The Perfect Location (33 page)

Kelly knew not to speak as she and Rose left the medium’s apartment. Instead, she led her to the nearest wine bar, sat Rose by the fire, ordered a mineral water for herself and a double vodka tonic for Rose.

Rose shivered in her Valentino winter coat. Kelly handed her the drink. ‘Come on, babe. Drink up, calm the nerves.’

Rose sipped but remained silent, staring into the fire. Then finally she spoke. ‘She could have known about Max and found out about Alice. She might have read about us in a magazine. Done her research.’

Kelly smiled. ‘Maybe, but I didn’t tell her it was you who wanted the session. I just said I would be coming.’

Rose went to say something but then stopped herself as a young girl came over with menu and a pen.

‘Hi,’ she said shyly.

Rose took the menu and signed it absentmindedly, smiling at the girl quickly and then turning back to Kelly.

‘But how did she know?’ Rose asked again.

‘I don’t know, babe, that’s what she does, she’s good at it. Rumour has it she holds recitals with Elvis, Michael Jackson and Kurt Cobain at least twice a year.’

Rose looked at Kelly, shocked. ‘Really?’

‘No,’ said Kelly. ‘I just wanted you to snap out of it.’

Rose laughed. ‘I’m just shocked – shocked and spooked and believing and scornful all at the same time. It’s not that I’m a sceptic, I read my horoscope most days, but this is just out of this world, Kelly. Even you have to admit that.’

‘I do think it is out of this world and that’s where the information comes from. Wherever Alice is now is out of this world, so yes, I agree with you,’ said Kelly calmly.

‘I want to cry and I want to forget about it. I want to ring Max and tell him and I want to forget this night ever happened.’ Rose looked at Kelly. ‘I don’t know what I want.’

‘That’s okay. Maybe that’s the lesson. You’ve spent so much time working and waiting and yearning and you’ve not taken the time to just be in your own life. Enjoy it for a while. If Max comes back to you, then great, if not then learn to find the moments that make you content, even happy.’

‘I’ve spent the last ten years alone, Kelly. I want something more. I want to stand by someone and share my moments, good and bad with them.’

Kelly put her drink down on the table. ‘Listen, Rose. You have everything you want except the one thing you truly desire. I’m not trying to be cruel but maybe you need to look at it from a different perspective. You went to London to find Max and instead you found your family again. Do I think you and Max belong together? Yes, but you can’t fight free will. If Max decides to be in mourning for the rest of his life, then so be it. You have to get up and start putting it out there. Start dating. Who knows? Maybe Max was just to remind you that you still have it and you are ready to love.’

Rose felt the tears fall down her cheeks. ‘I’ve spent so long trying to hide how I felt from myself, working and pushing myself so I didn’t have time to feel. Now all I do is bloody well cry.’ She laughed through the tears and Kelly laughed with her.

‘I know, babe, but the universe has a funny sense of humour. No matter how much you or Alice from beyond the grave push Max, if he doesn’t want to hear it then he won’t. Don’t spend anymore time waiting, start searching.’

Rose smiled. ‘When I’m ready.’

‘Okay, but it’s time to start dating again and we have to get you date ready.’

‘Why?’ asked Rose.

‘If you’re going back into the market, you need to be fabulous in every way. I recommend a full regime at a day spa and then a session with one of my favourite stylists who will shop for you and reevaluate your wardrobe and rework your look. I tell you, you will feel like a new person.’

‘What’s wrong with the way I dress?’ asked Rose defensively, touching her Matthew Williamson green silk blouse.

‘Nothing at all, babe, but if you want to reinvigorate your life, the outside is a good place to start. Then we can work on the inside as you go along. What the hell, Rose, enjoy it. You know I love a makeover, I’ve been doing them on you since we were fourteen years old.’

The young, well-groomed girl met Rose at the door. ‘Welcome to the Cornelia Day Spa, Miss Nightingale.’

‘Call me Rose, please,’ she said.

Day spas were not an uncommon occurrence in Rose’s life but she was nervous all of a sudden, feeling like Dorothy entering the Land of Oz.

‘Kelly has called ahead and requested specific therapies she believes you would benefit from most. I hope you find them to your liking today. I’m sure you will,’ said the girl assuredly.

Rose did find it all perfect. Massages, skin treatments, a manicure, pedicure, all while listening to a complimentary iPod filled with a vast selection of music. Rose was in heaven. For five hours she didn’t think about Max or the boys or anything, in fact. It was exactly what she needed to give her mind a rest and release the tension from her body.

By the time she left at three that afternoon, Rose was in a blissed out state and wandering back to the Four Seasons when her phone rang.

‘Hey, Tosser. How did you go?’

‘I am in a Zen-like state and I do not wish to be pulled out of it. I’ve got skin like a twenty-one year old, my body has been kneaded into submission and all traces of stress are gone,’ said Rose down the phone.

Kelly laughed. ‘Well, good for you. I’ve organized Sophie to be at the Four Seasons at ten o’clock. You’re still free for the day?’

‘Yeah, not filming till Thursday,’ Rose said, as she walked along East 57th Street towards the hotel. ‘I hope you asked her to be kind to me.’

‘Of course, she’s just gilding the lily. Have no fears, she is the best stylist I know.’

Rose entered the hotel and took the elevator to her suite. ‘I only have my travel clothes with me. She won’t get a real idea of what I’ve got in my wardrobe.’

‘Stop stressing, girl. I think you will enjoy it. Relax, stay Zen,’ said Kelly as she hung up.

Rose walked into her suite and went straight to her dressing room. It was filled with clothes. Some of them were okay, she thought. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how to dress herself but she could do with a few more looks, she conceded.

Spending the evening alone in her room, she ate a light chicken salad for dinner, with a mineral water, scared she might bloat for the stylist. Stop being paranoid, she thought, and opened a packet of chocolate biscuits from the mini bar and had some with a cup of milk tea. She munched them defiantly in bed as she watched
Inside Edition
.

When Paul’s face flashed across the screen with the headline ‘Has he lost it?’ she sat forward in bed. Since he had walked out on her when she needed him most and their confrontation during the signing of the divorce papers, she had avoided Paul wherever possible. They had attended a few of the same awards events over the years but they had circled each other at a distance. Rose took little interest in following anyone’s career, let alone her ex-husband’s, so the story about his erratic behaviour and recent box office failings took Rose by surprise.

She watched as the reporter spoke of Paul’s behaviour on a recent talk show. When the host asked him about his recent relationship break-up with a French actress, Paul broke down crying live on air and started to speak in riddles about love and secrets and honour. Rose watched in shock as they spoke of Paul being fired from his most recent film and replaced by a younger star, whom Rose had not heard of before.

The photos of Paul outside Nobu attacking a photographer who had tried to photograph him and his South American surgeon leaving the restaurant were terrible, thought Rose, as she turned up the television to hear more from the judgemental reporter.

‘Paul Ross was once the biggest movie star in the world. His string of recent box office failures has resulted in Paul feeling the pressure from every angle. It was only ten years ago that he was married to the English actress Rose Nightingale. They were Hollywood’s most successful marriage till she had an affair with her co-star and broke Paul’s heart.’

Rose threw a biscuit at the television, which showed a picture of her and Paul in supposedly happier times. ‘Oh my God!’ she said angrily.

The reporter continued. ‘Whether Paul can come back from his most recent public breakdown remains to be seen, but you know we will be first to let you know, here on
Inside Edition
.’

Rose sat in shock. Paul was always so careful with his image. An old-school Hollywood idol, he was friendly with the paparazzi, always gave them their shot and gave great and funny interviews. He only showed his ugly side to Rose, she had thought, till now. Rose turned off the TV and sat in her bed surrounded by biscuit crumbs. Paul was no longer her problem, she thought, and she turned out the light and went to sleep.

The phone ringing in her hotel room woke her up; Sophie Thomas was waiting to see her. Rose asked reception to send her up and put on the plush white robe from the bathroom. She looked at her skin in the mirror as she slipped on the robe. It looked good; the woman at the day spa was a miracle worker, she thought, as the doorbell rang quietly, informing her of Sophie’s arrival.

‘Hello, I am Sophie Thomas,’ said the stylish French woman at the door.

Dressed in tight black jeans, a long sequined silver singlet, with a black turtleneck underneath, she had on high grey suede ankle boots, a dark blue leather motorcycle jacket and silver chain earrings which hung down to her shoulders. Her hair was cropped short and was jet black. She looked like the most glamorous rock chick Rose had ever seen.

‘Hello, I’m Rose, and I’m wearing a bathrobe and I’m terribly embarrassed,’ said Rose, looking shamefully down at herself.

‘Don’t be, it is good you are relaxed,’ said Sophie, walking inside and taking off her jacket and laying it next to her large, heavy black leather satchel. ‘You went to the day spa yesterday, non?’

‘Yes, I did, I’m afraid I slept in,’ said Rose with a wry face.

‘Good, then you will be refreshed. We have work to do,’ said the French style icon simply. ‘Shall we order coffee and have a chat?’

Rose ordered coffee and fruit for them both and as an afterthought asked for some pastries. If Sophie didn’t eat them then she could have them after she left, thought Rose greedily.

Sophie looked out the window at the view of Central Park. ‘Lovely view,’ she said politely.

‘Yes, it is but I suppose the view of my dressing room would be better for you,’ said Rose cheekily.

‘No, I want to talk first, I want to find out who you are, what you want, what you do,’ said Sophie, turning to her and sitting down on the sofa.

Rose sat down. ‘I don’t know, I suppose I’m in a bit of a rut. I’ve had a rough time lately and Kelly thinks I need to start dating and “get out there”, wherever “there” is,’ she said tiredly.

‘I see, easy,’ said Sophie, opening her satchel. ‘I’ve gone through some of your press clippings to see what your style has been over the past few years.’

Rose cringed. ‘Oh no, how awful.’

‘No, no, you have some nice looks. The only thing I would say is that they are a bit too similar. They all look the same.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean. If I find a shape that works for me, then I wear it. I tend to buy one thing in lots of colours.’

‘Oh no, that should never happen,’ said Sophie, frowning.

‘I know, but I never get time to shop and people send me things, so I try them on and if I like them I wear them. I’ve got lots of clothes but not all of them work together, I think.’

‘It is a common problem with all women. You need to look at the piece and if you can’t wear it with the other things in your wardrobe then you should not have it. We can easily be tempted by the way it feels, even though it’s not right for us.’

Ain’t that the truth, thought Rose, thinking of Max. He felt lovely but he didn’t go with anything else in her life. Now she understood why Kelly had set this up for her. Warming to Sophie’s confidence she continued, ‘I’m nearly forty and I don’t want to look like an old woman but I also don’t want to look like a try-hard Hollywood actor. It’s a slippery slope, and I could easily find myself wearing things which are too young for me and end up on Mr Blackwell’s worst dressed list if I’m not careful.’

‘That is not true. You have not made any wrong choices here,’ said Sophie as she spread the images of Rose at various events out in front of her. ‘You just need more variety, to have fun with fashion more, you are a little too safe.’

Rose smiled. This could be fun, she decided, and answered the door for the room service to come in and set up. Rose poured them coffee and offered the fruit to Sophie. ‘
Non merci
, may I have a pastry, please?’

Rose smiled; this was an excellent start.

Sophie spent the day with Rose. First, she assessed all her clothes, making Rose try on all the items she had brought with her in the morning. ‘You have a wonderful figure, Rose, it is the figure of a woman. I want you to look like a woman,
oui
? It’s hard to dress women who are too thin, always alterations and fussing. You are a pleasure to dress.’

Rose preened.

‘I’ve made some appointments at some of the designers who will be good for you. We will see some today and some tomorrow morning and then we will do shoes, bags and accessories.’

Rose let herself be guided. Sophie took her to Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors, Oscar De La Renta, Jason Wu and the next morning Chanel and Tracey Reese for a few fun pieces.

Sophie had talked to the designers about what they were after and Rose allowed herself to be the house model while the staff fussed around her in the private fittings rooms of the designers’ offices. There was not a single piece of clothing Rose did not love. And the way Sophie worked them all together was inspiring. ‘You are an artist,’ said Rose as she had an amethyst toile silk gown fitted at Carolina Herrera.

‘Actually, I am an artist as well as stylist. When I put things together, I think about the emotion, the form, the line,’ Sophie replied without a trace of arrogance. ‘Fashion is art. Once you see it like that then you will be more aware and careful about what you hang on your body.’