Green sandals (Schuh-Welt)
White-strapped watch (Swatch)
Total est. cost:
€
340
ANNIE WAS THE
first to jump off the tram at the terminal. She couldn’t stand the guilt for one more second. For the entire journey, she’d kept her head down and avoided the many disapproving glances she imagined were being directed at her.
Because she’d jumped on without stamping her ticket, like she’d seen every single other passenger
do.
Because she didn’t have any luggage, not even a handbag. Because her clothes were grubby and her face was smeared with dried blood.
She was a sight. A fright!
Imagine if a fan of
How To Be Fabulous
spotted her now? In the best-case scenario, she’d be the subject of an emergency intervention makeover; in the worst case, she’d be fired.
As she walked through the automated glass doors, the sight of trolleys full of luggage and rows and rows of check-in desks was a relief. She would find the airport police and explain her predicament to them. Surely, they would be used to tourists without passports turning up to ask for help.
As she passed under the huge departure boards, she thought she might as well check to see when the next flight was departing to London. Her eyes scanned down the list of cities: Berlin, Zurich, Warsaw … Gatwick. The next flight was at 9.50 am., in 55 minutes with British Airways. Maybe if she got really lucky, she could make it onto the flight.
She could be home by lunchtime. She could be soaking in a long, long hot bath within a few hours. This whole nightmare could be over by then. No, she reminded herself, not with no money and no passport: that would take some time to sort out.
She looked above the row of check-in desks in search of the British Airways logo. There it was –
there
were the people who could take her home.
And there
she
was!!
A tall blonde woman, back towards Annie, with two boys, one on either side of her. Both with jet black hair, wearing tennis whites.
It was Svetlana!
Svetlana was queuing to get onto the British Airways plane. Svetlana was going to head back to London without even a thought as to where Annie was or how she would get back home!
Annie began to run towards her.
‘Svetlana!’ she called out as soon as she was within range, ‘SvetLANA!’
The blonde head swivelled round.
‘Annah!’
Svetlana’s look of relieved surprise quickly turned to dismay.
‘Oh! Annah! What has happened?’
Annie hurried towards her: ‘Are you all OK?’
‘You got away from them? No one’s following?’
‘Are you going to get on a plane all right?’
They started talking at once, firing questions at each other.
‘Harry sort everything,’ Svetlana said.
‘Mama came to get us. Just like she said she would and she’s very proud of me using my phone,’ Michael said, holding the gadget up for Annie to examine.
He looked more happy and relaxed than Annie had ever seen him look before.
‘Mama came,’ Petrov added, smiling, his hand attached firmly to Svetlana’s coat. As if he was determined not to ever let go of her.
‘My boys are fine. Both fine. I’m so proud of them both,’ Svetlana said, putting her arms protectively round their shoulders and squeezing them in tightly.
‘We are getting back to London just as soon as we can,’ she added, ‘where I will meet Igor. We must sort this out once and for all.’
‘So I managed to stop the men in the car?’
‘I think so. They didn’t follow. But Annah, what happened to you? What happened to your face? I couldn’t stop to find you. I had to get away.’
Annie shrugged. She would probably have done the same … wouldn’t she? But as far as she knew Svetlana hadn’t even texted – hadn’t even sent the words: ‘meet me at the airport.’
‘I put the champagne bottle under their car wheel and it exploded,’ Annie admitted. ‘Hopefully, it ripped their tyre apart, but I didn’t stay to find out.’
‘Annah! You are amazing.’
‘So …’
There was an expectant lull. Annie wondered what was coming next. She hoped Svetlana was going to offer Harry’s help to her too. She wanted to
be
boarding the next BA flight and arriving back in sane and sensible London in a few hours.
‘Annah, I would really like you to come with us …’
‘Yes? That’s what I’d like too.’
‘But, I … well, Annah, I need you to drive the Bentley back to the hotel.’
Hotel? Which hotel? Surely Svetlana couldn’t mean the Villa Verdina?
What!
‘I know. I know is a very, very big favour to ask,’ Svetlana went on, ‘but I have message from the Villa, if they do not get the Bentley back today, they will declare it stolen and even go to the police. So the Bentley must go back and we still have luggage at the hotel. I think is easiest solution if you take the car back and get the luggage.’
‘You want me to drive all the way back to Italy?’ Annie asked, feeling completely winded.
‘I have money, plenty of money for your journey.’
Svetlana opened her clutch bag and Annie knew she was about to be handed a wodge of euro notes. It was always Svetlana’s solution: fistfuls of money.
‘But I want to go home,’ Annie protested. ‘I’m exhausted. I’ve about had enough of all of this.’
‘I’m so sorry, Annah. You will go home. You will fly home first class from Milano, just as soon as it can be arranged, maybe even later today, if you can get there quickly enough.’
‘But I want to go home now. I don’t want to drive all the way back to Italy. I have a concert to go to and the twins’ birthday party …’
She’d lost track of time. When were those things even happening? Tomorrow? Could it already be the day before the twins’ birthday?
‘Annah, please … I know you have done so much for me, too much. I really am so very thankful. But I have to take the boys to London and you are the only person I can ask to do this one more thing. I know it is too much. But still I ask you, as my friend.’
Svetlana was actually doing gratitude, real heartfelt gratitude. Annie had seen it just a handful of times before and it always moved her. Svetlana was a proud and fiercely independent woman who thanked people rarely but always sincerely.
‘Madam, can I see your tickets please?’ the agent behind the check-in desk asked.
Annie was left looking at the boys.
They were totally worn out and not nearly as neat, tidy and groomed as usual. Their tennis outfits were stained and grubby. Maria would have a fit when she got them safely back.
‘How are you?’ she asked, kneeling down to be on their level.
‘OK,’ Michael replied, while Petrov shrugged.
‘We would never have been able to find you
without
the emails, Michael. You were really brave. Your mum is incredibly proud of you. Don’t forget that.’
‘I know,’ Michael said, his chest swelling.
‘We never have to go to the school in Russia,’ Petrov added. ‘Mama promised.’
‘No. I’m sure your dad will have to say a really big sorry for all this.’
Michael giggled at the thought.
‘Did Michael look after you?’ she asked Petrov.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes,’ Michael agreed. ‘Petrov was brave too.’
‘I think you’re going to be much better friends now you’ve had this adventure together.’
‘Yes,’ Michael said, then he reached over and ruffled his little brother’s hair: ‘you weren’t a baby hardly at all.’
Svetlana finished checking in and turned back to them: ‘Annah, if you take the car back to Italy I promise Harry will help you sort everything out. New plane tickets, everything.’
‘Where is my handbag by the way?’
‘Oh … I have locked it into the car’s glove compartment. Here is the key, and this will be enough for petrol and any other problems,’ Svetlana said, handing over a thick wad of euros.
‘Svetlana, you can’t pay me to do this,’ Annie protested. ‘I’m not accepting payment. Everything
not
used for expenses is coming straight back to you.’
‘Fine,’ Svetlana said, pushing the money and the Bentley keys into Annie’s hand.
‘But you will owe me one very big favour,’ Annie said.
‘Of course, just say what it is.’ Svetlana looked at her expectantly.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Annie replied, ‘but I’m going to think about it and when I ask for this favour, you will grant it. No questions asked.’
Svetlana’s eyes met hers and Annie saw the look of concern on her face. But still Svetlana said ‘OK’, so seriously that Annie knew she had a deal.
‘The car is in the car park on level four. Here is the ticket,’ Svetlana added and the ticket materialized in Annie’s hand, just as if Svetlana had planned for her to show up at exactly this moment to take over all the troublesome details.
‘Maybe you should wash your face first,’ was Svetlana’s next suggestion.
‘Yeah …’
The alligator clutch began to ring so Svetlana turned away from Annie to answer the call.
‘The glass bottle burst under the men’s car tyre and blew it up?’ Michael asked Annie.
‘And the glass bits went into your face?’
Annie nodded. ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.’
‘But that was very brave,’ Michael told her.
‘Or stupid,’ Annie admitted. ‘I always think brave is very close to stupid.’
This made Petrov laugh.
‘What is happening with Perfect Dress?’ Svetlana turned to ask Annie, once her call was over.
‘Well, I’ve not exactly heard much,’ Annie said, which was putting it mildly. ‘They’re just getting the designs together for the new season, I think.’
Svetlana shook her head vigorously.
‘No. Something is going on. I just speak to Elena, I leave her message about the boys and she just call me back.’
‘I hope you were very nice to her, I hope you said sorry properly.’
‘Yes. I said sorry.’
‘Really?
Properly?
’
‘Yes! I say sorry to her and she say: “not bad, Mother, I know this is the hardest word for you”.’
‘She’s right.’
‘But I just get a feeling from her when we speak about the business that she is not telling me everything,’ Svetlana added.
‘Oh no …’ Annie was getting the first inkling of an idea, ‘you don’t think those silly, stubborn girls have just gone ahead and made up the new dresses on their own, do you?’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Austria
The perfume counter girl:
White blouse (Aldi)
Bright silk scarf (once grandmother’s)
Pencil skirt (Peek & Cloppenburg)
Wearable shoes (Ecco)
Too much make-up (Estée Lauder Christmas Gift Set)
Total est. cost:
€
160
ONCE ANNIE HAD
waved Svetlana and her boys through the departure gate, she decided that first of all – before she did anything else – some of Svetlana’s expenses money would have to be spent on several key rescue products.
The horrifying sight of her reflection in the
bathroom
mirror galvanized her into action: panda eyes, those small but bloodied cuts, dirt, grease, even a dark smudge or two. It was desperate. She rushed from the mirror to the airport pharmacy where she grabbed toothpaste and a toothbrush to deal with her actually furry teeth.
At the cosmetics counter she bought the make-up fundamentals: eyeliner, mascara and lipstick, and persuaded the startled sales assistant to hand over tester sizes of face wash, moisturizer and foundation.
‘This is an emergency,’ Annie assured her, ‘I really honestly do not look like this usually.’
After a ten-minute stint in the Ladies applying her haul, and a pass of the Chanel counter where she doused herself liberally in No. 19, Annie began to feel less like a bag lady and much closer to her usual self.
Her next purchase was a phone charger for the car and a hands-free kit. Just as soon as she’d revived the phone battery, she had a lot of calls to make and explaining to do.
Finally, she stocked up on provisions for the trip: a vast mug of coffee, two Viennese pastries, a huge bottle of water, three chocolate bars and – in honour of Dr Delicioso – one small green apple, which she sort of already knew she wouldn’t eat. She was going to be the first person to come back from a spa break five pounds heavier.
Bag of goodies over her shoulder, she made for the car park. Up on level four, after a short walk about, she found the Bentley, but as she drew closer, she couldn’t help gasping with shock.
The Bentley was trashed! No other word for it. At the back of the car there was an alarming dent and the metal bumper was hanging askew. Svetlana must have reversed into a bollard, maybe even a lamp-post.
She walked round to the side of the car and found it peppered with dents, scrapes and a long, ominous white scratch. On the other side, it was a similar sad story. In fact it was slightly worse, as the front wheel arch had obviously been crunched against something hard.
In her short but frantic drive to the airport, Svetlana must have got into even more trouble than Annie had in her journey all the way over the Alps.
Carlo was going to freak out. Whatever relief he might feel at the sight of the Bentley rolling back up the drive of the Villa Verdina would be short-lived.
Annie unlocked the door, dumped her bags on the passenger’s seat and climbed in. She put the phone in to charge and rigged up the hands-free system. She would phone Ed and let him know everything was OK, just as soon as she had some power. Then she fired up the engine.
It sounded throaty, but fine. Hands on the
steering
wheel, she prepared to seriously haul the car around into reverse and felt almost pleased to be back in the the Beast again.
‘Don’t even think about letting me down now, old boy,’ she said out loud, ‘because we’re going home.’
Annie had been driving for several hours and recrossed the Italian border via a perfectly straightforward motorway, which somehow she and Svetlana had missed on the way in, before she got a reply on Lana’s phone.