‘Oh no, it’s going to be Svetlana. I have to phone her, but I can’t face it yet. Could you answer?’ she asked Ed, ‘tell her – I don’t know, I’ve been hit and run by a toddler party and I may not pull through.’
‘Hello, Annie’s phone,’ Ed obliged. ‘Hey Connor! How is it going?’
‘Oh it’s OK,’ Annie said, holding out her hand, ‘I can make an exception for Connor.’
‘She told me to say she was dying and not to put anyone through, but apparently this doesn’t include you.’
Annie took the phone: ‘Hello darlin’, is this not a bit early for you? I thought you board-treaders only got up half an hour before the curtain?’
Connor snorted at this.
‘Nine a.m., my lovely, I have been up since 9 a.m. working out, meeting and greeting, networking, having a facial to steam that horrible stage make-up right out of my pores.’
‘Stage make-up? Surely you can demand Clinique or Chanel and nothing less?’
‘You’re right, I should. But I don’t like to be too much of a diva.’
Annie snorted at the thought. Connor was
born
to be a diva.
‘Chanel probably do a special make-up for the stage,’ she added. ‘Couleurs pour les bigheads,’ she said in a properly French accent.
‘Oh yeah. You found that one to use on your show, did you? And have you got the matching perfume: L’air du Trashy Television?’
‘Miaow, miaow, miaow. I don’t know if I can cope with this, I’ve just survived the twins’ second birthday party. It was a Malteser massacre. There is chocolate icing on the ceiling and Lego down the loo.’
‘When can I come round to deliver their presents?’
‘I don’t know, it depends what you’ve bought. If it’s the two life-sized toy tigers you were threatening me with at Christmas, then the answer is: never. Same goes for your full-sized billiard table idea.’
‘I’ve got them a little wooden train set,’ Connor said, sounding hurt, ‘with a bridge and a station.’
‘Oh I’m sorry!’ Annie said, sincere now. ‘You are a lovely man, that sounds perfect. When would you like to come?’
‘Tomorrow? Maybe in the morning? What are you doing? Oh, I met someone …’
‘No, Connor,’ Annie groaned, ‘please! Not the latest instalment in the saga of the McCabe love life, I can’t take it. Really, I’m too tired. But tomorrow would be fine.’
‘Ahem …’ Connor cleared his throat, ‘any chance you could let me finish? I met someone last night who was wearing a dress made by your company and she’s hoping to buy more, for her HUGE ONLINE RETAIL EMPIRE.’
Now Connor had Annie’s full attention.
‘Which dress was she wearing?’ Annie asked, feeling a little dizzy and breathless all of a sudden.
‘Something very short and orange and surprisingly funky. I thought you and Svetlana’s thing was all about those classy shirtwaisters?’
Bless. He even knew the correct term for a button-down dress. This was why she had been friends with Connor for so long.
‘This looked different. It looked cool,’ Connor added. ‘Whatever you’re doing there, it’s working. Arlene loved it.’
‘Arlene? Not Arlene Henderson?! Do you mean the woman who runs
catwalktoyou.com
?
She
loved the dress?’
‘Yeah. She was wearing one. Said she’d just bought it, said she was going to get in touch with your office.’
‘Arlene Henderson’ Annie repeated, stunned.
‘But
how did you meet her? When did you meet her?’
‘Last night, after the performance I was invited out to some swanky celeb-studded party, I was standing next to her and we got talking. I complimented her on her dress like you do when you’re a charming urbane man-about-town and we chatted about dress designers and I realized it was one of yours. Made me feel pretty in the loop, Annie, chatting to Arlene of
catwalktoyou.com
and being able to say: ‘Oh yeah, my friend Annie runs that company.’
‘I don’t run it; I’m a minor partner but …’
Annie’s breathing was now shallow and excited.
‘Connor … this could be big.’
As soon as Connor had rung off, Annie scrolled to Svetlana’s number. Finally she could make this call, finally she could tell Svetlana the NY Perfect Dress story in the hope that it was going to be OK.
‘Annah?’ the phone was answered almost immediately.
‘Hello, sweetheart, it’s me. Yes, I’ve got news. I’ve got the full story. You’re not going to like the start, but I have a feeling that you’re going to love the end.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Ed making an effort:
White, pink and blue checked shirt (Boden sale)
Navy chinos (Gap)
New, clean trainers (borrowed from Owen)
New, clean socks (discovered in drawer)
Pour Monsieur aftershave (Chanel, via Annie)
Total est. cost: £95
ANNIE WAS BENT
low over Micky and Minette’s twin beds, patting both toddlers on the back and soothing them off to sleep.
‘Are they away?’ Ed whispered from the doorway.
‘Yes,’ Annie whispered back and tiptoed carefully out of the room.
In the hallway, she was pleased to see that Ed had showered and changed into a fresh shirt. There was also a cloud of her favourite aftershave hovering around him.
‘You look good,’ she told him, moving her arms around his waist.
‘Do I look like your dreamy Dr Delicious – or other assorted Italian stallions you’ve been hanging about with?’
Annie kissed him on the lips, then broke off to admit: ‘My Italian stallion was actually American … a surfer dude, very fit, very tanned and very blond … aged about twenty-three—’
‘What?!’ Ed exclaimed. ‘Should I be asking about this? Do you have a confession to make?’
‘No, don’t be an idiot, of course not,’ Annie told him, instantly remembering two breathless hugs and a bottom slap – but hardly enough to feel guilty about.
‘My American surfer dude helped,’ she admitted.
‘Helped? How, exactly?’
‘He helped me get my fashion mojo back. He reminded me that I’m a creative person and I need to mix it up a bit and not get stuck in a rut.’
‘Were you in a rut?’
‘Of course I was in a rut! I was a tired, strung-out harpy who couldn’t even pick an outfit from a clothes rail any more.’
‘I never noticed,’ Ed said, but his voice was gently teasing.
‘But my Italian fashion gurus have put me back on track: Inge, Isabella and Randall.’
‘Randall … sounds like an interesting guy. I hope you got his email address.’
‘No, I didn’t get his email address! He said goodbye and wished me a nice life.’
‘He’s probably looking for you on Facebook right now. And what about your other mojo – the one we were trying to revive before you left for Italy?’
Ed pulled her in a little closer and kissed the side of her neck.
‘Oh, my other mojo …?’
‘Mmmmm,’ Ed agreed, landing a kiss on the sensitive skin just below her ear.
‘Maybe it’s time to head to the bedroom and see if Italy has worked wonders there too,’ she said and reached up to kiss him.
This was good: standing in the hallway, kissing a minty clean Ed and thinking of all the things they might like to do in the bedroom.
‘Please tell me you’ve moved the laundry pile?’ she broke off to ask.
‘So, you’ve not been into the bedroom yet? Just like I asked you?’
‘No, but Owen might have sneaked in to dump a
fresh
pile of football kit on the floor. In fact, fresh is not the word I want there.’
‘No, he won’t have. I think the condition for staying over at Andy’s house tonight was that he had to clean, tidy and put away everything he’s ever owned.’
‘So just what am I going to find in there? One hundred and one dirty nappies?’ Annie teased. ‘Or maybe some dried dog sick that Dave left there earlier?’
‘No!’ Ed shook his head and smiled. ‘It’s a surprise … but a nice surprise.’
‘Ooooh … the babies are in bed, Owen’s out for the night and Ed has a nice surprise. The evening is really looking up.’
Ed pushed open the bedroom door and turned on one of the bedside lights. As Annie stepped into the room and looked around, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
‘Is this the same room?’ she asked, amazed.
‘Yes, this is the same room.’
Somehow in the short time she’d been away, Ed had organized a complete redecoration.
‘How?’ Annie asked. ‘By yourself?’
‘No, I got some help in,’ he admitted, ‘but I did the walls and it’s my styling.’
‘Styling?!’ Annie repeated, smacking his arm. That was such a non-Ed word.
All the woodwork had been repainted and the walls were now a glowing, calming, muted, beige-meets-pink. New curtains hung from a brand new rail and the clutter, the junk, the broken chair, the laundry mountain, the collection of fungal mugs – it had all vanished … evaporated, hopefully never to be seen again.
Instead, there was calm, tidy space, plus their bed loaded with snowy white pillows and linen, twinkling with fairy lights, which Ed had strung over the headboard.
‘Wow …’ she said, running her fingers over the nearest chest of drawers and wondering at the pristine surface. ‘Where did it all go?’
‘I sorted and stored, I threw away – just the rubbish, though. Don’t start worrying.’
‘
You sorted and stored?
You – the king of clutter?’
‘I can be surprisingly tidy and organized when I put my mind to it.’
‘You can. It’s amazing. It looks totally, totally beautiful,’ she gushed, ‘I’d have picked this colour myself. It’s absolutely perfect.’
‘Annie, I’ve seen the paint charts lying around. Your hints were getting a little loud.’
On one of the bedside tables, more fairy lights had been artfully arranged in a large glass vase.
‘Tell me that was Dinah,’ Annie said, and pointed, ‘or I’m going to worry about you. I’m going to
worry
that you’re about to leave teaching, burn all your tweed jackets and become an interior designer.’
‘That …’ he leaned over to kiss her, ‘was definitely Dinah.’
‘It’s so beautiful and so clean! I can’t take it in.’
‘I was hoping you’d think it looked very,
very
sexy. I was hoping you’d walk in here, be bowled over by all my hard work and think: “I must reward this man right now”.’
Ed put his arms around her waist and pulled her in close.
‘I was thinking that …’ she took a proper close look at her husband, teasing smile in place, ‘I was thinking just how inviting that fluffy white bed looked.’
‘Sexy,’ Ed reminded her.
They kissed and she felt her body melt against his. It was so good to be home, back with her family, right back at home with Ed. The very best thing about getting caught up in a Svetlana adventure was that it made normal, safe, sane home life feel just fine.
‘Just absolutely fine,’ she said.
‘What?’
Ed ran his fingers between her shoulder blades and that was enough to send a shiver of pleasure down to the base of Annie’s spine, and now she definitely wasn’t too tired.
‘One more thing,’ he said, breaking off from the kiss: ‘I haven’t shown you the best bit.’
‘No, you definitely haven’t.’
He stepped away from her and walked towards the bedroom door.
‘Look,’ he said, turning the handle and pushing the door shut.
To Annie’s surprise, it stayed closed and the handle didn’t disintegrate and fall onto the floor.
‘I can hardly believe it!’ she told him. ‘But you didn’t mend it yourself this time, did you?’
‘No, a handier handyman than me may have been involved.’
‘A closed door … a mended handle, a dog and toddler-free room …’ Annie said, letting herself fall backwards onto the plump and inviting bed, ‘what more could any girl want?’
‘Just let me know,’ Ed offered.
‘Come over here …’
‘We need to start practising for our mini-break,’ he said, moving to the bed and lying down beside her.
‘I will book us a mini-break. I promise.’
‘You’ve already promised. Now I need locations, Annie, plus dates and reservations.’
‘Definitely …’
Just as the kissing began, Annie’s mobile, abandoned on the bedside table, burst into life.
‘Ignore,’ Ed said, as she pulled away from him.
‘Shouldn’t I just …?’
‘No. I can promise it will be your fascist production assistant. Have you forgotten about her and her late-night schedule-anxiety phone calls?’
‘It’s a bit late even for her.’
Annie pulled out of his arms and reached for the phone, ‘I’ll only answer if it’s … Lana?’
Annie sat up and gave the phone her full attention now: ‘What’s up?’ she asked her daughter. ‘How are you?’
For a moment, Annie only heard gasping, choking sounds as Lana struggled to talk through a storm of tears.
‘What’s wrong? Are you OK?’
Ed was sitting up too now, face full of concern.
‘It’s the print!’ Lana managed. ‘We got him to tell us. It’s a copy. That East End designer: PoliPolka. You gave Dad a scarf, remember?’
‘Oh yes … oh no! That’s it!’
‘That’s why we’d seen it before.
He
thought he’d changed it enough. He thought he was paying
homage
, not copying. I don’t think he meant any harm. Oh the stupid arse! I could just kill him! The print is too like the original. Some of the dresses have already sold. It’s a disaster. It’s a total disaster. What are we going to do?!’
For several moments, Annie just let the news
register.
Hadn’t Svetlana said that Lana would come running back to her after their argument? Now that it was happening, there was nothing good about it. Annie didn’t feel like gloating or saying ‘I told you so,’ or ‘I knew this would end in tears’.
She felt really sorry for Lana. She didn’t just want to make it all right: she wanted to help Lana make it all right.
After listening to Lana vent her full upset and anger, Annie couldn’t offer an easy solution. The best she could suggest was that they all tried to think of a good way out.
‘I’m going to go now so I can think too, but I’ll phone you back just as soon as I can.’
‘OK … soon, Mum,’ Lana said tearfully.