New York Valentine (3 page)

‘Collecting James McAvoy from the airport next …’ the driver revealed with a wink.

‘Ooooh, is he coming here?’

‘Nah, news studio in town.’

‘Shame.’

As Annie headed inside, there was a flurry of activity as people saw her coming. Receptionists fluttered about with signing-in forms and visitor passes. A girl with a clipboard offered to walk her to her room and carry her bags.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Annie assured her, smiling, ‘I’ve been carrying my own bags for some time now, I’m sure I can manage a little bit longer.’

Lana, awkwardly trailing in the shadow of her mum, gave a quick wave before peeling off in the direction of the crew area while Annie headed to the VIP star suite.

The door was decorated with a handwritten sign which read
How Not To Shop
, stuck on with bright blue gaffer tape. As soon as she pushed it open, Annie registered the crowded room and the busy hum of activity.

‘Hello my darlin’s, look busy, I’m here!’ she announced and all heads turned in her direction.

There was Amelia, the producer’s PA, folders in hand, pencil tucked behind one ear, iPhone up against the other and something truly fashion-forward slipping from her shoulders.

In the corner was Ginger, the make-up girl, various other production bods and—

‘Hi, you must be Melissa, lovely to meet you!’ Annie greeted the woman sitting in front of the glaringly bright mirror as Ginger applied foundation with a damp sponge.

‘Yes … hello …’ Melissa turned to Annie with a shy smile.

‘How are you doing?’ Annie asked, giving Melissa a friendly handshake. ‘Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Ginger is a genius. She can even make me look halfway presentable if I’m very, very nice to her, bribe her with free handbags and that kind of thing.’

‘Ooooh!’ Ginger smiled at Annie, ‘have you got something exciting for me?’

‘No, my darlin’ not one exciting parcel has arrived at
How Not To Shop
towers for weeks. And … Amelia? We’ve not heard anything about the
one and only
bag, have we?’

Amelia shook her head sadly: ‘I did call again, yesterday, but I don’t want to pester …’

‘No, no, we definitely do not want to pester,’ Annie agreed.

Despite talk of the ‘it bag’ being dead and buried, anyone who worked in, around, or even within smelling distance of fashion knew that there was only one bag to carry this season.

It was chic and yet it was slouchy, it was structured, but casual, it came in many deep, subtle colours, including sea green with matt silver hardware. It was made by Mulberry. It was the bag Annie
had
to have. But the sea green was completely unavailable. Limited edition. Sold out before it had even made it to the shops!

Both Annie and Amelia had made several calls to the head office to ask if there wasn’t just one last bag somewhere which could be bought for Annie Valentine, you know, of
How Not To Shop
.

Annie still had a slightly odd feeling when she remembered how insistent the PR had been about the impossibility of sourcing a bag for her. Wasn’t she cool enough? she’d wondered.

‘It’s not as if I want it for free …’ she’d tried to make clear.

‘No, we are absolutely sold out. Half of the waiting list has been left disappointed.’

‘Couldn’t you maybe make some more?’ Annie had dared to suggest.

‘That would just ruin the concept of limited edition!’

‘Maybe you should think about making your next edition slightly less limited, then.’

Annie let out a sigh and told Amelia, ‘It wouldn’t happen to Alexa Chung, would it? They even named one of their bags after her. And who’s the other really cool English girl in New York? You know the one who writes that column for
Vanity Fair?’

‘Emily Wilmington,’ a little chorus replied.

‘Yeah, it wouldn’t happen to the lovely Emily Wilmington. Every time she leaves her beautiful Manhattan apartment, she’s probably tripping over all the freebie goodies designers want her to wear,’ Annie said, trying not to sound too resentful.

‘Wasn’t there a bag named after you?’ Amelia recalled with a mischievous grin on her face.

Ah, the Annie V bag: that patent pink plastic disaster of the summer.

‘Let’s draw a veil, my love, let’s draw a veil,’ Annie said, not wanting to relive that memory.

‘Now, Melissa, while Ginger makes a gorgeous job of your beautiful skin and oooooh green eyes, I am ever so jealous … tell me all about yourself. Why did you want to hand yourself over to the
How Not To Shop
team?’

‘I love your show,’ Melissa gushed, looking a teeny bit star-struck.

‘Thank you!’

‘And I’ve been ill and my husband had to give up his job to look after me …’

‘Oh you poor thing,’ Annie sympathized and reached over to squeeze Melissa’s hand.

‘So there’s been no money or fun in our house for ages. But I’m much better now and he’s just had news about a new job …’

‘Fantastic!’

‘ … so I thought I’d celebrate by getting some new clothes and cheering myself up. But it’s been so long, I’ve looked out there in the shops and …’

‘You’re lost,’ Annie chipped in.

‘Totally! Haven’t a clue.’

‘I know darlin’ – it’s all leggin’s and
stonewashed
jeggin’s and tunics, I mean – NEON!?! It’s just about enough to make anyone over the age of nineteen scream!’

‘There.’ Ginger applied a final pat of powder to Melissa’s nose.

‘Can we just tousle her hair a little, make it a bit softer? Maybe use the tongs?’ Annie asked, looking at Melissa’s reflection.

‘Just what I was thinking,’ Ginger replied.

Once the tonging and tousling was done, Melissa looked herself over carefully in the mirror. She was trying to control the wide-eyed look of surprise from breaking out all over her face.

‘Delicious,’ Annie said. ‘I hope you were watching her every step so you can copy all of this when you get back home.’

‘Yes!’ Melissa smiled.

‘You better, she’s make-up girl of the moment and one lesson with her would cost you over £300.’

‘You’re next,’ Ginger instructed Annie. ‘Sit down, gown up, phone off,’ she said sternly, ‘I’m not trying to apply the signature red Annie lips while you chitter-chatter on the mobile.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Annie gave a little salute, ‘but let me just show Melissa the clothes we’ve brought in for her before you get started.’

Although Ginger gave a sigh, she nodded agreement.

‘Come over here,’ Annie instructed Melissa: ‘this entire rack is just for you. We had your measurements, so we went out and scoured for the gorgeous new you.’

For a moment or two, Melissa just stood and looked at the rack as she was faced with a riot of fabric and colour.

‘Go on, pull things out, hold them up, take a look – dive in!’ Annie encouraged.

Melissa’s hand went straight to a chiffon blouse sleeve in a vibrant red and pink print.

‘Lovely,’ Annie said, ‘you can try that on first.’

‘Oh no,’ Melissa said immediately, ‘I love the way it looks, but I wouldn’t wear it.’

‘Why not? If you love the way it looks, you should wear it, or at least try it!’

‘No, no … too …’

‘Stop! Shhhh! Whatever you’re about to say, I’ve heard it before and I’m not listening. Too young, too bright, too feminine, too this, too that. Try it on! You might be surprised. This is the new you: healthy, cheerful,
well
Melissa. Recovery girl. Ready to go on out there again and be part of the world.’

Although this was delivered in Annie’s most upbeat and encouraging voice, it seemed to make Melissa fold in on herself, and suddenly she looked upset.

‘I know,’ Annie said, putting an arm around her shoulder and squeezing hard, ‘I know. It’s a big step. A big change. Whenever people come to see me, I know it’s a critical moment. They come before the big job interview, or after the divorce, or post-baby. They don’t quite know who this new person inside is and they certainly don’t know how to dress her.

‘So they come to me for a few clues. Yeah, I might know about fashion and which figure looks best in what shape but deep down, I think
you
know what
you
really want and it’s up to us to work it out together. So I know you want this blouse,’ Annie said, and pulled it from the rack.

‘We’ll tone it down at first, have just the sleeves and the collar poking out from underneath this delicious soft red jumper.’ She pulled a short-sleeved, V-necked knit tunic from the rack. ‘You’ve got great legs, I’ve noticed,’ she added, pulling tight cropped jeans from the rack, ‘so now it’s just shoes. Look down there at my selection … which ones make your heart beat faster?’

Encouraged, Melissa’s hand moved along the row of shoes. All sorts of shapes and colours. All in her size! As her hand hovered over the violet Mary Janes, Annie said: ‘Stop! I think those will be perfect!’

‘I put on two stones being ill—’

‘Shhhh!’ Annie interrupted. ‘I put on two stones having twins. We’ll get there. We’ll get it off. Slowly but surely. We’ll get there.’

‘No, but … what I was going to say was that I don’t mind. Before, I’d have minded a lot. But now, I’m just so happy that I’m well again, that everything’s working OK. That’s why I want to dress nicely. Dress what I have. Just the way I am.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ Annie agreed, feeling more than a hint of guilt. Wasn’t that always what she was telling people to do? Dress the body they were in. Not the one they’d once had or hoped one day to have. Dress for the here and now.

As Amelia led Melissa away to try on her first outfit, Ginger ushered Annie into the make-up chair.

‘Go on then,’ Annie told her with a grin, ‘see if you can make me ten years younger.’

‘Easy,’ Ginger said with a wink and zoomed in on Annie’s eyebags with a corrector pen.

When the generous layer of matte, studio-lights-friendly warpaint had been applied, Annie smiled at herself in the mirror.

‘Nice job,’ she told Ginger.

There was a tap at the door and head cameraman, Bob, stuck his head round: ‘Hey Annie, are we almost ready for act one, scene one?’ he asked.

‘Yep, we are.’ Annie stood up and brushed herself down.

‘How do I look?’

‘Lovely,’ Bob told her, ‘but you’re wearing that dress again. Ain’t you got any time to go shopping, girl?’

‘Oh shut up!’ Annie told him.

Under the glaring studio lights, Annie introduced Melissa for the benefit of the camera, then ushered her onto the set.

‘C’mon my lovely,’ Annie said in full-on, upbeat presenter mode, holding out a hand for Melissa to grab. ‘Melissa is here to show us how to do colours. We have red, we have pink, we have a splash of violet going on below. It’s a sizzle. A riot. I’m here to tell you: never worry about the rules your mum might have given you: if you love it, wear it!

‘Life is absolutely too short to worry about “does blue go with green?” If it looks good to you, go for it. I’ve had enough of people in black and navy and beige. Stand out from the crowd. Look lovely! And wear the colours you just can’t get enough of,’ Annie instructed.

‘Melissa hasn’t been well, she’s spent months in drab hospital wards so you can’t blame her for wanting to break open the paintbox and wear delicious reds and pinks all in one go.

‘And doesn’t she look
gorgeous?’

Even Melissa nodded her head at this.

‘I love my job,’ Annie said straight to camera with a big grin, ‘I really do love my job. If you are in a wardrobe rut, don’t know what to wear, can’t make sense of what’s out there in the shops, have a big milestone event ahead or are just generally
freaking out
about what you should be putting on, get in touch. Email me: we can feature your problem on the show, or even better, I’ll get on the phone and we’ll have you right here, just like Melissa.’

The door to the studio opened, distracting Annie from her speech.

‘And cut … just for now,’ the director said, her attention caught as well. Everyone turned to see who had committed the crime of opening one of the large double doors and allowing a shaft of light into the darkened studio.

Someone was walking through the darkness on sharp, metal-tipped heels.

One of the lighting crew swung a spotlight in the direction of the footsteps. Tamsin Hinkley, the show’s producer, was striding towards them.

Usually Annie was pleased to see Tamsin, and not just because she was always beautifully dressed. Tamsin was Annie’s biggest fan, who had believed in their programme right from the start and had ensured the last series was a major ratings success which was immediately re-commissioned.

But today, Tamsin was not smiling. In fact, she looked thunderous.

‘Hello everyone,’ she said in a voice that sounded tense and angry.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello.’

‘Hey Tamsin.’

A range of voices answered back.

‘What’s up?’ Annie asked. ‘You don’t look happy.’

‘No. I’m not happy at all,’ Tamsin replied. Then she scraped her long hair away from her face and just held it there, hand clasped at the back of her head: ‘I don’t know how to tell you this,’ she began.

Several people in the room started to fidget nervously.

‘Channel Four has de-commissioned this series,’ Tamsin announced, letting her hair fall and trying to stand up tall and look professionally around the room, ‘I’m afraid they’ve pulled the plug on us.’

There was a slight wobble in her voice as she added: ‘And there’s absolutely nothing I can do. I know this because I’ve been on the phone to my lawyer for the last hour.’

There were gasps of astonishment. Someone burst into tears. The director began to protest. Melissa looked crestfallen.

Only cameraman Bob, who’d been with Annie right from her first TV job on an iffy digital channel, seemed unfazed. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, as he calmly began to dismantle his equipment. ‘Happens all the time.’

Annie stared at him in shock. ‘But it can’t be happening
now.’
She heard her voice, all high and thin: ‘please just pinch me and tell me it can’t be happening.’

‘It is, Annie,’ Tamsin confirmed. ‘I’m so sorry,’

Mimi-Jay looking deeeeeelightful: