Trophy Life (17 page)

Maybe this was the answer. She thought she had always dated a specific type of man. The funny, self-deprecating, charming, scruffy jokers. Maybe she should try something – someone – else. After all, her attempts thus far hadn’t been successful. It was with these thoughts in mind that she met Harry that night. Open minded.

She should have realised this would not be an average night when what looked like a very expensive sports car roared up beside her and parked in a bay. She looked away, still searching for Harry amidst the surrounding pedestrians, but then she heard his voice right beside her.

'Hi.' She turned and saw Harry getting out of the car, closing the door and locking it with a neat
bleep
. The lights of the car brightened and then dimmed and the wing mirrors folded inwards, a dark and dangerous dragon preparing for slumber.

'Hi,' she replied. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, the sweet smell of his aftershave engulfing her.

'Looking beautiful,' he said, surveying her with definite appreciation.

She could feel herself reddening, but thanked him. She actually didn’t like the constant complements. It all felt like too much.

'So where are we going?' she asked, smoothing down her trusty knee length black skirt, which she had paired with a strappy pink top for the occasion. As she had been in the dark as to their destination, she had been aiming for something that would work just as well for a dinner at Pizza Express as for a fancier venue. Amy hated nothing more than being overdressed and she had had to forcibly steer herself away from her jeans and into the smarter option. She had however worn a pretty pair of (not too high) heels so she was hoping it wasn’t too far as she knew her limitations when it came to walking in such contraptions.

'Have you heard of Chotto Matte?' He pronounced it 'Shotto' and 'Mattey'. Amy shook her head. 'It’s the latest in Japanese Peruvian fusion,' he explained knowledgably. Amy had no idea that anybody would ever consider fusing Japanese and Peruvian food, let alone that there was a ‘latest’ instalment of such an establishment. 'Not a bad place. Quite similar to Sushi Samba. Have you been?' When her face showed a blank he continued. 'I do like that mix of Eastern food with a South American touch,' he mused. 'Kurt really knows his stuff. I was just saying to Guy the other day that he should consider opening something like that.' Amy had no idea who Guy was. Had she met him at Lucy’s party?

As Harry continued telling her about a fabulous restaurant he had been to in Ibiza, they neared a crowded pavement. She could see throngs of young, well-dressed people spilling out of a bar with fully open glass doors. Laughter and the smell of alcohol clung to the air, mingling with the enticing buzz of conversation. There was a sense of excitement. It felt like the centre of the universe.

Without saying a word, Harry took Amy’s hand and led her through the crowds and to a desk at the foot of a spiral staircase. She almost gasped at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture, unable to decide whether she was charmed or annoyed.

'Green, table for two,' he said smoothly to a man with a single file queue of hairs for eyebrows. After checking his list, the man smiled serenely.

'Just one moment sir.' He beckoned a tall, severe looking brunette who led them up the stairs and to a table by the window. It began to dawn on Amy that this was perhaps a step or two above Pizza Express. Certainly very different from anywhere Will had ever taken her to.

The meal that followed was delicious. Harry ordered for them both, promising her that she wouldn’t be disappointed. She internally rolled her eyes at this. Was he seriously ordering her food? But then she looked down at the inexplicable menu with its endless choices and smiled in agreement. At least this way she would be saved any possible embarrassment. They started with a plate of Edamame beans. Then they were treated to course after course of exotic plates of delicate sushi and meats. Amy’s favourites were the tiny tostaditas, light tortillas with varying toppings. She loved the fact that it was all so different from other food she had tasted.

Around them, a mix of cool looking couples and groups of friends shared tables, laughing and talking, adding to the din. They all looked like they belonged here. They knew how to act, how to laugh, what to say in this dimly lit, tastefully furnished world with massive paintings and up to the moment music.

Harry was so at ease with his surroundings, so effortless in his interactions with the intimidating staff, she felt cocooned, protected by his confidence. It helped that he ordered bottle after bottle of wine as well as cocktails for both of them. As the food and drink flowed, Amy listened as Harry told her about his experiences at different London restaurants, the holidays he’d had and anecdotes about various friends.

'You have to come to Mustique,' he was saying. 'I had the most incredible time there this summer. You’d love it.'

'Oh would I?' she asked playfully, emboldened by more than one Sake cocktail.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Trust me. I will show you the world.' Amy was floored. Apart from the fact that she was pretty sure that 'I will show you the world' was the first line of a Disney song from the film
Aladdin
, Harry’s confidence – no it was definitely arrogance – was staggering. She found herself torn between being impressed and appalled and this continued to the end of the meal and throughout the rest of the date.

Amy was relieved to breathe in the fresh night air as they left the restaurant. It had been fascinating, but she had spent the entire time wondering whether she could make her way back down the stairs to the exit without a spectacular fall. Fortunately, disaster had been avoided and they made their way back to Harry’s car.

'You’re so different,' he was saying.  She saw people staring as they approached the impressive vehicle. 

'That doesn’t sound like a good thing,' she parried.

'I just mean, you’re not like all the girls I know. Just there to be looked at. You have actual opinions, thoughts. You’re smart.' Amy was surprised, not because she didn’t have views, but because she hadn’t thought she had expressed any of them that night.

He opened the car door for her and she lowered herself gingerly into the seat, trying not to gag as the smell of new leather sent her slightly tipsy head reeling.

They travelled less than five minutes before they reached an unassuming Mayfair side street. There, Harry stopped the car and got out, giving the keys to another man who promptly came to open Amy’s door. It was like the most polite carjacking in the history of crime. A bloodless vehicular coup.

She stepped out and into the night, met by Harry who, once again, took her hand. She saw a short queue leading into a seemingly innocuous archway. A discreet plaque with a bulldog on it was visible on the wall with the words
Maddox Private Club
engraved below. Later, Lucy would gush about how this was one of the most exclusive private clubs in London. As at Chotto Matte, Harry blithely passed the waiting line of shivering people and went straight to the front, showing the bouncer what looked like a card. A membership card? The large man waved them in.

The crowd milling inside was imbued with a sense of purpose, tall lissom girls mingling with confident looking men, hip hop music pulsing through the speakers, invading every space. They were seated at a plush banquet, surrounded by other groups and couples, the dancefloor filled with writhing bodies. Amy wasn’t sure, but she thought she recognised some of the faces she saw. Was that a soap star sitting with a premiership footballer? Amy was certain that she saw some of the
Made In Chelsea
cast in the corner. She would have to tell Georgie.

The only slight issue was that Amy couldn’t hear anything that Harry was saying. The constant need to lean in and shout in each other’s ears in order to catch the odd word before resorting to just nods and smiles reminded her of nights out at university. Amy felt a bit relieved. She actually had very little left to say. She had used up all of her small talk.  

Yet, despite herself, Amy was enjoying the sensation of being a tourist in a foreign land. She knew she stuck out like a sore thumb in her Topshop outfit and inexpertly applied makeup compared with the stunning, straight faced, gliding girls wearing their tiny dresses, but with Harry as her guide she was sheltered, protected. She may not be one of them, but she was allowed into their inner sanctum. It was like embarking on an anthropological expedition to the very heart of how the other half lived. Fascinating, intimidating. Intoxicating.

Harry ordered them drinks from a menu so expensive Amy couldn’t help but mentally tally up his tab as they went. Every now and then people would stop by to greet to Harry. In fact, he seemed to know everyone there that night, an impression that made it all the more charming when he determinedly kept his eyes on her.

'Let’s go,' Harry said after a while, standing and leading her to the door. By this point she was accustomed to him holding her hand as he did so and followed obediently. It was starting to feel as if this was just what they did.

Amy breathed a sigh of relief as she finally, silently, crept into the house. She had let him drive her home, but cringed at the thought that his roaring car was probably waking up the whole of North London on its pilgrimage. Nevertheless it had been a choice between that and a taxi ride and this seemed so much easier. Now back in the comfort of her real life, she could be herself again. Breathe out. Be natural.

She thought about this the next morning, sipping at her coffee gratefully. Thankfully she didn’t have a hangover, probably thanks to sleeping in until 10am. Now in her ragged pyjamas in front of morning TV in her parents’ cosy living room, last night was like a dream. A nice place to visit. She was definitely glad she’d gone, but that world was alien to her. Yet, another part of her silently analysed every aspect of the evening.

She couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t kissed her – or at least tried to kiss her – at the end of the night. At the time, she hadn’t minded. She had been exhausted and simply focused on not falling over as he walked her to the front door. She had thought it quite gentlemanly. But now she was fretting. Had he regretted asking her out? Had he compared her to the willowy girls around them that evening, the girls so much more at home in his world, and realised his mistake? 

If anything, she was determined that if anyone was to be rebuffed, it would be him by her. The thought that he hadn’t considered her worthy was unappealing to say the least, especially as she had had enough rejection in her life of late.

She sighed heavily as she stared unseeingly at the TV screen, annoyed with herself for caring about any of this. She wasn’t sure if she even liked him, so what did it matter if he didn’t like her? However, deep down, she knew that it did.

Chapter 13

'Hi Amy!' The receptionist at London Ladies smiled brightly at her as she sauntered in through the glass doors, green tea in perfectly manicured hand. 'Looking fab today.'

'How was it, Pen?' Amy asked in reply. Having bonded over Amy’s new 'Giselled' wardrobe, Amy and Penelope were now on first name terms. As such, Amy knew that the pretty brunette was on the hunt for a boyfriend and had high hopes for her date last night, a city broker from a good family.

'Don’t even ask. Total disaster. Picked his teeth with his fork!'

As the lift doors opened Amy opened her mouth in horror at Penelope in a sign of solidarity. Now on her own floor, several women looked up as she passed their desks. First to get up was Esther.

'Didn’t Harry look handsome this morning on that show with Susanna Reid? Oh but that woman, flirting up a storm with him!'

'Amy, I have that list for you. The bands? Apparently Lord Pinsenby’s son has a rock band called the Heirs In Flairs?' This from Jemima, a young work experience who Amy found very helpful around the office.

'Thanks, I’ll take a look at that,' she said, taking the proffered sheet of paper. 'Did you update that spreadsheet on costs?'

Once at her desk, Amy followed what, over the past few weeks, had become her usual routine. She turned on her laptop, checked her emails and started making calls. She still had to finalise the numbers for the event after some tables had demanded more seats. She had to call the hotel to check whether this would be possible and to what extent. Then there was a call to the
Ham and High
, the local paper of Hampstead and Highgate, who had mistakenly called them the 'London Laddies', something which had drawn severe consternation, if not ire, from some of the members.

'Amy, there’s something for you downstairs apparently,' Jemima said a few minutes later.

'Oh are those the dinner brochure samples? I’ve been waiting for those.' Amy was still writing the content for the brochure, still getting more advertisements commissioned, but the design was already being prepared.

'I’ll go and see,' Jemima offered. A few minutes later, Amy looked up to see an enormous bunch of roses and lilies. They were so large that tiny Jemima was reduced to being just a pair of legs and feet underneath them.

'Oh that is lovely,' gushed Esther, hands clasped in front of her ample chest.

Mouth half open, half smiling, Amy stood up to read the note. For some reason, her first thought was that they were from Freddie, but she pushed that away. How ridiculous, Why on earth would he send her flowers?

'To my beautiful wife, have a rosy day.'

'So romantic.' Jemima’s voice was almost a whisper.

'Yes,' Amy said thoughtfully. Indeed, Harry had been exceptionally romantic over the past few weeks, buying her flowers and gifts and even upgrading her car, now a Porsche Cayenne. He’d been so apologetic after the Splish Splash party and promised that as soon as his latest big case was over, they’d go away somewhere sunny and decadent.

Amy was looking forward to it, looking at it as a way to wind down from what was becoming quite a full-on role at the Society. She had been spending more time working on the dinner and at the club. Julia in particular had been surprised when she told her that she’d gone out for drinks for a second night with Binky and Darcy.

'What in the world do you talk about?' she had asked over the phone one afternoon. Amy could practically picture her sister, phone wedged between ear and shoulder while undertaking a domestic task. They had just been discussing the ever present topic of nursery and school choices for her kids and the dilemma between state and religious education when the conversation had shifted to Amy’s recent goings on. 

'They’re nice,' Amy had insisted. 'It’s all very relaxed.' In fact, they mostly talked about other members of the Society, who had had what done, the latest fashions and what holidays the girls had been on. There was a lot of gossip about the questionable matches of girls they knew and who was after whom in their social circle. Binky and Darcy liked to rate their friends’ partners in particular, giving them a score of between one and five.

'Can’t they count to ten?' Julia had asked dryly before she said, 'Does this stuff all really interest you?'

'It does,' Amy had insisted. 'Why does everything have to be so serious?'

'It just all seems a bit shallow,' Julia had replied. Her tone was cautious. She clearly knew she was treading a fine line. 'And what about Harry? I haven’t heard much of him lately.'

Amy rolled her eyes. How was it that her sister was suddenly so concerned about Harry?

'He’s busy at work,' Amy had retorted glumly. 'And besides, what’s shallow about what I’m doing? I’m raising money for needy kids, Julia. I can’t think of anything better I could be doing.'

'Yes, I know,' Julia relented. 'Just be careful you don’t become completely devoid of personality in the process. Don’t become one of
them
.' The overly dramatic way she said 'one of them', made it sound like Bink and Darcy were vampires. It annoyed Amy that her sister was so judgemental of her new friendships. At least they were there for her at the moment. Julia was always busy with her mothering and Lucy seemed to be engrossed in her work life, always at some party or another. Even Claire and Jill were only available once a week at the hairdresser.

The only other person she had to talk to was Freddie. In addition to their work communications, they had taken to sending each other funny emails and updating one another on their day to day events. Of course, it was all work related, but it was fun to have an old friend back in her life. They had also become Facebook friends, which allowed Amy to see photos of Freddie with his son and to find Fran’s profile. Yes, she felt like a true cyber stalker, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to know. Unfortunately all that she had discovered was that, even after giving birth, Fran still looked great.

She was about to log into Facebook for the first time that morning when her phone rang.

'Oh, hi Jinny!' she said happily, recognising the voice of the charity head of The Children’s Fund.

They spoke for a while about the brochure, the piece Jinny was penning about the charity’s work, word length and so forth. Amy asked about some of the kids she had met at the charity the other day.

Amy was fond of Jinny, who worked so hard for those children.  She was determined to make as much money for the cause as possible. Indeed, spurred by the call and Jinny’s enthusiasm, she spent the rest of the morning going over her spreadsheets and the projected numbers for the event.

It being a Friday, she only worked half a day, taking the afternoon, like many of her peers, to prepare for the weekend. She and Gayle went through her pilates paces, Gayle commenting on her slimmed down frame.

'How did you do it? I mean, you always looked good, but you’re a stick!'

'I think I’ve just been busy,' Amy said. She didn’t mention that, having spent so much time with the girls from the Society, she had picked up some of their eating habits, choosing salad over scones and green tea over gorging herself.

'Well, just be careful you don’t go too far,' Gayle had cautioned, sounding eerily like Julia. Amy laughed it off.

Jill and Claire also noticed her apparent weight loss when they met at the hairdresser that afternoon.

'And your clothes,' Claire marvelled. 'That top is amazing.'

'Have you just stopped eating then?' Jill asked in her characteristic bluntness, looking her up and down before sitting at a hair washing station. Amy laughed.

'Yes, that’s it exactly Jill. I’m thinking of getting my jaw wired.'

'I should do that,' Claire moaned and they all giggled.

The whole weekend that followed, Amy felt like she was treading water until she could go back to the office, back to the London Ladies, which increasingly felt like a home away from home. She and Harry went for dinner with some of his university friends and their wives at a new Italian fusion restaurant, they went for afternoon tea at his mum’s house and they spent another afternoon reading and working at home. She knew she should be grateful that Harry was spending the weekend with her rather than at work, but it was like she wasn’t really there.

She kept thinking of things she had to do for the dinner, looking back at conversations she’d had that week and laughing in her head at things people had said or remembering something and noting it on her phone’s to-do list. Nowadays she had many more items to check off her list, something she relished and enjoyed.

Harry also seemed preoccupied. Even when they were talking she could tell that his mind was elsewhere. However, when they were in the company of friends or family he lit up like his usual self, able to put on a show for his adoring crowd. Just the thought of it exhausted her.

A couple of times, she fielded texts from Lucy or Julia, just checking in, but everyone seemed to be going through a phase of being immersed in their own lives. It happened. It was nothing to worry about.

Having endured the sedateness of the weekend, it was with genuine relief that she woke up on Monday morning and went back to her role as event organiser. She loved the sense of purpose it gave her as well as the respect reflected in the eyes of those around her.

A few days later, Amy was at home about to leave for the Society when she received a text from Freddie.

'Meet me at our offices at 2?'
He had provided the address, an industrial estate in north London.

Her heart fluttered. Without intending it, and before she had even replied, her mind had turned to what she could wear for the meeting. Instead of opening the front door to go to her car, she ran back upstairs and changed her clothes at least four times. What’s more, by the time she had climbed into her car, she had booked emergency appointments for her hair and nails. 

So, it was in modest silver ballet shoes, light jeans and a clingy white t-shirt with blue blazer that at 2:01pm she rang the doorbell under the sign decrying it the offices of
Guillermo Guillermo
and waited. After a few moments a sleek brunette came to the door and ushered her inside.

'Freddie, Amy Green here to see you,' she called beyond a plain white door. 'Go right in,' she said to Amy.

As Amy walked into the room, she took in the folders lining shelves on every wall, each with the name of a different event or bearing official titles such as '
Accounts'
or '
Payslips'
. Whilst it was new, it was clear from the extensive volumes visible that the company had had a flying start.

Freddie stood and came over to kiss her cheeks. 'One more week to go,' he said excitedly. 'How you feeling?' He motioned her to sit on a sofa and he sat at an armchair nearby.

'Terrified of course,' she laughed. 'No, but seriously I’m fine. Should I be nervous?'

'Not at all. Looks to me like you have everything under control. You’ve chosen your linens and flowers and food. Have you ordered the wine?'

'Yes, thanks again for Gino’s details. Really great prices.' Amy exhaled remembering the struggle with the wine list. 'Although, some people weren’t that happy about the table wine.'

'I’ll bet. I promise, that wine is very drinkable. I’ve tried it myself. And, of course, there’s a bar. The most important thing is to raise money for a good cause.'

Amy couldn’t agree more. As long as she stuck with her budget, she knew that they would stand to raise an impressive amount for the charity and, while there were a lot of corners that couldn’t be cut, wine was definitely not one of them.

'I thought I’d show you a sample table today?'

Amy wondered if this was really something that he had needed to do. After all, she had chosen everything already. Had he called her in just to see her?

'Come on.' He led her to the next room. Amy couldn’t help but smile as she entered. There stood a long table with an eclectic variety of chairs surrounding it, square crockery set along each side with oversized cutlery at each seat. Candles seemed to float on the pure white table cloths and the giant floral arrangement gave a burst of bright pink and green colour. It looked modern and clean and fresh, but most of all it was beautiful.

'The lighting will set it off,' Freddie said. 'And the tables are going to be much longer than this. Think Hogwarts meets
Tatler
.'

'It’s amazing,' Amy breathed. 'Are you sure about the long tables though? They’re used to round apparently.' Much had been made of this at the Society.

'Absolutely, they need a bit of shaking up.' They smiled at each other. 'We’ve got some great acts coming as well. Some brilliant musicians and acrobats, all sorts.'

Sitting at the table, they started running through the order of the night. This was the third or fourth time they had done this, originally having done so by email, then over the phone and this wasn’t counting all the notes they kept sending each other by text, peppered with jokes and general comments. They poured over it, enjoying the completeness of what they had created. This had become a habit of theirs, along with generally sending each other messages about things that happened to them throughout the day. Amy reasoned that this was perfectly normal. They just happened to be working together at the moment, they were practically colleagues. It was natural that there would be a bit of back and forth.