by Jane Linfoot
Izzy’s chest lurched. So it was “Christina” now. Not just a wife, but a wife called Christina, which made her even more real, and that could only be a good thing. Izzy really needed to get her head round this wife thing, and fast, although what was she thinking anyway, having the hots for a guy who got his rocks off with profit extraction. Confirmation of what she’d suspected all along should have been enough to send an ice shower cascading onto her lust, but the electrical charges coming off him, zapping around like lightning in a summer storm, were completely wiping out the chill.
‘You carry on, take all the pictures you want.’ Now they’d got this far, there was little point in refusing, however uncomfortable it made her.
She sidled into the bedroom, and wafted past the dressmaker’s dummy and the chaise longue to look out of the slatted blinds at the window, in an effort to detach herself from what was happening. A man in her bedroom. It had to be light years since that had happened.
‘The bed’s in here, when you’re ready…’ Sometime today would be good, ideally. After all, she was supposed to be at work.
The tell-tale creak of the floorboards outside the door, told her that Xander was almost here. Fleetingly, she allowed herself to imagine his tanned feet, not in the scuffed leather deck shoes he was wearing today, but flat and bare and beautiful, on her white painted floor boards. And then she gave herself a mental kick. By the time Xander wandered in she’d blocked that thought, and dispatched it for good.
‘Great room.’ He stared around slowly, then nodded as his eyes came to rest on the bed. ‘And this is brilliant. Exactly what Christina wants. Are you okay about photos in here? I’m sure when she sees it, Christina will want the whole room.’
Phone at the ready. Again. And why did Izzy feel so exposed, when he was simply staring at her bed, and worse still when her gaze accidentally collided with his, and stuck.
She braced herself, ripped her eyes away from his, and hesitated, not entirely sure that she was comfortable with the thought of Christina swallowing up huge chunks of her home, but she bashed on regardless.
‘Okay, here’s the low-down on the bed – it’s not that old, but I’ve painted it to look as if it is. That way it’s less rickety than an old one, and also less expensive. I’m assuming it’s just the frame you’re buying, then you can add your own mattress to suit.’
She was struggling with the idea of Christina hi-jacking her whole bedroom.
Xander narrowed his eyes. ‘It’s just the style Christina was looking for, and age isn’t that important. Sit on it for me, will you?’
His hand was resting idly on the cabbage-rose print quilt cover. He was close enough for her to see the dark hairs on his forearm. It sounded like another one of his orders.
‘Sorry?’ She hid her shock behind an impassive expression. What was it with these well-spoken people who were too arrogant to say please? Did they really teach you to have your head so far up your arse at public school? She gave an involuntary shudder. If her dad hadn’t left, and she hadn’t crashed down in the real world at the comprehensive, she might have ended up like that. Funny how as she got older, she was more and more thankful for her life working out the way it had.
‘Sit on the bed, or better still, kneel and bounce, unless you can think of a better way for me to gauge the creak level. I’ll be dead in the water if I turn up with a squeaky bed.’
Izzy shuddered. That couldn’t be a hint of smoulder in his eyes…could it? There were times when his eyes were so dark they were hard to read. She wondered how happy the much-mentioned Christina would be, if she knew her husband was in another woman’s bedroom, discussing creak level, shooting glances like that. As for herself, she was pretty far out of her comfort zone here.
An ear-splitting roar crashed the silence. Yay. That would be the start of Festering Flesh’s latest rehearsal. Izzy had never been so pleased to hear death metal. No point in pursuing creak tests now. She gestured to Xander wildly, pointing towards the door.
* * * *
Izzy was hugely relieved to take refuge outside. In the dappled shade of the roadside cherry trees, was a great place to discuss any other business. She was pleased she’d had a good excuse not to offer him coffee. Given she’d already spent too much time thrown together with this moody guy who she found strangely disturbing on every level, she didn’t need the strain of entertaining him in her kitchen. She remembered hearing, that in some far flung places, natives refused to have their photographs taken, because they believed the camera would steal their souls. After the last twenty minutes, she appreciated how they felt.
Xander was on the phone by the car, talking to Christina, discussing the pictures he’d sent her, talking about which part of Izzy’s life they wanted to buy. Izzy kicked herself for her reluctance. Hell, with the Vintage Cinema Club up to their necks in trouble, she was in no position to be choosy. She should be welcoming anything which was going to lead to sales.
Xander called to her across the pavement. ‘Okay, jump in the car, and I’ll run you back to the shop. I’ll explain what we need as we go.’
Izzy got in without a thought. What had he said, about relying on his personal charm to achieve results, she reflected, as they roared off back into town? His methods had the finesse of an earth shifter, but here she was, back in the car, listening, taking mental notes, just like he’d told her to do.
‘Okay, I hope you’ve got a good memory here, because you’re going to need it. First, Christina would definitely like the daybeds I was looking at, back at the shop. And all your pink chairs. They’ll be great for the summer house, along with a large round table please, if you can find one, and a floral cloth to go with it.’
What? Izzy could barely believe what she was hearing.
‘All twelve of the pink chairs?’ Izzy gave a squawk.
People bought pink chairs singly, to go in bedrooms. Who bought a dozen all at once? But obviously this was some kind of mega bulk buy, given Xander was still in full flow.
‘Yes. And all the cream chests and all the other things in the room with the pink chairs.’
Bingo. The alarm clanged in Izzy’s head. And he’d just done it. He was buying things she’d hauled out of his first skip, albeit now transformed to shades of white and grey and pink. And everything in the room? Who were these people, buying roomfuls of pieces rather than single pieces?
‘Are you sure? It seems rather a lot?’
Xander wrenched the car around a tight corner, and Izzy heard the tyres squeal in protest. She wanted to squeal like that herself, but faced with Xander’s seemingly unstoppable buying tirade, she didn’t dare.
‘Big house to fill, not much time to do it, and Christina adores your “look”. Personally, I don’t go for florals or frills, or ratty-tatty rubbish come to that. But then, what do I know?’
Say it like it is, why don’t you? Izzy reeled. What a thing to have a hunk of a husband, who adored you so much, he’d let you decorate with the fraying and the florals he hated.
‘Hardly the best time for her to break her ankle, but hey ho. I’m doing my best to stand in.’
So that explained it. Izzy gave a sigh, and tried to think of something suitably sympathetic to say. ‘What a shame.’ That seemed to pretty much cover the whole damned situation.
‘Thanks to your customer service being above and beyond, she’s managing quite well by phone. She’d definitely like the bed from your bedroom, squeaks, or no squeaks…’
Izzy suspected he might have been taking the piss early on there, and he might also have paused for her to giggle at this point, but she was in no mood to laugh.
‘And she’d like everything else from your bedroom you are willing to sell. As for the things you can’t spare, she’d like replacement items which are as close as possible to the originals, right down to the last picture, scarf and string of beads. Oh and an extra wardrobe, as large as possible, to fit in with whatever you select. Have you got all that?’
The gasp Izzy let o
ut was more one of dismay, than ecstasy. She knew she should be doing back flips of excitement on the business’s behalf. This was going to run into thousands, but somehow the hefty order left her cold. It felt more like someone was taking over her own persona.
‘Right. What about timescale?’ She floundered to find her cool professional self, but that person appeared to have gone A.W.O.L. around the time they left the cinema. Was it even possible that it was only half an hour ago?
‘We were rather hoping that as much of it as possible would be ready for collection by tomorrow evening. It’s just a matter of sorting out the items. You should be able to manage that.’
Izzy flapped down her panic. No way should her stomach screwed up like that, just because she heard him say the word “we”’. And neither should she be letting her eyes linger on his knuckles on the steering wheel. He sounded scarily efficient, and horribly demanding. That’s how people like him were. That’s how they made their money.
‘I should be able to arrange it.’ It was a reckless promise, made in a voice a hundred times lighter than her heart.
He carried on, seamlessly. ‘I’ll send a van from the production company. They’ll pack it all when they pick it up. Oh, and it goes without saying that we’ll be expecting to pay top whack for this kind of service, so don’t worry about the bill.’
That had her sitting like a gulping gold fish. What happened to nailing her down on price?
‘Are you sure about the van?’ Izzy looked doubtful. Somehow this didn’t fit in at all with her having to dash across to The Pink House in Ashbourne on Friday with two bedside tables.
‘If you’re thinking of last week’s delivery, I could have easily thrown those things in the car, but the blonde girl insisted you would bring them. Said something about you wanting to say “goodbye” to the rocking horse?’
Izzy grunted. Silly how she’d assumed that the delivery had been down to him, when it had been Luce’s fault all along. She’d deal with Luce later, if she ever had a minute, which to be honest, given what she had to arrange, sounded doubtful. Izzy took a deep breath, and leaned back, against the cracked leather seats, as the car swooped down the steep downhill sections, leaving her stomach somewhere much higher up the bank.
Wow. Great. She’d made the sale of her dreams, and there really wasn’t a catch. She should be dancing here. This was exactly what she, Dida and Luce needed.
Xander accelerated round the roundabout, went through the lights at amber, tore down the road, and screeched to a halt outside the cinema.
‘There’s only one stipulation.’ He turned towards her, ominously. ‘And this one’s non-negotiable.’
Izzy held her breath.
‘We need you to come to The Pink House, to help me arrange it all.’
Izzy’s stomach landed back into place with a jolt.
‘I’ll pay top rates for your time.’ Xander carried on. ‘Usually Christina’s department, but seeing as she can’t do it, I’ll have to make do with you.’
19
Tuesday Morning, 10th June
LUCE, DIDA & IZZY
Luce’s flat
Happy shoppers and sweating men
‘It’s fine for us to come to yours instead of the cinema Luce, it’s only round the corner. Hey, nice frocks…’ Izzy stopped and stroked the flowery dresses hanging in Luce’s hallway, then made a dive for the living room.
This morning Izzy looked even more dishevelled than usual, and Luce could tell from her slightly far away expression, that she wasn’t entirely in the room.
‘If you’d been here earlier, I’d have got you to try them.’ Luce, balancing a tray of tea and mugs, followed her in to find Dida settled deep into the sofa.
And it wasn’t like Izzy to be late either. Maybe the huge order she got yesterday was stressing her out.
‘How’s Ruby anyway?’ Izzy perched on the edge of the tub chair, as if she wasn’t fully committed to staying.
‘Ruby’s got the squits, nothing serious, but I thought I’d better keep her at home.’ Luce passed Izzy a tea. ‘She’s curled up in my bed watching Peppa Pig on my laptop, it must be riveting, or she’d have been through by now.’ Luce handed a mug to Dida, and passed around the flapjack box that Izzy had brought – go Izzy, never without flapjack – and pulled up the foot stool that doubled as a table, and sat on it.
‘So, how was it with Aidie at the weekend?’ Luce had to ask.
‘Bloody awful.’ Dida rolled her eyes. ‘He refused to discuss the cinema, and spent the whole weekend huffing on this exercise bike he had delivered, which is linked into a computer screen. I swear he was only seconds away from cardiac arrest by Sunday evening. He was so knackered, I never got the chance to punish him by withholding sex, because he never asked, and that’s very unlike him.’ She paused to pull a face. ‘He’s got some personal trainer called Elvira apparently, although Aidie being into fitness is unlikely to last.’
Luce and Izzy exchanged frowns. They had no idea how Dida stuck it out with Aidie. ‘So no news at all on the sale then?’
‘Nope.’ Dida gave a helpless grimace, and waved a piece of flapjack, seemingly anxious to move the subject on. ‘So what about the GI Joe’s thing?’ Dida frowned.
So far Izzy was the only one who knew that Luce had provided their main competitor with their name, and Luce was hoping it would stay that way.
‘We’ll have to see once they open, and pray that they attract a whole new set of customers rather than poaching ours.’ Luce pondered. ‘Obviously we need to redouble our efforts to be the best we can, especially after Izzy’s news yesterday.’
Izzy gave a dramatic groan. ‘Xander the bloody entrepreneur, eyeing up the building. I knew he was bad news.’
Dida tapped a pen on her teeth. ‘His plan about the retro cinema gave me an idea though. Maybe we could play old films on a laptop, and project them onto the back wall. That would be something different. I’m sure we’ve got the necessary gadgetry at home somewhere.’
‘Wow, awesome idea. That’ll be so cool.’ Luce was trying to put a positive spin on Izzy’s dismay. ‘Well at least you managed to get a massive order out of the man.’
Dida joined in the praise. ‘Yeah, that was a huge amount you sold, all on the basis of taking one guy to see stuff at home. It shows that extra customer service really pays off, and now you’re getting paid to style too, it’s brilliant.’
Luce couldn’t help smile at Izzy’s scowl.
Izzy groaned again. ‘From where I stand, apart from the cash, it’s bad news all the way. You all know I hate dealing with customers, and I’m crap at it. And it’s way worse when they’re in their own homes. Clients and their “attitude”…’ Izzy made a mocking comma sign with her fingers. ‘…they drive me right round the bend. Let’s face it, bloody clients are the whole reason I didn’t take over my mum’s business.’
‘But this is totally different.’ Dida rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘Your mum’s interior design projects involved builders and decorators, and they’re such a pain to have around, frankly there’s no wonder the clients get grumpy. But with this, all you are offering is to style a room, with stock you supply from Vintage at the Cinema.’ Dida was thinking as she spoke, and sounding more and more excited. ‘It’s simple, and it’s brilliant. If we can offer that whole “sell and style” package, we get to provide everything, and we squeeze out the opposition altogether.’
Izzy slumped in her seat. ‘Maybe…’
‘And the other great thing is…’ Dida raised her eyebrows. ‘If you’re working with Xander, at least you can keep an eye on him, keep tabs on what he’s up to. You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer…’ She was wiggling her eyebrows now.
Luce watched Izzy’s expression turn from mildly grumpy to pure horror as Dida spoke.
Izzy broke in. ‘You surely aren’t suggesting…?’
Dida blew out her cheeks. ‘You just need to hang on in there with Xander for as long as you c
an. Desperate times and all that. The closer to him you are, the more likely he is to tell you what his intentions are.’
Izzy’s squawk of protest was long and loud. ‘But he’s a profiteer and a rich git, not to mention total dickhead. If he was on a desert island I’d have to take the swimming option.’
Luce chewed her cheek to keep herself from smiling. However much she was protesting, Izzy was definitely more susceptible to Xander’s magnetism than she was admitting. Swimming? More likely she’d be climbing into his hammock.
Luce let her smile go. ‘You might have to do it for the sake of The Vintage Cinema Club.’
Izzy gave that the eye roll it deserved.
Dida broke in again. ‘Well, we mustn’t forget Luce’s bridal thing is bringing in new clients too.’ Obviously moving on swiftly here. ‘It’s funny, but for you two, since the start Vintage at the Cinema has been about pushing yourselves, and developing your talents and your careers, whereas for me, it’s always been a way of escaping from my less than perfect home life.’
Luce knew that was true. Even when they met on the art foundation course, whilst she and Izzy were honing their artistic futures, Dida was only there because she was climbing the walls at home every day, looking after a toddler.
Dida carried on. ‘The cinema crisis has resulted in you two making another quantum leap with your career achievements. But what it’s done for me is to pull my relationship with Aidie into focus. For the last three years I’ve put up with things at home because Vintage at the Cinema has taken my mind off all my problems. But what Aidie’s doing now changes everything. You two are daring to do new things. Maybe it’s time for me to stop burying my head in the sand, and dare to change some things in my life too.’ Dida gave a wistful sigh.
‘Oh Dida, we’re both here for you.’ Izzy reached over and squeezed Dida’s arm.
Dida drew in a breath. ‘The trouble is, I’ve always been a bit of a material girl. I married Aidie because I knew he would give me the lifestyle I wanted, I just hadn’t counted on the downside of living with a tyrant in the long term. I’ve always been so certain I was going to hang on in there however hard it got, but now I’m not so sure.’
