Naked in Knightsbridge (21 page)

‘
The jeans, do they fit?’

Shit. ‘A bit long, I might need to have them taken up.’ How on earth was she supposed to tell him that she would certainly have to have them let out – by a whole leg’s worth? Not that it was even possible. At this point, her best bet was to exchange them for a size that actually fit her and somehow fudge the tag so that if he ever peeked, he wouldn’t be utterly disgusted by what a cow she’d become. The fact that they might not make them in a size 16 was an issue she chose to ignore.

She started rooting through her closet, looking for items that would hide her lower body, at least long enough to wean herself off Doughy Doughnuts and onto some sort of amazing diet. There was nothing, though. She could hardly wear a lizard-skin handbag, could she?

‘
Do you have anything else decent to wear?’ Rodney was still staked out by the door.

‘
Of course.’

Not. In truth, Jools hadn’t actually tried on much during her shopping trips. Most of the time, she’d see something on a mannequin, decide she was in love with it and tell the saleslady to ring it up in a size 12. She just assumed she’d be able to get herself into it when she needed to.

Tuesday’s purchase, a sassy little top and skirt number by Stella McCartney. Fit fine on top, but her derriere appeared to be trying to make a break for it via the zip of the supposedly flouncy skirt.

She couldn’t wear that.

‘
Jools! Come on, will you?’

Okay, maybe she could. She looked around for the light beige Burberry trench she had bought, again without trying it on. It was a little tight under the arms but it’d have to do. At least it hid the skirt.

The phone rang. Jools heard Rodney’s booming voice telling someone something was not acceptable, then footsteps. He banged on her door.

‘
Half-wits at Carlisle’s double-booked us. Told them to call you to rearrange. I’m too busy for bloody wedding-present lists anyway.’

Jools breathed a very large sigh of relief, and popped a button on her skirt.

*

Later that day, Jools headed out to try to exchange the jeans.

Too late, she realised where she was – in front of Doughy Doughnuts.

‘
Hey, politician’s-wife-to-be! Come get your doughnut!’

Her mouth started to water but Jools looked down at the evil skinny jeans in her arms and reminded herself of the sight of her bum in the mirror.

‘
Not today, thank you.’

He gave her a look like she’d just offered to stab his mother with a beigel. ‘No? You don’t like them?’

Jools walked over to him. Being nice to everyone was part of the deal, according to Rodney. Annoying any potential voter was an absolute no-no.

‘
Please don’t take it personally. I really do love your doughnuts. It’s just, I’m getting married soon and I can’t keep eating them or they’ll ruin my figure.’

‘
You? Never! You are so slim. Like a waif.’

Wondering if the Doughy guy was classified legally blind, Jools insisted it was too soon after breakfast to eat doughnuts, so the Doughy guy bundled up some Chocolate Temptations and told her to take them home for later.

‘
You need to keep strength up, for marriage.’

He didn’t know the half of it.

*

A few minutes later, she was unfortunate enough to run into Mrs Pho in the lingerie shop next to Doughy Doughnuts. Jools had stepped inside to try and find some of those magic ‘suck your gut in’ knickers she’d heard so much about.

‘
Well, well,
weeeell.
Fancy you here.’ Mrs Pho’s waxen face peered up at her. ‘With behind that size you no fit anything here.’

‘
You should be more concerned with your own saggy butt, Mrs Pho.’ Jools smiled sweetly.

Mrs Pho stuck her face up close to Jools. ‘Take it from someone with plenty experience. Men like hot woman in bedroom. They don’t want make love to lumpy sofa.’ She eyed Jools’ rump.

Jools was already mildly nauseated by the idea of Mrs Pho in a pair of lacy knickers. The thought of her bumping away in bed turned her stomach.

Trying to slide past Mrs Pho and out the door, Jools’ Vuitton clutch caught on a hanger and Mrs Pho grabbed her arm. ‘I tell you, lose those extra cushions, arsonist, or handsome husband look elsewhere for warm body.’ She winked and preened in a nearby mirror. ‘Maybe I apply. Maybe he fancy me?’

Jools wanted to tell Mrs Pho that Rodney was already looking elsewhere nearly every night of the week but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Mrs Pho would spread the word quicker than swine flu. If anyone knew there was no sex in her relationship because Rodney wasn’t interested in her body – and never would be unless she spontaneously sprouted male genitalia and started wearing leather chaps around the house – the deal would be off.

So, she just let Mrs Pho think whatever she wanted, even though Mrs Pho’s comments weren’t entirely off-base. Even if there was no hope of sex with Rodney, she didn’t want to look like a total cow when that hot American Brad finally showed up on the doorstep.

Chapter 16

FROM: ELVA RENDES

SUBJECT: RE: EXTRA MATERIAL FOR WEDDING DRESS

Dear Miss Grand,

Thank you for your email. Unfortunately, we cannot reschedule your dress fitting as the wedding is less than three weeks away, and we have much to do to get it ready by the deadline. Regarding your rather unusual enquiry about extra fabric, I can assure you that we did not purchase any additional materials because the metre cost is so high and we were reluctant to cause extra expense to Lady Wetherspone. However, having already had one fitting, which as I recall, was perfect, I envisage no problems in having enough material to complete the dress.

NILES WAS SICK and tired of the cloak and dagger routine. He’d had no luck getting any dirt on Rodney and hadn’t even managed to get Rodney’s address. All he could do was wait for Jools to return.

Where the hell had she gone anyway? Who did she think she was, disappearing like that? Sure, she’d answered Brad, but the email was extremely noncommittal. Not what he’d expected at all. Even though the online auction had been put to bed, she’d still expressed interest in Brad and as far as she knew, he might be planning a trip to the UK any minute now. How was she planning on meeting him if she was never home?

Niles had to check himself from time to time to keep from becoming convinced that Brad was real. Although Brad was just a clever rouse to get Jools into his car and under his house in Slough, sometimes Niles would lose himself in fantasies where he was the handsome, charming American man sweeping Jools off her feet, making wild passionate love to her wherever and whenever he wanted.

Before locking her up for the night.

It was a soggy morning and Niles had been waiting in the tree outside Jools’ flat for hours. Very few people had come and gone and Jools, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

Niles was just about to light up a fag when he caught sight of a tall man heading down the block. He wouldn’t have thought anything more of it, but the man’s elegant attire and graceful walk looked alien in these parts.

He wore a finely tailored wool suit under a grey mac, and he held a plaid umbrella. The umbrella itself probably cost £50, Niles thought as the man neared his spot in the tree. There was something oddly familiar about the face.

As the man approached, Niles jumped down from his hiding place and scurried to conceal himself near the mailboxes at the front of the building.

The man walked towards Jools’ front door, then stopped, staring right at Niles, who was pretending to extract letters from number 4’s box.

The two men locked eyes.

Feeling braver than he felt, Niles flicked his cigarette into the gutter and took a step towards the man, who, in turn, took a half step back.

‘
I know you?’ Niles asked.

‘
No, I’m afraid you don’t.’ The well-dressed man backed away quickly and walked on.

‘
Bollocks.’ Niles continued after the man, who promptly turned and rushed down the street. Niles followed but the guy was fast. He rounded the corner at the end of the block and when Niles finally made it to the same spot, panting and huffing from the exertion, his quarry had all but vanished into thin air. Couldn’t have gone into the bus garage though – the gate to the front entrance was locked.

‘
Well, that’s certainly strange.’ Where had he seen that guy before? But it wasn’t long before Niles was thinking about Jools again, strange men in suits forgotten, and he hightailed it back to his tree in anticipation of her return.

*

After yesterday’s run-in with Mrs Pho, Jools had lost her appetite for shopping but unfortunately not for doughnuts. Thoughts of the impending wedding dress fitting that afternoon drove her straight into the arms of the Chocolate Temptations that Doughy guy had given her. They’d been sitting in the fridge in the hope that Rodney might eat them.

Thankfully, he hadn’t.

Was it possible to lose two dress sizes in four hours? She scoured the Internet looking for something, anything, to help but everything she found sounded potentially life threatening. She was desperate, yes, but not desperate enough to deliberately ingest a parasitic worm, inject saline in her bum, or have a couple of ribs removed. Not to mention that she didn’t have the time.

Well, she’d just have to go to the bloody dress fitting and do her best interpretation of well-manicured hippo. She was getting pretty good at it now. Besides, it’d only be her and the dressmaker and who cared what the woman thought about her hip measurements.

*

Jools arrived at the studio at three. Elva, the chief designer, appeared almost immediately, holding her near-priceless gown like a delicate jewel.

And behind her was Lady Margaret.

‘
I hope you don’t mind, darling.’ Lady Margaret sauntered into the studio like she owned it (which, as far as Jools knew, she might well do), wearing a houndstooth swing-coat, red felt cap and dark sunglasses. ‘Rodney told me you had another fitting today and I decided to come along. Luckily there's no law that says the mother-of-the-groom can’t see the bride in her dress before the ceremony.’

Jools was horrified Rodney’s mother would see her belly rolls but the wedding designer seemed nonplussed by Lady Margaret’s unannounced appearance. Jools looked down as she sucked in her gut, hoping it’d magically disappear. But no, the rolls refused to budge.

In the change room Jools hurriedly confessed. ‘I might have put on a little weight.’

‘
Ah!’ Elva’s face betrayed the horror of Jools’ flesh straining against the silk and organza.

‘
Lord in Heaven!’ Lady Margaret said when Jools walked back into the room wearing the dress. She couldn’t even get it buttoned in the back and the drop waist wasn’t doing her belly any favours. ‘What on earth happened to you?’

‘
I’ve just been a bit, er, stressed lately,’ Jools told her future mother-in-law, finding it hard to speak and suck her gut in at the same time.