A Face To Die For (20 page)

He seemed happier with things now and I was simply relieved that a solution of sorts had been arrived at. Nevertheless, one million dollars still sounded an awful lot of money to me. It was out of the realms of my comprehension to deal in such sums. Here I was, on the verge of obtaining the sum of thirty five thousand pounds. That was a
huge
fortune to me!

A compromise was finally made over what to do for Christmas. We decided to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Mum and Philip in Wales, returning to London on Boxing Day morning in order to fly off to Switzerland that same evening. Alex's present to me had been skis and a ski outfit, which we'd chosen together in Lilywhites.

In the end I'd realised little was likely to happen for me in London for another three weeks at least until the money came through. Since I still had some holiday owing from Courtneys, a couple of weeks in Klosters with Alex sounded too good to miss.

*

Once over the initial humiliation on the beginner's slopes, I amazed myself by taking to skiing surprisingly well. For someone who'd never been the tiniest bit sporty before, this came as a considerable shock. I loved it, and by the end of the first week I'd become pretty adept on my skis.

Without any current dramas to torment our lives, my relationship with Alex had improved again and by now it had reached a happy sort of plateau state. But I'd noticed that whilst we still enjoyed good sex together there didn't seem to be the same passion or urgency for it any more. It certainly had been much more highly charged when our affair had been clandestine. Oh God, I thought, not the proverbial forbidden fruit syndrome.

Klosters was wonderful! The place oozed ambience. It was such fun mixing socially during the evenings in the timbered pubs and bars nestling beneath the massive mountain peaks without having to worry any more about who might talk. Accepted everywhere now as a couple, we spent every evening drinking, laughing and chatting with the same fun loving, boozy crowd. Sinking back into the cosy leather sofas or perched on stools in our favourite bars, the après ski atmosphere was so cheerful and friendly. It was quite a thrill for me to have become one of the so-called ‘
beautiful people’
at last, having only dreamed about it before.

It was clear Alex was an extremely popular member within his coterie of skiing friends and initially I sensed I might be cramping his style a bit, although he emphatically denied it. Females of all ages fawned over him and I wondered how well he'd known any of them before? So on the second night I asked if he might be missing his previous free and easy status amongst this crowd. But he was most indignant. 'Nonsense, honey! I love having you here. Once you get used to everyone you'll have a great time.'

'Oh I am, Alex, but it's a bit difficult at times, when obviously all the girls ... even the older women, fancy you like hell! Are any of them ex-lovers by any chance?' I asked cheekily, snuggling up to him as he climbed into bed.

'No ... not really,' he hedged, nibbling my ear. 'They're just a fun crowd that's all. Don't take any notice. I see them here every year, that's all. You mustn't worry. I love you and only you, honey. Why should I prefer any of them? Sure, some of them are OK, but they're a bit pretentious. Give me your naturalness and your delicious body any time!'

Nonetheless, as his lips and tongue traced a line down my belly, I still wondered which of the pretty young things he might have been doing this with other times he’d been staying there.

On the bed was a huge soft feather filled quilt, which I laughingly called a ‘ploomph’, because of the way your body '
ploomphed
' into it when you laid on it, and how it billowed around you. It was bliss to sink into its softness.

As Alex slowly disappeared beneath it, creating a huge puffed up mound, I wallowed in the delights of his foreplay. Slowly my doubts faded, as once more I gave myself up to him. Outside the music and cheers of late night revellers could be heard enjoying their last drinks in the bar a short distance away and I felt a euphoric sense of privilege to be the one he was making whoopee with tonight.

In the end I happily circumnavigated the complete holiday with these favoured thoughts about myself, especially whenever I saw another female gazing cow-eyed at him, as they did - often. Gaze all you like, sweetheart, but
I
'm the one he sleeps with!

I also enjoyed myself every bit as much as Alex had promised I would, and each day my skiing improved. The exhilarating sensation as my skis whisked across the snow was fantastic, the refreshing alpine air exploding in my lungs.

After the first week, Alex decided it was time to take me out with him on one of the longer ski slopes to allow me to develop my technique further. It was the most amazing experience. As the powdered snow fountained over our heads along the beautiful tree lined trail, Alex stopped and called across as I whooshed past…

'Hey, just look at you!'

'I know! I can really ski!' were my cries of sheer joy, echoing across the mountains.

*

Back home again, Alex began to take great interest in advising me about planning my business strategy and my financial budgeting, which I personally found a nightmare.

The money came through from Philip the last week in January and by the end of February I'd left Courtneys and was setting myself up in Beauchamp Place.

In the event, Edward was absolutely sweet about my departure; wishing me lots of luck and adding, 'If you follow all the rules I've taught you, Annabel, you won't go far wrong.' Then with a cheeky smile, he said, 'Now, of course, you'll be able to go absolutely mad with that wild imagination of yours. However, I still wonder whether the fashion world is ready for you yet?'

'Well if it's not, it soon will be!' I laughed.

I did thank him for all his help and worthwhile guidance, though. It had been an excellent training ground. Despite my creative frustrations from time to time I'd always be grateful to him for giving me my big chance.

However, it would be at least another six weeks of working flat out before I would be ready to open and show my first small Autumn/Winter collection. A bit late for showing really but it was possible it might work in my favour. Being out of step with the other Ready-to-Wear collections, might mean the trade journals could perhaps devote more attention to me.

As expected, Lynda, whom I still saw occasionally, took over my job as the
Miss Courtney
designer. Although I couldn't help wondering how long her romance with Edward would last because of it? She was sure to experience the problems I'd had, and I knew how thwarted and frustrated I had felt.

Norman's premises proved to be perfect for my needs. The reception and showroom were redecorated and carpeted in simple grey and white, giving a fresh, uncluttered look. I also added wall mirrors everywhere to offer a more spacious appearance.

Having started the designs for my first collection before Christmas, I finished them off on my return from Switzerland. When it came to choosing fabrics, my contacts from Courtneys proved most helpful, although I found costing things out often a bit precarious.

By mid February I'd acquired a good team of machinists working for me, some on the premises, and some, as outworkers, from their own homes. I initially planned to do my own pattern cutting and grading, but my aversion to these two jobs, plus with having so much else to do, meant I had to take on an assistant. Her name was Shirley.

Sadly, Shirley was no match for Lynda. She seemed to take forever over even pretty basic jobs. However, she was fresh out of college and, recalling my own slog to find work in the industry, I wanted to give her a chance. The talent was there, she just needed a little time. Confidence and speed would, I felt sure, follow with time and more experience. Besides, she was cheap.

As the rails started to fill up, I was getting closer to announcing the grand opening at the end of March with the showing of my collection to the trade and press. It was hard juggling my finances, with staff, machinists and cloth suppliers all needing to be paid, long before any money was likely to be coming in. This was where Alex's accountancy and business know-how helped me to cope. Also Norman had generously agreed to wait six months before I needed to pay him any rent, which despite being totally against my real wishes, was an absolute godsend. As my money started to dwindle I thanked heavens for Alex's bookkeeping talents.

Kate Marshall kindly managed to persuade several of her modelling pals to do the opening show for nothing. I promised each girl an item from my collection, which was still poor payment considering their usual fees.

Sadly however, the show was not the success I'd hoped it would be. For one thing I'd been far too extravagant over fabrics, including the use of expensive cashmere; some lined with pure silk. I had made the fateful mistake of still thinking along Courtney lines over my fabric choices and I'd got my production costing horribly wrong, resulting in every garment being far too expensive. Undoubtedly, I would need to consider less costly fabrics in future to make my designs more affordable.

Although orders slowly filtered in, I was disappointed because I'd hoped to be inundated. No money was coming in yet either, because retail customers never paid until they'd received their goods. Panicking, I was in despair and by now Alex was getting the full brunt of my anxiety and bad temper.

Also, during this tortuous time, the worst possible thing happened, I discovered I was pregnant. I had absolutely no desire for a child, certainly not now, of all times! I blamed everything, including my diaphragm, which I decided must have a hole in it.

'I'll have to have an abortion!' I howled at Alex, who looked scathingly at me for even suggesting such a thing.

'You can't! It's a living being, growing inside you, Annabel. It's murder!'

'Don't be stupid, Alex, of course it isn't! I'm barely two months! Anyway, it's my body, and I'm entitled to do what I want with it! My career comes way before any motherhood crap. It would ruin everything, don't you see?'

Alex sat looked scornfully at me, searching my eyes for any sign of a change of heart. But he could see I was adamant. His facial expression became blacker and blacker.

'So, you will kill our child...
my
child?'

I bristled. 'Oh don't start all that Greek melodrama stuff, please! Now is honestly not the time for me to get pregnant, you must see that.'

'I know, but think, it is a small baby, and you are its mother! How can you even consider killing it?'

'Don't be silly! It's probably no bigger than the size of this little fingernail,' I yelled, pointing it at him. 'It’s hardly a baby yet!'

Then I remembered my financial position. I had no spare money. How could I afford an abortion? Hell, I was in a real fix, and by Alex's mood he wouldn't be any help either.

That night no more was discussed and we slept apart in the bed with about two feet between us. In fact I didn't sleep at all. I just lay there praying he would eventually come round to seeing things from my point of view.

The following morning after a silent breakfast, I put a last resort plan into action, something I'd been toying with against all my principles for the past month. Swallowing my pride I begged him for a temporary loan to help me out over my current cash flow problems with the business. If he was generous enough I could perhaps then use some of the money for an abortion. Up to now I had been determined to avoid making any such request of him, but things were getting pretty critical, now more than ever.

Already aware of how short of cash I was plus, I think, a slight change of heart, he sullenly agreed to help.

Gratefully I pointed out, 'I never ever wanted to ask you for financial help, Alex. You know I'm too proud, and I so wanted to manage on my own. But honestly I can't see me getting through without it now. I promise though, as soon as I'm making enough, you'll get every penny back.'

He waved a hand in the air. 'Sure, I know ... no problem.'

But it couldn't end there; he had to mention the abortion.

'I take it you haven't changed your mind, that you are still intending to terminate your pregnancy? It’s illegal, you know?'

I nodded, glumly.

He looked sulkily into my eyes, and heaved a long, deep, calculated sigh. 'I see. Well, if you have this operation, Annabel, I can never feel the same about you, you must understand that?' He cast me another black look. 'It's against everything I hold sacred. How can I forgive you?'

'I don't know.' I looked down; my shoulders slumped with sadness. 'But if that's how you feel, I can't do much about it. I will go ahead with it, though,' I said firmly, looking up. 'I can't possibly have a baby now, and that's that! No more to be said.'

Later, as I cleared breakfast, he silently handed me a cheque. It was for one thousand, five hundred pounds; quite a lot more than I'd asked him for.

'Thanks, b...but why...?'

'Take it! Get your damned abortion! The rest will hopefully help the business out. But, Annabel, I cannot condone what you are doing and I don't know where we go from here. I am of course responsible for your condition and therefore I will pay. It must be performed safely though, by a qualified doctor... no backstreet abortionist! I don't want you to come to any harm. OK?' He gave me a long hard searching look then walked away. Seconds later the flat door shut with a loud bang. He'd gone to work.