Chapter 16 #2
But just before she dialled that number, her thoughts turned to Svetlana again.
In so many ways, they were friends. They had spent a lot of time together, they’d been through a lot together.
They knew a great deal about each other and they still liked, even loved each other.
But… there was always a but with Svetlana.
She was a very wealthy woman who lived a very different kind of life.
She had a full-time, live-in maid. She had staff who did her admin and ran her finances.
She’d had the kind of husbands who ran business empires, multi-nationals, who employed not just one chauffeur but several, although she had finally found herself a wonderful, completely dependable man.
And even if Svetlana’s life was a scaled-down version of what it had once been, it was still the kind of lifestyle a Hollywood celebrity might be a little bit jealous of.
The town house in Mayfair, summers in St Tropez, endless spa breaks, luxury shopping trips at the bat of an eyelid.
Sometimes it was hard to even hang out with her because where did Svetlana want to go or to be that Annie could even afford?
But still… there was a connection, an admiration, a mutual respect…
wasn’t there? They had done so many things together.
They had helped each other out. They had gone through difficult times together.
There was a lot behind them… and Annie had hoped there was a lot ahead for them too.
Including making this show just as incredible as it could possibly be.
And now… well, look what had happened. Look where they were.
Paula
Any news… any news at all?
came another message from Paula.
Followed by:
Paula
Do I keep sorting through boxes? Do I stop sorting??
Annie
Don’t panic.
Annie knew she was already panicking.
Annie
Just hold tight for now. I’m sure we will know something soon.
She looked around her kitchen wondering if it was too soon for another coffee.
Maybe she could get out the vacuum and head for the disaster zone that was the sitting room.
Max and Minnie had spent the entire evening rushing around in there.
Forts had been built out of blankets and chairs, popcorn had been made and probably spilled all over the place.
The sofa was all crinkled and saggy with crushed pillows and was long overdue a deep-clean.
She could take all the cushions off, vacuum out all the crevices, strip the covers even, bung things in the wash.
Yes, a thorough tussle with the sofa, tugging off covers, vacuuming vigorously…
that would take her mind off the anxiety about the show…
or the not happening show. She might even find money down there, in fact, almost certainly she would.
She could end up being paid for this chore!
She got the vacuum out from the small and chaotic cupboard under the stairs and dragged it into the sitting room, which was somehow in a worse state than she’d expected – a jumble of blankets, toys and chairs had been pulled in from the kitchen, popcorn everywhere, sofa cushions on the floor, in piles on the sofa, one on top of the piano…
a small, exploded juice box on the floor, its contents splattered around the carpet in a sticky puddle.
How had she not noticed all this last night?
The lights had been dim, she remembered.
She’d gone upstairs early for a bath, to try and take her mind off the worries about the show.
The usually domesticated Ed must have been too tired to sort things out.
OK, time for the vacuum, a cloth, the tussle with the sofa and soon this would all be sorted out.
She glanced up at the window, noticing in the pale sunlight that it could really do with a wash.
Beyond the rose bush and the straggly shoots of green hedge in the front garden, a car seemed to be pulling up outside.
Annie straightened up and took a closer look out of the window.
A big, glossy, dark car had definitely pulled up right outside her house.
She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone, not in her current mid-vacuum state of mind.
And this car didn’t look as if it was delivering a pizza or a bag of groceries.
She couldn’t see much beyond the hedge and the low front garden wall, so she stood on her tiptoes to try and get a better view.
To her utter surprise… not to mention shock, a perfectly turned-out Svetlana in heels, leather skirt, full make up, done hair, was walking, head held high, up the path towards the front door.
* * *
Annie was frozen to the spot. The vacuum still in her hand.
The juice box still smooshed on the floor, the sofa cushions scattered, not to mention the blankets draped all over the place.
Svetlana was at the door. If Svetlana was ever to come to Annie’s house, it just could not be like this!
Not on a day when there was dirt and child mess and exploded juice boxes and not to mention Annie in an outfit that could barely even be described as ‘leisure wear.’ She let go of the vacuum, ran her fingers through her hair and decided the sitting room was out of bounds.
If Svetlana was coming in… would she come in?
Could that happen? Maybe Svetlana was here to coldly and finally drop something off and tell Annie that this was it – the show was over, their friendship was dead and that was the end of all those good times they’d had in the past together.
Had Svetlana even seen her? Maybe there was still time to turn out any lights and hide until Svetlana went away.
Then the next time she came back, Annie could be fully prepared.
Her sitting room could be completely to rights like on an Instagram feed, with scented candles burning.
Her kitchen could be spotless and gleaming with the aroma of fresh coffee and freshly baked cookies which she would hand out on a platter only for Svetlana, perched at the spotless island – minus its biro scribbles – to daintily refuse.
Because she never let one morsel pass her lips ‘between meals’.
In fact, most of her sustenance was fluid-based – tiny, strong espressos, glasses of champagne and vodka martinis so strong and so cold, they left you gasping slightly for breath.
Had Svetlana ever visited her at home before?
Annie scanned her memory, while still huddled at the back of the sitting room, wondering if there would be a ring at the door, or if Svetlana was merely going to deposit something and hurry back to her chauffeur.
But then, if this was just a drop and dash, wouldn’t she have asked the chauffeur to do it?
Years back, she remembered, when she was running her makeover businesses from the basement – that’s when Svetlana had been here.
That’s how she had Annie’s address in her files.
But since then, no. They met in gorgeous cafés and high-end cocktail bars, or Annie went to wherever Svetlana was staying. Annie was summoned more like.
Her racing thoughts were interrupted by a long and quite startling driiiiiiing on the doorbell.
Oh, hells bells. Doorbell of hell… Svetlana was there, on the other side of the door wanting a showdown…
wanting who-knew-what. And Annie was unready.
Unprepared. Who turns up unannounced, nowadays?
Would it have been too much to ask for a ten-minute warning text, so she could have flown about the house on a lightning tidy and changed into something much more…
appropriate than school-run-Mum. As she stood rooted to the spot with anxiety, indecision and the fear of being found like this, the doorbell drilled insistently through the hallway once again.
Too late… too late for anything other than opening the door, maybe protesting that she hadn’t had time to tidy the house, dress up, whatever…
and then listen to whatever it was that Svetlana wanted to say.
Annie trudged towards the door wondering what her fate was going to be.
Maybe it had all been a little too good to be true – running a major London charity fashion show with one of the wealthiest women in Mayfair…
attended by all the beautiful people. Maybe it was just never meant to be.
Annie turned the lock and pulled the door back.
There was Svetlana, in the kind of soft, pale grey fashion-forward power suit that she had adopted of late, along with the expensively blonde bob that had replaced her once signature up-do.
To Annie’s surprise, Svetlana’s face broke into a delighted smile.
She felt a little glimmer of hope stirring.
Maybe something… somehow, could be worked out.
‘Oh, Annah, you are home! This is good, this is so good,’ Svetlana gushed, extending her arms and Annie was caught up in a hug that was a little overpowering.
Gusts of perfume and hairspray enveloped her, a large diamond earring pressed against her cheek, while the firm crush of the impressive Svetlana cleavage pushed against her chest.
‘I had to rush over to see you, immediately,’ Svetlana told her.
‘First of all, I have to say… well…’ There was a pause.
‘I am sorry, Annah… I have been ridiculous about this…’ she waved her hand vaguely, ‘permission. I didn’t take it seriously and then it was too late and now I have caused all this trouble and the beautiful garden will not be used. I am very sad and very sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ Annie heard herself saying, though really, a Svetlana apology was such a rare beast that she would quite like to have dragged it out for a bit longer. ‘We all make mistakes or in your case, great huge steaming disasters—’
‘I have found somewhere new,’ Svetlana declared, looking pleased with herself, ‘and I have brought you a present and I have made it myself.’