Chapter 5
‘A nd there you have it. The perfect chignon in five easy steps.’ The YouTube vlogger tilted her head, offering me and the rest of her online audience an equally perfect smile.
I wasn’t impressed. With her brilliant white teeth and flawless make-up, she could have given herself a buzz cut, and she’d have still looked good.
The vlogger panned her camera around to show off her sophisticated updo. Combining sexy bedhead with a polished French twist, she’d done what she’d set out to do and produced a style that worked from everyday hair through to special occasion.
I sighed, knowing it didn’t take a genius to see that I had not.
I picked up a hand mirror and held it at the back of my head.
Using it to assess my efforts in the dressing table, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Instead of creating a classically loose knot, my chignon lacked the intended carefree volume; it resembled a giant inedible bun.
Rather than the two or three bobby pins I was supposed to need, my updo had its own scaffolding tower, and as far as romantic wisps were concerned, after half a can of hairspray they were just wishful thinking.
Mimicking the vlogger, I, too, angled my head to one side.
‘Five easy steps, I don’t think so.’ She clearly hadn’t accounted for the wash and leave crew.
People like me who had a favourite hair bobble.
Telling myself I’d never make a hairdresser and should stick to selling wool, I swiped the vlogger’s face off the screen and shut down the app completely.
I pulled my fancy knickers out from between my bum cheeks, with no choice but to hope they and the matching plunge bra worked their magic and kept Gideon’s gaze from straying too far upwards.
I stuffed my phone into my dressing gown pocket and leaving the mirror behind, made my way downstairs trusting I’d done a better job of dinner.
Pausing in the lounge, I breathed in the woody scent of the humongous Douglas fir that filled the window.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been tempted to cover its branches in a mass of baubles and tinsel, but giggling at thoughts of the evening ahead, I told myself the delay was worth it.
Gideon and I were about to enjoy our first date since he reneged and like Erin said, what could be more romantic than chatting over an intimate meal, putting on some Christmas tunes and decorating a Christmas tree? Romance was definitely in the air.
In the kitchen, I smiled at the laid table.
The vintage holly-patterned crockery set I’d inherited from Gran sat in readiness on a crisp white tablecloth.
Festive blooms in plum and burgundy sprang from a little coppery vase – stems shortened to ensure Gideon and I could see each other – and candles, in gold decorative holders, waited to be lit.
‘Perfect,’ I said. The whole ensemble screamed l’amour .
Turning my attention to the oven, I checked the delights within.
I frowned. While my mouth drooled at the liquorice-like aroma emanating from the tarragon-infused carrot, mushroom, and hazelnut tart, my eyes struggled with what they saw.
Just like my hair, my dish looked nothing like how it was supposed to.
‘Remember, it’s all in the tasting,’ I said, refusing to be disheartened.
It was not my usual fare: I’d have been happy chucking something into the air fryer, but that night I was taking Erin’s advice and going all out.
Life had been all work and no play for Gideon for far too long and I was determined to show him what he’d been missing. His only job was to pick up the wine.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and pulling it out, I paused, tempted to ignore Erin’s incoming video call.
I knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself.
In discussing the best way to approach my date night, she’d already suggested I was a three-bedroomed semi that needed a bit of a facelift, and Gideon was a prospective buyer.
As appreciative as I was for her help, that wasn’t quite the vibe I was aiming for.
On a personal level, Erin had no time for matters of the heart, although while she’d never admit it, I suspected that was because hers had been broken.
I looked around the room again and knowing none of my efforts would have come to fruition were it not for Erin, I sighed. Feeling guilty, I answered her call.
Erin’s jaw dropped and she stared at me, agog. ‘Blooming heck, it’s Mrs Trunchbull.’
I put a hand up to my hair. ‘I was trying something new like you suggested.’
‘Well don’t do it again. It looks awful.’
‘Thank you very much!’ I let out a laugh. ‘Someone’s in a good mood.’
Erin’s shoulders dropped. ‘I’m sorry. Ignore me. I’ve just come out of a long and somewhat infuriating meeting. I’m starving and you know what I’m like when I’m hangry.’
Boy did I. I’d never forget the time we went for dinner at an Italian restaurant.
Erin had missed lunch and had a difficult day then too.
The daggers she gave the poor waiter as he placed her lasagne down on the table.
‘I thought this place served traditional food!’ she said.
Demanding to know why her meal was devoid of béchamel sauce, Erin clearly found the proffered version offensive and while the poor young lad stuttered trying to come up with an acceptable response, Erin verged on crying into her plate.
I didn’t know who evoked the most pity. The waiter or my friend.
‘These hot flushes aren’t helping,’ Erin continued. ‘You might be young and carefree now, Hattie, but just you remember, you’ll be my age before you know it. This perimenopause malarky wreaks havoc on a woman. Rule number one, always wear layers.’
When Erin went on one of her hormonal rants, I’d long learned the best thing I could do to help was let her vent.
‘Today’s was a corker. My whole being was melting. And you know what men are like. They have zero understanding. You’d have thought I’d asked everyone to line up and jump out of the window, not open the damn thing.’
‘And did they? Open it, I mean.’
‘After some gentle persuasion, yes.’
I struggled to imagine Erin being gentle over anything.
‘I said if they refused, I’d be stripping down to nothing but my birthday suit.
At which point they were fighting to let the cold air in.
I’ve never seen a bunch of men move so fast. No doubt, I’ll be getting a call from HR on account of somehow triggering one of them.
’ Erin laughed. ‘Fingers crossed, it’s Callum.
The telling off would be worth it. Anyway, I’d better go.
My hormones are raging just thinking about it all. ’
‘Erin?’ I said, before she hung up.
‘Yes.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you call me for a reason?’
‘I did.’
‘And that reason was?’
‘Good question. I’ll text you once I remember.’
I chuckled.
‘Something else you have to look forward to,’ Erin said. ‘Brain fog.’ Her face lit up. ‘That was it. I called to wish you luck.’
My smile continued. As overbearing as Erin could sometimes be, her heart was in the right place. ‘Thank you. For everything.’
‘Not a problem. Now you go and sort your hair out.’
No sooner had Erin disappeared, my phone rang again. Seeing it was a voice call from Gideon, I put him on loudspeaker. ‘I take it you’re in the drinks aisle?’ Retrieving a couple of glasses from the cupboard, I carried them over to the table. ‘I’m thinking either a Chardonnay or a Pinot Noir.’
‘Yeah, about that…’
Placing the glassware down, my smile vanished.
‘I’ve got to work late.’
Telling myself my boyfriend had to be joking, I plonked down into a dining chair. ‘Tonight’s date night, Gideon. We agreed. You even put it in your diary.’
‘I know. But what can I say? It’s not like I’m happy about it either. I mean, do you really think I’d still be here if I had a choice?’
The number of hours Gideon spent at the office of late, I was starting to think yes, he would. ‘And what about us? Do we even figure in your list of priorities?’
‘You know we do. But most people don’t have the luxury of being their own boss, Hattie. We can’t all come and go as we please.’
I screwed up my face wondering why he was so het up. I was the one being let down. ‘What? I’m supposed to feel lucky Gran died now, am I?’
‘No. Of course not.’ Gideon sighed. ‘Please, I’m sorry. That came out wrong.’
Despite my protests, I couldn’t deny Gideon had a point.
Compared to many, I was fortunate. Ever since Gran taught me to knit as a child, I knew I’d have a job for life.
For years, she and I fantasised about me taking over her little wool shop so she could enjoy her dotage, and while Gran might have left her retirement too late to see our plans through, I was still living a version of our dream.
I didn’t even have a commute. Come five o’clock all I had to do was lock up, turn the door sign to closed and head upstairs to my flat.
‘We’re meant to be decorating the tree.’
‘I’m not stopping you from doing it.’
‘And dinner’s all but ready.’ I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He didn’t sound like it, but surely Gideon had to know how important that evening was. To me and to our relationship. ‘I suppose I could save you a plate.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll grab something on my way home. We can eat together another night.’
I cocked my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. ‘You mean you’re not coming over at all?’
‘After a long day like today I wouldn’t be much company.’
My gaze went from the oven to the beautifully laid table, through to the dimly lit lounge where flames danced in the hearth.
Wriggling in my seat, I again felt my new knickers sitting awkwardly.
Releasing my trapped skin, I was damned if all my efforts and discomfort were going to be for nothing.
‘I could run you a bath,’ I said, practising my come-to-bed eyes.
‘A relaxing soak would be the perfect wind-down.’
Gideon let out a hollow laugh. ‘I’ve always been more of a shower man.’
‘Not a problem.’ A delicious smile spread across my face and my tone turned sultry. ‘Play your cards right, and I might join you.’
‘Honestly, Hattie, as tempting as you think that is, it’s gonna have to be a no.’
My shoulders slumped. ‘Spoil sport.’
The romantic bubble I’d spent hours creating finally burst and I fell silent.
Sitting there in fancy underwear while offering myself up no longer felt flirtatious.
It felt humiliating. I should have known Gideon wouldn’t play along.
He probably didn’t know how to. In all the time I’d known him, banter of any kind had never been his thing.
Unless Erin and Joyce are right, I considered. And I do need to heed Gloria Chalmers’s warning. Despite poo-pooing their suggestion that Gideon could be having an affair, as I chewed on the inside of my cheek, I couldn’t help but wonder if my friends were right.
‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ Gideon said. ‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow, yeah?’
Desperate for some sort of reassurance, I opened my mouth to speak, but as kept happening of late, Gideon ended the call before I could utter a word.
I stared at my phone, taking in the happy photo of me and Gideon that filled its screen.
I ran my finger over his beaming smile. He wouldn’t, I silently insisted. He couldn’t.
Turning my attention back to the room, I rose to my feet ready to unlay the table.