The Wedding Diary (Choc Lit) (20 page)

‘Oh, don’t be so daft,’ said Tess. ‘Listen, you’ve got Jack and Adam sorted, haven’t you? So don’t let this woman do you down. If you make it clear that you won’t stand for any messing, you’ll be fine.’

‘It won’t be so easy. She’s a witch. She casts spells on people, makes them do all sorts of things they didn’t mean to do, and say things they didn’t mean to say. You think you and Bex are hard, but compared with Fanny you’re as soft as candyfloss.’

‘She can’t be as hard as Bex,’ scoffed Tess. ‘What does she look like anyway, you’ve never said – is she huge and does she frighten you, is she some enormous tattooed jelly-belly, is she like a weightlifter in drag? Do you think she’ll sit on you and squash you if you don’t do as you’re told?’

‘Fanny’s really tiny. She’s nowhere near as tall as you and me, even in her six-inch-heel stilettos. But that doesn’t mean she can’t—’

‘What’s her hair like?’

‘Moussed and styled until it begs for mercy and obviously dyed.’

‘What colour is it?’

‘Orange.’

‘Does she have crimson lipstick, scarlet nails?’

‘Yes, she does.’

‘Eyelashes like a spider’s legs?’

‘You’ve got it.’

‘God, she sounds revolting. However does she manage to run her own promotions company? Doesn’t she scare everyone away?’

‘No, I told you, Tess – she casts a magic spell on them and makes them do her bidding.’

‘Rubbish,’ snorted Tess derisively. ‘Okay, here’s the plan – when you go to see Godzilla’s granny, why don’t I come with you?’

‘There would be no point, and anyway we’re getting some deliveries on Wednesday. Barry’s off to see a man in Chester who’s demolishing a bakery, and he thinks there’ll be a lot of pickings, pots and pans and stuff, and maybe ovens, too. So you’ll be needed here.’

‘We can change delivery dates,’ said Tess. ‘So tell me if you change your mind.’

‘I will, and thank you, anyway.’

As a matter of fact, decided Cat, as she got started on some work, I wouldn’t have minded some support.

But she didn’t think it would be wise to let Tess loose on somebody like Fanny Gregory. She’d end up being billed for twice as much if Tess told Fanny where she could get off.

‘She told me she and Jack have sorted something out, or come to an arrangement, and I don’t quite like the sound of that,’ she added as she keyed in figures.

‘They’re ganging up against you, do you mean?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past them.’

‘Omigod,’ said Tess. ‘So do you think she’s – do you think he’s – are they?’

‘Yes, I think they might be.’

‘But she’s old enough to be his mother, isn’t she?’

‘She’d have had to have had him very young. But yes, it’s very likely.’ Cat reached for a Kleenex. ‘Oh, this is awful, Tess!’

‘Come on, Cat, you’re over him, you said so.’

‘Yes, I’m over him, of course I am. But it doesn’t stop me thinking about when we were together first of all and everything was lovely.’

‘But it was a mirage, wasn’t it? He’s a git and she’s a bitch.’ Tess looked hard at Cat. ‘So if they want to shag each other senseless, let them both get on with it. Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say. If you have any sense, you’ll say it, too.’

‘You’re right, of course,’ said Cat.

‘I’m always right,’ said Tess. ‘Oh, and by the way – Barry said to tell you the Anderson account needs sorting out. He says he entered something on a spreadsheet while you were away, and he thinks he might have put some figures where they didn’t ought to go.’

‘God, I wish he’d leave the books alone.’ Cat sighed and tapped some keys and made a mental note to change the password for the customer accounts so Barry couldn’t get at them and foul them up again. ‘I wish he’d stick to buying paving slabs and garden ornaments, and let me do the job I’m hired to do.’

‘Well, of course that’s men for you,’ said Tess. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Go blundering in there like a blind assassin, foul it up, then leave the mess for some poor woman to sort out.’

Adam kept on calling, texting, e-mailing.

Cat kept on ignoring him.

But she knew she was weakening.

As she was scrolling through the fourteenth, fifteenth text that day, she thought, I don’t know what to do.

He wasn’t whingeing, moaning, carping, grumbling. He didn’t make excuses. Or justify himself. Or suggest that it was all her fault for reacting to the sight of Maddy like a jealous cow. Or tell her she should get a grip.

‘Please could we meet up and talk?’ he texted.

‘Cat, I’d love to see you when you have a spare half hour,’ he e-mailed.

‘May I buy you lunch some time?’ This was on a voicemail, and when she heard him speaking her thumb was on the icon straight away, ready to press call.

The latest text said he was out of London for the next few days. But he’d be in the bar of the Red Lion in Wayland Road next Wednesday lunchtime and he’d hope to see her there.

She couldn’t meet him then.

She had a date with Fanny Gregory in her office.

She couldn’t quite decide in which place she most didn’t want to be.

The meeting came too soon.

‘Hello Fanny, hello Caspar,’ Cat began as she breezed into Fanny’s den. Or as she tried to breeze, but sadly failed.

‘Sit down, Cat,’ said Fanny, sounding like Judi Dench as M in the more recent James Bond movies, with her eyes still fixed upon her screen.

‘I’m sorry about all this.’ Cat tried again. ‘I know I’ve messed things up for you. But I—’

‘Spare me the sob stuff, sweetheart.’ Fanny glanced up now, and the expression on her face was one of deep displeasure. ‘Cat, my angel, if you think that doing the big-eyed, Puss in Boots routine is going to get you off the hook, you’d better think again.’

‘Fanny, listen!’ Cat retorted, stung. ‘I want to sort this out! I want to make it up to you! I want to know about the money!’

‘Do you have any money, darling?’

‘No,’ admitted Cat.

‘Then we’ll have to think of something else.’ Fanny smiled her vixen’s smile and stroked her greyhound’s head reflectively. ‘You do remember I have this barn in Surrey?’

‘Do I, Fanny?’

‘Yes, my sweet, you do.’ Fanny gave one laptop key a sharp, staccato tap. ‘I mentioned it when we met up in Dorset.’

‘Yes, of course you did,’ said Cat, thinking that perhaps she would be wise to be a bit co-operative now.

‘As you know, my angel, I don’t mess about. That man we met when we were all at Melbury Court in May – Adam something, wasn’t it? He said I should get an architect. I don’t have time for architects. I always know exactly what I want and how to get it. So I – do stop smirking, Cat. It really doesn’t suit you, makes your mouth look like a meerkat’s.’

‘I’m sorry, Fanny,’ Cat said meekly. But she hadn’t been smirking. She’d been wincing. The unexpected sound of Adam’s name had pushed a red hot skewer straight into her heart and had made her realise she was so not over him.

She wished there were injections you could have, to stop you catching love. One shot, she thought, that would be all it took, and you’d be immunised for life, like you were immunised for German measles when you were fourteen. ‘You were saying?’

‘So,’ continued Fanny, ‘I got a local master builder in. We did the plans ourselves. His cronies on the council took the sweeteners, and they passed our drawings straight away. An extraordinary evening session, I believe they called it, hardly anyone turned up. Or they weren’t invited, possibly.’

‘You’re saying you and your builder fiddled it?’

‘I’m saying I don’t believe in wasting time.’ Fanny tapped three keys in quick succession, clack, click, clack. ‘I must admit his boys have earned their bonuses, and more. They’ve cracked on with the work at record speed. The rooms downstairs are ready to be decorated now.’ Fanny did a good impression of a judge about to send a criminal down for life. ‘Cat, my love, my princess – that’s going to be your job.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that on bank holidays and at weekends, my angel, you’ll be at my barn. As the plasterers, electricians, plumbers and the other men move out, you will move in. You’ll be glossing woodwork, emulsioning my walls and painting ceilings, and maybe even choosing colours, too.’

Fanny paused to look Cat up and down, like a farmer sizing up some livestock and trying to decide if it was fit for breeding or should be sent for slaughter straight away.

‘I’ve noticed that you have an eye for colour,’ she continued. ‘You look particularly nice today, in that pale pink and darker pink and green, and that yellow top you wore in Dorset really flattered you.

‘Your clothes are rubbish, obviously. They’re cheap and mass-produced in Third World countries or bought from market stalls. You ought to buy a classic piece or two, my love, at least once in a while. It’s often quite amazing what’s going in the sales. But you always look well put together, even dressed in tat. I’ll tell darling Rosie to send you a few shade cards and some charts.’

‘What if I’m no good at glossing?’

‘If you’re not already, you will be very soon, my sweetie pie.’ Fanny took out a file and tapped it with one long, red nail. ‘You signed the entry form, remember? In the event of any monies being disbursed by Supadoop Promotions?’

‘Yes, all right,’ said Cat and sighed, accepting she was beaten. Or that she’d got off lightly? She wasn’t really sure. ‘When shall I start?’

‘As soon as possible, my love,’ said Fanny, and her mouth curved in her trademark vixen’s smile again. ‘What do you have planned for this weekend?’

‘Well – nothing, I suppose,’ admitted Cat.

‘Excellent,’ said Fanny as she tapped more keys. ‘So now it’s set in stone. Caspar, angel, it’s a lovely day. So you shall go out and have a little fun with Rosie. You can both go running in the park.’

As Cat left Fanny’s office she met Rosie coming in, carrying a dozen bags from very expensive stores.

‘Hello, Cat,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to let you in, but I’ve been collecting samples for her ladyship. How are things with you?’

‘Oh, you know – pretty bad.’ Cat shook her head. ‘I wish I’d never heard of Fanny Gregory!’ she cried. ‘I wish I’d never entered her bloody competition!’

‘Why, what did she say to you today?’

‘I can’t pay back the money she spent on me that day at Melbury Court and so I have to go and paint her barn. She’s going to let me choose some colour schemes. You’re going to send me shade cards.’

‘I’m going to send you what?’

‘Some charts, some shade cards, so she said.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Rosie dropped her bags on to the pavement and then gave Cat a sympathetic hug. ‘You mustn’t let her bully you,’ she said. ‘Fan’s all mouth and bluster, and that’s why she’s so good at what she does. She can talk anybody into doing anything. But with Fan you have to stand your ground, otherwise she walks all over you. Come and have a coffee?’

‘What about that woman, isn’t she expecting you? She was saying something about you and Caspar going to the park.’

‘Oh yes, I’m in training for a fun run. It’s for charity and Fanny’s doing the promotion. They can wait ten minutes.’ Rosie kicked the bags into the hallway. ‘There’s a Starbucks down the road. Come on, I’ll treat you to a chocolate muffin and a cappuccino.’

‘I’d better not,’ said Cat. ‘I must go back to work. I’m late already and I can’t afford to get the sack.’

‘I tell you what, I’ll call you,’ Rosie said.

‘Okay,’ said Cat and forced a smile.

‘You mustn’t worry, it’s going to be all right.’

A few weekends in Surrey, Cat thought grimly, as she made her way into the dirty, crowded, nasty-smelling Underground.

They might be exactly what I need.

Some country air and exercise, they’ll probably do me good.

It’s not as if I have much choice.

‘The blackmailing old witch,’ cried Tess.

Cat was back at Chapman’s yard, explaining what had happened and what Fanny Gregory had said she had to do. ‘You should go and see a lawyer, mate. Get a solicitor on the case to send her a stiff letter – that’s my advice to you.’

‘I can’t afford to pass the time of day with a solicitor,’ said Cat. ‘Let alone employ one.’

‘I could ask my brother’s bloke? He told Nick some useful stuff when he was up for burglary one time.’ Tess looked sympathetically at Cat. ‘I’ll ring Mr Gibson for you, shall I?’

‘No,’ said Cat. ‘I can’t afford to pay solicitors. I’d rather sort it this way, anyhow. These days, unless I’m at the yard, I never do much at weekends.’

‘But you could, you know. You and me and Bex, we could go clubbing, drinking, meeting guys. Like we used to do, remember, in the olden days, before you met that bastard Jack?’

‘I don’t want anything more to do with guys. I’m going to become a nun. I’ve been on to a website and downloaded the forms.’

‘Why won’t you speak to Adam?’

‘You know why.’

‘But maybe he was telling you the truth? Listen, I’ve been thinking—’

‘Blimey, that’ll be a first.’

‘Shut up, Cat,’ said Tess. ‘Maybe he and Whatserface, perhaps they really had split up? Perhaps he really loves you?’

‘Perhaps there’s life on Mars.’

‘Why don’t you call him, anyway?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Cat, and sighed. ‘Okay, he’s nice. I know he’s nice, and part of me is almost sure he wasn’t lying when he said he and the Maddy woman had broken up before we even met. I believe he was as shocked as I was when he found her in his bed. But I can’t take the risk.’

‘You can’t take the risk of what?’

‘Of being hurt a second time. My heart can’t take the strain. What if it’s all on again between him and the Maddy woman? What if they’re tucked up in bed this minute?’

‘At four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon?’ Tess grinned sarcastically. ‘I’d say it was unlikely. Our Adam’s probably on a building site in darkest Cornwall. Or he’ll be in Dorset or some other part of cross-eyed-peasant-country, sticking some old house or ancient monument together with spit and Araldite.’

Or could he still be waiting in the bar of the Red Lion, thought Cat, and was he still hoping she would come?

Suddenly she wanted more than anything to see him.

But she forced the longing down.

‘What do you suggest?’ she asked.

‘You could meet him, couldn’t you, and keep it light and friendly? What about a movie and a pizza, Adam, my old mate? Let’s have some good, clean fun?’

‘I’m not really in the mood for fun,’ said Cat, wondering why merely hearing Adam’s name still had the occult power to twist a dagger in her heart? ‘Maybe slapping litres of magnolia or something on Fanny’s sodding walls will be good therapy for me, and Surrey’s probably very nice in summer.’

‘Cat, if you think slapping paint on walls is therapy, you really need to buy a better class of magazine – one that isn’t full of stuff about my-husband-is-a-paedophile-who’s-working-for-a-children’s-charity, or my-council-house-is-full-of-ghosts-and-the-bishop-came-to-exorcise-them-but-it-didn’t-work-and-there’s-still-a-lot-of-ectoplasm-which-won’t-respond-to-bleach.’

‘So you’d do what?’

‘Oh, I dunno,’ said Tess. ‘I think this Fanny Gregory woman sounds like a gold-medal-winning bitch. But I’m not doing anything this weekend. Barry’s at the yard and Annie’s in the office. She’s bringing Roxie in her Moses basket, so she said, and they won’t need me. If you want a bit of company as you do your slapping, I’ll come and help you out.’

‘You mean it?’

‘Yes, of course I mean it. I’m your mate.’

‘Do you think Bex would tag along, and then the three of us could slap together?’

‘No, Bexy-girl’s got other plans.’

‘Oh?’ said Cat.

‘Yes indeed,’ said Tess, and then she grinned. ‘She’s been giving herself the works this week – nails and hair and facial peel and spray tan. She’s been Body Shopped to death, all for some new guy she met in Tesco.’

‘Where are they going, on a mini-break to Paris?’

‘No, just tenpin bowling.’

‘Las Vegas?’

‘Cricklewood.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘No, that’s what she said, or maybe it was Harlesden?’

‘God,’ said Cat and shook her head. ‘If that’s the best this guy can offer, she’d be better off with the emulsion and with us.’