Late Night Shopping

by Carmen Reid

  'Oh, you're very welcome,' she said, bumping her left cheek against his. And then the right. They looked at each other and struggled for something else to say.

  Bryan was thin, balding and, Annie thought (not for the first time), just incredibly bland looking. He was in a white dinner jacket, which made him look like the head waiter and his tiny, frameless glasses made his entire eye socket looked glazed. Annie had decided long ago that he must have many, many hidden qualities which only Dinah fully appreciated.

  'Well . . . time to kick off, I think,' Bryan said, looking at his watch and shooting her a parting smile. As he turned and walked away from her, Annie's heart gave a little leap of surprise, because there, standing hesitantly at the doorway, was Ed.

  The longer she looked, the more trouble she could see Ed had gone to. He'd ironed his shirt, he'd acquired a dark and very dapper suit from somewhere. He'd tied on a bow-tie, his shoes were gleaming. He'd even brushed, no, definitely cut his hair. It was a long time since she'd seen him look so well groomed . . . or just groomed in any way at all, to be honest. And he looked great.

  Before Annie had even caught his eye, Owen, violin in hand, was beside him. Ah! Of course, they were going to perform their music together.

  Bryan called the crowd to attention and urged everyone to top up their drinks and move over to the semicircle of chairs.

  'You don't think this is going to be too New Age, do you?' Fern slipped her arm into Annie's as they headed over. 'I'm just getting to that age where too much mushy sincerity is going to make me snort my G&T out of my nose.'

  'You're a grumpy old git, you mean?' Annie asked.

  'Well . . . maybe. They're happy enough though, aren't they? Dinah and—'

  'Baldy? I think so. Don't think you need to worry about them. Pale pink really suits you, Mum,' Annie added. 'Matches your hair. What is going on with your colourist?'

  'Don't be so cheeky!' Fern hissed at her as everyone settled into their seats and Owen and Ed struck up their melody.

  'What's the song?' Fern whispered into Annie's ear.

  'I don't know. I suggested "We've Lost That Loving Feeling" but they refused.'

  When the music ended, everybody clapped loudly and Owen broke into a big beaming smile. Ed balanced his guitar on his knee and clapped Owen as well.

  And then Bryan and Dinah, looking sweetly nervous, launched into their ceremony.

  Annie glanced briefly over to where handsome Hector was sitting in the front row watching tensely with his earpiece still in place. Just one slip on the part of the happy couple now and all his weeks of party planning would be ruined. Poor guy. Annie made a mental note to go over later and tell him how utterly amazing this party was.

  Bryan recited a poem (mercifully not home-made) for Dinah, who, bless her, had to wipe the tears from her eyes by the end of it. Then they said some truly sweet things to each other and to Billie, while Billie twanged at her deely boppers, setting off a ripple of suppressed laughter in the crowd.

  It was all very touching and lovely and Annie might have enjoyed it all much more if she hadn't been working herself up into such a frenzy about Ed. Why did he not even glance in her direction? Why was he not even making eye contact for long enough to give her a smile?

  This was just so unbelievably rude. She lived with this guy. She owned a property with him. He had made a commitment to help her bring up her children. Now he was perched on a stool, looking just about everywhere else in this entire room but at her. How long was this going to go on for? How long did an Ed Leon sulk last?

  Maybe she should phone his sister and ask. Why were Hannah and her partner not here tonight anyway? She knew they'd been invited.

  If Dinah hadn't been tenderly promising Bryan that she would always be his best friend, Annie would quite like to have stood up now and shouted at Ed, 'Oi you, over here! Remember me?'

  Then, with a flurry of applause, the ceremony was over. Dinah broke into smiles of visible relief and Owen and Ed started up again with a new melody.

  'Hello Annie, lovely to see you – and in Valentino. How appropriate!'

  She gave Hector a double cheek kiss. 'I know, I might change my name: Annie Valentino. Sounds good, huh?' She waved an arm at the room – 'it's fabulous, darling,' she told him. 'You look fabulous too.'

  'Excellent. Now, there's dancing,' he continued briskly, 'and I want you with someone very handsome on the dance floor first so the video can capture you and B and D can look back on this and remember it as a glamorous event.'

  Hector had her firmly by the shoulders and before Annie could have any say in the matter, she was being pushed against Andrei and together they were ushered onto a dance floor empty save for the happy couple.

  'And dance!' Hector cried, as if he were directing a movie. Then he disappeared.

  'Well, hi, Andrei,' Annie managed, shuffling stiffly and sensing that Andrei's hand was only hovering in the general vicinity of her back.

  'I'm glad to see Lana so happy again,' she went on, shooting a fake smile of happiness at Dinah as she spun past. 'She was very upset about what happened.'

  Andrei had the decency to blush and look down at his shoes. Well, hopefully it was his shoes and not her magnificent, fillet-enhanced cleavage.

  'I'm very sorry about what happened, Ms Valentine,' he said.

  'You're both young and I'm sure, in time, you'll both move on,' Annie told him, 'but be nice! Next time, you have the decency to break up just as nicely as you possibly can. Or else I'll . . .' Now what was she doing? Was she going to threaten to send the boys round? 'I'll be very angry,' she ended.

  'Yes, Ms Valentine,' he said and looked so sheepish that she felt quite sorry for him.

  As soon as the waltz was over, she and Andrei all but jumped apart and finally Annie was able to go off and do the one thing she really wanted to do: find Ed. She began to walk purposefully round the room, trying to avoid eye contact and unwanted chit-chat with anyone else.

  But there was no sign of him. Or of Owen, it occurred to her. Not over in the quiet bar area. Not anywhere near the semicircle of seats, or dance floor. There wasn't even – strangely – any sign of them loitering near the tables being set up for the buffet.

  'Where's Owen?' Annie asked as she walked into Lana.

  'Maybe he went to the toilet,' was Lana's suggestion.

  Annie made for the double doors leading out of the function room. Out there in the corridor, a little dancing party was going on. Ed and Owen were fiddling some manic jig while two elderly couples tried to dance to it and another handful of people were laughing and clapping them on.

  Look at Owen go!

  Annie spent a moment watching his crazed elbow bob up and down as he whizzed his bow over the strings. His foot was tapping and even his head was nodding up and down to the tune.

  Right, never mind that for now.

  She marched straight past the dancers and took hold of an astonished Ed's arm. He'd been too busy jigging to see her coming.

  'Right, you!' she told him, 'I want a word with you.'

  Ed, still playing to the end of the verse, let himself be led by the elbow through the double doors and towards the bar where Annie turned to him, the red dress spinning slightly with the speed of her movement and told him quietly but definitely, unmistakably furiously, 'That's it. Game over! You have to talk to me. You have to Deal With Me,' and with every one of these last three words, she jabbed angrily at his chest.

  'Now let's get a few things straight,' she stormed on. 'Number one: there is not a single thing going on between me and Sandro Berlusponti-Milliau. Here,' she opened the teensy golden clutch bag she was carrying, took out her phone and handed it to Ed, 'you can phone him. You can ask.'

  When Ed shook his head at this suggestion, Annie blustered straight on: 'Furthermore, I have decided to sell the shoes from Hong Kong and a few of Sandro's bags, On. My. Website.' These words were delivered with heavy emphasis.

  'I've had a website on eBay for as long as you've
known me, Ed. Yes, I may be expanding it a little, but right now I'm not doing anything different. Not yet.'

  In a slightly contrite tone, she added: 'I'm sorry I didn't discuss my plans with you properly. And I made a big decision to borrow money without you. OK. I admit that. I shouldn't have done that. OK? In future, I will talk to you about the plans and I'm not going to do anything really different until they're . . . clearer.

  'But this – you and me – this only works if we keep talking. Nothing works if you storm off in a great big sulk—' she broke off, almost out of breath with effort.

  'I think we should sit down,' Ed said, 'or there's a danger we'll draw a crowd.'

  Once they were sitting down at a table together, it didn't seem so hard any more. There was Ed, her Ed, looking slightly bewildered but still surprisingly good.

  'You've had a haircut? And a proper one?' she said with some astonishment.

  'Toni and Guy,' Ed replied. 'Have you any idea how much they charge? Hannah made me.'

  'Oh!'

  'Annie, that was not just a kiss on the cheeks. I saw it.' Ed was not going to let this go.

  Annie gave a deep sigh and tried to think about what he could have seen: 'Were you standing behind me?' she asked finally. Hadn't Mr B held on to the back of her head, stared into her eyes and pulled her closer? Trying to go for a full mouth-on-mouth?

  'Look, you won't believe me,' she said, 'but I had something in my eye.'

  Ed gave a bitter little laugh. 'Don't try and be funny.'

  'After the cheek kiss, he tried to kiss me on the mouth,' Annie went on quickly, 'and I told him I had something in my eye, to get out of it, to get out of the kiss . . . but then he held my head and stared and stared into my eye for ages, right up close, right against my face . . . then he finally let me go. That's what you saw . . . you total tit,' she added for good measure.

  Ed stared into the distance. She couldn't read much in his expression, she didn't have the slightest idea whether he believed her or not.

  'Anyway what about you?' it was her turn to ask. 'I found Giovanna's phone number in the villa. What have you got to say about that?'

  Ed looked at her in confusion now. 'Giovanna's phone number?'

  'Isn't that your Italian girlfriend? Her name and number had been written down on the telephone pad.'

  'My ex-girlfriend,' Ed said with emphasis on the ex, 'was called Janine.'

  'Oh.'

  Now Ed was the one struggling to think of an explanation.

  'I spoke to someone about changing my flight and wrote down her name and contact number and took it with me on a piece of paper.'

  'Oh.' Again that was all that Annie could manage.

  'You must have seen the imprint of the writing.'

  'Maybe . . .' She wasn't sure she wanted him to follow this line of enquiry too closely.

  'Good grief – did you do that rubbing pencil over the letters and numbers thing that detectives do on the telly?'

  'No! I could read it perfectly well,' Annie lied because the thought of being caught out here was just too pathetic.

  'You pencilled it!' Ed insisted.

  There was a warmth in Ed's voice now, as if he was starting to find this funny. Then came a pause. Ed looked over at her, Annie looked back at him. Neither of them was sure where to go from here.

  'You told him you had something in your eye?' Ed asked finally.

  'Yes,' Annie answered, wondering why something as small and stupid as this could have set Ed off on such a tantrum. Well . . . along with the thirty grand and the stack of expensive accessories accumulating in the spare room.

  'In your eye?' he repeated, and the corners of his mouth were twitching but she couldn't tell if this was anger or if he was trying to suppress some sort of smile. 'Why didn't you just slap him in the face?'

  'Ed! He'd just offered me a forty per cent discount,' Annie burst out.

  'Oh! Well, that's OK then. You should have just snogged him straight back.'

  'It crossed my mind. Believe me. If I'd thought it could have got me fifty per cent, I'd probably have done it. But I thought that was as low as he would go.'

  'Have you sold his bags over here yet?'

  'I've sold one on eBay – but the shoes are going a storm.'

  'The shoes . . .' he leaned over the side of the table to take a look at Annie's dainty shoes.

  'They are very nice shoes,' he had to agree, 'very, very nice shoes. And that's a very nice dress. Very nice.'

  And that was the moment Annie knew she had to lean over and kiss him. Right on the mouth, hands clasped on his head, pulling him back to her again. Because of the way his hair bounced against his cheek and his voice was so warm and real and everything about him was better than she remembered it. And yes, the shiny shoes, the black suit and tie were probably a major attraction factor. She lifted herself slightly off her chair, so she could lean into him, fling her arms round him, kiss harder and more hungrily.

  'Come home, please!' she said urgently, pushing herself against him.

  Ed, who was already quite astonished at this reaction to his comment about her outfit, was even more surprised to feel the wobble of the back legs of the chair.

  'Annie!' he warned. But it was already too late. In her enthusiasm to get to him, she'd pushed the chair back beyond the point of no return. If they'd been hoping to keep news of their reconciliation quiet, they were certainly disappointed when the chair went down with a crash, somehow taking along the tablecloth, two bottles of mineral water, glasses and a condiment set, as well as the embracing couple.

  As Annie lay on top of Ed and the chair, listening to the loud hum of concern in the room as people hurried towards them, she was conscious of one thing and one thing only . . . a cool breeze. Ed had managed to pull up her dress.

  'I think we've drawn that crowd,' Ed said.

  A roomful of spectators was now being treated to a rear view of her orthopaedic beige tummy-tuck tights. She should have gone with the stockings. She so should have gone with the stockings.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Party Lana:

  Pink dress (Miss Selfridge)

  Pink heels (Primark)

  Blue fishnets (Topshop)

  Blue eyeshadow (Superdrug)

  Total est. cost: £85

  'Is he staying the night?'

  'So this is why Lana is suddenly getting As in French,' Ed teased gently. 'Lots of private tutoring.'

  'Sir!' Andrei protested, pulling away from Lana's ear, which he had been nuzzling, as Lana blushed frantically and Annie and Owen burst into laughter.

  'OK, break it up and please take your mug of the finest hot chocolate, complete with mini marshmallow toppings, that you are ever likely to taste outside of a campsite,' Ed continued, bringing the steaming drinks towards the table.

  Although it was close to two in the morning, Ed had promised everyone in the taxi home from the party that what they needed before bed was a taste of his 'world famous' hot chocolate.

  'Obviously Owen knows all about this treat, being a veteran of the Ed Leon school of camping,' he added, making sure Owen was included in the first round of drinks.

  Owen looked up and smiled a little shyly. He accepted his cup without a word and began to stir the marshmallows. His silence did not escape Annie. She was acutely sensitive to how her children were feeling about Ed being back in the house.