Bookends (12 page)

‘Right-oh,’ James says, trooping into the studio bit, as I stumble in after him. ‘Let’s see what you think, then.’

One by one he starts gently pulling canvases out, laying them against walls, standing back to look at them, and as he pulls them out my heart starts beating faster and faster.

‘James,’ I say finally, when there are nearly twenty paintings displayed in front of me. ‘I’m not an expert, but what the fuck are you doing working as an estate agent?’

James turns to look at me in confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘No. What are
you
talking about? These are incredible. They are the most beautiful, subtle, inspiring paintings I’ve seen for years. And I don’t even know what I’m talking about.’

James looks embarrassed. ‘Does that mean you like them?’

I start to laugh. ‘Jesus Christ, James. I love them. In fact, to quote Woody Allen, I don’t just love them, I lurrrve them. I loooove them. We’ll take ’em.’

‘Are you serious?’

I ignore the fact that I’ve just done exactly what Lucy did earlier and have taken a decision without consulting Lucy. But what the hell.

‘More serious,’ I say, ‘than I’ve ever been in my life.’ Unfortunately I ruin that last statement somewhat by hiccuping at the end of it, but nevertheless the sentiment remains the same.

‘James,’ I say, extending my right hand, ‘it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’

‘And where the hell have you been until this time on a Sunday night?’

‘Having sex.’ I keep a straight face for a while but the silence becomes too much for me and I collapse with amusement at my little joke.

‘That’s not your line, that’s my line. I hope you’re joking.’

‘Why? What would be so terrible if I wasn’t?’

‘It wouldn’t be terrible, as it happens,’ Si muses. ‘It would be pretty bloody cataclysmic, that’s all. Headline-making stuff, as it happens. Big Bird Bonks Again.’

‘Si! That’s not nice. Anyway. No bonking. I’ve been with James.’ I slur ever so slightly, but enough for Si to pick up on.

‘James? James who? Oh my God! I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I completely forgot.’ Si plays the innocent as I laugh, knowing that he’ll have been sitting by his phone for hours, waiting for me to call him back, to give him the full report on my evening.

‘But more to the point,’ he continues, ‘you, Catherine Warner, are drunk as a skunk, aren’t you? Aren’t you?’

‘Shut up, Mum,’ I intone in my best truculent teenager impression. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘Good God. Wonders will never cease. You don’t mean to tell me, Cath, that you’ve been out having a good time? With a man, no less? Until…’ He pauses, presumably to look at his watch. ‘Quarter to midnight?’

‘Yup, yup and yup.’

‘So tell me about James, then, sweets. Is he delicious?’ He smacks his lips together wickedly. ‘Did you eat him up.’

‘Whatever that means, Si,’ I laugh, ‘no. He’s just a nice guy. A new friend. A new addition to the family.’

‘We can’t have any new additions until I’ve vetted them,’ Si grumbles. ‘Which means that I’ll have to meet him pretty soon. So how was the evening from heaven with James the hunky estate agent who’s got a crush on you? Was it heavenly?’

‘Someone’s been talking to Lucy a bit too much these days. He’s not hunky and neither does he have a crush on me. He’s just nice. And a fantastic artist.’

‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much…’

‘Si!’ I stop him.

‘Anway, you can’t blame me for talking to Lucy too much these days. You’re never around.’

I can’t tell him that I’m still trying to avoid the Will issue, but perhaps now that drink has loosened my tongue, perhaps I can be honest with Si, tell him what I’ve heard, warn him to be careful.

‘Si, I did speak to Alison Bailey.’

‘You cow! I knew you had. When? I bet you spoke to her weeks ago, didn’t you?’

‘No,’ I lie expertly, knowing that the truth would send him into a fury. ‘Actually she phoned me back this morning.’

‘So what’s the story with William the Conqueror?’

‘Well, he doesn’t seem to conquer people’s hearts. Their hatred, more like.’

There’s a shocked silence and I know I’ve pushed it too far.

‘Joke, Si.’

‘Was it?’

‘Of course,’ I sigh. ‘But she did say he’s…’ I pause, trying to think of a way to put the message across, yet couch it in terms that aren’t too bitchy, ‘he’s got a side.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I think she meant he’s a bit two-faced. She just said be careful, that’s all.’

‘Oh God,’ Si mutters. ‘First you hate him, now I’m told to be careful. Why is it that Will’s the first man I’ve met in ages whom I’ve really liked, and everyone hates him?’

‘Sod’s law, I suppose.’

‘Ha! Got you. Everyone does hate him, don’t they?’

‘Oh, Si, I’m sorry. I just think you can do so much better.’

‘Well, if I can do so much better, how come I’m
not
doing so much better?’

‘I don’t know, my darling. I do know that I’d go out with you in a flash. If I were a bloke, that is.’

‘Why? Why would you go out with me in a flash?’ I know instantly that Si’s in one of his miserable moods, feeling sorry for himself, sitting, as it were, on the pity pot. And I also know that most of the time I pull him up sharply, but tonight he needs to have his ego stroked. Just for a short time.

‘Because you’re handsome. And funny. And you’re the second-greatest cook I know.’

‘Is Lucy the greatest?’

‘Yup.’

‘Well, that’s okay, then.’

There’s a silence.

‘You haven’t finished,’ Si says.

‘Oh?’ I smile affectionately. ‘Haven’t I?’

‘No. You’ve forgotten about me being kind, and sensitive, and individual, and hating Barbra Streisand.’

‘You hate Barbra Streisand?’ I’m shocked.

‘Well, no. But I can’t stand being such a cliché.’

‘Oh, Si. I do love you. Even though you are a pain.’

‘I love you too, Cath. So tell me more about James. Is he a boxer shorts or briefs kind of guy? Or,’ and he pauses, ‘heaven forbid, a Y-front man?’

‘Not heaven forbid if they’re Calvin Klein,’ I state seriously. ‘You have taught me well, Si.’

‘True,’ he muses. ‘Calvins will always pass. So which is he?’

‘I think probably a boxer shorts kind of guy.’

‘You think? You think? You mean you didn’t find out?’

‘Forgive me. Next time I go to his house I promise I’ll rifle through his underwear drawers.’

‘Next time you go to his house I expect you to strip him personally. So what’s his house like anyway?’

‘Oh, Si.’ I snuggle down under the duvet and get ready for a long gossip. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. You would have loved it.’ And off I go.

Chapter eleven

‘You’re impossible,’ I say, raising my eyes to the ceiling, as Si rolls down the window of his car and urges me to hurry up.

‘Come on, come on,’ he says, pressing the horn to irritate me further, but I speed up and open the door of the Beetle.

‘God, I love this,’ he says, leaning over to give me a kiss. ‘I can’t believe it’s September, look at that sun. On days like this I wish I had a convertible. Anyway, sweets, I can’t believe you actually agreed to let me take you shopping. We haven’t done this since…’

‘Since I was thin?’ I finish off his sentence for him and we both laugh.

‘
You
might say that,’ he says, pulling away from the kerb, ‘but I couldn’t possibly comment.’

‘So, where are we off to? Not Bond Street again?’ I groan.

‘Actually, we are going to Bond Street, but don’t worry, I’m not going to drag you into the top shops. I know how uncomfortable they make you feel.’

‘And no skirts, Si. Please, no skirts.’

‘What about gorgeous floaty summer dresses?’ He looks at me from the corner of his eye, trying to hide the smile that’s fighting to escape, while I make excellent vomiting noises.

‘Okay, okay,’ he laughs. ‘Trousers it is, but Cath, sweets, you have to trust my judgement on this one. It’s the opening party for the shop and you, my darling, will go to the ball.’

And I have to say that although Emporio Armani is not a shop I would ever normally enter, the clothes are actually pretty nice if you’re into that kind of thing, and Si has picked out a selection of trouser suits, and this one, the black velvet one with the long fitted jacket and the beautifully cut trousers, looks pretty damn impressive, even if I say so myself.

Si whistles as I step out of the changing room.

‘Jesus, Cath.’ He’s practically rubbing his hands with glee. ‘You look gorgeous. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a size 10.’

The very thin, very chic, very French sales assistant was obviously just about to agree, but stops suddenly, not quite knowing what to say. ‘Yes,’ she says uncertainly, ‘it is very flattering.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ I say, turning to Si, as the sales assistant pretends to spot something very important on the other side of the shop, although I’m grinning at my reflection as I say it.

‘It’s pretty nice, isn’t it?’ I continue, twirling while I marvel at how cleverly the jacket manages to conceal my rather Rubenesque thighs.

‘No question about it. It was positively made for you. Now, if only you’d let me do something with your hair.’

‘My darling Si, even you know that’s pushing it too far.’

‘Okay, okay,’ he grumbles. ‘But you can’t blame a guy for trying.’

We get to the cash desk and the assistant rings it up, then turns to me and says nonchalantly, ‘That’s four hundred and fifty-five pounds.’

I turn white as Si grabs my arm to steady me.

‘How much?’ It comes out in a whisper but, before the assistant has a chance to repeat herself, Si drags me to one side. ‘Cath,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m sorry, but for a suit that divine, that’s how much you have to pay.’

‘No way, Si.’ I shake my head. ‘I’m not paying over four hundred quid for a bit of black velvet when I can get exactly the same in Top Shop for a hundred and fifty. Forget it.’

‘Fine,’ Si says, much to my surprise. ‘Let’s go to Top Shop and see how we do.’

‘Fine,’ I say, as Si goes back to the sales assistant, presumably to apologize as I head out the door and wait outside.

We do Top Shop. We do Miss Selfridge, now seemingly renamed the funkier
Spirit
. We do Hennes. We do French Connection. We push through the Saturday crowds to do Oasis.

Three hours later we’re back in shop number one, grinning rather sheepishly at the same sales assistant, who smiles without saying a word, disappears behind the desk for a second, then draws out the velvet suit.

‘As my grandmother always used to say, if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys.’

‘The stuff we’ve been trying on wasn’t bad,’ I say, doing my best to stick up for the chain stores.

‘I’m not saying it was,’ Si says smoothly, watching me physically wince as I pull out my Visa card, ‘I was just saying that once you’d tried this on, you’d never find anything as nice.’

‘God, it kills me to tell you you’re right,’ I say, shaking my head.

‘But?’

‘But you’re right. Okay?’

*

‘
How
much?’ Lucy’s having much the same reaction on the end of Si’s mobile phone, and even I can hear her shriek.

‘Four. Hundred. And. Fifty. Five. Pounds.’ Si says very slowly. ‘Only.’

‘Let me talk to her!’ and Si passes the phone to me. ‘I don’t believe it,’ Lucy giggles, ‘I didn’t even know you could spend that money on a suit! Cath, darling, is it wonderful?’

‘Well, it is rather special.’

‘You’re going to look like a princess,’ she says firmly. ‘Everybody deserves to splash out on themselves from time to time.’

‘What are you wearing Lucy?’ I kick Si as he rolls his eyes.

‘God knows,’ Lucy laughs. ‘I’m sure there’s something perfect in my wardrobe, I just have to find the time to actually look.’

‘Are you as nervous as I am or are you ready for the grand opening?’

‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘I just know that it’s been a complete whirlwind and I haven’t had time to stop and think about whether we’re ready or not. Anyway. Onwards and upwards. Make sure you and Si come to the house first because there’s no way Josh and I can manage all this stuff by ourselves.

‘We thought, as a treat, we’ll do champagne and preliminary tastings just for us, but remember we’ve got to be at the shop about an hour before it starts. I’ll see you later, okay?’

We say goodbye and I relay what she’s said to Si, but midway into the conversation he pulls up sharply outside an Italian menswear shop.

‘Why are we stopping here?’

‘And who says Cinderella is the only one allowed to buy a new outfit for the ball?’

‘Hi, I’m Laura. I’m the babysitter.’ Si stands back and lets Laura in, as he mouths to me, ‘Babysitter?’ in a question, then rapidly smiles as she turns round and catches him.

‘Lucy’s in the kitchen,’ he says, showing her through before turning to me and saying, ‘What the hell have they got a babysitter for? What about Ingrid?’

I shrug. ‘Maybe it’s her night off.’ Si wanders into the living room to find Josh adjusting his tie in the mirror above the fireplace.

‘Where’s Ingrid tonight, then?’ he says, sinking into the sofa as he simultaneously reaches for a tiny home-made spring roll.

Distractedly Josh says, ‘Coming to the party. Do you want some more champagne?’ I shake my head and go to help Lucy in the kitchen.

‘Cath, be an angel and put some clingfilm on this, would you?’ She hands me a bowl of baby ricotta and spinach tarts. ‘And then can you take those boxes into the car for me? Max!’ she shrieks. ‘Come and say hello to Laura.’

The next thing I hear is a clattering downstairs as Max runs in and bashes my knees with a wooden fork, before trundling over to Laura and whacking her on the thigh.

‘Hello, Max,’ she says, beaming through her gritted teeth. ‘Do you remember me? I came to babysit and we watched
The Lion King
together.’

Max stares at her uncomprehendingly, then bashes her again and runs out of the room, while I smile widely, grateful that I’m not the only one.

Lucy sighs. ‘He’s just impossible at the moment. I’m so sorry.’

Laura smiles. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go after him, shall I?’ Lucy nods gratefully, and Laura follows Max upstairs. We do our best to ignore the ensuing shrieks as Max realizes we’re all leaving him.

I enlist Si’s help and the four of us start to load up both cars with food and drink, and soon the cars are sinking under the weight. We go back inside and collapse around the kitchen table to toast ourselves with champagne.

‘So where’s the lovely Ingrid tonight?’ Si ventures.

‘Coming to the party, of course,’ Lucy says. ‘I couldn’t not invite her, not when she’s seen all the preparations for the bookshop these last few months.’

‘That’s very nice of you,’ I say, as Ingrid herself waltzes into the kitchen, whereupon my mouth drops open a few notches in amazement. Ingrid, while being one of those incredibly striking naturally blonde Scandinavian stereotypes, is usually to be found in a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt and trainers. But tonight even Lucy stops in amazement as we survey Ingrid’s get-up of tiny black mini skirt, plunging jacket and super-high platform strappy sandals that, quite frankly, wouldn’t look out of place in a brothel specializing in S & M.

Ingrid, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed as she totters across the kitchen to help herself to a glass of water. Lucy gulps and looks at me.

‘Ingrid,’ she says eventually, and rather cheerfully it has to be said. ‘Looking ever so glamorous. How on earth do you manage to walk in those marvellous shoes?’

‘I am used to them,’ she says, as Max comes running in and falls at her feet, clutching her calves. She raises her leg and for one happy second I think she might aim a sharp kick at Max in her killer shoes, but no, she just gives him a disdainful look and shakes him off as if he were something nasty, which I suppose he is, depending on how you look at things.

‘Ingriiiiiiiiid,’ Max wails, going in for the cling again. ‘Don’t go. Stay here with me.’

‘No, Max,’ Ingrid says, walking across the kitchen and thereby dragging Max with her across the kitchen floor, as Lucy ignores them and Laura stands in the doorway looking as if she’d dearly like to be anywhere other than here, ‘I am going out tonight to party.’

‘She can say that again,’ Si whispers, doing a double take at Ingrid disappearing up the stairs.

‘Blimey,’ Josh says, with a huge grin on his face. ‘Old Ingrid, eh? Who would have thought she’d scrub up like a sex kitten?’

‘Sex kitten?’ splutters Si. ‘More like cheap hooker.’

‘WHAT’S A HOOKER?’ Max’s voice reverberates around the house, and we all turn to stare at him in horror, Ingrid evidently having managed to disengage him from her leg just outside the kitchen door.

‘Oh God,’ Lucy groans, hiding her face in her hands. ‘I knew this day would come. Max. Sssshhh. Don’t shout.’

‘BUT WHAT’S A HOOKER?’ Max now realizes he’s not supposed to be shouting this and naturally starts shouting louder than ever, before marching up to Si and screaming, ‘YOU’RE A HOOKER! YOU’RE A HOOKER!’ at which point we all do the worst thing possible, given the situation, and collapse with laughter.

‘Maximilian, I have been called many things in my time, but I have to say that’s a first.’ Si scoops Max up on to his lap and smiles indulgently, putting him down pretty quickly as Max opens his mouth for another bit of attention-seeking shouting.

‘Oh God,’ Josh says, finally managing to calm Max down by offering him a handful of chocolate, ‘do you think she heard?’

‘And what if she did?’ Si sniffs. ‘Face it, she does look as if she’s on her way to a street corner in Westbourne Park Road.’

‘Oh, she’s only young,’ Lucy says. ‘That’s obviously all the fashion.’

‘In Scandinavian porn films,’ Si says, ‘perhaps.’

Josh quickly stuffs some more chocolate into Max’s face, then whisks him into the other room to distract him with the video of
Mulan
. Thankfully he manages this before Max can utter those immortal shrieks: WHAT’S A PORN FILM?

‘Thank God.’ Lucy rolls her eyes. ‘Peace and quiet. Now, Si.’ She turns to face him. ‘Why are you here by yourself, is your new man coming later, and if not, why not?’

Si looks at me and makes a face. ‘Cath hates him, so I decided not to ask him.’

‘Does she?’ Lucy looks at me, horrified, and I shrug dejectedly. ‘I don’t exactly hate him,’ I say, ‘I just didn’t really take to him, that’s all.’

‘Never judge a book by its cover,’ Josh says, putting his arms around Lucy and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ She hits him playfully with a tea-towel.

‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘just that you should judge people by yourself, not judge them by what you hear.’

‘Speak as you find,’ echoes Si. ‘Exactly,’ and he looks at me with disappointment in his eyes.

‘God, it’s not my fault!’ My voice is as indignant as I feel. ‘I mean, Jesus, you didn’t have to not invite him because of me. That’s ridiculous, to give me a guilt trip about it. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d come.’

‘Uh oh, now I feel guilty,’ Si says. ‘Actually, I was winding you up. I did ask him, but he said he had other plans.’

‘What other plans?’

Si shrugs. ‘He didn’t say.’

‘And you didn’t ask?’

‘Nope. Anyway, much better that it’s the old gang. To be honest I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be if he were here now. Not that I think you wouldn’t like him – well,’ and he shoots me a dirty look, ‘other than Cath, of course…

‘It’s just,’ he continues, ‘I’d be worrying about what you all thought about him, and what he thought of you, and quite honestly I just want to have a good time tonight and let my hair down. And of course,’ he goes over to Lucy and puts his arm around her, ‘give both of you my undying love and support.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ I say, still unable to believe that it’s actually happening, that tonight’s the night. ‘I can’t believe this is the opening party. God, Lucy. Do you think it’s going to be fine?’

‘You tell me, my love,’ Lucy says with a grin. ‘You’re the one who keeps telling me we’re going to be a huge success.’

‘I know,’ I groan. ‘I was hoping the power of positive thinking would work, but now that it’s actually here I’m
so
nervous.’

‘Here.’ Lucy pops a prawn satay stick into my mouth to shut me up. ‘The food’s great, the shop looks amazing, and the local support has been extraordinary. You just wait and see, Bookends is going to be a huge hit.’ And with that she takes off her apron and walks upstairs to freshen up.

‘Shit,’ I mutter quietly when I’m sure she’s gone, spitting the satay into the palm of my hand. ‘I’m allergic to prawns.’

We get ready to leave, and, as I walk out the front door, I almost have to kick myself to remember that this isn’t all a dream. I can’t believe that back in April this was just a fantasy, and in August, only a month ago, we were still decorating, and now we’re opening!