‘You’re skint?’
‘It looks that way.’ Her eyes darted to the doorway. ‘Nothing is ever final until the last minute. And then everything just shuts down. That’s why I thought you should know now, in case you wanted to start thinking about another arrangement for Sissy.’
‘How much time do you think we’ve got?’
‘It’s hard to say. It could be three months, or six or more. But if the facility does close, there’ll be a lot of people looking for an alternative in the area. There aren’t that many options. Do you see what I mean? I want to make sure Sissy gets into another good facility.’
Sarah smiled. ‘Thanks, Kelly. You’ve always been so great about looking out for her. But what’ll happen to you?’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll find another job. Everyone is short-staffed so it’ll be easier for me than it will be for the residents to find other homes. Do you understand what I’m saying?’ Her hooded grey eyes bored into Sarah’s.
She nodded. ‘We should think about jumping instead of waiting to be pushed. Yes, I understand. But there is a chance that the home won’t close, right? I’d hate to move Sissy if it’s not necessary. She’d be gutted. All of her friends are here. And she loves you all.’
‘I know, and it’s not an easy decision for you. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear any more. We’re having a staff meeting on Friday about it. I’m really sorry, Sarah. I wish we didn’t always have to worry about where our money was coming from.’
Sarah saw Ben waving from the conservatory doorway.
‘Do you need me, Ben?’ she called.
‘Sissy says it’s been six minutes and where are you?’
‘Thanks, I’ll be right in. We’re freezing out here anyway. She’s got you running messages for her now, has she?’
‘She’s kind of bossy.’
‘Is that okay?’
‘Yes. She’s still nice and she shares her toast with me.’
Sarah was glad that Ben seemed to like her sister so much.
Maybe, she thought as she went inside to check the cookies, soon she’d find a Ben for herself online.
She was chatting with a few guys that she wouldn’t mind meeting in person, but she was so out of practice! Twice Rachel had had to draft her messages for her. She was like her flirty fairy godmother, waving her wand and working her magic.
‘I know what you should make for your show,’ Sissy said as she blew on a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven. The chocolate was still liquid. ‘Mum’s morning muffins.’
Sarah smiled. She was hardly likely to win over the judges with such a simple recipe. She’d be up against the country’s best bakers – people who could spin sugar in their sleep and hand-raise a pie. Carrot cake muffins weren’t very impressive.
On the other hand … some kind of wonderful cake that was inspired by the memory of her mother’s muffins might be exactly what they were looking for. There were six weeks before the audition. She’d just have to create and perfect the recipe by then.
‘Sissy, that’s a good idea.’
‘I know,’ she said, daintily dabbing her lips with a serviette. ‘May I please have another one?’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Catherine
Catherine was already regretting taking on Alis as a client. When she’d first said it she’d felt a rush of adrenalin at putting Magda in her place. But that dried up as soon as she rang Alis to offer to sign him up.
‘I’ll get back to you, if that’s okay,’ he said. ‘Today’s not a good day for signing contracts.’
‘Oh,’ she said. Did he have repetitive strain injury or something? ‘Of course. I can send you the forms and you can sign them when you’re feeling better.’
‘Hmm? I feel fine.’
‘It’s just that I thought, well, if you can’t use a pen today …’
He laughed. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Mercury is in retrograde.’
‘And?’
‘And it’s Wednesday, which would normally be a good day to do it, but not when Mercury is in retrograde. I’d rather wait till the end of the week.’
He made this sound like the most plausible reason for not signing a contract.
So he was a total flake. ‘Suit yourself. I’ll put everything in the post today. When I have the paperwork back, maybe we can talk again to go through your requirements?’
That is, she thought, if your astrologer says it’s okay.
Magda was waiting to pounce as soon as she got off the phone. ‘What is it, Magda?’ She’d stopped being cordial weeks ago. It was hard enough being civil.
‘Two things,’ she said, impervious to subtleties like open animosity. ‘First, which of these do you like?’
She held three blue swatches.
‘Still deciding on napkins?’
‘It is not an easy decision. Which one?’
‘The middle one, I guess.’
‘Why do you like that one best?’
‘I don’t know, Magda, because it’s the most blue. Happy now?’
‘Yes. Also, I want to discuss my client, Georgina, please.’
Magda had developed the annoying habit of rubbing her tummy whenever she talked to Catherine. It was probably her way of gloating over the fact that Richard had knocked her up. Just wait till you get stretch marks and boobs like deflating Zeppelins, Catherine thought. Then who’ll gloat?
‘Sure,’ she said, sounding sweet as treacle. ‘Let’s talk about your client.’
Georgina had turned out to be about as loyal as an alley cat. She’d been thrilled when she’d heard that Magda was taking over her relationship.
‘Georgina should be dating a whole different kind of person,’ Magda said. Rub rub.
‘Oh really?’
‘Yes. You have set her up with the kind of man she thinks she wants, and of course she rejects him because he doesn’t meet her expectations. She should meet men that don’t fit her list in the first place, because then she won’t be disappointed.’
‘You’re saying we should purposely set her up with unsuitable men because then she won’t be disappointed that they’re unsuitable?’
‘No, that is ridiculous. I mean that the man she will be happy with is not the man who ticks all her boxes. Take me and Richard.’ Her belly-stroking picked up speed. ‘I’ve always gone out with worldly rich men who have swept me off my feet.’
She meant stinking rich oligarchs. Richard had bragged about that when they first met. Magda had spent a lot of time amongst England’s top football clubs, but she hadn’t bothered with the players. She’d gone straight for their owners. Catherine had joked that she’d played more than most of the England squad. Richard hadn’t found that funny.
‘The weekends on yachts in Monaco, the private jets to Ibiza and gifts from Tiffany,’ she continued, sounding exhausted by all that glamour. ‘Those men were fun but it gets old. Then I met Richard, who was plain and simple, and here we are, getting married and having a baby.’
It was nice to know that when she’d tired of the exciting, rich jet-setters, simple Richard was on hand to settle for. What a wonderful bridal speech that would make.
‘Your point is?’
‘My point is that Georgina needs to meet a different kind of man than you have been setting her up with, so she can see what she really likes. I’ve chosen two for her. I will tell her today. And another thing. I do not think Mahreen is doing well. She has not been giving her clients very many dates.’
Mahreen was one of their most senior consultants. She’d been with Catherine and Richard since they first started. ‘How do you know that?’
‘The database that you asked me to organise, remember? I ranked the consultants by how many dates they arranged last month. I think Mahreen is slacking off. I will run another report this week, but I thought you should know.’
What nerve. Mahreen certainly was not slacking off, no matter what Mag
da’s report said. For one thing, she looked after some of their most difficult cases including, Catherine happened to know, two women who were undergoing radiation therapy. They weren’t exactly in the mood to pop on a wig and meet new people just now. And for another thing, she knew Mahreen. She wouldn’t slack off.
But of course Magda wouldn’t know about Mahreen’s client base or her work ethic because she thought the numbers told her everything.
‘It isn’t just about data, Magda. It’s about people. If you’d talked to Mahreen you’d know that she has good reasons for her clients having fewer dates than the others.’
‘I already have.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I have already talked to Mahreen. She has a bad attitude, if you ask me, and she is rude. She had better not talk to clients like that.’
‘How dare you do that, Magda! You have no right to go behind my back and harass the staff. If I think there’s a problem, I will address it. You may not.’
Magda leaned across the desk until her face was very close to Catherine’s. ‘Why do you think I’m here, Catherine? Do you think this is work experience for me or something? I own half of the company. I will do what I want with it. So do not cross me.’
Catherine was stunned. That’s exactly what she’d assumed Magda was – a dimbot who’d tire of playing with the grown-ups before her second trimester was up. Now she saw her for what she really was.
This was no bored soon-to-be-housewife. She was a threat to the most important thing in Catherine’s life.
She realised as she locked eyes with this obsessive tummy-caresser that she couldn’t bully her. She’d have to be outsmarted.
‘I certainly don’t want to cross you,’ Catherine lied. ‘We’re partners now, and partners work together. That’s all I’m saying. We need to keep each other in the loop when it comes to operational decisions, right? I’ll be sure to tell you what’s happening and you tell me.’
Magda allowed herself to be mollified by Catherine’s words, and left her alone for the time being.
Catherine was still fuming about Magda’s meddling when she got to Selfridges early to meet Paul. If she didn’t calm down she’d be useless for their meeting.
The champagne bar on the mezzanine overlooked the accessories hall. Clever. Shoppers were tempted from all angles.
‘Good afternoon,’ said the black-clad young man as he handed her a menu. ‘Here’s the wine list, and today’s food menu.’
‘Just a glass of Veuve Clicquot, please.’
‘Very good.’ He didn’t waste any time pouring it and she didn’t waste any time drinking it.
Much as she hated to admit it, she was going to need some help with her new business partner. It was ridiculous to have this much trouble with a twenty-three-year-old when the teabags in their kitchen had been around the office longer than she had.
She tapped a text to Richard.
Hi, can we meet please? Need to talk about Magda. Thanks
His response came right back. He was always on his phone.
She’s really enjoying working with you. V busy now and out of town next week. Later in Jan? xR
Pick a date. I’ll meet you.
…
His silence spoke volumes. He knew she wasn’t planning a sociable catch-up. And she knew he’d avoid a confrontation if he could. She texted again between sips of wine.
I’m free a week from Tuesday. Or Weds. Or Thurs. Or you could come into the office.
…
Don’t ignore me.
Not ignoring. Busy.
Not too busy to text back. Set a date at least.
Am away from office. Need to check calendar.
I don’t believe you.
Don’t be cynical :- ) xo
By the time she went to meet Paul under the clock out front, the bubbles had smoothed the edges. But she still knew that Richard was avoiding her.
‘Sorry, Catherine, sorry!’ Paul boomed, startling the shoppers around him. ‘Am I late?’
‘No, you’re right on time.’
He kissed her on the cheek.
‘I had a swift one round the corner,’ he said. ‘The barman took bloody ages to run my card through.’
‘You really needed a drink before meeting me?’
He looked sheepish, just as Catherine recognised a figure rushing towards them. ‘Madam, I’m glad I found you here,’ said the black-clad waiter. ‘You left your card at the bar.’
‘Oh … Thank you.’ She tucked her card into her purse.
‘You really needed a drink before meeting me, Catherine?’
‘It’s not you,’ she said. ‘Rough day at the office.’ Thanks to someone who looks a lot like you, she thought, leading him inside.
‘You know your way around in here,’ he said as they made their way through the maze of make-up counters and up the escalators to the men’s floor.
‘It’s a perk of the job. Not that I shop much. Or at all, really, unless I need something. I’m not frivolous.’
Like he cared whether his relationship consultant was a spendthrift.
She watched his eyes dart from rail to rail when they got to the vast men’s department. ‘Do you have any particular style that you like?’ she asked.
He looked like he might need to breathe into a paper bag.
‘It’s okay. Take your time.’
‘People can’t really like doing this,’ he said. ‘I’d rather have my teeth drilled.’
‘Unfortunately the dentist isn’t on our to-do list today.’
‘Bummer. There’s nothing like a nice root canal to take your mind off shopping.’
‘I’m sorry you’re doing this without novocaine. What about something like this?’ She held up a Paul Smith shirt. She loved a man in a Paul Smith shirt.
‘Or this?’ He pointed to a red and white checked combed cotton shirt.
He didn’t seem to be joking. ‘Mmm. Anything else that catches your eye?’
‘What’s wrong with the shirt?’
‘It’s a little too log cabin, if you know what I mean. I was thinking of something more stylish, more fitting for London.’
She trailed him as he walked from concession to concession.
‘Stylish like this?’ He held up a garish twill checked suit. ‘It needs a waistcoat though. Waddya think of this?’ He pointed to something ghastly in paisley.
She honestly didn’t know if he was taking the piss or just had some kind of clothes-blindness disability. And she didn’t want to offend him by asking. Then he’d really hate the shopping trip. ‘It certainly does stand out.’
‘That’s good, right? You wanna stand out when you’re dating.’
True, she thought, but not for looking like one of the Marx brothers. Paul would definitely be a fashion project for whomever he ended up with.
‘I do like the idea of a suit for you,’ she said. ‘So that’s a good place to start. I’m just not sure this pattern is quite right. Let’s have a look around.’
His relief was obvious when she took charge. She already knew what she’d choose for him. A medium blue suit would look nice, maybe with a subtle pinstripe if he really wanted a pattern.
She checked her phone while she waited for him to come out of the fitting room. No texts from Richard. He was definitely avoiding her.
What was taking Paul so long? ‘Are you coming out so I can see?’
He emerged in his tee shirt and jeans. ‘It looked okay,’ he said.
‘Let me see.’
‘You’re taking this consultation seriously. Do you wanna come in with me to make sure I button everything straight?’
Catherine laughed at herself. ‘I sound like your mother, don’t I?’
‘You’re worse. My mother doesn’t make me try on clothes for her.’
‘You’re right. I’m sure everything looks nice. If you want to pay for those, I’ll just put your next appointment back a bit.’
‘You mean we’re not done? We’ve been a
t this for hours.’
‘It’s been about forty-five minutes, Paul.’
‘That long? I deserve another drink.’
‘No more drinks. We have an appointment.’
‘Did you schedule the dentist after all?’
‘Even better. You’re going to love this,’ she said, scrolling through her phone to find the number for Ted’s Grooming Room.
But instead of loving it, he stood at their reception desk half an hour later with his arms crossed.
‘You don’t have to have a haircut if you don’t want to,’ she said. ‘But I thought we should freshen up your look.’ Paul’s hair wasn’t bad. It just had a very unfortunate side parting.
‘It’s not the haircut I’m worried about,’ he said, hoicking his thumb at the man getting a wet shave. ‘Hair grows back. My lip won’t if they slip with that straight razor.’
‘Will you at least do the haircut?’ She was thinking of something a bit tousled and messy. ‘The shave is optional.’
‘S’pose so.’
It only took a few minutes for the stylist to transform Paul’s head from banker to beach babe. ‘What do you think?’ Catherine asked as he squinted into the mirror.
Paul smiled. ‘It’s not bad, actually. What do you think?’
She thought he looked like a different person, and even more like Richard. ‘It’s a good look. We’re getting there, Paul.’
Transforming his manners and giving him a more worldly view would take more work, but they were definitely on the right track. ‘Now, are you ready for your manicure?’
‘Jesus, really? Is this necessary?’
She grabbed his hand. ‘Look at those cuticles. Yes it’s necessary.’
There was something extra sexy about a well-groomed man.
‘Are you happy with the way things went today?’ she asked him later when he kissed her cheek at the Tube. His new aftershave smelled delicious. The earthy cedar scent really suited him.
‘I’m just relieved I didn’t have my throat cut.’
‘You did very well to let them do it.’ She might not have been as brave in his place. ‘And the suit?’
‘It looks all right, but it’s not really me.’
‘That’s why we’re doing this, Paul. We’re making you better than you.’
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