I started walking off, throwing Charlie a wave over my shoulder as I did so. Two seconds later, he was back by my side, snagging my elbow to stop me.
‘What are you doing after your meeting? I just… I mean, seeing as you were up here, I thought we could maybe go for a drink or grab some food. You know, to celebrate your success.’
I couldn’t help smiling at the confidence he was showing in me.
‘That sounds great. But I’m actually meeting my dad a bit later. He’s been promising to take me to Ocean for ever and finally arranged it for today, once he knew I’d be in town.’
Charlie pulled an appreciative face. ‘Nice choice. Michelin starred.’
‘I know! I can’t wait!’
‘OK. Another time.’
‘Definitely.’
‘Give me a buzz later and let me know how your meeting went.’
‘I promise.’
‘OK. Better go. Good luck, Libs.’
We parted ways, him heading out to the street and me down to the depths of the Tube.
‘How’d your meeting go?’ my brother asked.
‘Really good, thanks,’ I said, glancing around for somewhere to sit as, down the phone, I listened to him wrangle with one of the boys whilst talking to me.
‘Great, you’ll have to come round for dinner and tell us all about it. I’m just ringing to give you a heads up about tonight.’
I stopped walking.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re meeting Dad tonight for dinner, right?’
‘Yes,’ I said, slowly.
‘I’ve got a feeling he and Gina are bringing someone for you to meet.’
‘What? No!’
‘’Fraid so, sis. I did try to put him off but he’s convinced you’re going to “think he’s marvellous”. I believe those were his words.’
‘Great.’ All enthusiasm for the evening seeped out of me. ‘Any chance you can ring him back and have another go at dissuading him? He listens to you.’
‘I’ve got to leave for Theatre shortly but I can try if you want.’ Matt hesitated. ‘You know it won’t work though, don’t you? Even from me.’
I let out a sigh. He was right and we both knew it. We’d tried, and failed, before with this tactic. Once he’d decided on something, it was hard for anyone to get my father to change his course. The only one who’d been able to do that was Mum.
‘No. I know. It doesn’t matter. I guess I’m just going to have to endure it, as usual.’ I gave a little laugh, but, even to me, it sounded hollow.
‘He means well.’
‘I know. I just wish he’d stop.’
Matt made a sympathetic noise down the phone. ‘So, the meeting?’
The smile bounced back onto my face. ‘Really good, actually. Better than I could have hoped. They had some great ideas and I think it could be really exciting!’
‘Sounds great. So, what happens now?’
‘I’m going to think about it some more over the weekend. I have the legal papers to look at and sign if I’m happy. Which I am. Honestly, I don’t think there’s too much to think about. Affiliation with a brand like this is a fantastic opportunity.’
‘Well done, Libs! I’m so pleased for you.’ I could hear the enthusiasm in his voice and it made me smile.
‘Thanks, Matt.’
‘OK, I’ve got to get off to the hospital. We’re both off duty this weekend. Fancy coming round for Sunday dinner?’
‘That sounds lovely! I can relate the whole sorry tale of this evening for your amusement.’
He laughed. ‘It might not be that bad. Who knows? Dad might actually have got it right and found you the perfect man.’
‘We can always hope. Good luck this afternoon. Hope everything goes well.’
‘Thanks, Libs. And well done today. I’ll get some champagne in for Sunday so we can celebrate!’
‘Oh, if you insist.’
We hung up and I wandered over to a nearby bench, shaded by a large plane tree. My enthusiasm and excitement at the successful meeting, and what that might mean for my business, had been punctured. I tried to regain it, pushing my father’s continual determination to marry me off and make me The Perfect Doctor’s Wife to the back of my mind, but it barrelled its way back to the fore again. It didn’t matter how many times I told him, the surprise dates still kept showing up. Mum would have understood. I opened the email on my phone and entered the familiar address into a new email.
Miss you.
I pressed send and returned the phone to my bag. Mum would have been so excited about what I was doing now, with the blog, with my life. She would have wanted to know all about it, how it worked, what my plans were, and she would have adored all the goodies I got to see and try.
She’d actually been the inspiration for my blog. It was from her that I’d got my love of make-up and style. There was a picture of her on my ‘About’ page, looking as glamorous as ever. With or without make-up, she looked amazing, a beautiful smile on her face, always ready to laugh. As a child I’d spent hours playing with her cosmetics bag, taking the shiny, mother-of-pearl compact she kept her pressed powder in, tipping it this way and that, fascinated by the way the colours changed as it caught the light. I’d line up all the items and she’d go through each one telling me what it was for. Occasionally she’d pop the tiniest bit of lipstick on my lips from her finger, barely a hint but it felt like the best thing in the world. I was her little girl and, as much as she loved sharing these things, these moments with me, she didn’t want me growing up too fast.
When I was twelve, Mum started showing me a couple of techniques, on the proviso that it was kept for special occasions only. For my thirteenth birthday, she took me up to London shopping and we spent hours at the make-up counters in Selfridges, eventually walking away with a Chanel lipstick and eyeshadow compact wrapped carefully and handed to me in a swishy little bag. Mum promised me that the following year, we would go again. It was the first promise to me that she ever broke.
Two days after my birthday, a Saturday, we went to the beach for the day, jumping waves, shivering in the sea whilst pretending that it was all right once you were in. Having dried off, we met up with Matt, who’d been elsewhere on the beach with his mates, for fish and chips in the restaurant on the pier. Once home, Mum mentioned that she had a bit of a headache from all the sun and excitement and was going to lie down for half an hour. Dad handed her a cup of tea. She smiled at him as she took it, resting her hand momentarily on his cheek. And then she closed her eyes.
Dad caught her before she hit the floor, the delicate china of the teacup smashing into a thousand pieces beside her as it hit the limestone tiles. Matt and I just watched, our bodies rigid, my hand gripping his until they were both a bloodless white. We didn’t understand what was happening. We were sure of only one thing. Dad’s distraught expression and desperate actions told us that something was very, very wrong.
Dad was a cardiac surgeon. There were bad days when he’d battled to save someone and lost the fight. On those days he looked tired and sad, almost defeated. He cared about every one of his patients. He never once forgot that they were individuals – brothers, sisters, wives, husbands, sons, daughters. That they were someone’s world. But the look on his face that day was one neither of us had ever seen. He looked lost. Small. Shocked. Mum was his world and he couldn’t save her.
The coroner concluded that Mum had suffered a brain aneurysm. There was no history of it in the family. It was just one of those horrible, unlucky, utterly devastating things. Dad hadn’t married again. There could never be another woman for him like Mum. She’d captured his heart with her love and kindness, her beauty and laughter, and even in death it would still always be hers.
That wasn’t to say he hadn’t found company, although it had taken him many years. Initially he’d turned all of his focus on Matt and me. It had been easier with Matt, who’d already decided he wanted to go into medicine. Dad knew where he was with him. I wa
s more of a challenge. He didn’t really know what to do with a teenage girl who went decidedly woozy at the sight of blood and spent all her time reading about fashion and beauty. There hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, a day I didn’t miss Mum horribly. God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to talk to her right now. Even just for a minute.
My phone rang, jolting me back to the present. My eyes had filled with tears as my mind had filled with memories. I rummaged about inside the bag for a tissue as I answered the call distractedly.
‘Hello.’
‘Libby?’
I hadn’t checked the screen but I recognised the deep voice. ‘Hi, Charlie.’
‘Are you OK? You sound… different.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Right.’ His tone told me he was unconvinced.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I was just calling to see how the meeting went.’
‘Oh, right! Thanks, yes, it went really well, I think.’
‘You think?’ I could hear a smile in his voice.
‘No, it did. I’m happy with what they want from me. They’re happy with what I want from them. Everybody’s happy.’
There was a pause on the line, and I pulled the phone back briefly to see if the call had dropped. Still connected.
‘So why don’t you sound happy?’
‘No, I am. Honestly.’
‘OK,’ he said slowly, disbelief still clear in his voice.
‘I was just thinking about something else.’
‘But you have your dinner tonight to look forward to.’
Charlie was clearly doing his best not to pry by changing the subject, bless him. Unfortunately, with that particular topic, he was still onto a loser.
‘Oh, yes. Dinner.’ My attempt at enthusiasm morphed into sarcasm.
‘Uh oh. Did the plans get cancelled?’
‘I wish.’
‘OK, I’m confused.’ He let out a little laugh and the sound of it made me smile, knocking me from my wallowing.
‘Long story,’ I said, my voice sounding much more like my own again now.
‘Good. I look forward to hearing it. Have you had lunch?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘There’s a great deli near here. If you can get back to London Bridge, I can meet you by the ship in Hay’s Galleria – do you know it?’
I did know it.
‘Unless you have some other plans, of course. I mean…’
‘No. I really don’t. Actually, that sounds lovely. If you have time?’
‘As I’m going to be working all weekend, I think I’m entitled to a lunch break. So yes, I have time. Any preference on sandwiches?’
‘I’ll leave it up to you.’
‘Uh oh. She’s a risk-taker! I’ll have to make a note of that.’ He chuckled.
I smiled down the phone. ‘Just choose me something nice. I’ll pay you when I get there.’
‘No, you won’t. Lunch is on me. In celebration of your meeting going well.’
‘Thank you.’
‘OK. I’ll get there as soon as possible.’
‘Same here. See you in a bit.’
He disconnected and I returned my phone to my bag. Lunch with Charlie was an unexpected and very pleasant diversion before heading off to Dad’s place, and the ensuing dinner for four.
8
Charlie had his back to me, gazing out past the whirring mechanicals of the nautical artwork, onto the Thames. I reached up and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned.
‘Hi!’
‘Hello!’
His intense gaze was fixed on me, and I could see he wanted to say something.
‘What is it?’
‘You… I… I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this? But I think, knowing you, you’d want to know.’
‘For goodness’ sake, spit it out, Charlie!’ I laughed.
‘You have make-up… kind of here.’ He pointed to a spot on his face, a little under his eye.
‘I do? Oh, great. That’s a brilliant advertisement for my blog, isn’t it?’ I wasn’t annoyed in a vain way. Let’s be honest, it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d had smudged make-up. I was annoyed because I knew when it had happened, and I hadn’t thought to check the state of my face following my emotional blip earlier. I balanced my handbag on the wall surrounding the sculpture, and pulled out my compact. Yep. Charlie was spot on. Repair work was definitely needed. I should have gone with waterproof mascara.
‘Look, do you want to get some coffees whilst I sort this out? Here—’ I reached for my purse, but Charlie put a hand on my arm.
‘I told you, lunch is on me.’
I pointed to the deli bag he held in one hand. ‘That’s lunch. This is coffee.’
‘Which is all part of the same meal. Now, come on, sit down here, do what you need to do, and I’ll go and get the drinks.’ He pulled out a chair from a nearby coffee shop’s outdoor table selection and waited for me to take it.
‘What would you like?’
‘Tea would be perfect. Thanks.’
He nodded. ‘Back in a sec.’ He turned to go and hesitated. ‘You know, I wasn’t being… picky when I said about your make-up. I don’t normally even notice stuff like that. It’s just that I’d seen you this morning, so kind of knew how it was all supposed to look. And I just thought you’d probably want to know, as you were going on to dinner and stuff.’
‘I know.’ I caught his hand, and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘If I’d seen later, knowing that I’d sat here and you hadn’t said a word, I’d have killed you.’ I smiled sweetly.
‘Something to remember for the future.’
‘Absolutely. Now shoo whilst I fix this mess.’
‘Hardly a mess!’ he said, squeezing my hand back briefly before letting it go. ‘But I’m going, I’m going!’ He grinned and I forgot all about my messy eye make-up for a moment. Charlie didn’t do big grins a lot but when he did, it was kind of special. And yes, we were just mates. But heck, I wasn’t dead! Purposefully I opened my compact and stuck it up in front of my face, blocking Charlie from view – sort of – and set about the repair work.
A few minutes later and he was back. Putting the takeaway cups down on the table, he unloaded napkins and stirrers, placing them alongside.
‘I put some milk in already for you. Is that enough?’ He opened the lid for me. It was the perfect colour. Of course it was.
He took a seat. ‘So, did you sort out your—?’ He stopped as he looked up at me.
I shifted my eyes. ‘Please don’t tell me I’ve smudged it again in the time it’s taken for you to go and get these?’ I began to reach down for my bag.
‘No! No, you haven’t. It’s fine. I mean, it’s perfect. It’s like it was this morning. How did you do that?’
He paused, frowning.
‘OK. I am perfectly aware that sounded like a weird question. I just didn’t think you’d be able to make it look like nothing had happened so quickly. That’s quite an art. You should do one of your videos on that. I know plenty of girls who’d love to know your tricks.’
I had no doubt that there were plenty of girls who’d love to know a few of Charlie’s own tricks.
‘Thanks. That’s actually not a bad idea. I’ll think about it.’
He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, before quickly pulling the cup away. ‘Christ, that’s hot.’ He took the lid off and sat them both on the table, allowing the drink to cool a little. ‘So, tell me about this morning, and the meeting.’
I proceeded to do just that and felt the enthusiasm and excitement bubbling up inside me once again as I did. Charlie asked questions, checked things he didn’t understand – his logical brain wanting to make sure it had all the facts, even if those facts were about cosmetics – and then congratulated me on the success of the meeting.
‘So, what happens now?’ he asked, echoing Matt’s question from earlier. I gave him a similar reply.
‘I’m going to think about it over t
he weekend, but I have the legal papers ready to sign here already.’
He nodded, a more serious expression coming onto his face.
‘Have you read them all through?’
‘No, not yet. They explained a lot of it in the meeting though. And if there’s something I don’t understand, I can just give them a call.’
‘Do you have your own solicitor, you know, just someone who can run an eye over it? Make sure there’s nothing been snuck in that you’re unaware of.’
‘No, I don’t. This is kind of the biggest thing I’ve done so far.’ I took a sip of my tea, pondering on what he’d just said. ‘But I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘Libby. They’re Big Business. With capital “b” s. Never rule anything out. Not everyone is as nice as you are – in life or business.’ He gave me a smile.
From some the comments could have been patronising. Charlie wasn’t built like that, but he operated in this corporate world and knew what could happen. I didn’t – yet. He knew I was excited about this deal, and just wanted to make sure there weren’t any nasty surprises lurking.
‘You think I should get someone to look over it?’
‘It might not be a bad idea.’
‘What sort of lawyer do I need for something like that?’ I knew there were various specialities in law, but I didn’t really have a clue as to where to start looking.
‘Hang on. I have an idea.’ Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he scrolled through his contacts and chose one. Pressing ‘Call’, then the speakerphone icon, he put the phone on the table. It rang twice before a man answered.
‘Charlie! How are you?’
‘Hi, Greg. I’m all right, thanks, mate. You?’
‘Tired. As always. What can I do for you?’
‘I need to pull in one of my favours.’
I glanced up and met Charlie’s eyes, a warning expression in my own. He did a little head-shake thing and put his hand on my arm, reassuring. His warm touch, the gentle strength behind the gesture, soothed me. I knew there was something else too but I pushed that away, and concentrated on the conversation.
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