Winter’s Fairytale Page 9

  ‘Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?’

  ‘Come back to my place.’ Rob replied.

  ‘What?’

  He crossed the room, assessing, and seeing movement, glanced out of the window. Plumes of cigarette smoke were floating out across the garden from Peter’s flat downstairs.

  ‘Come back to my place. Please.’

  I looked up into his eyes and saw that although the look he’d given Peter had long since gone, he was still absolutely serious. Not one hint of the laughter that usually lingered there remained.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t like the thought of you here. On your own. That guy is stoned out of his head, for a start. You know that all the time he was looking at you, he was–’

  ‘Yes! Thank you!’ I cut him off.

  ‘Come on, Izz. Please! I hate the thought of leaving you here. I can’t go back to town, knowing you’re… here.’ His face wrinkled on the last words as the unmistakable sound of squeaky bedsprings began a refrain from Peter’s flat.

  I rolled my eyes and put the television on to help mask the noise. Handing Rob a mug of the coffee I’d made without waiting for a reply, I sat next to him on the sofa and together we watched Antiques Roadshow, both doing our best to ignore the assortment of sounds now drifting up through the floorboards.

  ***

  Mags was on my studio doorstep as I turned the corner the following morning. Her eyes were shining, and I had a feeling it wasn’t just from the cold. I hurried towards her, gave her a big hug and let us into the studio, which was, thanks to the thermostat and timer, wonderfully warm and inviting.

  Mags handed me one of the Costa takeaway mugs she’d been holding and we sat on the Chesterfield ready to exchange our news.

  ‘What time do you have to be in?’ I checked the vintage looking clock, as Mags looked at her watch.

  ‘Soon.’ She pulled a face.

  Mags loved her job in PR, but I had the feeling, after what she’d been telling me about just how well the weekend had gone, that she’d much rather be spending time with Martin, otherwise known as Gorgeous Bus Boy. He’d dropped her off at my studio this morning, which when she mentioned it told me much more than she thought it did.

  ‘We’re going ice skating at Somerset House tomorrow night. Can you come? I want you to meet him, and he wants to meet you. He knows this doesn’t go anywhere without your approval.’

  I laughed, ‘Oh Mags!’ From what I’d seen it was going along at its own speed quite happily already. Again, pretty unlike Mags, who normally took things quite slowly, so this guy was obviously something special. At least, he’d better be. ‘Oh no! I can’t!’

  ‘What? Why not?’

  ‘I have to go to Paris tomorrow.’ I pointed a finger at her in warning, as I could hear for myself exactly how pretentious that sounded, ‘I’ve got to meet with a client there tomorrow afternoon. It could be a really good networking opportunity. I wouldn’t be going otherwise. Can we do it some other time?’

  Mags creased her brow. ‘Are you free for lunch?’

  We arranged a lunchtime meeting, and then Mags started grilling me about Rob. After assuring her many times over that absolutely nothing happened between us the whole weekend, Mags finally gave up on that particular line of questioning.

  ‘I don’t know why not, though.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Mags turned her head and gave me a look, ‘Oh, come on Izz. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed he’s totally gorgeous. Plus he’s sweet, funny, intelligent, and has a good job. Hon, he’s got the whole, shall we say, package!’

  ‘We’re friends. That’s all. So, I’ll thank you to leave any mention of his package at the door!’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ***

  ‘Izzy? There’s someone here to see you.’ My assistant, Tash, poked her head around the screen. It wasn’t a huge studio but I had a thing about people calling across the room. It just didn’t seem to go with the whole ambience of elegance and class I was going for if someone bellowed across the floor.

  ‘Thanks Tash.’ I said, looking up from the table where I’d just finished cutting out a toile for the ‘Castle Bride’. She’d come back to me on Sunday night, declaring that the first design I’d sent her was “absolutely what she had in her head”, even though she “didn’t even know it was in there”. Her email wording had made me laugh. Perhaps Rob was rubbing off on me – that whole mind reading thing might be catching.

  I smoothed down the skirt to my dress, grabbed my heels from where I’d taken them off earlier and checked my hair in the mirror. After my flying visit to Paris, I had a whole French thing going on today. I patted my chignon, checking no stray curl had made its way out. Satisfied that I was now prepared to meet my client, I stepped out into the main salon to find Rob looking at the display of black and white photographs. Whilst Rob was looking at the images, I noticed that he in turn was being ogled not only by my assistant, but also by the bride and mother who had been going over designs and thoughts with Tash moments earlier.

  My heels clicked on the polished wood floor as I entered, and the noise caught Rob’s attention.

  ‘Hi!’ he said, his face breaking into a huge smile, ‘Wow! You look stunning!’

  I was already returning the smile, but at his words, it spread further over my face until it almost hurt.

  ‘Thank you!’ I said, coming up to him, where he bent a little and kissed me on the cheek. He met my eyes for a moment and then peered down. Sussing that he hadn’t bent anywhere near as much as he’d been used to, he checked out my shoes. They were, I had to agree, ridiculously high. But they looked amazing. And I wore other ones to walk in. Really they were just for show. But what a show.

  ‘How do you even stand up in them, let alone walk?’ he asked.

  I slid my glance to Tash who was now staring at us both. She saw me looking and quickly got back to work, at the same time distracting our other spectators.

  ‘I thought you just said I looked stunning?’

  ‘You do! I’m just…’ he looked down again, ‘…intrigued.’

  I smiled and shook my head. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’

  ‘I had a meeting with a client not far away so I thought I’d just drop in and say hello.’

  ‘Oh! How nice! I’m so glad you did.’

  And I was glad. Rob seemed pretty happy with the reaction too. It wasn’t hard to understand why bearing in mind the initial greeting his previous visit had induced, last Friday.

  ‘How was Paris?’

  Twenty minutes later, I’d told him about Paris and about Mags’ new man, whom I did thoroughly approve of, and explained that they were now planning a post-Christmas getaway. Rob had told me how his week had gone, questioned me yet again about Pervy Pete and then reluctantly said he needed to get back to the office. I was surprised at how disappointed I was to have to let him go. He kissed me goodbye on the cheek and I walked to the door with him. The weather was absolutely bitter as I opened the door and stepped outside with him.

  ‘Get back in there! You’ll freeze!’

  ‘I think I’ll last a couple of minutes.’ Something within me wanted to have a moment with Rob to myself, without an audience, however discreet.

  He smiled. ‘Do you ever do what you’re told?’

  ‘Depends on whether I’d already planned on doing it anyway.’ I grinned back at him. Although, bloody hell, he was right. I was freezing.

  ‘Get back inside, woman.’ He pushed open the door and waited for me to step back inside.

  He pulled the door closed and waved through the glass at me. I stood watching him hurry away, collar turned up against the cold. Over the street noise, I heard a shrill whistle that I recognised and a taxi heaved itself across to where Rob had stuck his hand up to signal it. He pulled open the door, and stepped in quickly, closing it behind him. Within seconds, it was lost among the many others filling the streets and he was out of sight. I walked back on
my skyscraper heels and settled myself in front of the toile, refreshed by the unexpected, and surprisingly welcome, distraction that had come my way.

  Chapter Eight

  I knew I probably ought to be heading back home by now. I’d been in the studio since eight o’clock that morning which wasn’t unusual but bearing in mind it was a Saturday shortly before Christmas, it might have been a little sad. I was going to leave earlier, but then I’d thought what ‘home’ was right at the moment, and decided to spend another hour or two in my cosy, friendly studio. An hour later it had started to rain heavily and I wished I’d actually stuck to my guns and gone home earlier after all. I was going to get soaked walking from the station back to the flat.

  I hurried along the street, keeping my head down under my umbrella, whilst at the same time desperately trying not to maim any of the Christmas shoppers that were solidly filling the pavements of the capital. I could see the sign for the tube station just up ahead and carved out a pathway to get there. Just as I was about to turn in, my mobile rang. I debated about just letting it go to voicemail but as my parents were currently away on the other side of the world, I knew there was no way that was going to happen. My dad had a penchant for trying new things and although Mum and I had done our best to talk him out of some of the more extreme things, bungee jumping was still on his list. To be fair, I could see his point that he’d completed plenty of jumps during his time in the army when he wasn’t attached to anything whatsoever, so the bungee thing probably did seem like playtime to him. And it probably would be. But Mum and I still weren’t keen. Although he kept himself super fit, he wasn’t twenty-five any more, and I didn’t want something to happen to him on the end of a bloody great elastic band. I had to answer, just to check.

  I forced myself through the pack of people surrounding me and tucked myself against the wall. Digging into my bag, I pulled out my phone. Rob’s name bounced gently on the screen. I didn’t yet have a picture to go with it.

  ‘Hi!’

  ‘Izzy? Are you at home?’ His voice sounded tense, completely opposite to the relaxed, easy-going state he’d been in when he’d dropped in to my studio unexpectedly just a couple of days ago.

  ‘No. No, I’m not. Why? Rob, what’s wrong?’

  My stomach turned over. I wasn’t used to hearing this strain in Rob’s voice, and I didn’t like it. And I knew him well enough to know that whatever was causing it must have been pretty major.

  ‘Rob?’ I tried again. I could hear voices in the background which suddenly became muffled. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at home. Where did you say you were?’

  ‘I’m in town. I had some things to do at the studio but I’ve just got to the tube. Rob, tell me what’s going on? Are you ok?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart,’ he answered, the familiarity of the term confirming to me he was definitely distracted, ‘I’m ok. It’s Jenny.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ I burst out, almost before he’d finished. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘Look, I know it’s Saturday and you probably have plans, but do you think you could come round, just for a little bit?’

  ‘Of course I can.’ I replied, having now given up on trying to get any information out of him. The only plans I’d had for today involved getting home and avoiding Pervy Peter (although, since his encounter with Rob last week, the happenstance meetings that seemed a little too frequent to actually qualify as happenstance, had miraculously dropped off). Past that, it was likely a case of watching something off Netflix with the volume inevitably increased as nocturnal activities downstairs got busier. Of course, I wasn’t about to tell Rob that this was the extent of my Saturday night plans. Although, at the moment, I think I could have said I had a trip booked on the Virgin Galactic flight for eight p.m. and he wouldn’t really have blinked. His mind was definitely on other things.

  ‘I’ll come and get you.’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said, stepping back into the throng of the crowd, and doing my best not to get swept upstream by the current of people, ‘I’ll get a cab. It’s fine. There’s one here, I can be there quicker this way.’

  With one hand still holding the phone to my ear, I pulled open the taxi door and climbed in, giving the driver the address for Rob’s apartment building as I did so. The cabbie nodded and we pulled back into the late afternoon traffic.

  ‘I’m in the cab now, so I’ll see you soon.’ I reported back to Rob, as I rummaged underneath my skirt and pulled out the seatbelt.

  ‘Ok, right. Look, Izzy, thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Rob.’ I replied, although as I still had absolutely no idea what the heck was going on, I wasn’t sure what I would be able to do. Whatever it was, if there was anything, I knew for sure that I wanted to do it, and that he really was completely welcome.

  I hung up and mentally hurried the traffic along. We were still several hundred yards away when the traffic slowed. And then stopped. I heard the cabbie talk to someone else on his mobile, via the Bluetooth earpiece that stuck out against his shaved head.

  ‘Looks like we might be here for a while, love. Traffic’s all backed up from some accident earlier.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ I peered out. The rain was still coming down hard but this cab was clearly going nowhere for some time to come.

  ‘Can I get out here then, please?’

  ‘‘Course,’ he said, and told me the fare off the meter. I paid with a note that left him a decent tip and pushed open the door, unfolding myself out into the sharp air and drenching rain. I stood well back as the cab pulled off and then hurried across the road, telling myself that I really ought to put a pair of trainers in my bag for walking to and from work. Rushing along in the rain, in the run-up to Christmas, along the streets of one of the busiest cities in the world, whilst wearing five-inch platform heels, really wasn’t one of my most brilliant ideas. But this was an emergency. And desperate times called for desperate measures. Anyway, who was I kidding? Me in trainers? The only time shoes like that got anywhere near my feet was when I was engineered into taking part in a charity walk (I refuse to lie and say that I ran). I certainly wasn’t about to make them part of my day-to-day style, however sensible the idea was. Right now though, I could see the logic.

  I finally got to the apartment building and hung on the huge brass door handle for a moment as I caught my breath and found some energy to haul it open. Stepping inside, I huffed out Rob’s apartment number and my name to the concierge. He nodded at me and then asked me to wait. A few moments later, after making a call, he gave me permission to go up, and directed me to the lifts. I thanked him and hurried over, pressing the button a couple of times to call one. It seemed to take forever but finally a car arrived and I stepped aside as an elegant and rather snooty couple, judging by the look they threw me, exited. I ignored it and stepped in, pressed Rob’s floor number and then quickly pressed the “close doors” button in case anyone else appeared.

  As I was silently transported upwards, I pushed my hair back with my hands. It was more than damp, as was the rest of me. I turned round and leant on the handrail, then jumped as I saw myself in the mirror opposite.

  ‘Oh no!’ I groaned. My hair had absolutely no memory of the straighteners that morning, and was competing with my eye makeup for ‘worst feature’. The lift dinged its arrival. I had no time for repairs so I quickly ran my fingers under my eyes to catch the worst of the eye makeup debacle and pulled a hair clip from the outside pocket of my bag to twist my hair up into. I stuck the clip in my mouth and grabbed a handful of unruly locks as I stepped out of the lift into the corridor.

  Rob was waiting.

  ‘Oh my–’ I jumped for the second time and the clip fell to the ground.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, picking it up and handing it to me, before enveloping me in one of his amazing hugs. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

  ‘That’s–’

  ‘Oh my God, you’re soaked!’ he said, cutting off my gracious acceptance, ‘Why are
you wet? I thought you were going to get a cab?’

  ‘I did!’ I explained, ‘But the traffic backed up, so I got out and ran the last bit.’

  Then he saw my shoes. ‘In those? Izzy! You should have called me!’

  ‘For a few hundred yards? Don’t be daft!’

  ‘Come on, let’s get you dry,’ He took hold of my hand and we walked up the corridor, me taking several steps to each one of his, thanks to a skirt that definitely wasn’t made for taking large strides. As we approached the door to his apartment, I tugged on his hand.

  ‘Rob?’

  He stopped quickly and turned. Quicker than I could stop at any rate. Bouncing off his chest, I stepped back. He placed one hand on my shoulder, checking I’d got my balance. The other still held tightly to my own. His gaze was soft, but distracted.

  ‘Can you tell me what’s going on before we go in please?’

  He seemed to be weighing up what to say. My insides were getting more and more knotted.

  ‘Is Jenny ok?’ I prompted.

  Rob let out a sigh and slumped a little against the wall, still holding onto my hand. I looked up and tilted my head.

  ‘Oh Izz,’ he sighed, his tone more dejected than I’d ever heard it, ‘I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do. She’s so upset and I don’t know how to fix it for her. I can’t stand seeing her like this, not after everything she’s been through. I should be able to help.’ He ran his hand over his face, hiding it from me momentarily, but he couldn’t hide the pain that showed in his eyes as he looked back at me. ‘I don’t know if you can even do anything.’