Practically Perfect (28 page)

‘Mm. A bit worried too. I mean, what do you wear to the opening of a cutting-edge art show?’ Anna asked anxiously.

‘I told you, what you are wearing: black trousers and a little sparkly top. Now, have you got everything? Reading book? Packed lunch? Spellings?’

Anna smiled fondly at Chloe. She really was like Laura but it was nice to be looked after once in a while, however bossily. She kissed Chloe on the cheek, rescued her case from the back seat and walked on to the platform. She was going to enjoy this visit. And this time she would definitely sleep with Max and it would be perfect.

As she wandered down the platform, she found herself worrying about her house as much as Caroline, whom she knew would be all right. It was as if she was worried that the fairies would undo all her hard work in the night, as in ‘The Elves and the Shoemaker’, only in reverse. She decided she was spending far too much time reading Chloe’s children bedtime stories. For the past week, that had been her only entertainment. Almost every other hour had been spent working on her house.

She went into the waiting room to check her appearance from behind a row of people doing the same thing. She looked OK, she thought as she peered at herself. Her hair was freshly washed and she wore it in what Chloe
described
as a ponytail with the ends sticking out. She was more practised at putting make-up on now and had decided she needed to buy her own black trousers.

‘They’ll take you everywhere,’ Chloe had declared while Anna was modelling them for her.

‘You mean like a sort of taxi service?’

‘Don’t be flippant. If you’re going to go out with Max, you’ll need some decent clothes.’

This was a bit of a problem, but Anna refused to worry about it. When the house was done she’d have more time for shopping. Now Anna wondered if she looked sufficiently smart and sophisticated to be Max’s girlfriend. He had warned her – told her – that his friends would be there. She wanted to do him proud.

At least I haven’t got spots, or my period, she thought, inspecting herself. She had refused Chloe’s suggestion of false nails. She knew one would flip off at an awkward moment and that she would giggle and Max might not. Her own nails were short but, thanks to the fact that she’d washed her hair, for the moment scrupulously clean. She was wearing a neat little leather jacket, borrowed from Chloe, who had bought it at a charity shop, possibly with Anna in mind. She looked … well, if not cool, at least not a complete dog.

‘You’ve got cheekbones, and you’re not fat!’ Chloe had wailed in envy. ‘And you’re really pretty! What more can any girl want?’

At last the train pulled into the station, and Anna turned away from the mirror and made her way towards it. She had to stop vacillating between a reluctant admiration that she looked remotely presentable, and the belief that Max would take one look at her and leave her at the station. The almost certain knowledge that tonight they would really become lovers was making her veer between blissful
anticipation
and fear that she might have forgotten what to do. He was a sophisticated man-about-town and she – well, she was just a girl in love. It should be enough, she thought. Passion would take her through any initial awkwardness.

She clambered on to the train, placed her overnight bag above her seat and sat down. She felt exhausted already and closed her eyes, hoping to dream of Max. Instead, a kaleidoscope of risers and goings and nosings – all the parts of her staircase – intruded until at last she slept.

Max was looking very sophisticated in crushed linen. Anna longed to ask him if he had come out of the door looking crushed or it had happened on the journey over. You could never quite tell with designer labels.

‘There’s not much of a queue for taxis just now,’ he said, when he had kissed her cheek and given her an approving once-over. ‘It’s this way.’

It was pleasant being in the charge of a tall, confident man-about-town, Anna decided as he took her overnight bag and put his hand in the small of her back to steer her in the right direction. She began to look forward to the evening ahead.

The gallery was white, all white; everything was white. The only non-white items were the pictures, which, Anna was forced to concede (having taken against the all-white theme) looked fabulous. Except that you couldn’t really see them, there were so many people, all of them talking at the tops of their voices. Most of them were wearing black.

‘Wow,’ she said, taking a glass of white wine from a tray that held an array of all white drinks. The girl holding the tray was wearing a clinging white sheath that went
from
barely over her bust to just over her hips. ‘This is amazing.’ She smiled at the girl who smiled back and moved on – an art student, if ever Anna had seen one.

‘Have you not been here before? I’m surprised,’ said Max. ‘Oh look, there’s Andreas. Come and meet him. I’m hoping Julian, who might buy your house, will be here.’

Anna followed Max as he forged a path through the people and reflected that everyone seemed to be there for social reasons, to be seen rather than to look at the work. This was no place for a bit of reflection on a work of art.

All the women seemed to be tall, skeletal and wearing Armani. Some of the men were the same, but others were older, ugly and much more interesting-looking. Anna felt flattered that she’d been allowed in wearing her plain black trousers and Chloe’s leather jacket over a sparkly top from a high-street store.

Andreas and Max hugged in a way that Anna found rather surprising. She wondered if Rob would have embraced another man like that, doubted it, and then congratulated herself on being with a man who was more open to such things.

‘Andreas, meet Anna. Darling, this is Andreas Bugatti – no relation to the car. He’s a collector.’

‘Oh, that sounds sinister!’ said Anna gaily and then realised she shouldn’t have. ‘I mean, interesting.’

‘And what do you do?’ asked Andreas, obviously not expecting her to do anything at all.

‘I’m an interior designer. I’m doing up a house in the Cotswolds. I finished the staircase yesterday.’ She smiled in a way designed to end the conversation. It did.

‘There’s Julian,’ said Max. ‘Now he’s the one you ought to talk about your house to. Sorry, Andreas, we must circulate,’ But Andreas had already moved on. ‘Julian! Over
here!
’ Max waved at a pleasant, well-dressed man who dutifully came over.

‘Hello, Max. Who’s this?’ He smiled at Anna with just the right amount of interest.

‘This is Anna, she’s the one doing up the house I was telling you about. Could be just what you want.’

‘But, Max, you haven’t seen what I’ve done yet!’ Anna protested. ‘You shouldn’t go telling your friends about it when I might have made an awful mess of it.’

‘Oh, that’s OK, Julian’s got plenty of money. He could always get me in to sort things out.’ Max smiled, a little superciliously, Anna thought. ‘In fact, he’ll probably need to do just that.’

Anna took a breath, to calm herself down and so she could make a short speech defending her house and her abilities. Julian caught her eye and she exhaled again. He was smiling in a friendly, reassuring way.

‘I’m sure you’ve done a very good job on it,’ he said. ‘And if the house is listed, you’re quite restricted anyway.’

Sensing that of all the people in the room Julian might actually be interested in her staircase, she said, ‘I’ve just finished making a staircase. I copied it from my neighbour. I put a coat of water-based varnish on it before I got ready.’

‘You didn’t want to use oil or wax?’ he asked.

‘I did, but it takes so long to dry. The varnish works very well,’ Anna explained.

‘So what’s the rest of it like?’

‘Well …’

As Julian seemed genuinely interested and Max, satisfied that he’d set up the conversation, was talking to Andreas again, she started.

‘Well, it’s got beautiful wood floors, all sanded and sealed. Keeping the dog off them was a real problem.’

‘What sort of dog?’

‘A rescue greyhound, but you don’t want to hear about all that.’

‘I definitely do. Besides, if your cottage is big enough for a greyhound, it’s probably big enough for me.’

‘It’s not really big enough for a greyhound, but she and I manage very well,’ Anna said, relaxing properly for the first time that evening.

They continued to chat about the house until Max touched her arm. ‘Time for dinner, darling. I’ve got a table booked.’

‘But I haven’t seen a single picture close to!’

Max laughed. ‘Come back another time, sweetie.’

Anna felt fleeting regret at leaving Julian’s easy, interested company, but then realised that a dinner
à deux
with Max, at what was probably a very good restaurant, was the stuff of dreams, her dreams.

The quality of the restaurant was evident the moment they got through the door. Max was obviously a regular as the maître d’ and the waiters addressed him by name. They were ushered to a table in a discreet but comfortable corner. Bread, menus and doll-sized circles of toast with something delicious on them appeared almost immediately.

‘Well now, what shall we have?’

Max’s expert knowledge of food was obvious and while he didn’t exactly order for her, he talked her through the menu. Anna wasn’t sure if she was grateful for this or not. Whilst she looked around at the other diners in their identikit his-and-hers designer suits, Max and the sommelier discussed the wine at length.

Anna, who’d had two glasses of white wine at the gallery, felt she shouldn’t really have too much more, but Max wanted them to have white wine with the starter,
and
a very exclusive bottle of Rioja with their main course. She decided that this was her dream date. She shouldn’t worry about units of alcohol. After all, she was going home with Max! Her heart gave a skip that was half excitement and half nerves.

‘So, tell me about your flat,’ she said when a plate of oysters had been put on the table in front of them.

‘What do you want to know? You’ll see it soon.’ His laughing, mocking expression was very sexy, Anna decided.

‘I want to know if I’ll like it.’

‘You’ll certainly like the view. Now open your mouth.’ He tipped her first ever oyster into it. It tasted, as everyone had always told her it would, of the sea.

‘Mm,’ she said. ‘Quite nice. But if I lived near the coast I’d just have a sip of sea water instead.’

‘Philistine! Have another.’

‘Perhaps I could get used to them,’ she admitted a little later.

‘We’ve eaten them now. I hope you’re happy to eat foie gras? There’s a very lightly cooked cushion of it served on the fillet.’

Anna was not at all happy about eating foie gras but she couldn’t bring herself to say so. He was going to a lot of trouble and expense to give her the very best dinner possible; she couldn’t spoil it by talking about animal rights. Besides, he’d never understand.

A tiny nest of grated fried potato sat opposite the steak. A matching nest of courgette was opposite. In between were spears of baby asparagus and something very pretty that Anna didn’t recognise.

‘That’s a courgette flower,’ said Max. ‘Now dig in.’

Anna regarded him quizzically. ‘I don’t think “dig in” is what your mother would say at a time like this.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Certainly not, but do it anyway.’

Anna addressed her steak, wondering if they’d both had enough to drink for her to tell him about the jacuzzi incident. She might have done had his mother not been a crucial part of the story. As he hadn’t found the first incident very funny, she doubted she’d even raise a smile with this one. If Mrs Gordon had recognised her as the woman who cleaned her greenhouse, and Anna subsequently turned up on Max’s arm for tea, it would be better for Anna to deny all knowledge. For a moment Anna prayed that Max would never introduce her to his mother, but then she realised that meant she was now in danger of seeing their relationship as only temporary. Surely she couldn’t think that about a man she’d loved for so long?

‘Ah, an intercourse,’ said Max challengingly.

‘I’m not going to respond to that,’ said Anna, inspecting the tiny frosted glass containing grapefruit sorbet.

‘How wise.’

Later, when they’d eaten rare steak and fois gras, he said, ‘Now what about pudding? They do a delicious little champagne soufflé that you might like.’

‘Haven’t we just had pudding?’

‘No, that was the intercourse.’

Anna chuckled obligingly. ‘Well, it will do for me. I’ve eaten far too much already.’

‘Coffee then? The petits fours they serve are exquisite.’

‘Not unless you’d like some, in which case I’ll have tea. If I have coffee I won’t go to sleep at all.’

‘We’ll go then. Fabulous as this place is, I don’t think they quite understand tea.’

Somehow Anna felt she’d made yet another social gaffe.

‘There.’

Max had led her out of the vast glass wall on to the balcony. Anna felt that all London was laid out before her.
The
Thames, the first and ancient artery of England snaking past towards the estuary, was like a gilded pathway. It was not yet dark but the streetlights and illuminated buildings made the city, always glamorous to Anna’s eyes, seem spectacular.

Appropriately enough, his flat was right at the top of an old building practically next to Tate Modern.

‘You can see nearly all the newer buildings, except the Eye, which you can just about see the top of.’

‘It’s fantastic,’ said Anna in awe. ‘And there’s St Paul’s. I can understand why you wanted this flat, Max.’

‘A lot of the more Brutalistic buildings went up while I was training. Marvellous, exciting stuff. Have you seen the Trellick Tower? Brutal indeed, but with, I think, a sort of savage beauty.’

Anna took a breath. ‘I don’t think I have. I’m afraid any school of architecture that calls itself Brutalistic is a shade too modern for me. Not that I don’t like modern buildings,’ she hurried on, possibly digging the hole she was in even deeper, ‘but something a bit softer is more to my taste.’

He laughed indulgently. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy the view for a bit longer while I do something inside. You can see the Gherkin. You probably like that.’