Goodbye, Jimmy Choo

by Annie Sanders

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “And hello to you too!”

  “I’ve been worried sick.” She looked it, her hair stringy and greasy, her eyes red and tired. “I nearly rang ruddy Interpol. I’ve been calling and calling.”

  “Didn’t you get my message?”

  “Yeah, but not until late last night. Where have you been? Things have been frantic here.” She led Maddy into the kitchen, and there were Marcus and Jean Luc sitting over half-drunk cups of cold coffee with newspapers strewn all over the table. Now that made an interesting tableau.

  “Maddy!” They both stood up. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “What a happy greeting from everyone! Any chance of a cup of coffee? And where’s this infamous photo, then?”

  Marcus handed her the Courier.

  She shuddered. “Does it make my bum look big?” she asked looking up at the three faces gazing at her.

  “Christ, Maddy, it’s been frantic here. How can you be so trite?” One look at Izzie’s face and she knew she had to get serious.

  “I’m sorry. I should have been in touch earlier, but I couldn’t.”

  “The papers today are even worse, darling,” said Jean Luc in a somber voice, and pushed over more pages from the table. They had clearly been poring over them all morning. She scanned the copy, with Izzie pointing out particularly choice bits to her.

  “Well, good old Pokey Sue.” Maddy laughed. “She’s really stuck the knife in, hasn’t she? The old bat. She’s right off my Christmas card list. Will always eating McDonald’s indeed! And I don’t think I’ll be buying Minstrels in the village shop either by the look of it. Oh lovely Linda Meades. She didn’t hold back either, did she? And who’s Mrs. Evelyn Williams? Never heard of her.”

  Izzie lost it completely. “Maddy, don’t you realize what this all means?” she stormed, hands on hips. “There is no way that Tessutini are going to sign now. I tried Geoff this morning but he’s not answering the phone.”

  “Perhaps he’s topped himself with grief.”

  “Maaaaaddy!”

  Maddy realized she’d been teasing too long. “Oh, sweetheart, fear not. They signed yesterday. It’s all settled.” There was a stunned silence.

  Izzie opened and closed her mouth. “How?”

  “Because, my darling, I took the bloody contract to New York and—” she paused “—and delivered it to Tessutini by hand.”

  “You did what?”

  “Broadway sends its love.”

  Izzie sat down hard on a chair. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell us? This has been about the worst weekend of my life.”

  Maddy sat down beside her, pushing the coffee cups out of the way, and put her hand on Izzie’s. “I’m sorry. I know I should have, but I couldn’t just in case it all went wrong. Those pictures were all my fault. I could have blown it for you, the girls, Jean Luc, everyone, and I had to sort it out myself. It just sort of came to me on Friday, so I went to London, to Hewlitt’s, and collected the contracts—they were a bit surprised and said it was highly irregular—then I booked a ticket, which wasn’t that easy either, and I rang To—Tessutini and said I was coming to New York anyway. They seemed a little surprised, but, well if I learned anything over the last twelve months, it’s how to bullshit, and they seemed happy with my explanation. Thanks.” She picked up the coffee Marcus placed in front of her and cupped the mug in her hands. “I didn’t see them actually put their names on the bottom; Geoff told me they had yesterday.”

  “Did you speak to him?”

  “No, actually, he left a message, but then . . . I didn’t have my phone turned on.”

  “I know,” said Izzie, her eyes on fire with anger. “I must have called you twenty times. Don’t ever, ever do that to me again! It was like the time when Simon died. I was worried sick.” Her eyes filled with tears and Marcus squeezed her hand. Maddy leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Izzie, I know it was wrong, but I had to do it. Anyway, it’s done now. We’re in the clear.” She pulled something out of her bag. “I got this for you—best thing Kennedy could offer, I’m afraid.” And she handed the package to Izzie.

  As she pulled open the bag and fished out a bottle of Clarins “Relax” bath foam and the flimsiest, pinkest, laciest knickers from the bag, Izzie looked momentarily bewildered then, sniffing, a broad smile came over her face and she threw her arms around Maddy.

  “You bloody cow!”

  “Now listen. Here’s orders. You go and get in the shower. Gallons of hot water, big squirt of that, then new knickers on and your very best combats and naughtiest T-shirt.” She helped her up and directed her toward the kitchen door, patting her on the bum as she went. “And, Izzie, don’t forget the makeup. We can celebrate!”

  As Izzie made her way upstairs, wiping her runny nose childishly on her sleeve, Maddy turned back to the men sitting silently at the table. There was a pause.

  “She was very worried, Maddy. You shouldn’t have done that to her,” said Marcus after a moment. She looked hard at him.

  “I know, and I realize now that sometimes we all keep things from people when we should tell them, don’t we? But this time I think I was really doing what was best.” He clearly registered what she was saying, then nodded his head slowly in agreement.

  “I didn’t just do it for myself, Marcus. I went there because it was the only way. I still don’t know whether Tessutini saw the pictures before they signed, but that’s academic now. I was just trying damage limitation.”

  “You must be tired after so much traveling,” Jean Luc interrupted, perhaps sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Have you had a breakfast? I bet you haven’t.” He walked over to the toaster. “One slice of this revolting cardboard stuff or two?”

  “Two please.” Marcus was still looking at her. “Truce?” she said quietly.

  For the first time he smiled a genuine smile at her. “Okay, truce. And thanks, Maddy.”

  “I did it for my mate.”

  “I know.”

  She was halfway through her second piece of toast and reading more thoroughly the hatchet-job news items in the tabloids on the table when her mobile rang.

  “Hello?” she said, mouth full of crumbs.

  “Maddy, it’s Peter.”

  She swallowed rapidly. “Hi.”

  “You’ve certainly got yourself all over the papers, my love.”

  “Yes, I know. Reputation in tatters. I don’t think we’ll have our own TV show now, do you?”

  He laughed deeply. “Unlikely, but you never know. Look what disgrace did for the Hamiltons.”

  Maddy giggled. It was good to hear him knock the whole situation back into some sort of perspective. “Listen, Maddy, I don’t suppose you’ve seen the FT, have you?”

  “No, frankly, but we pretty much have every other paper here. Do they do a gossip column?”

  “Not of any interest. But, Maddy, there’s a feature about the sale, and it’s got some information in it you may not want to hear. Can you get hold of a copy?”

  She fished out her purse and her keys, mouthed to Marcus and Jean Luc that she was just nipping out to get some fags, and ran out down the drive to her car, ignoring Jean Luc’s frown. The nearest place she knew might have a copy was the garage on the bypass. No joy. Two shops later, and still no FT—well, it was hardly popular Ringford reading matter—so she headed for the center of town and, pulling up on a double yellow line and sticking on her hazard lights and sunglasses, she ran into WHSmith.

  She didn’t open the paper until she was in a lay-by on the bypass again. There on page three was the story: “Tessutini Buy and Bury Paysage Enchanté.” Bury? What was this?

  As predicted, American cosmetics giant yesterday announced the acquisition of the small UK natural cosmetics brand Paysage Enchanté. The amount the company paid for this young but highly successful enterprise has not been disclosed, but commentators suggest the figure was well beyond the company�
�s value. “We thought it would be an excellent addition to our portfolio,” said Tessutini CEO, Tom Drake, in New York last night—the empire also includes U.S. brands like Agnès Broussard—“but we have subsequently decided that it is uneconomical to transfer the manufacturing operation.” “This move is extraordinary,” said Graham Fields, of bankers HBFR. “One can only imagine that in view of falling profits in this sector, Tessutini decided to buy the brand in order to take it out of the competition.” Tessutini’s share price fell a further ten points after news of the takeover.

  Maddy dropped the paper onto her knee. The bastard! The complete and utter bastard. They’d been shafted. All that bunkum about “valuable asset” and how impressed they were with the company. They just wanted them out of the picture. What galled her most now was how much more they should have asked for the sale. If they were that desperate to get rid of them, they might have stumped up even more.

  She looked out over the wet fields and the hills beyond, shrouded in a blue haze with the threat of more rain. What had she done? She’d behaved like a bitch in heat and had slept with Tom Drake for nothing. Well, to no significant end anyway. He’d have signed the contract even if she’d appeared topless on page three of the Sun.

  Cars shot past her, sending spray up behind their wheels. People rushing about in their busy lives, and hers felt as though it was in ruins. The money in the bank was one thing, but shame was the price she had had to pay. She could feel her heart pumping hard. What would Geoff’s reaction be?

  She picked up her phone and tried to call him. Where could he be? It struck her as odd that he hadn’t called or made contact in some way. He must be as surprised as she was by the news.

  She started up the engine again and headed back to Hoxley.

  Izzie, fresh from her bath, hair fluffy and uncontrollable as before—but clean at least—was clearing up the breakfast debris.

  “Got the knickers on?”

  “Yes, thanks. They’re scrummy.”

  “Now you’re rich you can keep your thieving hands off mine, okay! Where’re Marcus and Jean Luc?”

  Izzie closed the dishwasher and turned it on. “Jean Luc took one look at what Pru had provided for lunch—she’s at the barn and coming back later—and announced he was off to the deli to buy a celebration lunch. He took Marcus with him, which was quite tactful, I thought.”

  “He’s being great, isn’t he? Marcus, I mean.”

  Izzie leaned against the humming machine, drying her hands on a tea towel. “I suppose so, but it’s all a bit forced. Remember having a row with your best mate at school and then making up, and lending her all your favorite crayons to make sure she was still your friend?”

  “And probably your Sindy doll too.”

  “Quite. All a bit false, really, but things feel more equal now. We’ve both learned something, but we’ll have time to think about it when all this shit is over.”

  Maddy pulled out the paper from her bag. “It’s not the end of it, I’m afraid. We’ve been well and truly screwed.” Oh the irony of that statement.

  Izzie scanned the story fast, her eyes racing over the copy. When she raised them again to Maddy, they were wide with emotions that ranged from disbelief to abject fury. “Why?” she asked weakly.

  “It seems we made more of an impact than we thought.” Maddy went over to Izzie’s fridge, hoping to find a bottle of wine. It was still early, but what the hell. Pulling out the cork from the half-full bottle and smelling the contents—well, you couldn’t always be sure with Izzie’s fridge—she poured them both a glass.

  “It wasn’t just us. I think, as Pru said some time ago, we just hit some back-to-nature nerve when it was ripe for the hitting. Don’t worry, the pendulum will swing back and people will all be doing something equally silly before long.”

  “But it all seems such a waste.” Izzie had the look of someone who had been boxed around the ears and was reeling.

  “No, Izzie, it wasn’t a waste at all. It was amazing. Unreal, actually.” Her zeal increased. “We had a ball. We were brilliant, we were inspired! And now”—she grasped Izzie’s hands, nearly spilling her drink—“we are rich!”

  They hugged each other as hard as they could and danced an awkward little jig around the room.

  “We all ought to party. Have you spoken to Geoff?” asked Izzie between gasps. “Where is he, by the way? You’d have thought he’d have been a bit nearer the coal face of things.”

  “I was wondering that too. Shall we try to call him again?” Maddy dug out her phone, just as it started to ring. The screen showed “Private number.” “Perhaps this is him. Hello?”

  “Hi, Maddy.” Her face blushed deeply as she recognized that deep accent and she turned away from Izzie as quickly as she could and left the room.

  “Hello. How did you get my number?”

  “There isn’t much I can’t find out if I need to.” She fumed at the arrogance of the man and hated that in spite of herself the timbre of his voice managed to make her shiver. “It had to be done, Maddy.” She knew he wasn’t referring to the acquisition of her mobile number.

  “Were we that much of a threat?”

  “Potentially, yes. It wasn’t just you, though. It was the way you were leading people, whether you meant to or not. You are both more clever than you thought.”

  She wandered into the sitting room and sat down on Izzie’s piano stool, silently running her fingers up and down the keyboard. “But what about the photo, Tom? I suppose that wouldn’t have changed anything?”

  “Oh, no,” he said gently. “It wouldn’t have mattered at all. In fact, it was more of an insurance policy.”

  A germ of suspicion began to grow in her mind. “A what?”

  “In case you refused to sell. We had to bury the brand somehow.”

  “You bastard! You arranged the whole thing!”

  There was a pause down the line. “We’d had you both covered for ages, just waiting until you made a slipup. Unfortunately, it was you who did it first.” He waited for her to say something.

  “Do you really imagine that just by burying our brand women are going to come flocking back to liposomes and antioxidants? This wasn’t just about cosmetics, it was about the way women feel about themselves today. They are so overcommitted and neurotic about juggling child care and working, and you are even playing on their insecurities about their looks. We gave them a chance to reassess it all.”

  “Maddy, I have shareholders to answer to. I’m not interested in some half-assed sociological theory. We know our market. It was my job to turn around the company’s faltering fortunes. We had to get rid of you somehow, and it was buy you or discredit you.”

  “How thoughtful.” Buy you? From somewhere in the back of her mind another realization dawned. Where had the buyout idea come from? Her mind ran over the events of the last few weeks since Geoff’s late-night call about the offer and Geoff’s enthusiasm to push it through and Geoff’s very tiny, tiny error when he had revealed that he knew Tom Drake was a “great guy.”

  “You were in with Geoff, weren’t you?”

  Tom laughed deeply. “He’s a very useful guy, your Geoff. I’d had dealings with him and Hewlitt Pritchard before and, oh serendipity, found out he was working for you. I simply contacted him and told him it would be worth his while to persuade you to sell to us.”

  “And was it?”

  “Oh, I think so.” No wonder they hadn’t heard from Geoff in days. He was probably sunning his carefully honed body right at this moment on a yacht moored off Antigua, slimy little git.

  “God, you had the whole thing covered, didn’t you?” Incredulous at the deceit of it all, she could feel her anger rising. “You didn’t miss a shot. You knew about Simon, Marcus Stock, even the state of Izzie’s marriage, Bôite Bleue too probably—”

  “No, you actually surprised me with that one. It was good going to land them, I’ll give you that.”

  She wouldn’t be stopped. “What else did you know a
bout us?”

  “Well, I sure as hell know you don’t have a brother.”

  “Okay, so I lied, but it was nothing compared to the depths of your deception. And what else is there? Do you know what my kids eat for breakfast? My mother’s national insurance number? The color of my underwear?” What on earth had made her say that?

  “Yes, Maddy. I know the color of your underwear.”

  She saw red. “And that too. Was that part of the plan? God, how you must have enjoyed watching me make such a fool of myself. And you just held out your hands and let me fall into them. Was that all in the great scheme, Tom? Well, was it?”

  There was a pause. “No, Maddy, that wasn’t in my plan. That was something else. That was the real thing.”

  She thought about his note he’d left in her bag at the hotel. “And that’s your idea of ‘something else,’ is it? A curt little message saying, ‘That was an unforgettable way to close the deal’?”

  “That wasn’t all I put though, was it?” Maddy didn’t answer. “So would you want to resume negotiations?”

  “Frankly, I’m too damned angry to want to do anything with you. And how do you think I felt when I discovered you’d paid my hotel bill? Christ, Tom, that’s what men do when they spend the night with a hooker.”

  “Okay, Maddy. I’m sorry. That was insensitive, and perhaps I didn’t handle it too well.”

  “Too right. And then you sneak off without signing the contract—”

  “I was always intending to sign it—photo or no photo—but I had to have it witnessed. Would it help if I told you you look beautiful when you are sleeping and that Sunday night blew me away?” She felt her stomach turn. Damn him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you would have signed anyway?”

  There was a pause. “That would have taken away the fun.”

  “You bastard.”

  “Would you have slept with me anyway?” For a moment he didn’t sound so confident.

  She heard Jean Luc’s Range Rover pull up in the drive outside her window and the men’s voices as they got out. Then a second car behind it. Maddy craned to look out of the window and saw it was Pru’s. “Tom, I have to go now. There are people here.”