How Not to Shop (27 page)

'Couldn't you have told me this in London?'

'I always like to tell people face to face, like a grown-up,' the
rat
replied.

'So . . . have you arranged for me to get home?' Annie asked. The more she tried not to cry, the more fierce and icy she seemed to sound.

'Ah . . .'

Maybe he hadn't. Maybe Finn was enough of an idiot to imagine that he could summon someone up on a six-and-a-half-hour train journey before firing them and making them disappear into the ether.

'I'm sure there's a plane. Easyjet . . . they go up and down all the time. Cheap, too . . . because we obviously won't be able to pay . . . erm . . .' he coughed, 'you understand.'

No. She definitely did not understand. Not any of it. She did not understand why she was being sacked, when she was the presenter who did the most work and for so little money! She did not understand why Finn couldn't have phoned her this morning and spared her the humiliation, not to mention the expense, of finding her own way back to London.

'I thought I was doing a good job,' were the words she chose carefully to argue her case one last time. 'The women looked great when I'd styled them, I was always bang on budget and they opened up to me.'

Finn tweaked at his earlobe and had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

'I'm sorry, Annie. I'm just in a difficult situation. I've no money.'

'Well,' was all Annie could manage for a moment, 'this has all been very interesting.'

She thought about slipping on her coat, picking up her very nice handbag and walking out. But then she thought of a better plan.

'Right well, you can go now, Finn,' she said firmly, 'I'll be fine.'

She watched Finn scrambling for his jacket, clipboard and other bits and pieces while she sat calmly. Now he was issuing guilty bits of apology: 'So sorry about this . . . you will be OK, won't you? You will get back to town OK? Obviously, I hope we might be able to work on something else in the future.'

Annie wanted to laugh out loud at that one. Work with this weak, deceitful, conniving nincompoop again? Don't think so.

He stumbled out of the bar as she sat and looked on with total composure. Yes, this was much, much better. This way she got to fall apart in the quiet comfort of the booth, whereas if she'd walked out, she'd have fallen apart in the confusion of the street.

Annie put her hands up to her face and decided that for a few minutes at least, it would be OK to have a little cry.

'Now, now, hen . . . the wine's no that bad, is it?'

She looked up to see the barman, a broad shaven-headed bloke in a black polo shirt, beside her table.

She raised a smile, despite herself.

'Nah,' she said, 'I think I'll have another glass.'

'Another wee tot of Charrrrdonnay for the lady, coming right up. I take it he's nae coming back?' the barman asked. Taking the two empty glasses from the table, he gave a wink. 'Ah, you're well shot of him. Plenty mair fish in the sea.'

'Exactly,' was all Annie said, not really ready to have a great big heart to heart with the barman just yet.

The phone in her bag beeped.

'See,' the barman winked again, 'a fine-looking woman like yersel will hae another one already lined up!'

She took the phone out and saw the text: 'Where u?' from Bob.

'In bar opp hotel been fired,' she texted back, sure that would get a good response.

It was just seconds before, 'coming' appeared on her screen.

Ah well, the phone calls to Ed and to Connor would have to wait just a little bit longer.

Bob arrived minutes later with, to Annie's surprise, Svetlana in tow.

'Annah! This is terrible!' Svetlana gushed as soon as she set eyes on her. 'Terrible! Terrible! I go to tell Finn right now that I don't vork on this stupid show unless you vork on it too!'

Which was very touching. It really was very kind.

'I don't think it will help,' Annie told her. 'He's got no money. He's just trying to save it in every direction.'

'He's slashed my daily rate,' Bob added gloomily.

'It's terrible,' Svetlana repeated.

'He's not even booked me into the hotel, I'll have to get back onto the train, if they let me use my ticket.'

'It's an APEX, you'll have to pay extra,' Bob warned her.

'No, no, Annah,' Svetlana shook her head decisively. 'I buy you hotel room. Now you have drink with us, then you rest and take train home tomorrow.'

For a moment, Annie laid her head gratefully on Svetlana's Yves Saint Laurent clad shoulder.

'Poor Annah,' Svetlana soothed, then she clicked open her python clutch and brought out a platinum Amex card.

Waving the card in the air, she summoned the barman.

'Champagne on ice,' she instructed.

Annie was more than a little the worse for wear when she finally made it to her room and thought to call home.

'Hello babesh,' she slurred when she heard Ed's voice on the other end of the line.

'Hello? Is that you?' he asked, then added, 'Been living it up in TV land, have we?'

'No, not at all, been fired,' she said baldly.

'Fired?' he replied. 'Fired?' he repeated. Then to her surprise he said, 'Annie, just give me a minute,' and he seemed to step away from the phone.

'Ed?' Annie asked. 'ED! I've been fired!' she said much more loudly now.

Then she listened. Was that barking she could hear in the background?

'Hi!' Ed was back on the phone.

'What's that barking?' she asked.

'Erm . . . yes. Some dog outside,' came his reply. 'Fired?' he repeated, 'are you serious? You're not joking me here. You've been fired?'

'I am no longer a Vonder Voman,' Annie said, making herself giggle.

'But don't you have a contract?' Ed asked.

'Yes, but apparently it's not a good one. Not watertight like Miss Marlise's. Apparently.'

'Good grief . . .' Ed began, but then she was sure she heard him hiss: 'Down!'

'Down?' she asked.

But he ignored this and asked anxiously, 'Are you OK? Where are you staying? Is there someone with you?'

'I'm in a hotel, I'm fine. I love you,' she told him, deciding right there and then that she would take everything back to Mango and buy him helicopter flying lessons for his birthday.

'Yes, yes, I love you too,' he replied, 'but why I am now babysitting a teenager who only wants to go clubbing with a twenty-two-year-old supermodel, I do not know.'

'Oh God! Is Lana all right? I have to come home!' Annie exclaimed.

'She's fine, she's in her bedroom studying. Elena went out on her own . . . looking terrifying,' Ed added.

'Are you sure Lana's there?' Annie almost screeched, remembering how often she'd stuffed her bed with pillows and crept out of the back door.

'I will go and double-check,' Ed assured her. 'Please go to bed,' he added, 'We'll talk this all through in the morning.'

'Night-night, babes, I love you,' she repeated.

'Me too,' Ed added.

Then came another sharp bark before Ed hung up abruptly. Annie looked at her phone in surprise, as if it had barked by itself.

It was 11.45 p.m. . . . possibly a good time to make a little transatlantic phone call to the other adorable man in her life.

'Hello doll face,' were the words Annie used to greet Connor.

'Hello baby,' he replied, 'I'm still on my bike.'

'Guess what? I got fired,' Annie told him, then suddenly had to laugh at everything that had happened that day.

'No!' Connor protested, 'You didn't!'

After the surprise had registered, Connor listened to the whole story. Then took a deep breath and began to issue rapid instructions.

'OK baby, here's what you do,' he began. 'You need damage limitation and to enhance that reputation. With my help, you are going to approach this totally LA style. Now, first thing tomorrow, you will phone this number. Write it down, babes, write it down.

'Got it? OK, that's the number of the TV gossip columnist on
Screentalk
. You tell her hello from Connor, and you're his friend Annie Valentine. You've been shooting
Wonder Women
and . . . let me think . . . let me think . . . what's the most positive spin we can put on this . . . you've decided to leave the show because . . . ?'

Fern does smart casual:

Beige wool trousers (Paul Costello)
Oyster silk blouse (M&S)
Salmon cashmere sweater (M&S)
Comfortable loafers (Ecco)
Total est. cost: £270

'Come and see me!'

It was nearly 5 p.m. when Annie finally arrived at her front door. She'd spent much of the train journey from Glasgow asleep, trying to escape from the throbbing headache and dry scratchy eyes and throat which were proof – as if she needed it – that she'd drunk too much and cried too much the night before.

Slotting her key into the lock, she was astonished by a volley of short, yappy barks. She thought she must be hearing things and looked out across the garden and back to the pavement to see if she could spot the dog. Nothing. No dog.

She pushed open her front door, stepped over the threshold, called out her usual, 'Helloooo! I'm home,' and was hit full on the legs by a whirling, springy ball of yapping fur.

'Aaaargh!' she exclaimed in fright.

What was this thing?

'Annie darling!'

That was her mother's voice.

'Why on earth have you got a dog, Mum?' Annie shouted from the hallway, trying to detach the ball of fluff from her legs.

'Down!' Annie ordered the dog, but it didn't pay any attention, it kept jumping, barking and trying to nip at her fingers.

Owen was now bounding down the stairs towards her. 'Isn't he great?' Owen enthused with a beaming smile.

'Lovely,' Annie said and bundled Owen up in a hug before he wriggled out and turned his attention to the dog.

'He's from a dogs' home and he's deaf so you have to communicate in doggy sign language.' Owen proceeded to hold out his hand, palm flat to the floor.

'This is the sign for sit,' he told his mum.

The dog kept bouncing up and down and yapping.

'I don't think anyone's told him,' Annie pointed out.

'Dave, Dave!' Owen called, clapping as he said the dog's name.

'Dave?' Annie asked, 'is that his name?'