him on the mouth. He tasted of coffee and Ed and just … home.

  ‘It’s not just you,’ Annie told him, ‘it’s me, who I am. I want to live a wonderful life and do all kinds of wonderful things. I already have … but I’m also a mum and a wife and that’s really important, babes. It’s hard to make a good job of all those things. Sometimes the dreams have to take a little step back. They’re not going away. I’m not giving up on a single one of them, but I think I have to put some important people first.

  ‘And anyway, you don’t want to leave St Vincent’s.’ She looked hard into his eyes, wondering if there was the slightest sign that maybe he would.

  ‘Not right now, but maybe in the future.’

  ‘Exactly. Owen doesn’t want to leave it now either. But in the future, he might want to do something new and exciting. With a little luck …’ she swallowed and crossed her fingers, ‘life is long. And I’ve always believed that all kinds of exciting adventures lie ahead.’

  ‘If you’re around, Annie, that will always be true!’ Ed said, moving his arms tightly around her.

  ‘I love you,’ she told him with a smile full of all sorts of shared understandings.

  ‘I love you too, Annie Valentine.’

  ‘It was supposed to be Annie Leon, remember, I said I would change.’

  ‘I know, but you suit Annie Valentine. It’s fine, Valentine is a crucial part of who you are.’

  She leaned her head on his shoulder and gazed out at the inky waters flowing smoothly by. ‘Yeah …’ she agreed softly.

  He was so good for her. She pushed her hands into his coat pockets. Who else could possibly understand how important it was for her to keep her late husband’s name? The name Valentine connected her, Owen and Lana to Roddy. His name was the visible thread which kept them all still bound up with him.

  She turned her head and kissed Ed’s neck tenderly, just below the jaw. ‘I have a feeling it’s all going to get interesting again.’

  ‘Not more interesting! What next?’

  ‘How serious do you think Guy was about a personal finance programme? He seemed to know an awful lot of interested people. And he’s going to get in touch with Tamsin.’

  ‘The idea of you doing a personal finance programme is actually quite funny,’ Ed said.

  ‘Why?!’

  ‘Because your personal finances are always a little bit …’

  ‘Optimistic?’

  ‘Yes, optimistic. That’s about right.’

  ‘So I’d be perfect, I’d be learning as I went along, just like my viewers. That’s the best kind of programme.’

  She kissed him again. Properly. Pulling him tight, shutting her eyes and feeling all the rush of emotions which this man stirred up in her. He kissed back, interested and very alive.

  It felt like a kiss from back in the pre-twin days.

  Parenting small children – it really was the kiss of death to any sex life. Maybe with good reason, otherwise there would be crazed parents all over the place with whole troupes of pre-schoolers.

  ‘This is very promising,’ Ed said, breaking away but running his hands over her silky D&G derrière.

  ‘I know, very … but we’ll get to the tube station, ride the train home, pay the babysitter, go upstairs, light the candles, put the music on, brush our teeth, start kissing, hear crying, put a baby back to bed, then fall asleep.’

  ‘I promise to have sex with you when we get home, no matter what,’ Ed said, pulling her in tight, so she could feel the stirring happening there.

  ‘You know,’ she whispered against his ear, ‘I think I’d rather go for a seriously saucy cuddle on that bench over there than take the risk of staying interested all the way back to the bedroom.’

  Ed ran his fingers lightly over the exposed tops of her breasts, causing her skin to tingle with pleasure.

  ‘Just how saucy were you planning to get?’ he asked in a whisper.

  ‘Follow me, big boy …’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Connor’s gym kit:

  B
lack running tights (Adidas)

  Green vest top (Nike)

  Black and green trainers (Saucony)

  White socks (Nike)

  Total est. cost: £180

  ‘Move your sad and saggy ass.’

  ‘This is very, very exciting, baby. I am loving it. Ohhhhh, yeees. Yes! Give me more … Harder. Punish me. Make. Me. CRY!’

  ‘Do you always shout at the cross trainer like this?’ Annie asked Connor, who wasn’t just shouting, he was panting, sweating, suffering on the machine beside hers.

  ‘Work, Annie, work!’ he urged her, ‘what would Gawain say? He would tell you to smell victory, baby, to close your eyes and reach for the gold.’

  ‘Gawain, ha, this is all Gawain’s fault!’ Annie puffed. ‘If I’d never met Gawain, I would not be here right now.’

  ‘Gawain is going to be here in London in just four days’ time,’ Connor reminded her, ‘so you better move your sad and saggy ass or you are going to be in supersized trouble.’

  Annie nudged her treadmill up from 1 (i.e. barely moving) to 2. ‘You’re right. I’m going to be a totally, totally different woman when he is here.’

  Over the last few days there had been some very interesting developments. Connor had begun his time on Strictly Come Dancing and been all over breakfast TV like a rash, flirting, showing off his buns and abs of steel and boasting about his ‘unbelievable’ New York personal trainer.

  Connor had also happened to mention that said personal trainer was in talks with a well-known British TV producer about a celebrity fitness show.

  Well … then the phones had started to burn red hot.

  Connor’s agent was talking to Gawain’s agent who was talking to Tamsin who was talking to Annie’s agent.

  Would Connor consider appearing on the celebrity fitness show? Would Annie consider hosting the celebrity fitness show? And how on earth would everyone get the money together to make it worth Gawain’s while to appear on British TV?

  ‘Baby, as soon as they said unfit celebrity guinea pig …’ Connor began.

  ‘You thought of me. Sweet,’ came Annie’s reply.

  ‘And you have other news, don’t you?’ Connor asked, ‘I can tell … you look smug.’

  ‘Ah well, nothing definite yet …’ Annie began.

  No sooner did the four special episodes of the Celeb Fit Show look as if they were really going to happen than Tamsin had been on the phone with more news.

  ‘Please tell me someone’s going to buy the How Not To Shop format?’ Annie had just about pleaded.

  ‘No. But I’m not giving up on it,’ Tamsin had assured her, ‘it’s a great show with a very loyal audience. But Annie, for now, I’ve been talking to a Guy Kettner, I believe you know him?’

  ‘Oh … the night of the crème brûlée.’

  ‘Well, he loves you. He may have mentioned to you that he’s got plans for a personal finance programme. Well, he’s very keen on you and I think he’s getting keen on me too. We’re meeting tomorrow.’

  ‘That is interesting, babes, very interesting.’

  ‘But meantime, you’re signed up with Connor and his new fitness phenomenon. So that is brilliant. That keeps you on screen and right in our minds and hot, hot, hot. Plus, you’ll get into shape too, which never hurt anyone. Not that I’m a body fascist.’

  ‘I thought you liked the “real” me.’

  ‘Real yes. You don’t need to go size zero on me …’

  ‘As if.’

  ‘But supersized, no,’ had been the brutal reply.

  So that was why, right now, Annie was in the gym with Connor, who kept leaning over and nudging up the speed on her machine.

  ‘Stop it!’ she warned, ‘or I’ll be a dead celebrity guinea pig and no use to you at all.’

  When the mobile in her back pocket began to ring, Connor protested, ‘A mobile! In the gym? You can’t have a mobile in the gym, it’s against the rules. How can you feel the pain with Gawain if you stop and chat on the phone?’

  Annie wasn’t listening. She’d already jumped off the machine with relief. Anyone could be calling, she didn’t care, as long as she had an excuse to get off the treadmill.

  ‘Annah!’

  There was no mistaking the voice at the other end of the line.

  ‘Svetlana, how are you?’

  ‘Vonderrrrful. Dresses sell out all over New York, everybody want one. Now we are worrrking very hard to get new range in place. New fabrics, new colours, playing a little with the styles. Is all so good and so fascinating, no? I go over again next week to make sure everything going well.’

  Annie felt the pang of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. Back to Manhattan. Back to the fashion business …

  ‘So I phone you to talk again about our plan.’

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘I think it is a very, very good plan. I think it will be amazing. I already organize a bigger apartment.’

  ‘In the same area?’

  ‘Almost. Very nice, very safe. But Manhattan much safer than London. No?’

  ‘So you really think this will be OK?’

  ‘Yes, I already organize work permit with the consulate.’

  ‘Really? And it wasn’t a problem?’

  ‘No problem. All organized. So you need to book ticket.’

  ‘Really?’ Annie gripped the phone tightly. She could feel her heart thud with the heady mix of excitement and fear. ‘I can’t quite believe it,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much. It’s amazing. It’s a really amazing opportunity.’

  ‘I know. But good for us too. And the weather is still warmer than London, but winter is coming and maybe there will be lots of snow. When are you going to come?’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Annie at Heathrow:

  Trench coat (Aquascutum)

  Skinny jeans (Gap)

  Highest black heels (Jimmy Choo)

  The sea-green bag (Mulberry)

  Beige and green scarf (Otrera)

  Minty gum (Wrigley’s Extra)

  Pocket hankies (Kleenex Balsam)

  Total est. cost: £1,600

  ‘It’s not like I’m retired yet …’

  The ticket and the passport were checked by the slightly exhausted but nevertheless smiling lady behind the counter, and the two large suitcases were tagged with labels bearing the big black letters: JFK.

  ‘This flight begins boarding at 8.30a.m., gate number 54, so if you’d like to make your way through security. Have a pleasant journey.’

  Annie held the boarding card in her hand and walked at an unusually slow pace through the airport with Lana, trying to stave off the moment when they actually arrived at the entrance to security.

  Thank you so much for coming to see me off. You really shouldn’t have. It’s a long journey and so early in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t be mad, of course I was going to see you off.’

  ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Not half as much as I’ll miss you, darlin’.’

  ‘Mum, I’ll be OK, won’t I?’ Lana looked at Annie with a half-nervous, half-smiling expression which Annie understood perfectly.

  Lana was scared.

  Annie was terrified.

  But it was Annie’s job to hug her daughter very, very tightly and tell her that of course she would be OK. Because that was her job here. She was the very good mum who was going to give her fledgling bird the nudge out of the nest, so she could learn to fly.

  Putting both arms around her and nearly squeezing the life out of her girl, Annie insisted: ‘Yes, my darlin’, you’re going to be more than OK. You’re going to be brilliant. Fantastic. You’ll take NYC by storm! You will love your new job and you’ll be so fantastically good at it. Plus, you’ve got a great new place with Elena, with your own room! And Elena will look after you … she’ll be the big sister you always wanted.’

  ‘It’s only for a year, though – and you’ll all come out and visit. You will come out, won’t you?’ Lana’s big blue eyes fixed
on Annie’s anxiously. ‘You promise?’

  ‘Babes, my November winter shopping spree is already booked. Then you’re back with us for Christmas. We’ll see more of you like this than when you were spending all day moping in your bedroom,’ Annie said, sounding brightly cheerful but suddenly aware that tears were rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘Don’t cry!’ Lana exclaimed, but now she was crying too.

  ‘Oh, I love you,’ Annie said, hugging her daughter again, ‘I love you. This is so exciting, I am so jealous! I wish I was moving to New York to work for a wonderful new dress label; swanning about Fifth Avenue with a Ukrainian executive and her super-mum. It’s so exciting!’

  ‘I wish you were coming.’

  ‘I know … but I have babies, and a day job, and Owen at school – and Ed.’

  Lana nodded with understanding.

  ‘But you …’ Annie ran her finger over Lana’s cheek and brushed away the tears, ‘you’re eighteen. You have a whole fabulous new grown-up life ahead of you.’

  ‘Oh … Mum,’ Lana said and hooked her chin over her mum’s shoulder for the last time … in a long time.

  ‘Obviously I have lots of fabulous new exciting things ahead of me too,’ Annie added, mainly to cheer herself up: ‘it’s not like I’m retired yet or it’s game over … or anything.’

  ‘Ooh, I’ve got a present,’ Lana said, remembering.

  ‘Oh no …’ Annie dragged a paper hankie across her face, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to make it through a present: ‘me too!’

  For a moment they both searched in their handbags and brought out small wrapped gifts. Then they each sniffed hard, tried not to cry and fumbled with wrapping paper.

  Annie was the first to gasp out her thanks. In her hand was a framed photo of Lana, taken by Sye for the Perfect Dress campaign. Annie hadn’t seen it before and now that she looked at her daughter’s beautiful, serious, oh-so-grown-up face, she felt a fresh wave of pride, mingled with nostalgia and a growing sense of loss.

  ‘Oh thank you, you’re beautiful, babes. Look after yourself over there, won’t you? Beware all the Taylors, find yourself a nice boy … or be too busy with work to find any boy at all,’ she said gruffly into her daughter’s hair as she hugged her again.