Playing for Keeps

by Rosa Temple

  As I thought, I tossed and turned for hours before I could finally drop off to sleep. I had resolved not to desert Hugo despite what Anya said. How could I? That just wasn’t me. Anya might be able to turn her feelings on and off to suit the occasion but I couldn’t. I also promised myself I’d finally tell Anthony all about Hugo’s cancer, positive he’d have no problem with me going to see him once in a while.

  I also promised to have the big talk with Anthony when he came home. The big ‘Where is this relationship going?’ talk. After all, we were in love, we lived together. Wasn’t it about time we talked about what our future held?

  Chapter 15

  There was a weird feel to Friday morning. Not only because I was totally exhausted from a night of soul-searching after the pensive, heavy note Anya left on, but because there was something in the air I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  I had hours to get myself refreshed and looking presentable for the party and, after a look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, had to make every second count. Zac had given me the number of his hair stylist in Knightsbridge so I took myself up there and, on discovering that the salon on Beaumont Street had a basement beauty bar, splurged on a facial too.

  I arrived at Portmanteau in the late afternoon. The wind was blowing wildly through the trees along my road, whipping up enough momentum to whisk brown and copper-coloured leaves off the branches. I had to hold my hands on my hair so my trip to the salon wasn’t wasted.

  I made it in one piece, pushing open the door, all gussied up in Cushnie et Ochs, sucking in my tummy. I’d obviously been comfort eating more than I’d realised while Anthony was away because the fit of my dress was more snug than when I’d tried it on at the shop.

  Outwardly I looked the part of thriving entrepreneur but inside I shook like a leaf. Jaime smiled at me as I entered the shop and all of a sudden I realised how terribly grown-up I actually was now. My transition from party girl to working girl had been almost overnight, but some of that partygoer still lingered and wished she was a guest this evening rather than the host. I had to calm down. In a few hours the eyes of a roomful of celebrities and fashion royalty would all be on me. I took a deep breath while maintaining a bright smile and tried to keep my shoulders held back.

  ‘This place looks fabulous, Jaime. You and Zac have done a wonderful job.’

  Jaime looked around, fixing her long hair behind her ear as she took in the shop floor. Shelves and racks were strategically moved to the sides so there was room for socialising. The catering staff would later walk around with canapés and tall crystal flutes filled with champagne.

  ‘Where is Zac?’ I asked.

  ‘Here,’ he squealed as he emerged in Armani and a silk shirt and tie. His patent leather shoes were so shiny he could probably see his face in them, which was probably what he’d intended. I don’t know how many times I’d seen Zac stop in front of the mirror for a preen of his perfect eyebrows and slick, jet-black hair.

  ‘You look fabulous, sweetie,’ I said to him. ‘First thing: what do you know about a handbag shop opening on the King’s Road? Italian-owned?’

  ‘That would be Becca Mirafiore. Married an Italian businessman. Now divorced but keeps the name. Won’t even come close to the quality of Shearman Bright. About four hundred metres down the road, opened last Saturday with a half-price sale. Tacky or what? More of a pound shop than anything else. Why?’

  ‘I just hadn’t heard of her and wondered if I should be worried.’

  ‘I shouldn’t worry about her if I were you. I’ve looked through the window. Her shop is only half the size of this and the sales assistant looks as if she’s comatose.’

  ‘Good,’ I said and exhaled. ‘Secondly, I hope you don’t mind, Zac, but I’ve nominated you as Anya’s escort for tonight.’

  Zac placed a shaking hand in front of the mouth that was now dropped open.

  ‘Mind? I’ll go round the back and change into the green silk shirt. It’ll make me more chiselled and it’ll set off Anya’s eyes. Back in a sec.’

  He disappeared in the blink of an eye and returned to the shop floor as if he were walking onto the stage like Dame Shirley Bassey about to do a rendition of ‘Hey, Big Spender’.

  ‘This is her address,’ I said to Zac, handing him the details.

  I stood at the window and watched Zac totter onto the street and hail a taxi with a limp flap of his hand. Jamie came up beside me and crossed her arms.

  ‘Wait until you go into the staffroom,’ she said. ‘You’ll see the number of suits he brought in to run by me for tonight.’

  ‘Ah well, it’s all pretty sweet I guess. At least he’s enthusiastic about the event.’

  ‘Somehow I think it was all in a bid to impress Anya. You’ve just made his night, Magenta.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’ I looked at my watch. One and a half hours to lift off. The caterers arrived just as I was wondering how I’d fill the time now Jaime had taken care of everything and made the shop perfect. ‘I’ll sort them out,’ I said.

  It was amazing how quickly time passed. One minute I was telling the caterers where everything went, having a laugh and a joke with the owner of Rhythm ‘N’ Brews, and the next minute the party was about to happen.

  The first people to walk through the door were neither celebrities nor the fashion elite. I’d received a call from the sisters of doom a few weeks ago: Cressida Vanderburg and Coco Berner-Blythe, my arch rivals from school, had got wind of the opening and wrangled an invitation out of Riley by telling her I’d approved it and that we’d been best friends back in the day. I’d noticed their names on the guest list and remembered the unplanned and awful reunion the three of us had had a little while back. I’d hoped never to cross their paths again but I didn’t have the heart to put them off. I knew they’d purchased a few of my lines. Coco had been carrying one of my handbags when she’d appeared in a photo in the Evening Standard magazine standing close to Prince Charles at a grand charity event. A fact she couldn’t wait to text me about once the picture had been released. She appeared as a tiny speck in the background and the bag was barely visible anyway.

  ‘Ladies,’ I exclaimed in so false a way Jaime screwed up her brow as if she didn’t recognise me.

  They air-kissed my cheeks, keeping both eyes on the shop interior as they did so.

  ‘This place is absolutely divine,’ squawked Coco. ‘So tasteful. You know I hardly recognise you as the feisty fifteen-year-old from school who never did her Latin prep or showed up for any of the history lessons and turned up late for lacrosse training…’

  Both women ended the sentence in unison, ‘…Every time!’

  They squealed with laughter in unison too. I wasn’t sure I could handle their high-pitched cackles all evening. I prayed for someone else to show up.

  The photographers were trickling in as well as a couple of journalists I recognised but no one Jaime couldn’t handle. I was silently pleading for her to drag me out of the clutches of the witches of Belgravia.

  Luckily my phone rang and I jumped to answer it.

  ‘If you’d excuse me, ladies, grab some champagne and make yourselves at home.’ I hurried towards the back of the shop. ‘Zac?’ I said. ‘You and Anya on your way?’

  ‘Well, not really, Magenta. There’s been a bit of a snag.’ I heard a loud grunt coming from his end in the background.

  ‘Was that Anya?’ My eyes were bulging from my head.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zac. ‘She was getting ready. Her make-up person left a while ago and I thought we were all systems go but…’

  ‘But what Zac? Is it the baby?’

  ‘Apparently she’s been having contractions. She said she thought they were practice ones but all of a sudden they’re out of control and Anya looks… Anya is…’

  ‘What, Zac? What?’

  ‘She’s crouching by the side of the bath saying she feels like she’s going to shit a rugby ball. I mean they’re her words. I’d never have said Anya Stankovic o
f all people would… you know? Shit.’ The last word was said in a stage whisper.

  ‘Zac, could you put Anya on the line?’

  I heard his footsteps across the hardwood floor at Anya’s house and then his puffing as he mounted the stairs. He knocked on her door and I could hear him saying, ‘It’s Magenta.’

  I had to hold the phone from my ear because I was greeted by a banshee-type wail followed by lots of panting.

  ‘Madge!’ called Anya. ‘Vere the fuck are you? This thing is about to drop.’

  ‘How far apart are your contractions?’

  ‘You’re really asking me that now? I don’t have a clue! Just send help! Get here as fast as you can! Call 999. Anything.’

  ‘Anya, listen. Cross your legs and don’t bear down. I’ll be there in no time.’

  I grabbed my bag and rushed through to the shop floor only to see it had begun to fill up considerably. Riley grabbed by arm as I darted towards the door.

  ‘Magenta, what’s going on?’

  ‘Anya’s gone into labour early. You and Jaime will have to hold the fort.’

  Riley looked fearful but Jaime gave me a reassuring nod of the head.

  ‘Leave it to us,’ Jaime said. ‘Just go!’

  I smiled, turning to mouth a thank you, as I backed my way to the door. I turned, too quickly, and barged straight into Naomi Campbell on her way in.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Naomi Campbell, but Anya’s about to have the baby!’

  The model placed a hand on her cheek and pulled a face that said ‘Rather her than me’. I acknowledged her with a wave and caught sight of my younger sister, Ebony, stepping out of a taxi.

  ‘Don’t let it go,’ I shouted at her. I kissed her briefly, feeling the cool of the October evening on my bare arms, and asked the cab driver to take me to Richmond, pronto.

  ‘What on earth?’ Ebony began.

  ‘It’s Anya. Riley will explain. Thanks for coming but I have to go.’

  The taxi pulled away and left a bewildered Ebony on the kerb. I noticed more people arriving at the shop. The taxi shot off along the King’s Road, the Friday-evening rush hour already evident. I silently said goodbye to my hugely anticipated celebrity party. Looking through the back window I shook my head and heaved a sigh before settling into the back of the black cab.

  The taxi pulled up at the front door of Anya’s double-fronted Georgian house in Richmond.

  ‘Please wait for me, I’ll be right back,’ I gasped while climbing out of the cab. Racing to the house in my four-inch heels, hitching the skirt of my dress up at the side, I saw Zac in the doorway. The door was wide open and he was biting the fingernail of his forefinger, beads of perspiration forming on his face, and for once he was speechless. I towered above him as I took hold of his shoulders.

  ‘Zac, call yourself a taxi or Uber your way back to the shop. Jaime and Riley are going to need you.’ I looked up at the light from the first-floor window. ‘I’ve got this.’

  I raced up the stairs to Anya’s bedroom, dropping to my knees beside her where she was crouched at the side of the bed.

  ‘Darling, you’re doing great,’ I said while looking up her long dress to make sure her baby hadn’t come in the forty or so minutes it had taken for the driver to get me there. ‘Can you stand up for me?’

  Anya nodded and pressed her hands onto the bed to get to her feet. I stood behind her and helped her up by hooking her underarms.

  ‘I’ve got a taxi waiting outside all ready to take us to the hospital. Okay?’ I looked into Anya’s pale face. She had slight pink blotches on her cheeks, the closest she would ever come to having colour without the aid of foundation.

  ‘I don’t think I can make it,’ she breathed. ‘I think this baby is coming right now.’

  ‘It only feels like that. We can do this, we can get you to the hospital before anything happens. Just walk with me.’

  ‘Madge, I’m telling you, this baby is coming now.’

  ‘Are you feeling like you want to push?’

  Anya shook her head.

  ‘Any sign your water broke?’ I asked hurriedly.

  She shrugged her shoulders as if she had no idea what I was talking about. I got to my knees, searching her underwear for evidence.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘And I must say those are some mighty fancy undies for childbirth, Anya.’

  ‘I’m not dressed for giving birth either, am I? I’m supposed to be going to a bloody party not bloody maternity.’

  ‘True. Which reminds me. Better grab your bag for the hospital.’

  I had already helped Anya pack a case about a week ago and left it by the coatstand in the hallway. Somehow we managed a flight of stairs, took a few quick seconds to grab her case and handbag, then I half-carried, half-bustled Anya into the back of the taxi. We were ready to go.

  ‘Good luck,’ Zac called after us as he closed the front door. I looked around and waved at him. He was still waiting for his ride to the party. As we turned out of the drive Zac was propping himself up against one of the pillars on the front porch while fanning his face with the flat of his hand.

  The taxi sped towards the A4. Anya gripped my hand and tried to suppress a moan.

  ‘If you want to scream, Anya, go right ahead. You can squeeze my hand for all it’s worth. I’ll be with you all the way.’

  ‘You couldn’t have this baby for me, could you, Madge?’ she said, beginning to pant.

  ‘That part I can’t do but I’ll make sure you get all the drugs in the whole of the building if it’ll help.’

  She nodded her thanks and panted a few words at me I couldn’t quite catch. We were out of Richmond and weaving our way towards the signs for central London and the A4.

  ‘We’re nearly there.’ I tried to sound as reassuring as possible, hoping it would help alleviate some of the panic in her eyes. ‘We’re seconds away from the hospital. I promise.’

  In Friday-evening traffic we were a lot more than seconds away but it was my job to keep Anya as calm and relaxed as possible to ensure a safe delivery. I’d read that in one of the books. With her health and the baby’s already at risk I had to keep it together for all our sakes.

  Chapter 16

  ‘Here, try some of this, Madge. It does nothing for the pain but it really gives you a buzz.’

  ‘We can’t both be high, Anya, otherwise we’ll never get through this.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport. Go on. The nurse isn’t here.’

  ‘Oh, all right then. One sniff and then I’ll go and find the ice chips.’

  ‘Stuff the ice chips and see if they have any Bollinger.’

  ‘Anya! You’re kidding me, right?’

  The thing is, Anya wasn’t kidding. She could probably have downed a whole bottle given the circumstances.

  The two of us had burst through the doors of the labour ward, the nurse on reception snapping to attention when she saw Anya’s eyes and her look of complete distress.

  ‘How far apart are the contractions?’ she asked as she whipped round from behind the desk and grabbed one of the wheelchairs against the wall. ‘Take a seat in here for me.’

  ‘I think they’re about fifteen to twenty minutes apart,’ I said to the nurse as she wheeled Anya towards glass doors that automatically swept open with a whoosh.

  ‘Waters broken?’ the nurse asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said, breathless, trying to keep up with the speedy nurse who had backed the wheelchair into a room.

  ‘And what’s mum’s name?’ said the nurse as she helped Anya out of the wheelchair and offered her a seat in one of two easy chairs by the window.

  ‘Anya,’ I said, placing Anya’s case onto the bed. ‘Anya Stankovic.’

  ‘Fine,’ said the nurse. ‘Anya, you change clothes and I’ll call up your notes and contact your obstetrician. The bathroom is through there if you’d like to take a bath.’

  ‘Get me drugs, immediately,’ Anya said, no time for the merest attempt at politeness.
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br />   ‘I… I’ll help her into the bath,’ I offered.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the nurse. ‘In the meantime I’ll see what we can do about pain relief and I’ll be back to examine you. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  She was back very quickly indeed, asking Anya to hop onto the bed while I tried to hoist her party dress up past her knees and over the bump for an examination. She informed Anya that, due to her condition, she’d have to manage on entonox only. Anya scowled. After the examination the nurse informed her she was four centimetres dilated and had plenty of time to relax, have a bath, listen to some music or any other form of entertainment she chose.

  ‘And my obstetrician?’ Anya demanded.

  ‘She’s just on her way.’

  ‘Fine,’ Anya had said with barely a glance in the nurse’s direction.

  The nurse left us alone so I helped Anya the rest of the way out of the dress she’d had specially designed for the Grand Opening party and into her bathrobe. I filled the bath and lit the scented candles I’d packed to create a soothing atmosphere. She had at least two very big contractions while in the bath; they were getting closer together.

  ‘Madge, I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice echoing in the bathroom.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I made you miss your big night.’

  ‘Don’t worry, darling. I think we’ll be fine with the big night we’re already having, don’t you?’

  After the bath I helped Anya into the roomy T-shirt dress I’d bought specially for this occasion from Gap. Anya had told me not to tell anyone she’d worn anything from a high-street shop but the Gap purchase was so gorgeous, even she relented.

  It was after showing Anya how to use the entonox – hold the mask over the nose and mouth, inhale deeply and the pain will subside – that the nurse went off again and left us to our own devices. Anya saw the gas and air machine as a great way for us to get off our heads, hoping the whole delivery might go by in a floaty bubble.