Chapter Six #2
‘Yes and she liked it. Really liked it. I couldn’t believe it, she never likes my ideas.’
I washed my hands very thoroughly with soap, not looking at her. ‘That’s because it wasn’t your idea.’
‘Technically, yes.’ Emily was now trying to catch my eye in the mirror. ‘But at that point I could hardly say it was yours. Have you any idea what it’s like working for her? You’re lucky. Max lets you get away with anything.’
If she was expecting me to sympathise as usual, she’d misjudged things. This time I was seriously pissed off. I narrowed my eyes and turned to face her.
‘Fine, Emily,’ I said, firmly making eye contact for the first time.
‘But why didn’t you tell me? I’m hardly going to march over to Fiona and say, “Actually it was my idea”.
’ Did she really think so little of me? ‘Christ, it’s not as if you haven’t had ample opportunity.
We do live together. From the sound of things you’ve been negotiating with Miranda for a few days. ’
With that said, I flounced out of the loo, stomping back to my desk. After all the help I’d given her that morning with Peter’s email! Well, she could bloody well sort her own mad emails out from now on.
Unfortunately that’s just what she did.
* * *
I was so fed up with Emily that I phoned Kate for a moan, but she wasn’t particularly sympathetic, in fact she was bloody miserable which reminded me of Mum’s conversation the previous evening.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ I asked.
‘Meeting up with Caroline for a drink, except she’s just phoned. Typical, I’m already on the train to London and she’s held up. I’m going to have hours to kill. What are you doing?’
‘I’ve got an idea. Give me five minutes and I’ll call you back.’ I knew just the thing. Isabelle on the floor above was always offering me complimentary visits to one of her client’s places.
* * *
‘You have such a brilliant job,’ Kate said letting out a long, heartfelt sigh as she tucked her towel tighter around her chest, and wiping her hair off her face.
‘Mmm.’ It was all I could do to answer her. Lying full-length in the delicious heat, the warmth was penetrating my muscles unfurling the knots of tension in them. I hadn’t realised how much Emily had wound me up.
‘I could get used to this.’ Kate’s voice sounded wistful.
That sounded like a good cue to me. I sat up. Too quickly! I felt light-headed for a second in the hot air.
‘You missing Greg?’ I asked sympathetically.
‘What?’ asked Kate, looking confused for a moment.
‘Gorgeous Greg, the surf-stud?’ I teased. ‘He of the six-pack.’
‘Six? You mean eight. Everything’s more macho in Australia, Sheila.’
Clearly that wasn’t the problem, so what was it? Was Mum imagining things? There was only one other thing I thought it might be.
‘Poor old Bill. I bet he’s only got a six-pack,’ I said.
‘Where did that come from?’ she asked rather sharply, looking at me. ‘What about Bill?’
Bingo. As I suspected.
‘It’s not every day you get picked to play rugby for England. He’s been in every newspaper this week,’ I answered. ‘I just wondered if you might have had a change of heart.’ I used my towel to dab at the water dripping down my neck.
‘As if that impresses me,’ she snapped, looking up for a second and sticking her nose in the air.
I looked at her and opened my mouth in astonishment. ‘Gosh, it impresses the hell out of me. He’s done so well to be selected and how great would it be to say you’re going out with an England rugby player?’
‘There was never any chance of that,’ she said more gently, shaking her head, clumps of hair plastering her damp cheeks. A small part of me relished her looking dishevelled.
She sighed. ‘Much as Bill hoped, nothing was ever going to happen.’
‘Why not?’ I asked, turning my palms up to the ceiling.
‘What was wrong with him?’ I never did get it.
Bill reminded me of a young Hugh Grant in his bumbling, gentle way.
The same floppy hair and bemused expression although that’s where the similarity ended.
At six foot five he was much taller and twice the width.
Bill didn’t play in the back row for nothing.
For some strange reason he adored Kate and never bothered to hide it, to her total embarrassment.
‘He was my boss for one thing,’ she said, tapping the wooden slat beside her with her fingernail. ‘And you know he’s not my type.’
‘You mean he doesn’t work in the City and wear pinstripes,’ I said cynically.
Her fingernail was still tapping. ‘Don’t knock it. It might not matter to you, but it does to me.’
True. We were totally the wrong way round. I had the job with the smart clothes and restaurant lifestyle and while I enjoyed it, it wasn’t essential to my happiness in the same way it seemed to be to Kate.
When she’d stuck at Gainsboro’s Plumbing Supplies for more than the usual three months, Mum thought perhaps she’d found her niche. Aside from Bill’s devotion, Kate acquired a fan club among the plumbers thanks to her designer’s eye and constant suggestions for tiles, fittings and sanitaryware.
‘I want someone who’s going places. Not some family-run business where the pinnacle of success is a contract supplying gold-plated taps to footballers in Chelsea Harbour.
’ Her finger tapped in time with her staccato sentences.
‘Someone with ambition. Style. Money.’ Tap, tap.
‘Someone who doesn’t buy the same pair of trousers .
. . in three different colours . . . from the same shop because’ tap ‘. . . they’re comfy. ’ Her voice rose as she finished.
‘Not Bill, then.’ I said sadly. Shame, he was lovely. Each to their own and all that. I’d be seeing him again in a couple of weeks’ time. Daniel had recruited him to play cricket in the forthcoming Old Codgers match. Hang on! I remembered now.
‘I forgot to ask you,’ I said, shifting to lie on my stomach. ‘Did Bill get in touch when he was in Oz a month or so ago? He asked me for your number?’
‘Yes . . . er . . . no.’
I raised my eyebrows and twisted my head round to look up at her on the top shelf of the sauna. ‘Which?’
‘He did get in touch . . .’ she faltered and lay down abruptly.
‘And?’ I pushed, intrigued. I couldn’t see her face anymore. Was she deliberately avoiding looking at me?
‘We . . . there wasn’t time to see him.’
I couldn’t help pressing to find out more. She’d always taken Bill’s adoration for granted. ‘Of course, rugby players are gods out there. Bet there were women falling all over him.’
‘He was training very hard most of the time,’ snapped Kate, sitting up again and slipping off the bench. ‘That’s why.’ She reached for the door. ‘I’m going for a shower.’
There was a brief blast of cooler air before the door was slammed.
Poor Kate. I loved her to bits but despite all her front I wasn’t sure she really knew what she wanted. The whole Australia thing still seemed out of character. She wasn’t exactly raving about living there.
* * *
‘That feels so much better,’ I said, rolling my head and stretching my neck as we stepped out onto the street. ‘I can’t believe I’ve never taken Isabelle up on the offer before.’
‘Great idea. Thanks for taking me.’ Kate paused on the pavement. ‘Sorry I’ve been so grouchy. I . . . just feel . . .’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Must be change of climate or . . . something.’
Did I imagine the momentary look of alarm that skittered in her eyes? ‘Don’t worry. Sure you don’t want a quick drink before you meet Caro?’
‘No, there are a few bits I need . . . want to get in . . . Boots.’ She screwed up her face thoughtfully.
Didn’t she have enough lotions and potions? Her toilet bags in the bathroom at the wedding had looked close to bursting.
‘Are you going to get everything in your suitcase?’ I asked sceptically.
‘What?’
‘Hello, earth to Kate.’
She gave me a tight smile. ‘’Course I will. Mum can sit on the case for me.’
‘I’d better make a move,’ I said, not wanting to but she clearly wasn’t going to tell me what was on her mind. ‘I have to face Emily some time. I’m still miffed with her.’
‘Olivia, stand your ground.’ Kate took hold of both of my shoulders and shook them gently. ‘Don’t you dare go apologising to that little madam. She’s the one in the wrong.’
‘You’re right but you know me. Anything for a quiet life.’
Kate tutted loudly. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
I grinned at her and giving her a last hug, set off down the street.
When she went back to Australia, I’d miss her desperately.
* * *
It was a relief to find that Emily wasn’t in when I got home. Taking full advantage of her absence, I ran a deep bath, draining the hot water tank and helped myself to a generous measure of her Chanel No 5 bath gel.
There’s nothing quite like the guilty pleasure of ill-gotten bubbles. Served her right. It wasn’t as bad as pinching other peoples’ ideas and taking all the credit, though. I shook my head, the ends of my ponytail dipping into the water.
Well, good luck to her. Thank God I wasn’t the one that had to make it all happen. Imagine having to deal with Miranda, a dress designer, the film people and everything else involved.
If only I’d known.
* * *
It wasn’t until the next day at work that I discovered what Emily had done. I was on my way to make a well-deserved cup of tea when she waylaid me in the kitchen.
Now what? I was still being cool with her. Glancing up, I could see her freckles standing out in stark relief against her pale skin. Her lips devoid of lipstick looked bloodless as she gnawed them anxiously.
‘Are you all right?’
Tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head but still didn’t say a word.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Come see this.’ She inclined her head. Clutching my tea mug, I followed her back to her desk.
‘There,’ she said.
Running across her computer screen in large red capital letters was the word BITCH. It was on a continuous loop and as soon as the B disappeared on the right-hand side of the screen, the word began to reappear on the left-hand side.