2009
Sophie and Matt were in Liberty. It was his favourite shop and, as always, he insisted on getting the old wooden lift up to the top floor and then coming down by the stairs, taking in every single square metre on the way.
‘Look,’ he said, in the tableware department on the third floor, ‘they’ve got dinner plates in the style of blue plaques. How brilliant. “Agatha Christie lived here”. Sigmund Freud, Jimi Hendrix. How great would a whole wall of those look? And you could have fictional characters... “The Jabberwocky lived here”, “Eeyore lived here”. That would be cool.’
Sophie smiled at him. He always noticed things she’d missed.
‘I could paint it,’ said Matt, his face lit up with an expression she knew so well. Beau looked the same on entering a sweet shop. Possibility.
‘I know you could,’ said Sophie, laughing. ‘That’s what I’m worried about.’
‘Sophie Crommelin, food stylist, amazing mother and very sexy lady lived here...’ He pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck.
Sophie closed her eyes. He could still make her feel giddy, even after having two kids together.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Mustn’t let myself get hot and bothered. We are here on a mission to buy you a dress, an interesting dress.’
Sophie’s spirits dropped a little. ‘Can I have some say in it?’ Matt had very particular ideas about what he thought she should wear and they didn’t always quite align with hers.
‘Of course,’ said Matt. ‘Let’s see what they’ve got. I just want you to look as beautiful as you are. To strut your stuff a bit. He’s bringing his new trophy girlfriend and I want to show him that two can play that game.’
They were having dinner that night with a prominent gallerist from New York, who was possibly interested in representing Matt there. It was a big deal. He had a gallery in LA too.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll be your human Barbie doll. For one night only. But I haven’t exactly got a Barbie figure these days.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with your figure,’ said Matt, reaching down to squeeze her buttock. ‘You can show these New Yorkers what a real woman looks like. All his girlfriends look like chicken carcasses.’
Sophie didn’t relish the idea of being on show, but decided if it would help to clinch the gallery deal by making Matt feel just a bit more confident, she’d play along. He never interfered in what she wore day to day and she hadn’t really changed the way she dressed since they’d met. The jeans and tops had changed shape – and gone up a couple of sizes – but it was pretty much the same gear. That was her style and he said he liked it, so she could indulge him in this occasional dress-up game.
They arrived in the women’s designer clothes area and Sophie was immediately drawn to a dress in full tiers of different printed silks. It was beautiful, but the price tag made her flinch – nearly ￡2000.
‘Are you sure we shouldn’t go down to the more accessible fashion floor?’ she said to Matt, who was looking through the rails with a concentrated expression she knew well. The building could fall down around him when he was in that zone and he wouldn’t notice.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re having the best. You’ve got to spend it to make it. I want to show this guy we mean business. This is good...’ He pulled out a silk slip dress in a beautiful shade of café au lait.
‘That’s a really beautiful... petticoat,’ she said. ‘It’s a nightdress. I couldn’t wear it in public.’
‘Try it on,’ said Matt. ‘Just see.’
Sophie went into the changing room to put the dress on and had to admit it was lovely. The bias cut made it cling to her body, but in a flattering way. She was a lot more curvy since she’d had the boys, but in this dress, her body did seem to go in and out in the right places.
Matt stuck his head round the curtain of the changing room and whistled. ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding. ‘That one. It looks amazing on you – and I’ve chosen the shoes too. You can see them when we get home.’
As Sophie had suspected, when they got back in the early afternoon and she took the shoes out of the box, they were skimpy sandals with very high heels. She put them on with the dress and attempted to walk round the bedroom.
‘You really want me to go out like this?’ she asked him, nearly falling over as she caught one of the heels on the rug.
‘Oh, definitely,’ said Matt, coming over and wrapping his arms around her. He took hold of the dress at the hem and pulled it slowly up her body, cupping her buttocks in his hands.
‘Shouldn’t we hang the dress up?’ she said, as he started to slowly walk her towards the bed.
‘No,’ said Matt. ‘It will look better a bit lived in – and keep the shoes on too,’ he added, gently pushing her down.
Afterwards, when she was lying in his arms in a state of deep contentment, Matt ran his hand over her hair and smiled at her.
‘The way you’re feeling now,’ he said, ‘remember it when you walk into the restaurant tonight.’
And then he made love to her again.