Croissants and Jam (30 page)

I groan. At five o’clock Justin pops his head around my door.

    ‘Good God, did someone die? Are we a bloody florist now? I know you like flowers but isn’t this a bit over the top?’

I shake my head.

    ‘I didn’t buy them. It was a humongous bouquet from Jack, thanking me for last night.’

His eyebrows rise.

    ‘Good Lord, what did you promise him? No, don’t answer that.’

I pull my hair up and twist it into a scrunch.

    ‘I don’t intend to.’

    ‘So, what’s the news on Olivia Hammond?’

    ‘I’ve been trying her agent all afternoon. I have left three messages,’ responds Kaz, walking in with doughnuts. I grab one eagerly.

    ‘Let me know when the deal is signed.’

Justin takes a doughnut and walks out. I let out a deep sigh.

    ‘Good God. What the hell…’ he shouts, making us both jump.

    ‘Ah,’ smiles Kaz.

I give her a quizzical look.

    ‘Custard, Justin. They didn’t have any jam doughnuts,’ she yells.

    ‘I frigging hate custard,’ he moans loudly. We hear his office door slam shut and we both laugh hysterically.

    ‘I don’t like to mention it but shouldn’t you phone Jack and thank him or something,’ Kaz says casually as she bites into a doughnut, squeezing out a blob of custard which lands with a plop onto my desk.

Bugger, this is getting tricky, very tricky.

        ‘God no, I need to think this through and if he phones, tell him I have my head down the loo.’

She shakes her head.

    ‘You get paid to lie,’ I snap.

    ‘I do not,’ she snaps back, licking sugar from her lips.

I grab a doughnut and sneeze. Jesus, there is more pollen in my office than in my dad’s garden.

    ‘Well, tell him I will phone him later,’ I sniff.

    ‘What are you doing?’ she demands. ‘The guy is loaded, he likes you and he seems really nice. Not many men would even think about buying flowers, let alone a bouquet like that. Trust me Bels; there aren’t that many nice rich eligible bachelors out there.’

She flounces to the door, taking the doughnuts with her.

    ‘Please, don’t nag me. I have enough of that from my mother,’ I say miserably.

She stretches her arms behind her back and moves into a yoga posture.

    ‘You are so stressful to be around. I need to go and meditate,’ she says huffily and walks out.

I throw all the plans for the celebrity dinner into my handbag and turn off my laptop. Neither the coffee nor the doughnuts have taken away my headache. I decide, a quiet night, in front of the television is what is needed. To be precise, a quiet night, watching Christian on television, is what is needed. My intercom buzzes and I bark into it. It is Justin.

    ‘Christ, what did I do?’

    ‘Sorry.’

    ‘Get your arse in here can you. I want to go over a couple of things before you go home.’

I come out twenty minutes later. Kaz is painting her nails and I tut loudly. I look past her to the empty doughnut plate that sits on her desk.

    ‘What? I’ve done loads for you today and all you’ve done is snap my head off,’ she complains. ‘By the way, Jack phoned your Blackberry and seeing as you weren’t going to say anything, I did.’

    ‘What!’

    ‘Don’t have an epileptic fit. I only said you loved the flowers and would phone him later, probably. God forbid you just might.’

I sigh.

    ‘Okay, I guess I should text him or something.’

She jumps off the desk grabbing her bag.

    ‘You haven’t forgotten my lingerie party tomorrow night have you? I am relying on you to bring the pizzas.’

Shit, shit and double shit. It has been all of ten days since she mentioned this party and I totally forgot about it. I must have let out a small moan as she looks at me despairingly.

    ‘Don’t say you forgot? You are going to come, aren’t you? I only said I would have it because you told me you were depressed. I thought it might cheer you up.’

Damn, damn and double damn.

    ‘It is only lingerie isn’t it? There won’t be vibrators and wind-up plastic penises will there?’ I say pulling a face.

    ‘Good God, penises? I feel sick, pass your handbag. Of course not. We’re having pizza. What a horrible thought, pizza and penises.’ She sticks her tongue out. ‘Anyway, the Ann Summers party I went to didn’t have any penises.’

    ‘Okay, maybe I will bring Mother with me, she likes lingerie.’

I kiss her on the cheek and walk down the corridor to Justin’s office. He is on the phone so I pop my head round the door and wave. The thought of my cosy flat and the Christian programme is very appealing, and I push all thought of work from my mind. I check the time on my Blackberry and wonder when Christian will call. I arrive home to three messages from Jack. With a sigh I delete them and quickly send him a text saying I will call him in a few days as I have gone down with a rotten cold. He sends a lovely text back saying he hopes I feel better very soon and that he will phone me in a few days and not to worry. I grab a yogurt from the fridge and settle down to watch Christian. The sight of him has me trembling so much that I need to take three Quiet Life tablets with some Rescue Remedy. I had almost forgotten how handsome he is. I hold my breath throughout the programme, expecting at any minute to see Claudine. Much to my relief she is not mentioned and I let out a deep breath as the programme finishes. I rewind the recording ready to watch again and then prepare myself some beans on toast. I check my Blackberry in case I missed his call but there is nothing. A half-opened bottle of wine sits on the kitchen counter and I pour the contents into a large glass. I am much calmer during the second viewing and find myself staring at Christian like a lovesick teenager. Oh God, please don’t let him marry Claudine, I pray desperately, while searching on Google for any news that may indicate he already has. After an hour of fruitless searching I close the lid. Five times I attempt to phone him but hang up before it rings. Surely if he wanted to speak to me he would have phoned by now. Twenty minutes later with a false sense of security helpfully induced by my alcohol intake I tap into my mobile Olivia’s number and listen to the long international ring tone.

    ‘Hi, this is Olivia. Sorry I can’t take your call. Leave a message and I will call you back as soon as possible.’

Damn. I leave a short message and my home number and hope she remembers me as the nutty woman who came to visit with Christian. I click off my phone, yawn and head for the bedroom when the phone rings. Hesitantly, I answer and Olivia’s bright cheery voice wakes me right up.

    ‘Annabel, thank goodness you phoned. I lost your phone number. Christian phoned and told us everything and said that your wedding had been cancelled…’

    ‘I cancelled it,’ I break in quickly. ‘I found out that my fiancé is Christian’s brother. It is an awful mess and I haven’t seen Christian since. Is he okay, do you know?’

Oh God, why did I ask that? What if she tells me he is fine and just about to be married to Claudine? She does not speak but I can hear her breathing. Oh dear she cannot tell me.

    ‘Oh no, you were engaged to his brother? We haven’t seen Christian,’ she says finally. ‘He phoned here several weeks ago now, it was a few days after you left and he said that you had cancelled your wedding, that everything was a bit crazy and he was going back to New York. He never mentioned his brother. Oh poor you and I know how much you liked Christian.’

I breathe a sigh of relief. He isn’t married, at least not yet.

    ‘So, you haven’t been invited to his wedding then?’ I bravely ask.

    ‘No, we haven’t heard anything about that. Anyway, tell me about you?’

So I do and after another half glass of wine I am brave enough to tell her I am features editor with Versity and several sips of wine later I ask her if she would replace India at our celebrity fashion dinner. To my glee she agrees and offers to fly to England the day after tomorrow to do the McQueen shoot before her pregnancy shows too much. I insist on collecting her at the airport and we finally say our goodbyes. I finally retire to bed feeling more miserable than I ever thought possible. I have to face it. Christian has no intention of phoning me. Surely he isn’t waiting for me to phone him. Just who does he think he is? I have some consideration for Simon, even if he doesn’t. God, men, they are so bloody arrogant sometimes.

Christian

The meeting seems to be going on forever and my mind is drifting away. I yawn, pour myself more coffee and then open the window. The smog of New York hits my nostrils and I feel myself sigh. Why Claudine is so insistent on living here is beyond me. It is frighteningly mad, often depressing and without doubt claustrophobic.

    ‘How about these interviews Chris, do you want us to agree to all of them, or do you want to limit yourself?’

I turn to Matt, my PA and shrug.

    ‘Sorry Matt, I wasn’t listening.’

He grins.

    ‘Marriage is changing you already, and you’re only at the planning stage.’

I give an evil laugh.

    ‘I’m the spanner in the works mate. Everything she arranges I put an obstacle in the way. Or at least so she tells me. Anyway, what interviews?’

    ‘I’ve managed to organise the Munich trip around that weekend you’re in Europe, is that okay?’

I sit back at the table and force my mind back to work and nod at the appropriate moments but annoyingly I find myself checking my phone. I guess she must be pretty serious about this Jack guy then. Or at least he sounds pretty keen on her. She certainly isn’t going to phone now. I check the time for England and see it is almost one in the morning. I really ought not to phone again. What would be the point? I really didn’t see her as the type to be that impressed with an over-the-top bouquet of flowers. It just goes to show. Women, they are all pretty much the same. I suppose I should have corrected
Bels’ assistant’s mistake when I phoned earlier but it was near impossible to get a word in. Besides if she mistook me for the Jack guy it was probably best to leave it at that. The last thing I want to do is mess up any new relationship Bels has. It would have been nice to have explained about the lawsuit. I wish I knew what the hell he had told her about that. Surely she would understand why I need to do it. I have a right to what is morally mine. I can’t just let them get away with that. Damn it, do I really care what she thinks? I barely know her. I must forget about her now. She doesn’t want to be friends, that much is clear. I gave her my number, I said I would call her or she could call me. Well, she has chosen not to call me and I did phone her so that’s that. I look at her number again and then click into the delete button and find myself hovering. No, that would be rash. After all, we were good friends and had a laugh. God, I’m tired. I throw the phone on the desk and lean back closing my eyes. Matt’s voice along with everyone else’s fades into the background. It rings making me jump and I grab it quickly. I feel a small stab of disappointment when I see it is not her. I answer it on the third ring.

    ‘Honey, when are you coming home? I’m so excited. We have found the perfect dress. It was just sitting there waiting for me in Proposals,’ Claudine squeals.

    ‘That’s great baby,’ I say and make a mental note to delete Bels’ number after I hang up. I realise the guys are packing up and push it into my pocket deciding to do it later. Everyone is drifting out of the door and I grab my jacket from the back of the chair.

    ‘Chris, could we have a word before you leave?’

I turn to my accountant Bryn feeling irritated. Matt is looking embarrassed.

    ‘What is it? I really want to go home. This meeting really went on far too long.’

Matt closes the door, leaving just me, Bryn and him in the room.

Bryn looks to Matt and I feel myself getting more irritated.

    ‘What the hell is it? Is it to do with the lawsuit?’

They both seem to shift uncomfortably on their feet.

    ‘It’s a bit delicate, Christian…’

    ‘Just spit it out, I don’t have all day.’

Bryn produces several sheets of paper and shoves them in front of me.

    ‘Did you sign these? I mean, if you did, that’s fine but you really should run this stuff by me. I can’t do my job properly if you don’t.’

I look at the contract and swallow. Matt seems to nod and reading my thoughts, he opens a window.

Chapter Twenty-Five

    ‘You said there wouldn’t be wind-up penises,’ I say accusingly, walking into the kitchen. I pour cola into a glass for my mother. Kaz hands me a glass of wine.

    ‘I can’t, I’m driving Mother home and first thing in the morning I am collecting Olivia Hammond from the airport.’

My mother rushes in and looks hurriedly around the kitchen.

    ‘Can I slice celery or something,’ she asks nervously, her cheeks twitching.

Kaz hands her a knife and points to some French bread.

    ‘The one I went to wasn’t at all like this,’ justifies Kaz as she steps over a plastic penis.

    ‘Come on, those ladies hiding in the kitchen,’ calls the hostess. ‘It’s time to play pass the parcel.’

Oh God, do we have to?

    ‘I’ll stay in the kitchen and cut the bread,’ Mother offers.

I reluctantly follow Kaz into the lounge and take my seat for the pass the parcel game. Typically the parcel lands in Kaz’s lap just as the music stops. I am about to take a sigh of relief when she throws it into mine.

    ‘What?’ I cry, but it is too late and the hostess is beaming down at me.

    ‘What is your forfeit?’ she asks, excitedly.

I look around at the other women who are now pleasantly tipsy from the wine. What on earth am I doing? I only came because I thought there would be lingerie, after all that is what Kaz had said. Instead, we had walked into what my mother had called ‘a soft-porn film’. Although, I did wonder, how she even knew what soft-porn was. Mind you, after tonight she would be left in little doubt. The room is full of soft-porn DVDs and books. I open my forfeit.