Blue and Green Should Never be Seen! (Or so Mother says)

by Colette Kebell

  He got closer; our lips were inches apart and I could feel his breath on me. He was taking his time, letting me savour the moment, while he was relishing the instant he would kiss me, finally.

  It was sudden and passionate, and although I didn’t know Jasper well I was attracted to him. Tonight I didn’t want to be alone; I wanted to end the day on a positive note, after all the negative ones.

  I climbed on Jasper and started kissing him, on his lips and on his neck, while at the same time removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

  We made love right there on the sofa, and then again in his bed, until we both lay there exhausted. Sleep caught us suddenly, while we still were in each other’s arms.

  CHAPTER 21

  I woke up in the morning and the sun was starting to filter through the curtains, on a rare sunny day. With my arm I started searching for Jasper, but he wasn’t there. Today was the opening, so probably he had left … hang on: I could hear noise from the kitchen and a nice smell of bacon. It was seven in the morning.

  I grabbed a dressing gown from the en suite and followed the smell like a greyhound on a track until I found the kitchen. Jasper was fully dressed, chewing the last remnants of his bacon sandwich while standing by the sink and ready to go. I could see his black briefcase on the table.

  “I’ve got to go, honey. I’ve got a department store to open.”

  Honey?

  He gave me a kiss on the cheek and added: “Do what you want; have some breakfast. You can leave the keys with reception; talk to you later.” And off he went.

  Honey?

  What the frock? I wasn’t expecting to be served breakfast in bed, but honey, stopping for a hug wouldn’t have jeopardised your grand opening. By the way, if this was my place I would have bothered to prepare breakfast for him (and not just myself) and make an effort to be nice, even if I had to open Buckingham Palace that very same morning.

  What is wrong with men? Do they forget things? Being nice is free, you know! Really, it doesn’t cost a thing. Had I made a mistake?

  Something was out of place, and I still couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Even his apartment didn’t look right. The more I looked at it, the more I could smell the scent of Paula, her touch, her style. But they were divorced; I knew that for a fact, and even Harry had confirmed it when we were there. Can you still divorce a person and then have her sorting out your furniture? Is that legally allowed? Or maybe they had the apartment before they split and he hadn’t changed anything. Well, that sounded a more plausible explanation, although I couldn’t live in a place that an ex-partner had furnished. Too many memories that would be under my nose on a daily basis; I would scream for a change.

  I let the thought of all that slip away and went to have a shower. I had work to do as well and possibly Jasper was just nervous about the opening.

  Back at the office I felt as sad as ever, while I prepared a cup of tea for me and nobody else. The joy I had shared with Ritchie was gone, sucked out of the place, now empty and silent. I peeked out of the window and I could see people queuing up at the Battersea Fashion Centre. I couldn’t believe how many people were standing there, even more than if One Direction themselves were throwing a free-for-all party and had announced it on Facebook.

  I sipped my tea and went back to the computer. The general idea was to contact all the previous customers I’d had and offer an “assessment”: a re-evaluation of their wardrobe, see if everything was still current and, most of all, if they were sticking to the plan. As I had many of them, I thought I wouldn’t spam them all at once. I didn’t know how many responses I would get, and I wasn’t going to disappoint them by saying I wouldn’t have time to see them until two weeks later. Ten at a time would be enough. Preparing the messages took a couple of hours, but finally I was ready to send them out. I made ten different versions, personalised and specific to each client. In no way, shape or form was I going to deal with them as if they were only “clients”; we had shared so many things, emotions and personal stories that they were far more than that. We’d had an experience together that deserved to be remembered and renewed, not an impersonal customer service like anybody else could think of or do.

  I pressed the “send” button and felt relieved, as if I were still in business. The next step was to arrange some small advertisements. A quick check on eBay brought a bit of light to what otherwise would have been a grim day. People were bidding fast, especially on the samples and the items that never met the shops – those unique clothes and items that you could be sure nobody else was going to wear to a party. I would possibly have to spend the evening packing and preparing labels.

  I had another peek out of the window and the queue was gone; maybe all the people were inside already. How much would they make in a single day?

  After I’d spent another hour playing solitaire at the computer, I was ready to pack up and go home when “ding” – I got an email.

  It was from Natalie, a brunette in her thirties from Ascot with whom I had worked a couple of years ago.

  Dear GiGi

  How lovely hearing from you! I was just thinking about you the other day, and, looking at my current outfit, I thought I was in need of a, how should I say, “refreshment”.

  Please don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy many of the clothes you suggested and most of all I treasure all your precious suggestions.

  Do you remember all the laughs we had telling each other stories?

  Unfortunately, I’m undergoing a divorce. After many years of marriage, my husband decided he needed a brand new Porsche and to pair that with a bimbo. They say it’s something occasionally people do when they reach their forties. Please don’t be sad for me; the lawyer says I’m going to have a fantastic settlement. In addition, I have had so many men hovering around me over the past two years that my ex-husband’s disappearance will go unnoticed. So my thoughts went to you and, what I hoped, a brand-new wardrobe. You see, great minds think alike! It might be some astral conjunction that brought us together today. If you’re happy about it, I would also like to propose another job. Maybe a bit unusual, but I trust your judgement and ethics to tell me if I’m way out of line.

  Would it be too much trouble to come around today or tomorrow? I know it’s very short notice and if that’s inconvenient, please let me know.

  Looking forward to hearing from you,

  Your dear friend and forever-grateful Natalie

  That was unexpected. I had sent those emails half-heartedly, trying to keep myself busy and keep my hopes up. Maybe I wasn’t going to go bankrupt just yet. I didn’t hesitate.

  Dear Natalie.

  Sorry to hear about the news. No problem whatsoever to come round today. Imagine I’m already in my car heading for your place. If I see the bastard on the road, I shall run him over. See you soon

  Kisses,

  GiGi

  I grabbed my bag, car keys and a few ideas and in no time I was out of the door, driving towards Berkshire. I tried to remember every single detail about Natalie and what she’d bought, but I realised when I arrived that a new job was facing me. She had shed at least three stone and now she looked like a bundle of muscles. Or like an iron-man champion. Anyway, I saw clearly why she needed some help; everything had been built around hiding her weight and for sure, what she had would look very baggy and horrible now. The good news was that she was a “healthy stick”, not the type to have lost weight owing to a tragedy.

  “You look fabulous!” I said, as soon as she opened the door. “How did you do that?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t that hard, dear. The bastard decided to have his middle-age crisis and I decided to join the local gym. But don’t stand there: come in.” She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and we went inside.

  “Shall I put the kettle on?”

  “That would be very nice, Natalie,” I answered promptly.

  “Can you imagine? A wardrobe full of things that now I can’t wear, and I had to resort to onesies – at my age
!”

  “With that figure you can wear what you want,” I lied. I wasn’t a fan of onesies, especially of those in an animal shape, with ears, tail and the whole shebang. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one in need of a revamp; the house looked a bit old as well. I looked around and sat on an old leather sofa that had seen better times. Not bad, but a bit dated as a style. I made a mental note to bring the matter up.

  “So, Natalie,” I shouted from the lounge, “what kind of exercise are you doing in the gym?”

  “Oh, I’m not missing anything these days. I started with the usual weightlifting, and then I got introduced to aerobics. Then I discovered Zumba and I thought, why not? So I gave it a try.”

  “Wow. You keep yourself busy.”

  She came back with a pot of tea, cups and a few biscuits. “I can now afford to eat those little fellas without feeling guilty. I also started spinning and bodystep.” She grabbed a chocolate one and devoured it before I could say “treadmill”. She was really in great shape and what baffled me was why in hell her husband would look somewhere else. So I asked.

  “I got over it. The love was gone years ago, and we were just tolerating each other. The bimbo was inevitable, and in some respects I’m glad of it. It saved me the hassle of dumping him.”

  “Got it. So I guess now you’ll need to find some Wonder Woman garments?” I laughed, nervously at the beginning, but she followed suit so I relaxed. I was glad that all those hours spent in the gym hadn’t changed her.

  “Well, I’d be glad of a style that would make the most of my new body; and I need some help spending my settlement. Can you assist me in fulfilling my current buy-sexual desire?”

  I’d never heard of that, so I started giggling. “So, what’s your budget?” I asked.

  “I guess forty grand on clothes, I already have more jewellery than I could ever need or want.” An idea started forming in my mind; although I wasn’t sure how to articulate it.

  “Natalie, let me get this straight. You’re in great shape. You’re also going to have a great look, so men will start queuing up to take you out and eventually you’ll invite someone home. You know the drill: will you come in for a drink, watch a bit of telly, spend some quality time talking …”

  I could see her head spinning. She hadn’t even considered how old-fashioned her place was, and what’s the point of being the hottest chick at the gym if then you have to take a date into Dracula’s den?

  “I see your point. The place looks outdated, right?” she said, starting to look around her, as if the furniture had suddenly just appeared in front of her.

  “You told me you got some of these pieces from your family and others were bought with Thomas. Why don’t you pick just the things you really like, and then get some new furniture that would fit better with the new you?”

  “Sounds like you have a new job on your hands. What do you know about furniture?” she asked, looking deeply into my eyes.

  “Not much, Natalie; it’s not my forte. It was just a suggestion, something to think about,” I added sheepishly. It wasn’t my intention to present myself as an interior designer; I was just concerned that there would be an imbalance between the new look and where she lived. “Maybe if you like the idea I could come along, as a friend. It could be an art I might want to learn.”

  “Deal. I’m sure you’ll do more than tag along, so we need to think about a fee for this extra help. What about getting rid of all my oversized clothes? I’m sure you’ll find ways.”

  That was tempting. In addition to my fee, I would take home a huge amount of items that I could flog on the underground market. And believe me, in those places, size sixteen and eighteen were always sold at a premium, as they were very difficult to come by.

  “I’m very glad about that. I was thinking: would it be too much trouble to have half the fee when we’ve done half of the job?”

  “Not a problem, GiGi. But I didn’t ask: is everything OK with you? You aren’t as cheerful as I remember.” I told her about the latest mishap with Lady Whilsham, and how Jasper’s reaction bothered me in the morning.

  “If you feel it’s wrong, it probably is. Trust me; I had ignored any possible signals, thinking I was just deluded and jealous. Life is too short to try fixing things, my dear. If a relationship is too much of an effort, it isn’t worth it.”

  We started that very day, planning the new look. She was going to be great again in no time. I wasn’t so sure about me though.

  CHAPTER 22

  The day was gone (pretty much) so I didn’t bother returning to the office, and instead I went straight home for a shower. I was glad I had re-established a relationship with Natalie and the new task of sorting out her home excited me. Challenging. Thrilling. Electrifying.

  I had a brief look at my email account and saw that I’d received an email from another customer asking for a review, so I was thrilled. I thought of calling Ritchie, but I froze; I wasn’t in a position yet to offer him a job. I thought of calling Jasper and, at that very moment, I realised how upset I was feeling towards him, and I needed to chill. I opened a bottle of Shiraz and slept the whole night on the sofa.

  The following day I had the right idea about Natalie; she had a great body and so we should use a Hervé Léger style, all centred around bodycons and very tight clothes. She was like a statue, so she might as well show it to the world. I had to banish all those clothes in which you could barely distinguish her figure; a new Natalie was going to be born this week.

  What confused me slightly was the furniture task. I mean, I was no interior designer and maybe I should have called my old friend. I dialled the number and got an answering machine. I decided not to leave a message. I then thought that I should have approached the matter in the same way as with clothes; look at the personality, GiGi, and see if and how things fit and belong. So off I went scouting and in search of new ideas.

  I finished my quest earlier because that very evening Lillian had the house-warming party. I stopped at the local newsagent, bought all the possible magazines about interior design, and placed them on my desk. There would have to be some catching up to do in the next few days, but now my attention was on the up-and-coming party.

  Don’t you hate it when you know you have to dress casual (possibly trashy) and at the same time you know the most gorgeous man is going to be present? There’s no rule for that type of situation. Go dressed like a sack of potatoes and he’ll never notice you. Go and dress half-decently, and in his eyes you’ll look like a pretentious bitch who couldn’t be bothered to get changed and help a friend with a little painting. I only hoped Lillian wasn’t exaggerating when she said he looked like Hugh Jackman. At that point the phone rang, and it was Jasper.

  “Hi Jasper; what do you want?” I asked abruptly. Maybe he could hear from my voice he still needed to apologise.

  “I called to offer you a job in my store.”

  “Aren’t you tired of that line, Jasper? You keep repeating yourself over and over.”

  “That’s because you’re the best and I need you in my shop; to make it unique,” he insisted, but I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

  “This might come as a surprise, but the answer is still ‘no’. Get over it.”

  “OK, message received.” He sounded disappointed and harsh for a moment and I was ready to fight. Come off it, Jasper: you have to learn when it’s time to let it go and move on. “What about coming to visit the department store at least? You haven’t shown up yet.”

  I would have gone, actually, if he could have been bothered to invite me. That was something he had forgotten; he’d never actually asked me to come over and have a look at how the work was proceeding, or even to summon me to the big opening. The only thing he could say was to repeat ‘Come and work for me,’ like a broken record. “And after the visit maybe we could go out for dinner.”

  I’d made that mistake once; I would have been stupid to do it twice. Just to not sound too abrupt, I chose delicacy over iron fist. “I’d li
ke to see that little shop of yours, if you don’t mind, but for this evening I have previous arrangements.”

  “Can I come along? Anybody I know?”

  “No, Jasper.” He was like a bloody pit bull; he wouldn’t let it go. “It’s a girlie night,” I said to cut him short.

  “OK, GiGi. See you when you come here. Ask at reception and I shall come and get you for the tour.”

  I thought of skipping even that invite, but then I thought, what the hell? – it’s just a shop, although humongous. Let’s have a peek and see what it’s all about.

  I had a quick shower and then drove down to the Battersea Fashion Centre. Once inside I reached a huge information desk, which was in the middle of the ground floor. People were buzzing around it; there were free-standing touch screens where people could find information and some large displays with the layout of the shop and where to find things. I approached one of the girls at the reception and gave her my name, said I was looking for Jasper Barnes. She nodded and punched numbers into a phone, and after a quick exchange, she informed me Jasper would arrive soon. I looked around me and didn’t get what all the fuss was about. The ground floor was exactly the same as you could find in any other department store, mostly dedicated to perfumes and make-up. If they did something special, it passed unnoticed by me. Jasper arrived after a few minutes, gliding among employees, providing a smile now on the left, now on the right, stopping for a second just to sort out a minuscule detail he alone could see.

  He reached for me. “GiGi, how beautiful you are today. So what do you think; it’s impressive, isn’t it?”

  Don’t you HATE it when people ask questions and give themselves the answer? I mean, what use do they have for other people? They’re perfect by themselves, asking the perfect questions all the time and never getting tired of listening to their own answers. I wondered if Jasper ever disagreed with himself. The ground floor was as expected: the very same as many other places and department stores you could find on a high street, but the first floor was slightly more interesting. Different fashion labels were occupying this level, each one having a fifteen-by-twenty-foot area to expose. It was an impressive area – maybe the largest display of clothes you could find is a single space – but I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe, just maybe, Jasper had lost his one chance to do something original. The more we wandered around, the more the feeling that he’d got it wrong became more persistent. Nothing that anybody else would notice – on the contrary, the shop was very nice; but it wasn’t innovative. The only impressive thing was the sheer size of that building and that was, in my opinion, the biggest mistake he’d made so far. By going humongous, he thought of serving every human in this world; in his shop everybody would be able to find whatever they needed, and that was a fundamental mistake. The quality of the designer labels he had there was high, and that meant he couldn’t really discount too much. These were not warehouse remnants, samples, last year’s designs: these were current-season fashion. I knew where he was going: pile them up and sell them (fairly) cheaply, which in this case was only a fifteen or twenty per cent discount. Reduce his margins and try to squeeze the competition out of the game, as they wouldn’t be able to afford the same reductions in the long run.