19. HOME AGAIN
NINETEEN
HOME AGAIN
Orla had obviously had a very late night and was still sound asleep the following morning. She woke just as Tess was beginning to pack.
‘Oh, Lord!’ she moaned, glancing at Tess’s suitcase. ‘That’s what I should be doing, after I’ve had my shower though. Anyway, how did it go last night?’
‘Well, Sanjeev had to contact the ship’s doctor to get the appropriate drugs, but they seemed to have got Barry settled when I left. I don’t really want to ring anyone yet in case they’re all still asleep.’
Orla sighed. ‘Oh dear, poor Barry. And it couldn’t have done your romance a lot of good either.’
Tess gave a rueful grin. ‘Somehow or the other we always seem to get interrupted. But we had a lovely evening and – wait for it – we ate in the salubrious White Rose restaurant!’
‘I’m glad one of us made it up there,’ Orla said. ‘But tell me, are you going to be seeing the dishy doctor again at home?’
‘We’ve exchanged phone numbers,’ Tess said.
‘Well, that’s a start I suppose. Do you think he might be “the one”? ’
‘I’m not sure,’ Tess replied truthfully. ‘He’s a lovely guy, he’s handsome, he’s clever…’
‘I can sense a “but” coming,’ said Orla.
‘But I just don’t know. We’ve led such different lives.’ She told Orla about the arranged marriage, losing his wife, dedicating himself to medicine.
Orla pulled a face. ‘But surely none of that would matter a toss if you’d fallen for him hook, line and sinker? Doesn’t love conquer all?’
‘Oh, come on , Orla! I’ve only just met him, and it’s far too early to talk about love. I’m nearly sixty-three, for God’s sake! And I haven’t asked him, but I’m pretty certain he’s only in his fifties.’
‘So what? You wouldn’t want to wind up with some old codger, would you?’
Tess laughed. ‘I don’t know if I want to wind up with anyone, and I’m not at all sure I’ll be lucky enough to find someone like David again.’
‘Of course you will! And in the meantime, wouldn’t he be just the cat’s whiskers to take to the wedding?’
‘Changing the subject,’ Tess said, carefully packing one of the plates she’d bought between some layers of clothing, ‘do you have Alan’s mobile number?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I could probably risk ringing him now.’
At that very moment Tess’s phone rang.
‘I hope I haven’t woken you,’ Sanjeev said.
‘Oh, I’ve been up for ages,’ Tess replied. ‘But tell me, how’s Barry?’
‘We got him to sleep,’ Sanjeev went on. ‘I’ve just been round to have a look at him and he seems a lot better. Hopefully he’s strong enough to get on the flight home this evening. None of us want him to end up in hospital out here. We’ll pump him up with medication before we leave the ship, and I’ll be with him on the flight. Thank you again for your company last night; I really enjoyed our evening and I’ll contact you when we get back.’
‘Thank you, Sanjeev, for all you’ve done and are doing. This, for you, is what we call a busman’s holiday!’
When she related the conversation to Orla, Orla said, ‘He’s almost a bloody saint!’
‘Did I tell you he was vegetarian?’ Tess was folding up the white dress very carefully.
‘Extremely healthy. Nothing wrong with that, if you can forgo juicy steaks and roast dinners on Sundays.’
‘And he doesn’t drink.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘Of course I’m not. What’s wrong with that? That’s healthy too, you know.’
Orla snorted. ‘I’m not so sure now that he’s right for you. You could get a bit fed up looking at someone sipping lemonade for the rest of your days. In the meantime, shall we call for that sexy Spyros to bring us breakfast for the very last time?’
The bus awaiting them at Piraeus took them straight to the airport. Ed was flying to Newcastle a couple of hours after their Gatwick flight, and there was much hugging and kissing as he bade farewell to Tess and Orla in the departures lounge.
‘Do you think you’ll see him again?’ Tess asked as they headed towards the gate .
‘Probably not,’ Orla said. ‘Newcastle’s so far away.’
‘Rubbish!’ Tess said. ‘What if he lived in Australia or somewhere?’
‘That’s true. But my heart belongs to Ricky. I think .’
There was a long queue at the gate, headed by Barry, who was being transported in a wheelchair, with Alan and Sanjeev in attendance. They boarded ahead of everyone else, along with some families with young children.
The flight was uneventful, the aisles congested with a succession of trolleys selling perfumes, aftershave, gadgets, spirits and cigarettes; everything except decent food.
‘I remember the days when you got a three-course meal on a tray,’ Orla moaned. ‘And free booze.’
And then Tess saw Wally coming down the aisle, obviously heading for the toilet. He grinned when he saw Tess.
‘I spotted you doing your run a couple of times,’ he said. ‘I’m very proud of you. I can see quite a difference. Hope the wedding goes well!’ And then he was gone.
Sanjeev also managed to navigate his way down the aisle from the front of the cabin to where Tess and Orla were sitting at the back. ‘Just to let you know, Barry’s OK,’ he said, ‘but he really shouldn’t have come on this trip. He’s going into a hospice when he gets back.’
Tess felt her eyes brim with tears.
‘Don’t be upset,’ Sanjeev said. ‘He’s quite happy. He only missed out on Mykonos, otherwise he’s seen most of what he wanted to see.’
At Gatwick, as they waited at the carousel for their luggage, Tess and Orla said their goodbyes to Alan and Barry.
‘Thank God we’ve got him home,’ Alan said, medallions jingling. ‘I had a few bad moments back there. ’
Barry himself looked quite cheerful. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ he assured them. ‘Don’t worry! But thanks, everyone, for your help. I hope I haven’t been too much of a pain in the arse.’
Tess hugged him. ‘All the best, Barry, and thanks for sharing your knowledge about all those relics and things!’
Sanjeev had already got his suitcase and waved as he headed towards the exit.
Orla’s case was one of the last to appear. ‘Let’s go home,’ she said.
Back to reality! At least Dylan was pleased to see her; he kept edging his way into her suitcase as she tried to unpack. Amber had phoned, Matt had phoned. Did she have a wonderful time?
When Tess first got home all she could think of was falling into bed. Now, wide awake at 6a.m., she needed to check her emails, check her post, unpack, do some grocery shopping, and get to Curvaceous for two o’clock, to meet up with Orla and take over from poor Lauren, who’d been slaving away for eight whole days.
It wasn’t cold but it was overcast and grey and, as Tess battled her way round the aisles in Tesco, she was already dreaming of the blue skies and sunshine of the Greek islands. She might not have met the man of her dreams – or had she? – but never mind, she’d enjoyed it all and she’d taken in some culture. She’d also stepped on the scales after she’d showered, and was delighted to see that she’d only gained one pound, probably due to her deck jogging and filling up with fruit, to counteract the alcohol. She weighed twelve stone exactly, and was determined to lose a few more pounds in the three weeks before the wedding. And she’d acquired a good tan. Would Sanjeev get in touch? And Barry… what about Barry? Would Orla and Ed meet up again? Would Alan and Peggy make a go of it? Or were they all destined to be just holiday romances?
At two o’clock on the dot Tess was back at the boutique, unsure of exactly what she might find. She found Lauren, reading a Jilly Cooper and drinking a coffee. ‘It’s been manic,’ she told Tess. ‘I’ve sold almost everything in the shop. You’re going to be doing a lot of sewing, Tess!’
No doubt about it, Lauren had done a good job. Even Orla was impressed when she arrived a few minutes later, although she was hell-bent on not admitting it until Lauren had disappeared.
‘Well, she has to be good at something ,’ she said, dismissing her daughter-in-law with a wave of her hand.
That afternoon, Mrs Byron-Sommers appeared to collect her outfit. To Tess’s relief Reg had obviously decided it was worthy of payment, and Mrs Byron-Sommers handed over a cheque for the whole amount, with much sighing and grunting. The woman did not believe in card payments or any form of technology and, as she’d once informed Tess, at great length, she’d never give house-room to a computer.
She grudgingly admitted that the dress and jacket were exactly what she’d asked for and that she supposed she’d wear them some time. And she’d quite like to have another look at the midnight blue silk. She then waddled out of the shop, clutching the carrier bag, and collapsed onto her motorised scooter before rattling her way over the cobbles in Penny Lane and back to the High Street.
‘If that woman lost about ten stone, she wouldn’t need that thing,’ Orla remarked, peering out of the window. ‘Talking of which, are you going back to Slim Chance? How is it these days? ’
‘Slim Chance has done a great job,’ Tess replied, feeling proud of her hard work.
At her Slim Chance session later in the week, Tess discovered she’d lost a further three pounds due, in no small way, to the fact that she’d starved herself for the past four days since her return. Only four more pounds and she’d have lost an amazing two and a half stone – thirty-five pounds!
Now it was time to go in search of The Outfit. Tess tramped round Milbury’s one and only department store, with no success. She looked online and then wondered how many dresses she’d have to return if they didn’t come up to her exacting standards. Even if she had time to make something for herself, she realised that she’d love – just for once – to be blown away by a ready-made dress. Naturally she had a critical eye for style, colour and finish. She’d been known, much to the embarrassment of whoever was accompanying her, to turn ready-made items inside out to examine the seams and the lining, causing much exaggerated sighing from salesladies. A shopping trip to town was necessary.
She called Amber, who said she was free on Friday so why didn’t her mother come up to town, and they’d ‘do’ Oxford Street and have a nice lunch somewhere as well? It sounded good to Tess so, on the Friday, she got the train to Waterloo and then the Tube to meet up with Amber at Oxford Circus.
‘Hey, Mum, you’re looking good! You’re in great shape and I love the tan!’
Tess felt ridiculously pleased. Now she knew it had been worth all the exercise: getting up early every morning to jog around Milbury, running laps on the boat and, not least, queuing up to be weighed every week at Slim Chance. Amber was another one who did not dole out such compliments lightly.
Two and a half hours later, having tramped their way down half of Oxford Street, Tess was exhausted. She’d tried on a dozen possible outfits, none of which had particularly excited her.
‘Let’s have lunch,’ Amber said. ‘I know a great little place near Selfridges, and we can go in there afterwards.’
The restaurant served every kind of salad imaginable, along with a bewildering selection of low-calorie dressings.
‘You see, Mum, I have your best interests at heart!’ Amber laughed as her mother oohed and aahed over the menu.
They got through a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc as well, which Tess reckoned was perfectly OK because of the amount of foot-slogging they were doing; pounding the pavements, trailing round enormous fashion floors and trying to find escalators.
‘I don’t think Dad and the Arse are hitting it off too well at the moment,’ Amber said chattily, popping some shrimps into her mouth.
‘Really?’ Tess laid down her fork.
‘Yes, really. I saw Dad last Wednesday and he made several caustic remarks about Arsula, about how much money she was spending and how many business trips she was making – that sort of thing.’
‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ Tess said. ‘Divine retribution.’
‘He asked about you as well,’ Amber continued. ‘Thought you’d lost weight, and were you OK? Funnily enough, he also asked if you were “seeing anyone”, which I thought was a bit strange. So I said, “Mum? You must be joking!”’
‘Well, thanks a bunch!’ Tess snapped.
‘But, Mum, you’re not seeing anyone, are you?’
‘That’s not the point. I just don’t see why it should be such a ridiculous idea,’ Tess said, feeling slightly sensitive, knowing that her efforts at romance had mostly fallen on stony ground – not that she’d admit any of this to Amber.
‘It’s not so much that it’s a ridiculous idea,’ Amber went on, ‘it’s just so unlikely ! I mean, you have your friends and your dressmaking and your shop…’
‘That doesn’t mean that I’m immune to the opposite sex,’ Tess replied. ‘It just means I’m busy.’
‘Exactly! So I said to Dad, “That’ll be the day when Mum gets round to finding herself a boyfriend,” and we both laughed.’
Tess gritted her teeth. What was so damned funny about her not having a man friend? Did they pity her because she was on her own? And what was wrong with that anyway, in this age of female equality and independence? Nevertheless, this conversation had made her think it was now imperative that she find an attractive escort for the wedding. Dare she ask Sanjeev, if he ever phoned? Would he think it peculiar to be asked to a wedding amongst a family he didn’t know?
Eager to change the subject, Tess asked, ‘Can we have a dessert, do you think?’
‘Yes, they have some really yummy yoghurt-based ones here which aren’t a bit fattening. It’ll give us the strength to plod our way round Selfridges. ’
Tess had never had much luck in Selfridges before but, hallelujah, there it was! It was displayed on a pedestal and she spotted it as soon as she stepped off the escalator. The dress was emerald green and stunning. It had elbow-length sleeves, a V-neckline, and was semi-fitted and very elegant. It was, of course, expensive.
‘It’s you , Mum!’ Amber enthused. ‘It’s stunning!’
‘I don’t suppose they have it in a size sixteen,’ Tess sighed. ‘If they do, I’ll know it’s meant for me!’ She badly wanted it, although she didn’t want to spend such an obscene amount of money.
‘Go on! It’s for my special day,’ Amber pleaded. ‘And you are the mother of the bride! So, ask if they have a sixteen.’
They didn’t. But they did have a fourteen, said the saleslady, and she was sure a size fourteen would fit.
Tess felt deflated. It wasn’t meant to be. She’d been a size sixteen, occasionally an eighteen and – lately – a twenty ! She’d been so horrified she’d cut all the labels out. Now, even with her weight loss, a fourteen was too much to hope for.
‘Go on, try it, Mum!’
What if it got stuck when she was trying to get it over her head? Or what if the zip broke? She’d die from embarrassment. But…
‘OK, I’ll try it,’ she said finally, knowing that otherwise she’d think about it for weeks afterwards and wish she’d at least tried it on. And Amber would nag.
As they headed towards the changing room, Amber said, ‘You know how these sizes vary, Mum. It’s high time they were standardised. ’
But the dress didn’t get stuck as she slipped it over her head and the zip didn’t break. Amber said it was too loose and she should try the twelve.
‘No, this is fine,’ protested Tess.
‘These are generously cut,’ said the saleslady. ‘I think you should try the twelve.’
‘Go on, Mum!’
Unbelievably, the fit of the size twelve was perfect. Tess was not given to conceit but she knew this dress looked terrific on her. It was pre-destined, surely! A twelve! She wouldn’t be cutting the label out of this one.
‘Mum, you look fabulous! Particularly with that tan!’
‘Yes, it is lovely. But what colour accessories could I team it with?’
‘For God’s sake, Mum, cream or black or almost anything would go with it. Experiment when you get home.’
So Tess bought the dress.
Exhausted, Tess sank into her favourite chair with a big mug of tea. Normally she’d be imbibing a large glass of wine at this time in the evening, but the few glasses at lunchtime were now making her feel sleepy. She was thrilled about the dress, although less so by the hole it had made in her savings – but never mind. And, as Amber had pointed out, she could wear it anywhere, any time, and it would look perfect. A wardrobe investment, in fact. She left the dress hanging on the outside of the wardrobe door so she could admire it. She couldn’t, of course, afford to put on a single ounce, which would surely spur her on to lose a few more pounds. Sound advice from Judy .
The following Monday, Orla climbed up into the passenger seat of the enormous juggernaut and set off for Birmingham with Ricky. Ricky appeared to be sixtyish, broad and brawny, with his remaining hair tied neatly in a ponytail. And Orla looked like the cat who’d got the cream.
By herself in the shop for a couple of days, Tess considered her own situation. Would Sanjeev phone? Probably not; just a holiday romance. Not even a proper holiday romance! There was, of course, still a chance, however small, to meet someone else in the next couple of weeks.
When Orla returned three days later, she was full of her trip to Birmingham with Ricky to see Maeve, and Maeve’s amazing house. Maeve had married an architect and their home, which he’d designed, would make anything from Grand Designs look positively suburban.
‘I kept walking into glass,’ Orla said. ‘Glass walls, glass everything. No blinds, no curtains, just press a button and the glass becomes opaque. Well, I hope it did anyway, otherwise half of Birmingham would have seen me undressing.’
‘Doesn’t sound very cosy,’ Tess remarked, as she fitted a summery floral dress on Dolly the dummy. ‘Did you enjoy it all?’
‘And they eat organic,’ Orla went on. ‘Everything’s organic. Maeve goes round peering at labels to see if they’ve listed any preservatives or artificial colouring, and all that.’
‘You still haven’t told me if you enjoyed yourself or not?’
‘Well, I did, in a way. But I tell you what, I was ever so glad to see Ricky on the way back. We stopped off for fish and chips and, boy, did I wolf it down! And bright green mushy peas! Maeve would have had a fit! It was heaven! Anyway, what’s happening with you? Any word from that Sanjeev?’
‘Nothing. I’m meeting another “heart” tomorrow though. Desperate times call for desperate measures.’