The Lingerie Designer

by Siobhán McKenna

  “I teach geography,” Keith said modestly but was unable to leave it at that – as they’d learnt earlier, Keith loved his work. “My specific area of interest is geology, the study of which dates back to ancient Greece . . . ah . . .” He stopped himself. “Perhaps the ladies should go first.” He sucked hard on his straw, which caused his cheeks to hollow.

  But Helen wasn’t listening – the cogs in her brain were turning. Could it be possible? “You weren’t working on The Palm Development by any chance?” she asked Jack, swallowing hard.

  Jack’s puzzlement gave way to his signature beaming smile. “I wondered when you mentioned the name Eden. You’re Helen Devine, aren’t you?” He locked eyes with her.

  “Jack Taylor, my architect.” Helen clasped her hand to her mouth, hiding a grin, unable to say any more.

  Poppy and Keith looked from one to the other, as if they were watching a Wimbledon tennis final.

  It was Keith who broke the silence. “You know each other?”

  Poppy clapped her hands together and bounced excitedly on her chair as she waited to hear more.

  “Not exactly. But I believe we spoke on the phone some weeks ago. Isn’t that right, Jack?” Helen blushed, her heart pounded.

  “Right – nice to meet you in person, Ms Devine!” Jack raised his glass to her.

  “Have I got this right? You’ve worked together?” Keith looked puzzled.

  “I work with an architectural firm, as one of a team. We were involved with this particular development. Helen would have dealt with the sales agents, so the connection is indirect. But she is correct – I, or rather my employer, worked on her behalf.”

  “The six degrees of separation theory unfolds before our eyes. What a co-incidence.” Keith sat back, now all was clear in his head.

  “There’s no such thing as coincidence. It’s the Universe telling you something – now you just have to figure what that is,” Poppy announced.

  “Here we go again!” Helen gave an exaggerated eye-roll.

  “What age are you, Jack?” Poppy asked out of the blue.

  “Thirty.” Jack waited for Poppy to clarify what his age had to do with the Universe’s conspiring.

  Helen kicked her under the table.

  Poppy ignored her, rapidly stirring her drink with a swizzle-stick. Not the only thing she was about to stir. “That’s interesting – we reckoned you were about twenty-five. Helen’s still in her thirties too.” She gave her best Shirley Temple smile.

  Fate sealed: Poppy Power, tourist, found hanged, drawn and quartered, proving Mary Devine’s theory of crimes against tourists true. Associate Helen Devine wanted for questioning.

  “This calls for a celebration!” Poppy waved the waitress over to the table. “May we have another round of these, whatever they are – the acid-green things.” She made a circular motion with her forefinger.

  “Green Mango specials!” the waitress smiled.

  “And what’s that T-shirt you’ve got on?” Poppy wanted to know. “Save the Cat Ba – what?”

  “Languars – they are facing extinction.” The waitress picked up the empty glasses from the table.

  “That’s a cool T-shirt,” Poppy said, admiring it.

  “They are available for sale if you like – the proceeds go to the languar fund, on the island.”

  Poppy decided to be generous. “We’ll have one for everyone in the audience!”

  The waitress returned to the table with the drinks and a bundle of flat-packed tops, in various sizes. They each pulled on a black-cotton T-shirt, with a print of an endearing primate on it.

  “Here’s to Universal Law and saving cute monkeys at the same time!” Poppy proposed the toast.

  All four raised their glass. But only two of them let their fingertips touch.

  “The T-shirt looks good on you,” Jack said to Helen, as they walked back to the hotel. He looked up at the full moon.

  “Yours too.” Helen smiled, before looking away.

  The sound of the waves crashed against the shore, below them. Up ahead, they could hear Keith and Poppy laughing.

  “Does she ever stop laughing?” Jack was laughing now too.

  “No, not these days – this holiday has really brought her back to her old self.”

  Helen looked at Jack with a new shyness, unfamiliar to her. There was a moment’s silence between them. They stopped walking and looked out to sea, as the moonlight glistened on the water.

  Alone for the first time.

  All night, they had skirted around each other. Exchanging glances, sharing a secret language without any words, holding eye contact just a little longer and more often than they should have but not so long that anyone else would notice.

  Jack looked at Helen’s mouth. The light of the moon picked up tiny sparkles on her lips. He turned to face her. As he did, he noticed that Keith and Poppy had stopped walking, their two figures outlined by the stark fluorescent lighting that spilled out into the road from the hotel lobby.

  Jack and Helen stood so close now, she could feel his breath on her skin.

  “I think they’re waiting on us.” Jack tilted his head up towards the other couple.

  “Oh, of course, Keith is staying further on up, he’s probably waiting to say goodnight.” Helen’s sigh was barely audible. Forgetting that she was using her sunglasses as a hair-band, she attempted to run her fingers through her hair – and the glasses slipped off her head.

  They both dived to try and save them but bumped heads instead as the glasses fell to the ground. Embarrassed and a bit stunned, Helen quickly hunkered down to retrieve them from the dark pavement.

  “Got them!” She held up the glasses as a three-times-bridesmaid holds up the nuptial bouquet.

  Jack held out his hand to help her back up. She reached out to clasp his forearm and began to push herself up – when her bracelet got caught – in the zip of his trousers.

  “Oh my God!” Helen tugged at the bracelet.

  “Whoa, let me help you!” Jack laughed, taking hold of her hand.

  She peered closer, trying to see how the bracelet had attached itself.

  Two hundred yards further up the road, Poppy and Keith watched what looked like Scandal of the Century in downtown Cat Ba.

  “Goodness gracious, you Irish are a friendly bunch,” Keith said as he pushed his tongue into his cheek to hide his smile.

  Poppy decided she’d have to distract him. She kissed him – needless to say, he kissed her back.

  Helen, now detached from her bracelet, pushed her hair back off her face as a chuckling Jack walked over to a streetlight to see exactly how the jangling bracelet had attached itself. He tugged at the offending charm, trying to free himself.

  Helen looked on, mortified. “Maybe take your trousers off!” she called over to him. “When you get back to your room I mean!” She wasn’t getting any of this right.

  “I think I’ve got it . . .” Jack gave the bracelet a final tug. “Ah, here we go, still intact and thankfully I won’t sound like Santa’s sleigh.” He grinned, holding out her bracelet as he walked back to her. He slipped it on her wrist and held her hand for a fraction longer than was necessary. But their moment was over.

  They walked side by side back towards the hotel where Poppy and Keith’s silhouettes had become one as they kissed.

  Jack looked a little awkward as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

  “Oh, they’re snogging, right, okay, em . . .” Helen looked around her as though looking for somewhere to place a hot potato.

  Jack laughed. “I wouldn’t have put them together.” He scratched his temple to avoid looking at Poppy and Keith.

  “No, nor would I, but Poppy’s very affectionate,” Helen nodded, avoiding eye contact. If they were fifteen, it’d be their cue to snog too. One of those fabulous French kisses during the slow set in the school-gym-cum-dancehall. And if you were lucky (or unlucky depending on who’d asked you to dance) the DJ played “Stairway to Heaven”. Unfortunate
ly, they weren’t fifteen.

  “I think we’re good to go,” Jack said.

  Helen turned to look around. Poppy had come up for air.

  Helen pressed the steel button to call the lift. In the harsh light of the foyer, Jack looked tired and preoccupied. Appear casual, Helen told herself, unwilling to look like a desperate older woman lusting after a younger man. None of them spoke.

  The ping of the bell indicated the second floor. The heavy steel door slid open and Jack put his arm across to hold it and allow the ladies out first.

  “I’m shattered.” Poppy patted her hand to her mouth and gave an exaggerated yawn. “Night, Jack, see you at breakfast.” She reached up on her tippy-toes and gave him a friendly hug. In a swift movement, she had the key card in the door and was out of sight.

  Jack was desperate to prolong their night and recapture some of the mood from earlier. He decided to take a chance on inviting her back to his room for a nightcap.

  “Oh, damn – there’s no minibar in the room!” he blurted out when he realised the small fact he’d overlooked. Trying to save face he quickly added, “It’s just that I’ve no water, no big deal.” He’d seen Helen’s mood change – he should have just let the notion of recapturing the moment slide. “Thanks for a great night. See you in the morning.” And, with that, he left with a friendly wave, no eye contact, not even a peck on the cheek.

  I completely misread the situation, Helen scolded herself. Her stomach was in a knot and her disappointment palpable. She felt like a complete fool.

  His bedroom door clicked to a close.

  The night and its dreams ended.

  “What are you doing here?” Poppy was getting into her Eden pyjamas. She stared at Helen.

  “It’s my room too, remember?”

  “I thought you and lover boy were getting jiggy with it! His bedroom not public enough for you?”

  “We explained all that to you and Keith!” Helen rolled her eyes as she started to undress. “And whatever gave you the idea I fancy him? I definitely don’t!” It was easier to lie, than admit Jack just didn’t fancy her.

  “You always say that,” Poppy said as she moved into the bathroom.

  “You always claim not to sleep with them, Mrs Hare Krishna. And keep your voice down – he’s just next door!”

  “Maybe he’s gay.” She was trying to cheer Helen up.

  “Why are we talking about me – what was that with Keith?”

  “You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince, Helen,” Poppy said as she spat toothpaste into the sink. “I haven’t given up on true love yet.” She paused and thought for a moment. “That, coupled with moonlight, cocktails and trying to save your nymphomaniac ass. Besides he’s a very sweet guy once he shuts up talking about his rocks.”

  “Well, I’m not looking for a holiday romance, particularly not one that makes me a cougar. As I said, I don’t fancy him. Nice guy and all that, but too much of a baby-face for me.” She sounded so convincing she started to believe it herself. “We had a great chat about Dubai – that’s probably what you’re picking up on. Jack said it’s a fabulous apartment and I should make sure I use it as soon as it’s ready rather than putting it on the long finger.” She took her turn in the bathroom.

  “Nah, there’s something else. That’s too big a synchronicity to ignore,” Poppy said as she pulled back the duvet. “When it transpired you’d literally bumped into each other in Hong Kong it definitely became synchrodestiny. What was it he said? He remembered your dazzling green eyes.” She pretended to swoon as she got into bed.

  “It was probably my crow’s feet he noticed – he was just being polite,” Helen mumbled.

  “Yeah, right. Night, Hells, sweet dreams.”

  “Night, Pop, sleep well.”

  After Helen got into bed, she lay in the dark for some time, her eyes open. Her throat felt tight.

  Why did she feel sick inside?

  She replayed everything in her head. The first time she saw him. The fuzzy feeling she got when he stood close to her. The whole thing didn’t make sense – the strong draw to this man, who unbeknownst to him had penetrated her armour – she was putty in his hands. But he didn’t want her. And now he lay just feet away, a thin wall separating them. A tear escaped as she closed her eyes to sleep.

  Jack sat on the bed, his back pressed against the dividing wall. He thought about Helen – how her voice had caught his interest over the phone, all those weeks ago. How he’d thought of her as a typical stressed-out business executive. Then, in Hong Kong, she’d slammed into him but it was her eyes that knocked the breath out of him, as emerald as gemstones. Finally, when he spotted her across the bay amongst all the boats, he had felt a magnetism and was drawn to look in her direction. He couldn’t believe his luck when she stepped on to his junk. The girls he’d met until now were fun but flighty and immature, Amy included. Helen had a soft confidence, something about the way she moved, laughed. Damn, she’s sexy. He’d found it hard not to stare at her all night. She had been radiant and then she’d started looking back at him. He felt the stir of arousal, thinking about her.

  So why didn’t he kiss her?

  Because, you take things slowly, Jack. Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey. But he knew he was only fooling himself. Amy hadn’t cheated on him only the one time. He’d been suspicious about others, but he always gave her the benefit of the doubt. Only after getting caught red-handed did her web of deceit start to unravel – taking his world down with it. And so he’d started to run away, and up until now it had served him pretty well. He’d met amazing people, seen more places in the past ten months than he had done in his thirty years of life, prior to the break-up. Amy had done him a favour, in a way. Otherwise, he’d be married to her now, probably with a kid on the way, mortgage on a house in Connecticut, with a white picket-fence.

  Suddenly, he felt he’d been punched in the stomach, all over again. Would that feeling ever go away?

  Then he thought about Helen Devine. A lingerie designer, no less. He smiled when he thought of her. He realised, in the day he’d spent with Helen, the thoughts of Amy that haunted him daily were gone.

  Helen had replaced the punches with flutters.

  Chapter 47

  “Good morning, ladies!” Jack waved at the girls, bright as a morning lark. He had anxiously scanned the large dining area for them when he got out of the elevator, but there had been no sign of them. Then he noticed an outside patio area through large glass doors, where he was relieved to see Poppy’s distinctive flame-coloured hair and the blonde head of her partner in crime, Helen.

  “Over here, Jack!” Poppy called as she put down her coffee cup. “We kept you a seat.” Which, technically wasn’t true but the table was set for four so it worked out well.

  Helen tried to look casual by stretching an arm out over the back of the chair next to her. Her attempts to look casual failed miserably when her arm missed the back of the chair.

  “Hey.” She tried to regain her composure and sound casual, hoping to God that Jack didn’t notice her clumsiness.

  “The cocktails still have you feeling unbalanced, hey, Helen?”

  So much for him not noticing.

  In the bright morning light she realised her ridiculous attraction to Jack had been a combination of the sunset, the ocean and too many cocktails. She hoped he didn’t think she was a basket-case.

  “Can I get you guys anything?” Jack eyed their half-finished food, to see what the breakfast buffet had on offer.

  “Coffee, please, sir.” Helen proffered her cup and gave Jack a cheeky smile. Sunglasses hid her eyes.

  His hand brushed against hers as he took the cup from her. A bolt of static coursed through them.

  Jack jumped – he had never experienced anything like that before. “Wow, did you feel that?”

  “I felt it alright – I usually get static shocks from freezer doors in the supermarket, not people.” Helen shook her hand to dissipate the energy charge.

&nb
sp; Cynical Helen was back.

  Poppy was more enthusiastic. “Energy charges – how exciting! You two definitely have some kind of other-dimension connection. Who knows – maybe you were Jack’s mother in a past life, Helen!”

  Cheers, Poppy. “That’s a load of baloney.” Helen raised her eyes to heaven, but caught Jack’s eye instead, by a play of sunbeam, even through darkened lenses. He smiled at her.

  “I’m telling you, Helen, there are too many coincidences, too many connections – it’s a sign and you shouldn’t ignore it.” Poppy stood up, as if standing above Helen would add weight to her argument.

  “What kind of sign?” Jack was listening.

  “I don’t know, that’s up to the Universe – you’ll just have to be open to the possibilities. I’m getting seconds – the bus will be here in twenty minutes and Lord knows when we’ll eat again.”

  “I swear you’ve got hollow legs, Pops,” Helen laughed. “It’s not fair! If I ate the amount you do I’d be a blob.”

  Jack doubted that.

  “What can I say – I’m a Vata!” Poppy popped a piece of toast into her mouth but then she stopped. “Jack, didn’t you say your surname is Taylor?”

  Jack nodded, Poppy raised her eyebrows. “I like it! The lingerie designer meets the Taylor.” She laughed at the pun.

  “Very funny, Poppy,” growled Helen. “It’s too early for all that. Now, either Ms Vata or Mr Electrifier, I don’t care which, please refill my coffee cup before my caffeine levels drop to normal.”

  “Coming right up, boss.” Jack gave Helen a salute as he walked back to the breakfast room, a grin on his face.

  I electrify her, he thought.

  Chapter 48

  “What time is it?” Poppy asked Helen as she woke from an uncomfortable sleep. She rubbed the back of her neck. The horns and the noise indicated they were back in Hanoi. Sadness crept over her as she looked out the window at the rain-drenched streets. Only a few hours earlier they’d bathed in sunlight, watching people tend the paddy fields wearing the by now familiar conical hats. They had stopped along the way for a photo opportunity. The other passengers clicked snapshots of workers in the fields but Poppy was transfixed by a thin-framed woman, who walked the road’s edge.