10. COCKTAILS AND CAJOLERY
TEN
COCKTAILS AND CAJOLERY
Tess spent the next couple of days in preparation. She paid a visit to the hairdresser for some highlights and lowlights, she shaved her wintry legs (not that he’d see them, of course, but simply knowing her legs were hairless made her feel more attractive), and she covered her pallor with some St Tropez. Then she delved into her underwear drawer for some tummy-toning knickers to compress the flab. Better take two pairs: one for going and one for coming back. That’s if she decided to stay, which was by no means a foregone conclusion because, should Andy be anything like her previous encounters, she’d be leaving promptly, cocktails or not. Then she wondered what to wear on top. Trousers? A dress? In the end she chose her smart new black trousers with a cream silk top and her cream tweed Chanel-type jacket. She packed the spare knickers, a nightie and a warm sweater for the journey home, along with her toiletries.
It was just after six when Tess drove through the gates of the Beeches and up the long drive, feeling very apprehensive and a little out of her comfort zone. The approach was bordered by the beeches, through which she could see immaculate lawns and a beautiful magnolia tree on the left. The car park was hidden round the back and, after a lot of manoeuvring, she finally found one available parking space. Then she wondered whether to take in the overnight bag or whether to leave it in the car in case she had to make a speedy getaway. After a few minutes’ lip chewing she decided it would appear presumptuous, to say the least, to meet Andy with a suitcase in hand. Feeling nervous, she walked into the reception area and gave her name to the pretty blonde receptionist at the desk. Mr Barrymore, she was told, would be with her in just a moment.
Tess settled herself into the corner of a leather Chesterfield sofa under a potted palm, and looked around at the chic decor, which was completely in keeping with the traditional exterior. She looked at the well-dressed group of people chatting quietly next to a collection of suitcases and wondered if they were coming or going.
‘Tess?’
She jumped. He’d approached her from behind. Now she could see that Andy Barrymore was tall and every bit as attractive as his photograph. Tess gulped as she stood up and shook his outstretched hand.
‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long?’
‘No, no, not at all.’ Tess noted his beautiful dark grey suit and pristine white shirt, with just enough cuff on display. What a smoothie! And he bore more than a passing resemblance to the lovely late Cary Grant, whom she had swooned over in the cinema during her teenage years.
‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,’ he said, giving her a winning smile. Then, glancing at his watch: ‘I’m sure the sun’s over the yardarm by now, so why don’t we have a little drink and get to know one another?’
‘Thank you, Andy,’ Tess murmured. ‘That would be great.’
He shepherded her into the long bar, people sitting or standing in groups. Pale polished floorboards matching the pale, polished clientele. This minimalist look was completely at odds with the Edwardian reception area, and certainly made a change from a pub. At the far end the bi-fold doors led onto a lawn, and could that be a lake? Not a copper kettle in sight! No open fire either.
‘You must have one of our cocktails,’ said Andy, pulling out a chair for her at a small table. ‘Our barman’s a real expert.’
The barman was putting on a well-rehearsed routine of bottle tossing and shaker rattling, playing to the audience who had gathered round to admire his expertise.
‘May I recommend one of our specialities, Tess?’
‘Oh, please do,’ she replied, unable to remember when she’d last had a cocktail. As he headed towards the bar, Tess had a brief image of Amber’s wedding reception here in the summer, with the doors open to the garden and guests strolling towards the lake. ( Tess’s new man owns this lot , Gerry would inform an open-mouthed Ursula. Amazing, isn’t it? So much classier than Ashley Grange! )
‘Here we are!’ Andy said, as Tess returned to reality. He placed down on the table two tall glasses filled with a cream-coloured concoction, loaded with crushed ice and orange and lemon slices on top. ‘Sarasota Sunset,’ he informed her, sitting down opposite.
As he spoke, a waiter appeared with bowls of olives, pistachios and macadamia nuts .
Tess took a sip. It was delicious, but didn’t taste particularly strong. ‘Oh, wow!’ she said.
He smiled at her as he pushed the olives in her direction. ‘Tell me about yourself, Tess.’
Another sip and Tess felt her tension dissipating, along with her lack of confidence. She told him about her family, about the dressmaking and Curvaceous.
Andy told her he was divorced, had two daughters – both married with teenage kids – and about how he’d started as a humble trainee chef forty-five years earlier. He’d worked his way up, saved every penny, and it hadn’t been easy. Dedication and determination were the only road to success, he said.
‘Gosh!’ he added. ‘I’ve been so busy talking that I hadn’t noticed our glasses are empty. Did you enjoy that? Shall we have another Sarasota Sunset?’
Tess hadn’t realised that she’d drunk it so quickly – it was sweet and delicious, with just a tiny bit of a kick. She detected a liqueur base; was that Cointreau? And there was something else – a creamier liqueur of some sort – topped up with champagne?
‘Oh well, perhaps just one more,’ she said.
Andy clicked his fingers. ‘Dino!’ Dino appeared as if by magic. ‘More of the same, please.’
The barman got busy and Dino reappeared, brandishing two more Sarasota Sunsets, giving Tess a dazzling Latin smile.
Tess could imagine summer days and sultry evenings in this place. The muted grey walls, the naked bulb lighting and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors weren’t her normal taste, but they were growing on her fast. Andy was a very attractive man indeed, and a real charmer to boot. Now he wanted to know what she might like to eat and what her favourite wine was. Did she like fish? Absolutely fresh, caught this very morning and delivered straight to his kitchen.
She told him about her childhood in Scotland, about her sister Barbara, who’d eloped with Omar, and about her parents’ disapproval. ‘She’s widowed now but lives in Nice and never comes back to the UK. God only knows if she’ll come to my daughter’s wedding.’
‘Another Sarasota Sunset?’ he asked.
Perhaps not, she thought. I’m already feeling a little dreamy.
‘Or how about some champagne then?’ he persisted. ‘Bollinger be OK?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t really,’ she said. Then Tess thought, Why the hell shouldn’t I! ‘Well, perhaps just one wee glass then.’
One glass of champagne later and they’d covered the details of his rise to fame and fortune. It was now nearly eight o’clock. ‘Time for dinner,’ Andy announced.
Tess stood up, aware of being none too steady on her feet. He led the way into the adjoining dining room, to a sea of white tablecloths, crystal glasses, silver tableware and real flowers on each table. She noticed the tasteful, muted colours, the expensive prints on the walls, and the soft classical music coming from somewhere as an accompaniment to the low hum of conversation and the clinking of knives and forks. She sat down at the table for two overlooking the garden, and felt warm and happy and hungry. She hadn’t had time for lunch as she’d been intent on making a pattern for Amber’s dress. After that she’d varnished her nails and they’d taken forever to dry, so she couldn’t risk grabbing a snack in case she smudged them .
Andy handed her an enormous menu, most of which was written in French. It was obviously the ladies’ version, with not a price in sight.
‘What would you recommend, Andy?’
‘Shall we plump for the fish?’ he suggested again.
That, she felt, would be a wise choice; after two creamy cocktails and a glass of champagne, rich sauces were a definite no-no. She had to think about Slim Chance next week and the lecture she might get from Judy. She settled for a seafood starter and sea bass for her main.
The waiter appeared to take their order. ‘May I recommend the C?tes de Gascogne Colombard, Mr Barrymore?’
‘Do you have a particular favourite, Tess?’ Andy asked.
‘Well, I like Sauvignon Blanc and Chablis,’ she replied. ‘I really don’t mind.’
‘We’ll have the Chablis then, Dino,’ said Andy, snapping shut the wine list with a flourish.
The wine arrived; the food arrived, each plate artistically presented. Sauces were drizzled, vegetables were layered, wine glasses were topped up. Tess was aware that her speech was slightly slurred because her mouth wasn’t quite shaping the words the way she wanted it to. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t carry her drink – of course she could! And he was such an attractive man!
Would she like dessert? She had to be weighed again next Tuesday, so no, she wouldn’t.
‘Just a few fresh strawberries then?’ he persisted.
She thought for a moment. ‘Oh, that would be lovely!’ Had she pronounced the ‘v’? Never mind, strawberries were fine. They arrived with a little pot of clotted cream on the side, and a glass of champagne as a final flourish.
‘Oh, I shouldn’t!’ Tess said guiltily.
‘Of course you should!’ said Andy.
Well, she thought, just one wee spoonful of cream perhaps. She gulped some champagne.
‘We’ll take coffee in the lounge,’ he said.
Tess hoped she could stand up without wobbling. She rose a little shakily from her chair and accepted his proffered arm as they walked out of the dining room.
‘I think I might be a wee bit tipsy,’ Tess murmured. Good heavens, she thought, it must be years since I’ve let loose like this!
‘Of course you’re not! But would you prefer to have coffee in your room, Tess? And have you brought an overnight bag? If you give me your keys I’ll get Dino to fetch the bag for you. What’s the registration number?’
Tess thought for a moment or two. ‘It’s a silver Focus,’ she said at last.
‘Ah yes,’ said Andy, ‘but there’s a lot of them around, so we’ll need the registration.’
The registration? Tess thought hard. She’d had the car for five years, so of course she knew the registration! There was a four in there somewhere, and an eight.
‘There’s a four and an eight in it,’ she said at last, then hiccupped.
‘Tell you what,’ Andy said, ‘we’ll go to the car together, shall we?’
As they emerged into the cool night air, Tess tried to remember where she’d parked the car. There were fewer cars now than earlier, but they all looked silver in the artificial light .
‘I’ve got to focus on the Focus!’ Tess giggled.
It took a little time to locate it, and then Andy unlocked the door and withdrew her bag.
‘Let’s get to your room and we’ll order some coffee,’ he said, one hand holding the bag and the other supporting Tess’s elbow. Then, up they went in the lift to the second floor where she was ushered into Room 206, a large bedroom with a king-sized bed, all in a sea of taupe and cream with chocolate-coloured accents. Tess suspected Kelly Hoppen might have been summoned to perform some of her magic here. She looked longingly at the bed and hoped Andy wouldn’t hang around for too long. He was very fanciable and who knew what might happen on subsequent meetings? Anyway, there was no way he could possibly be allowed to view these big knickers, which were currently having to work extra hard. But it would be rude to shove him out of the door after his generosity this evening. She wouldn’t mind a kiss! And she would, of course, offer to pay for this room.
‘I think,’ said Andy, ‘that we should round off the evening with a nice little liqueur. What say you , Tess?’
‘Perhaps a Scots lass like yourself would like Drambuie?’
‘No, really, Andy?—’
‘Nonsense!’ He was already on the phone.
She sat down on a low cream sofa and looked around the bedroom. Didn’t he have any single rooms? Perhaps they were all taken. All she really really wanted was to go to bed; she didn’t think she could last much longer. But within minutes, the ever-obliging Dino appeared bearing a tray of coffee, plus cups, milk and sugar, and a bottle of Drambuie with two tiny glasses .
‘Won’t do you any harm,’ declared her host with a twinkle in his eye, as he filled both glasses up to the brim.
Tess hadn’t drunk liqueurs in years. And she most certainly should not be having one now… but she’d quite forgotten how very nice Drambuie was. The taste warmed her up and she noticed again quite how attractive Andy was.
‘Tess, I think you should lie down,’ said Andy.
‘Yes, I must,’ she agreed, gazing longingly at the bed. And for the first time in years her thoughts were not just about sleep.
He helped her to stand up and guided her across the room to the bed, deftly removed the mountain of cushions and the bedcover, and turned back the duvet.
‘I’d like to kiss you, Tess,’ he murmured, looking into her eyes. ‘You’re a very attractive lady.’
And he was a very attractive man. How could she refuse after his generosity? After all, you only lived once…
When Tess awoke it was dark. For a minute she hadn’t the faintest idea where she was. She tried to recall getting into bed. And why wasn’t she wearing her nightie? She had no recollection of undressing but, nevertheless, she should have remembered to put on her nightie. Was there a lamp somewhere? She stretched out her hand in the hope of finding a light, and instead found another naked body. Dear God!
The body came to life. ‘Are you all right?’ it asked sleepily.
‘No,’ said Tess, trying to sit up. ‘What are you doing here? ’
‘I’m afraid we both had a little too much to drink,’ he said. ‘But, come! Lie down, it’s way too early.’
And Tess felt herself being enveloped in two warm arms, pressed against a manly chest, and aware – for the first time in years – of a virile protuberance. And, also for the first time in years, she felt herself responding.
The next time Tess woke up it was daylight, and she was alone. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She could hear a blackbird singing outside her window, but otherwise all was quiet. She checked the time: seven o’clock.
Tess tried to collect her chaotic thoughts together and groaned. He’d been here, in this bed, and they’d made love. And she seemed to remember that she’d enjoyed it. But she had no recollection of getting into bed with him, or of him getting into bed with her. God, she must have been three sheets to the wind! Had she washed? Had she cleaned her teeth?
She got up gingerly, and crossed the room to open the curtains and look around. Was he in the bathroom, perhaps? No, he wasn’t. In fact, there was no trace of him anywhere. Had she dreamed it? Then she noticed her trousers and jacket on a hanger, dangling on the outside of the wardrobe door. Had she taken the time to do that? And then she saw the rest of her clothes folded neatly on the chair and, on the top, the knickers, folded lengthwise. She’d never have folded her knickers!
With realisation came horror. Oh no! Oh, please God, no !
Feeling sick, she wandered into the bathroom and looked closely in the mirror at the smudged make-up and tangled hair. I can never face him again, she thought, never. It was as she wandered back into the bedroom that she saw the note on the bedside table.
Sorry to have abandoned you, but I have to be on duty and you need your sleep! It was a wonderful evening – and night! Just leave when you’re ready and I’ll hope to see you in reception, but I have a group of Japanese guests to look after, so forgive me if I don’t. Will be in touch.
Andy X
Tess read it again. He probably reckoned he’d had a lucky escape from this drunken woman, make-up smudged all over her face, with big, ugly knickers. But the lovemaking had been rather nice, if speedy. Tess groaned. She’d have a shower, get dressed and get out of here. Then she looked at her overnight bag. It had never been opened.
She felt marginally better after she’d showered and made herself some tea from the hospitality tray. She donned the spare pair of knickers and got dressed, hoping she could slink out of the hotel without seeing anyone. Tess repacked her bag, opened the door a tiny chink and, furtively, looked both ways along the corridor. She was in Room 206 but she’d little idea of how she’d got here. Where was the lift? She could hear the sound of a service trolley and the housekeeping maids chattering round the corner. And she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard one of them say, ‘Who had he got in 206 last night?’
The other one snorted. ‘ God only knows! How many’s that he’s had this week? ’
‘Not so many,’ said her companion. ‘Only a couple, but last week must have broken the record!’
‘Randy bugger!’ said the other.
Tess closed the door again. She felt sick. How could she pass these women to get to the lift? She looked cautiously round the door again and noticed, with great relief, an exit sign pointing in the opposite direction.
She picked up her bag and headed for the lift. There were several people in reception, but no Japanese tourists, and no Andy. Come to think of it, he hadn’t looked that much like the lovely Cary Grant.
Tess walked quickly through the door and headed towards her car, eager to be home.