How Not to Shop (9 page)

'Vhat you like to do before married, before have your boy?' Svetlana asked, with all the subtlety of a police interrogator.

'Ermmmm . . .' The camera zoomed in on Cath's face again. Annie saw how anxious the woman looked. She didn't need this; she should be treated gently, coaxed out of the beige and into the party. But Annie was going to have to wait her turn. The nervousness she'd thought she'd feel at facing her first moment on screen had evaporated, she just wanted to rush in right now and help Cath out.

Because Annie had been inside the wardrobes and most private confidences of people just like Cath so many times. It was all about breaking through the defences and rebuilding confidence, taking things one step at a time and making the customer feel good, rather than humiliated.

There was a hint of sweat on Cath's face. If she was pushed any further, she'd probably refuse to do the show altogether.

'I used to like drawing,' she squeezed out finally, then quickly added, 'but I wasn't very good at it.'

'Drawing,' Svetlana repeated and wrote it down in her notebook with a flourish, 'and?'

'I like to read—'

'Book group? I've heard of dis . . .' Svetlana broke in and wrote this idea down in her notebook too.

'Well . . .' Cath sounded very unsure.

'Anything else? Anything you vant to do? Something new?'

'Ermm . . . I'd like to get a bit fitter.'

'Excellent!' Svetlana's face brightened. 'You join gym and running club. Meet many, many fit men!'

Cath seemed to cross her arms even more tightly at the prospect.

'And cut!' Finn snapped the clapperboard in front of the camera, 'Tea break, everyone. Then it's on to Annie Valentine, mistress of the wardrobe.'

Taking another look at the slightly traumatized Cath, Annie had an idea. 'Why don't I take a quick look through Cath's wardrobe with her, before we film it?' she asked. 'I'll find some interesting things to talk about on camera. It might save us a bit of time.'

'Fine,' Finn agreed, as she'd suspected he might. Anything to save time, save money and come in under budget.

Turning to Nikki, Finn's assistant, with her most charming smile, Annie asked, 'Will you be a total love and bring us both a tea?'

As soon as the crew was out of the bedroom, Annie steered Cath to her bed and made her sit down. 'Good grief!' she exclaimed. 'Well, they were a bit rough on you, babes, weren't they?'

At those words, Cath threatened to crumple. She shook her head. 'I don't know if I can do this. People I know will watch it! The people I work with! I think everyone should just go away and leave me alone. I really don't think I want to go on.'

For a moment or two, Annie just patted her back soothingly. Then came a tap at the door and Nikki arrived with two mugs of tea. As Annie took them, she gave a smile of thanks but shut the door firmly in the curious assistant's face.

'OK,' Annie began gently, sitting back down, 'what did your friends think about you doing this programme? And what about your son?'

Cath clutched the mug and took a sip. 'Everyone was really excited for me,' she confided, 'I think they all wanted to see me dressed up and looking special. It's been a while since I've made a big effort. I don't really do dressing up . . . or parties . . .' Her voice tailed off.

'Well, that's what your friends and your boy are going to see,' Annie told her: 'their special friend and very special mum, looking gorgeous, just for them. Forget about everyone else and just do it for them, because they'll be so excited for you! Come on,' she encouraged her. 'Get that tea down you. I'd doctor it with something stronger, but that might get me thrown off the show.'

Cath looked up and gave just the slightest hint of a smile: 'I've never been on TV before,' she said timidly.

'Well, that makes two of us. But, as they say in showbiz, chin up – the show must go on!'

'So how bad is it in here?' Annie asked with a wink, as she walked towards Cath's wardrobe and opened the plain white double doors. Cath had obviously tidied up before the arrival of the cameras. Everything was neatly folded or hanging up. Annie was about to change all that. Grabbing two hefty handfuls of clothes, she pulled them out and flung them onto the bed.

It was as she'd expected: lots of well worn, comfortable, baggy clothes. Heavy on the beige, greige and pastel blue. There were a few unexpected outbursts of colour madness, but none had been very successful. Annie held up a pair of wide-legged, three-quarter-length trousers with some sort of graffiti print all over them. Terrible cut, terrible colours for Cath, but still, unexpectedly zany.

'These are just a little crazy,' Annie said, 'I think you have a hidden wild side we've just not seen yet.'

'Oh no!' Cath protested. 'They were just cheap, I bought them for a holiday.'

'They're very interesting.' Annie smiled and put the trousers down on the bed.

It didn't take her long to sort through the rest of Cath's wardrobe. Everything so worn out and saggy it couldn't even be given away went onto one pile. Things which Annie hoped she might be able to breathe new life into went into another. But so many cotton turtlenecks, she noticed dispiritedly. Why not scoop necks and lovely shirts to show off a little skin and a nice necklace?

There was still space on the bed for the gems that Annie was hoping to unearth in the back of the cupboard. Maybe she would find a dress or two, a special blouse or skirt . . . things which would just need a little alteration or a new accessory to turn them into new outfits. Although Annie looked hard and combed once again through the tangle of clothes, she could find only casual, functional, practical clothes.

The tea break was over and the camera crew began to shuffle back into the bedroom. Lights were moved, and Nikki freshened up Annie and Cath's face powder and lipgloss.

Finn discussed the angles he wanted to see, the direction of the dialogue between Annie and Cath, then finally declared: 'And action!'

Annie felt hot and slightly flustered now that the camera was pointing directly at her. But she tried to control the nerves. More than anything else, she just wanted to be herself. Unlike Miss Marlise she didn't want to create a whole larger than life TV personality. She'd understood long ago that it was best to just be fully yourself and if other people didn't like it, too bad.

'Right, my darlin',' she said as she bustled busily through Cath's clothes, scattered across the bed: 'I've seen the sweatshirts, the old T-shirts, the polo necks, the fleeces, the baggy trousers and the long, dark skirts. But what I'm asking myself is: where are your special clothes? Where are your dresses and your shiny things? What do you wear when you've got a wedding to go to? Or a party? Or a night out?'

Cath looked straight up at Annie and replied, 'Oh, I've nothing to wear, so I don't go.'

'Oh babes,' Annie looked back at Cath and forgot about the camera completely, 'that is the saddest, saddest thing I've heard in a long time. But what about when it's your birthday? Everyone's got to have something lovely to wear on their birthday.'

At this, Cath's lower lip trembled slightly and out came the revelation she'd had absolutely no intention of making on TV: 'My husband left me on my birthday,' she blurted out. She didn't need to say anything else. Now everyone understood why there were no party clothes in Cath's wardrobe.

Finn caught the eye of his assistant and mouthed the word: '
Woohoo!
'

Connor on his bike:

Tiny black shorts (Nike)
Tiny black bike shoes (Adidas)
Bluetooth wireless headset (Motorola)
Total est. cost: £120

'I can talk and burn, baby.'

Connor McCabe, star of ITV's top-rated Sunday teatime show,
The Manor
, co-star in the box office hit
Never Sleep
by director Sam Knight, was on an exercise bike out on his balcony in the Californian sunshine.

No British actor transplanted from London to LA can ever quite get used to the fact that the sun really does shine here almost every single day. Well, OK, there was a little bit of smog, cloud cover and drizzle now and then, but really, he thought as he adjusted his shades, stretched out his arms, then put them back on the handlebars, it was not a bad life. Not a bad life at all.

It was late afternoon. He'd spent his obligatory two hours in the gym first thing this morning. Every single actor out here spent two hours in the gym every single day. There was no get-out clause. It was mandatory. Like brushing your teeth. Otherwise some much fitter, leaner, more muscular piece of beefcake would Get Your Part. No matter how well you'd played Prince Hal at Stratford-upon-Avon two years ago, if a centimetre of waist flab poked over the edge of your trousers, it was over.

He'd been on the phone to his agent for half an hour, he'd gone for a meeting with a producer and now he was going to burn some more calories and catch a few rays before going out tonight with Hector, his boyfriend of . . . well . . . erm . . . Connor wasn't quite sure exactly, because there had been a break, but that was all over now. Long forgotten. They were totally together and committed now.

The phone in a holster round his waist began to ring and when he picked it up he was pleasantly surprised to see the words 'Annie babes' on caller display.

'Annie, babes!' he said with pleasure.

'Connor! Can you talk? You're not about to shoot off to a high-powered meeting, or rustle up a bean sprout salad or something?'

'I'm on my bike, I can talk and burn, baby, burn.'

'On your bike? In LA? What about the traffic . . . or getting mugged?'

'On my bike on my terrace in the sunshine. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.'

'Oh.' Annie tried to understand. But really, it was too strange. She still thought of Connor as a charming, but quite lazy actor who had sort of stumbled on success somewhere between the pub and his latest bedroom conquest. She couldn't get her head around this all-new Californian fitness- and career-focused star. She didn't want to think of him like that, because then she couldn't think of him as her best friend any more. And he was definitely, despite the eight-hour time difference and the vast Atlantic Ocean now between them, still her best friend.

'I've been thinking about you,' he said, only slightly out of breath from the cycling.

'Oh really,' she teased, 'and it's making you pant.'

'Absolutely. How is stardom suiting you? How are you looking on the small screen? Any hot men tried to bed you yet? I know all about the aphrodisiac of fame . . .'

'Oh yeah, I'm beating them off with a stick baby, beating them off with a stick,' she joked thinking of her daily ride home in Bob's estate car. The aphrodisiac of fame!

'TV is . . .' she began. TV was what? Not exactly as she'd expected? Much more extreme? Much more low budget? Much less glamorous?

'. . . not quite as easy as it looks,' she decided.

'Damn right!' Connor was delighted to agree. He'd lost count of the number of jumped-up actors who asked him why he did something as 'easy' as
The Manor
when he could be doing something much more 'serious' instead.

'I can't believe how long the details take. Doing every shot, every bit of voiceover from sixteen different angles. It makes me want to scream. But the hard stuff,' Annie added, 'the transforming shy wallflower into belle of the ball, they expect that in fifteen seconds!'

'Well, baby, you are at the very tough and gritty end of reality TV,' Connor sympathized, 'The cliff face, you could say. Who knows what's going to happen next? You could hang in there and be elevated to the TV hall of presenter/personality fame . . . or you could cut loose and fall away into the sea of failed wannabees, never to be heard of again. Still,' his tone perked up cheerily, 'you've gotta be in it to win it.'