The Lingerie Designer

by Siobhán McKenna

  He carried on chatting as she studied his face. He had all the bits – good body, tanned skin, blond hair – but he didn’t have chiselled good looks. His baby face gave him more of a charm than a drop-dead gorgeous appearance. Helen liked that. But, probably what she found most attractive about him was his openness to life. It appeared as though no scepticism had crept up on him – whether that was to do with his age or his personality, who knew. She had a feeling with Jack Taylor that what you saw was what you got, no game-playing – unlike Rob. If she was right, then why couldn’t she work out what was going through his head now? What about that kiss?

  There was a moment’s silence as Helen closed her eyes. Willing herself awake, she opened them wide and nipped at her drink. She scrunched her face inadvertently. “The hooch is really awful, isn’t it?”

  Jack had hardly touched his. “Maybe it’d be better if we had ice,” he said politely.

  They both laughed.

  “You know, I’ve really enjoyed these couple of days with you,” he said. “I’ve felt at ease. When I was stuck on Halong Bay with those guys on the junk, I started to think travelling alone wasn’t such a good idea after all. But with you, I feel I’ve known you all my life. That sounds corny, doesn’t it?” His eyes scanned Helen’s face for a reaction.

  “I know what you mean, Jack. It was very synchronistic. I’m glad we bumped into each other – you’re a great guy.” She smiled.

  Jack thought now would be a good time to kiss her.

  “So, before I go, tell me something, Jack – what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “Very funny. I’m a big boy now, you know.” He took a gulp of his drink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

  “Oh yeah?” Helen’s voice was slightly husky.

  Jack felt hot – he was embarrassed. “A cowboy.” Where the fuck did that come from? He’d meant to kiss her, not say something so bloody dumb.

  “So where’s your lasso, Cowboy?” Helen laughed as she lay back on the bed.

  “Hold that thought.” Jack nudged her playfully on the hip. He got up and went into the bathroom. He’d been holding off peeing for ages – it was getting to crisis point. Plus he was aroused – he needed to go now while he still had some chance of hitting the toilet bowl, instead of the ceiling.

  After he used the toilet, he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He dampened down his hair, put a tiny daub of toothpaste on his index finger, and manually cleaned his teeth. He didn’t want to make it too obvious to Helen what he was doing. She could easily hear him from the bedroom. He wondered if she’d notice if he put on aftershave. He tilted the bottle onto his other index finger and put the smallest touch of fragrance on his breast bone and just below the belt of his trousers. He slipped a condom into his back pocket. Was that presumptuous? Christ, he didn’t want to be disrespectful either. Why hadn’t he left one in his bedside locker? He checked the expiration date on the wrapper. It was okay – he was good to go. He took a deep breath and a final look in the mirror. Had it really been a year since he’d had sex? He hadn’t slept with anyone since Amy. He was ready.

  Jack stood in the doorway of the bathroom trying to think of something witty to take attention away from his quick grooming. He watched Helen who was propped up against the pillows. She had her antique ring between her thumb and forefinger, and she watched it, trance-like, as she gently turned it over. He stood, soaking in the curve of her mouth, the way her hair fell in soft curls around her face. He took a deep breath and tried to rationalise the emotion he was feeling. He couldn’t. She looked over at him.

  “You’re back then,” she smiled.

  Responding with just a smile, Jack walked over to the bed and snuggled in beside her as he adjusted the pillows behind their backs. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his body before running his fingers down her arm until his hand covered hers. She moved her fingers to mingle with his. They watched their hands exploring, as though they were blind and discovering a new lover’s face. The ring, at the tip of Helen’s little finger, looped around Jack’s as their fingertips met. He flipped it back on hers. It moved between them, back and forth with a tick-tock motion. Its effect was hypnotic. Jack bent, kissing the top of Helen’s head before kissing the nape of her neck as she pulled her hair aside. He could feel her goose bumps meeting his lips.

  She shifted her leg, intertwining it with his. Slowly she slid her foot along the inside of his calf. Half-turning to him, she placed her hand on the inside of his thigh before it travelled upwards until she could feel his hardness through the heavy cotton of his jeans. She gently kneaded him before placing her hand to his face. She brushed her thumb along his cheek, as his fresh stubble tickled her. She brought her mouth to his, kissing it lightly. He responded to her kiss.

  “I don’t want this to end,” she whispered.

  “It doesn’t have to, Helen.” He traced his hand along her body, slipping it inside the top of her jeans, letting it linger before retracing his movements back up inside her T-shirt to the side of her breast.

  She pulled away ever so slightly. “I mean it, Jack. We’re literally heading in different directions the day after tomorrow.”

  Jack brushed away a loose strand of hair from Helen’s face. “We don’t have to do this, Helen. It’s okay.”

  “I want to, it feels right. I just want it to be more than a one-night stand fuelled by jazz, cocktails and hooch.”

  Jack knew he couldn’t say the real words that were tumbling to leave his mouth, for fear she’d think he was manipulating her. He hardly believed he could feel this way for a woman he’d only met. Yet, there they were – feelings of love, which defied logic. Instead he said, “I’m on my own timetable – which direction would you like me to go, Helen?”

  Her eyes darted back and forth, searching his face.

  “And I’m willing to carry the suitcases,” he added.

  Helen’s face broke into a Pretty Woman style smile before lowering her hand. She had started to let it glide inside his T-shirt, exploring his chest, when he took hold of it.

  “I mean it, Helen. You’re worth waiting for.”

  “You’d take it slowly?”

  Smiling he said, “I’ve waited for you my whole life, what’s a while longer?”

  She grinned.

  “My buddies say I should have a thirty-second time-delay installed on my mouth. That sounded pretty corny, hey?”

  Helen threw her head back in laughter. “No . . . well, yes, but I loved it anyway.”

  He pulled her to him and tickled her ribs. She resisted and the pillows fell away from the headboard. Jack wrapped his arms around her as they spooned. They lay in silence for a while, until Helen’s breathing became even, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Her shoulders were bare where her T-shirt had slid off.

  Jack hadn’t had this strong an attraction to an older woman before. Because he’d thought his life was with Amy he hadn’t thought about other woman as partners, period. Sure, he’d noticed attractive women but that was it, he’d been totally devoted to his girl. Thinking back he realised the women he’d found most interesting in the past were a little older than him. He looked at Helen again and it dawned on him he wasn’t attracted to her because she was older, he was just attracted to her, no story. Jack Taylor had finally moved on.

  Gently he pulled part of the bedcovers over her as best he could before resuming their foetal position. Instinctively, even in slumber, Helen took his hand in hers. He savoured the moment of intimacy, until he too succumbed to sleep.

  Chapter 54

  Helen woke and tried to focus on the unfamiliar surroundings. It was the familiar feeling that business travellers often wake with, when hotels and cities start to blur into one. But this time warm memories of last night quickly replaced her confusion when she looked down and saw the strong masculine arm draped around her waist. She lay, not moving, and studied Jack Taylor’s forearm: that’s all she co
uld see of him.

  Helen loved a man’s hands, it was the first thing she noticed – that and shoes. Jack’s arms were muscular, with fine blonde curly hairs. He wore a practical, robust watch – it looked new. His hands were as a man’s should be in Helen’s book, strong with short-cut, spotless fingernails. She stayed in the stillness of the dawn for as long as she could and relished the moment, somehow knowing she’d remember it, always.

  As time passed, she saw daylight break through the cracks in the curtains. She felt around for her phone, moving as little as possible and eventually found it under the pillow – its battery dead.

  “Bugger,” she muttered. She figured it to be around seven in the morning. Poppy would be worried if she woke and Helen wasn’t there and hadn’t even sent a text.

  She nudged Jack’s arm, to get a look at his watch, it read fifteen after seven.

  Now Helen had a dilemma. Should she wake Jack and make mad passionate love to him, in the fresh light of a new day? Or, would she be a good friend and let Poppy know all was well and the day could go ahead as planned – once she’d had sex, that is. It was a difficult call. But then she had a brainwave.

  Jack stirred and Helen turned to face him.

  “Hey,” was all he managed to say.

  “Hey,” Helen replied, playfully mimicking his Americanism.

  She leant over and gently kissed him on the mouth. He responded.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. I’ve got to call Poppy, let her know where I am.”

  Jack edged his tongue between her lips. Helen kissed him back, before pulling away slightly.

  “My phone is dead – I’ll pop down to reception.”

  He pulled her closer to him. “Don’t be long.”

  She felt his arousal through the bed covers – she kissed him on his forehead, and then, just as he had said to her last night, she added, “Hold that thought,” as she flicked the tip of his nose with her forefinger, teasing him. She grabbed her handbag, and stood at the door for a moment looking back at him. The anxiousness from last night was gone – she felt compelled to make love to this man.

  Helen sang to herself in the lift. She laughed when she thought about what Poppy would say. Poppy would get great satisfaction from being right.

  The same man was on the reception desk. “Good morning, Miss.” He smiled at her before shouting at some workmen in the small lobby. He turned back to her. “Some work being done today, to keep hotel nice.”

  Helen fumbled in her bag for the card of the Army Hotel. She retrieved it and handed it to him, with a shy smile. It was her Walk of Shame smile.

  “Could you ring this number for me, please?” She produced a few notes.

  “No problem.” He pushed her money away. “Local calls – no need to pay, Miss. Room number?”

  “It’s 311. I think.”

  There was a crash – one of the workmen’s ladders had smashed into a mirror.

  Seven years’ bad luck.

  The poor desk clerk looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He handed Helen the receiver before he went running towards the destruction behind her.

  “Helen?” Poppy’s tone sent shivers down Helen’s spine.

  “Is everything all right, Poppy?” She pressed her hand against her ear, as she tried to cut out the hullabaloo of the argument going on behind her.

  “Oh God, Helen, oh God . . .” Poppy sounded breathless.

  “Poppy, can you please tell me what is going on! Are you okay?” Helen tried to keep the panic out of her voice. The workmen were all shouting at each other. She reached over the counter, picked up the phone, and brought it as far away from the din as the cord would allow.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you,” Poppy sobbed. “There’s been an accident – it’s Lily. I’ve got to get home but no one in this fucking country can help me!”

  “Poppy, stay calm,” Helen said with authority. “I’ll get us home. I’m on my way, Poppy. Just stay put till I get there.”

  Helen headed to the street to hail a cab. It flashed through her head to run back up to Jack.

  She went back and tugged at the hotel clerk as she tried to be heard above the noise of everyone shouting at the same time.

  “Can you give Mr Jack a message? Tell him I had to leave, an emergency. I’ll call back later, okay?”

  “Yes, yes, emergency, I tell him,” Quan said and returned to the shouting match.

  In the short journey across town, Helen struggled with a barrage of thoughts but she engaged her usual survival tactic and decided not to think too much until she had all the facts. Thankfully, she’d taken her bag down with her to call Poppy because the hotel card was in there somewhere, under make-up, headache pills, pens and the mini-sketchpad that she carried everywhere. She hadn’t wanted to go rummaging in front of Jack.

  Jack.

  Helen opened the hotel-room door and saw Poppy’s tear-streaked face as she ran to her.

  “Thank God you’re here, Helen!” Poppy sobbed.

  Helen held her for a moment and rubbed her hair, as a mother would a child’s. “Poppy, I need you to tell me exactly what’s happened.” Her voice was soothing but firm. “I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath. Until I know what we’re dealing with I can’t help you.”

  Poppy wiped her eyes – she looked dazed. “A garda, from home, called my mobile – only half an hour ago.” She stopped as she tried to remember exactly what he’d said. “He asked if I was Lily Power’s next of kin.” Her eyes welled up again.

  “Go on.”

  “He said she’d been in a traffic accident and is in intensive care. They’d been trying to contact me. I was asleep, I didn’t hear my phone. She’s there, alone, Helen, and I’m the other side of the world.” Panic rose in her voice again. “I tried calling you, I tried Mary but her mobile is off and there’s no answer at the house. I couldn’t even get the bloody airlines to pick up their fucking phones!”

  “Okay, look, here’s what we’re going to do.” Helen took her friend by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Poppy. You’re in shock.”

  She sat Poppy down and fetched a small brandy from the minibar fridge. Pouring it neat, she handed it to her.

  “Mum’s with Lily,” she said. “That’s why you can’t get her at the house. You can’t use mobiles in ICU. Did the gardaí leave a phone number to call?”

  Poppy pointed to a number she had scribbled down.

  “Good. I’m going to make the call. Then I’ll call Eden’s head office. It’ll be open now and they’ll get us on the next flight home. Okay?”

  Poppy looked numb but questions raced through her mind, quicker than she could process them. But now that Helen was here, everything would be all right. Helen was already on the phone getting the details of Lily’s condition, saying she was Poppy Power to avoid bureaucracy snags. Yes, there was someone at Lily’s bedside. Lily was stable, for now.

  True to her word, Helen had Poppy in a taxi to the airport within the hour. They’d fly from Hanoi to the Middle East and from there they could fly directly into Dublin, cutting out the excruciatingly slow transfer through Heathrow. The two women sat in the back of the taxi, in silence. Helen held Poppy’s hand. There were no more reassurances to give – she just prayed the journey would go smoothly. Even with Eden’s travel department behind them it would still take nearly twenty-four hours to get home.

  Helen looked out the window at the by-now-familiar Hanoi traffic chaos, her thoughts returning to Jack and how life can change in the blink of an eye. She still had the scent of his skin on her. In her head she relived the last few days over and over, then she stopped, feeling guilty that Lily was in hospital and all she could think about was a man she’d just met. Lily. Please, whatever power is up there – Jesus, Buddha, Krishna – Universe – just let her be okay.

  The taxi broke free of the city-centre snarl and picked up speed towards the airport. It started to drizzle as they left Hanoi behind. As she left Jack behind, Jack whom
she’d never even asked for a phone number as she thought she’d all the time in the world.

  Chapter 55

  Jack had fallen back into a semi-conscious sleep, one where he felt he was awake but he was still dreaming. He fantasised about Helen – she had blown his socks off. And in a few minutes, Helen would be back in his bed.

  He stretched out his arm and realised that the bed was still empty, bar a few strands of long fair hair. How long had she been gone – five minutes? Maybe ten? He lay in bed for another few minutes before an uneasy feeling made it impossible to stay still. He looked around the room. The only sign that Helen had been there was the half-empty plastic bottle of hooch.

  And the ring.

  Helen’s ring, the one she always twisted, was entangled in the bed-sheet. She’d be in a panic when she realised she didn’t have it.

  Jack pulled on a T-shirt and headed down to reception. He noticed a guy sweeping broken glass away from the main doorway.

  “What’s going on, Quan?” Jack asked, rubbing his head.

  “Mr Jack, how are you?” Quan replied, polite as ever. “Workers broke mirror. They supposed to be here to make hotel look nice, instead it look like bomb site. Not to worry, Mr Jack, it will all be fixed soon.” He smiled reassuringly.

  “Quan, my friend, the tall girl, did you see her?” Jack asked uncomfortably.

  Quan smiled. “You all very tall, but yes, I remember her, very lovely lady. She used the phone, then she left.” Quan hesitated. Was there something else? He couldn’t remember.

  Jack looked bewildered.

  “I wrote down the room number. Here, I call the hotel for you.” Quan, eager to please, dialled, despite Jack’s protests. Soon Quan looked as dejected as Jack did.

  “They said the ladies have checked out already – sorry, Mr Jack.”

  Jack checked his watch: it was a little after eight in the morning. He thought it odd that the girls had checked out so early, especially since they were scheduled to be in Hanoi until tomorrow. Had he misread the situation so badly? His face burned with embarrassment.