The Personal Shopper (18 page)

‘Big trouble,’ Annie muttered at Connor.

‘Oh, c’mon, it’s kissin
g,’ he reassured her. ‘No teenage relationship is going to survive the vast distance between north London and Essex.’

‘Hmm.’ Annie headed back to her seat to see if there was a pudding bowl around to lick.

Nic, still at the table, greeted her with the words: ‘OK, how much do you want for it? But I’ll have to go to the toilets with you first and try it on.’

So there was one reason to be cheerful. She wouldn’t make a profit from Nic, that would be entirely unethical. But she’d break even and that was well worth it. Even though she’d miss the dress . . . maybe Nic would sell it back to her in a year or so.

As Annie stood up, she saw ‘nice Mr Wilkinson’ approaching.

Mr Wilkinson was 45 but, due to severe asthma and a limp, more like 75, and she’d once been set up with him by her mother. The dinner hadn’t been a great success: nice Mr Wilkinson had got so nervous, he’d inhaled his entire inhaler, then had a wheezing fit and she’d ended up driving him to Casualty.

It was never a good sign when a date ended with medical intervention.

He was wheezing and limping towards her from the other side of the room. Nevertheless, she suspected he had dancing on his mind. Oh yes! Wouldn’t that be lovely?! They could waltz cheek to cheek and reminisce about the very nice nurse who’d booked him in that night.

‘Lovely girl,’ he’d probably tell her all over again. ‘All the way from the Philippines, you know.’

Ah, the kilted one was in sight. She could formulate an escape plan. He had already told her he was there to do her bidding all night long.

‘I think I need to go outside, now, straight away,’ she hissed at both Connor and Nic.
‘Disastrous date approa
ching, due north
.
’

Connor peeked over her head: ‘Ooh, nasty, take my arm and off we go then.’

Outside, in the chilly darkness, looking through the high windows at the brightly lit fun going on, Annie felt an unwelcome moment of gloom descending on her. With her arm still through Connor’s, she confided in a low voice: ‘You know, there are still so many times when I really, really miss Roddy.’

Connor leaned back against the stone wall of the hotel
 
and looked out over the dark lawn. He nodded slowly, then turned to face her. ‘I still miss him too,’ he said.

‘The rat,
’ she added, forcing a smile.

‘Total quitter,
’ Connor agreed.

‘Do you think he has any idea how furious I am with him?’

‘Still?’ Connor wondered.

‘I get angrier,’ she confessed. ‘As the time goes by and the kids get older, I’m much more angry with him. Bloody, flaming furious.’

Connor paused before beginning: ‘I think there’s a lot more I could do for you and the children . . .’

‘No, no, you’re great – honestly,’ she assured him. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you . . . Well obviously, there’s taking Owen camping,’ she reminded him, hoping both to lighten this conversation and tweak at his conscience once again.

‘For pity’s sake
, there are limits!’ He flashed one of his bright white smiles. ‘But I did have one idea . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘What do you think about me moving in with you?’

‘What!’ Annie couldn’t have been more surprised. But seeing the hurt look on his face, she put her hand up on his shoulder and patted him, a bit like she’d pat a dog. ‘Connor, you are very, very sweet,’ she told him, ‘but I think you’ve gone a bit daft, babes.’

‘But,’ he insisted, ‘give it some thought, Annie. You wouldn’t be so lonely. You’d have me around all the time. I really love Owen and Lana. And I’d be a father figure – a man about the house.’

Momentarily, Annie pictured her and Lana discussing dresses, with Owen hanging back totally uninterested. Then she imagined the scene with Connor earnestly discussing dresses too . . . Owen still totally uninterested.

‘W
e could
even
get married,’ he added.

The kilt was obviously having a very strange effect on him.

‘Connor, aren’t you overlooking something?’ She couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out.

‘What?’

‘I love you, I really do, and I’m sure you love us all too . . . and I know that you’re a bit lonely . . . but we . . . you and I, we’re not in love and the way you’re made means we never will be,’ she reminded him.

‘Oh, but . . . you know . . . how important is all that other stuff in the long run?’

‘Don’t say that!’ She smacked his shoulder. ‘If we moved in together’
Why were they even talking about this? It was ridiculous –
‘it would put other people off.’

‘Off what?’ he asked.

‘Off falling in love with us.’

‘Oh…
I’ve given up on that.’

‘Well you mustn’t. Never give up. And I haven’t, thank you very much.’

‘Ah yes, your prince in shining armour.’ He sounded a little scornful. ‘Or should that be shining Armani? The
 
one who’s going to whisk you off in his Bentley to enjoy a life of leisure and taking his credit card to the max.’

‘We can all dream,’ she reminded him sharply.

‘Anyway, putting off other lovers would be a minor inconvenience if you ask me,’ he added.

‘Marriage of convenience more like,’ was her reply.

For a moment she allowed herself to think about the tabloid headlines.

‘Think how it would be announced,’ she told him: ‘
Love at last for McCabe of The Manor
or
Friends find love together
.’

He gave a little laugh.

‘C’mon.’ She yanked at Connor’s arm. ‘You’re my best, best friend, Connor,’ she told him. ‘And that’s enough.’

‘Am I interrupting something? I do hope so,’ a disembodied voice came from the doorway, then a tall man stepped out into the darkness.

‘No! No!’ Annie replied.

‘I take it this is the smoking section.’ The man held out a broad red packet of Dunhill cigarettes with one hand and a proper gold lig
hter
with the other.

Both Connor and Annie shook their heads.

‘No thanks,’ she told him, ‘I never have. But I won’t hold it against you.’

‘That’s very kind, I only smoke at parties, they make me nervous.’

Maybe he was another of her mother’s golfing pals. Whoever he was, he was much more handsome than Spencer. Lean and smart in his soft, well-fitting dinner suit with starchy white cuffs, gold links flashing at the buttonholes.

He was very upright with a handsome tanned face and the kind of swept-back sandy grey hair that put him anywhere from 40 to 60.

‘I’m Gray Holden’ – he held out his hand – ‘and I’m guessing that you must be Annie Valentine. I’ve heard so much about you.’

‘That’s right.’ She took his hand and felt his warm, firm touch.

‘Your mother told me to look out for you.’

‘Oh she did, did she?’ Annie smiled, but immediately felt slightly on guard; this could be another ‘Nice Mr Wilkinson’ in disguise.

‘Connor McCabe,’ Connor introduced himself.

‘I know,’ Gray told him, shaking his hand, ‘I’ve seen you on TV. An honour to meet you.’

Connor looked close to purring, but then Annie gave him the kind of raised-eyebrow look which warned him to make his excuses: ‘I just have to go back inside for a moment, check on my . . .’ with a little wink at Annie, ‘Armani.’

‘His what?’ Gray wondered once Connor had left them.

‘Oh nothing, nothing, just his idea of a joke. So . . . you must know my mother through the Golf Club?’ was Annie’s starter for ten.

‘No, no. Too busy for golf.’ He smiled at her, flashing teeth even whiter and straighter than Connor’s. ‘I’m her new dentist. I’ve taken over the Wilson and Anderson practice.’

‘Oh, right . . .’ This had to be the ‘interesting man’ her mother had lined up for her tonight. Her flashy dentist. He wasn’t bad, not bad at all, although a view of old Mr
 
Anderson’s hairy nose poked disturbingly into her mind.

‘I knew Mr Anderson
well,’ she told Gray. ‘So he’s retired then?’

Gray nodded, then to her surprise, he offered her his arm with the words, ‘Can I take you back inside, Ms Valentine, and find you a fresh drink?’

She’d never expected such quaint old manners to feel so charming. But, half expecting him to bow or maybe click his heels next, she curled her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed herself to be led back inside, momentarily feeling as
if she was in a remake of
Gone With the
Wind
. Such olde worlde courtesy suited her velvet dress perfectly.

Sadly, the effect was spoiled by the sight of Nic and Dinah at one window watching them and cackling.

Then, passing a second window, Annie spotted Owen and another boy each holding a beer can, pointing at them and laughing.

Well, on the one hand, Owen had made a friend, which was a good thing. He had spoken to a stranger. But on the other
hand, good grief,
nine was too young to be playing with beer: she would have to go and investigate.

Chapter Eleven

Kuwaiti ‘princess’ daywear:

Lollipop pink suit with short skirt (Chanel)

Ruffled pink, green and white blouse (Chanel)

High pink suede heels (Jimmy Choo)

Top-to-toe jilbab (definitely not The Store)

Total estimated cost: £3,000

‘Do you have it in white? Oh and yellow too!’

Annie had just finished an extended shopping session with her two favourite Kuwaiti princesses – never before life in The Store had she realized what sometimes went on under a modest, Muslim jilbab: YSL, Chanel, Pucci, short tight skirts with stockings and killer heels.

The princesses usually greeted something lovely from Chanel with the words: ‘Do you have it in white? Oh and yellow too!’ with the intention of buying all three: great customers to have.

Now she was taking a moment of ‘rest’ in her office
 
before her next appointment. Annie’s idea of a rest
 
meant placing eBay bids on fifteen different items and reapplying lipstick as she listened to the messages on her
 
business phone. She regularly collected unwanted clothes, shoes and bags from many of her clients to sell on for them – taking a little slice of commission, obviously. The clients were grateful for the ‘pocket money’, which usually part-funded their designer habit.

Tonight, she’d have to take her Jeep on a London circuit of pick-ups and Trading Station deliveries. There was also a voicemail message from a woman wanting an
 
at-home consultation: when was Annie available? Today, for the right price, was Annie’s motto. She dialled the woman straight back.

‘Annie!’ Her office door opened and one of the floor assistants, Samantha, was there looking anxious. Annie suspected she knew what was coming next.