The Personal Shopper (Annie Valentine)

by Carmen Reid

  ‘The conference he’s going to, I’ve found out it’s at Claridge’s,’ Annie told her.

  ‘Claridge’s?’ The name of one of the most luxurious old hotels in London seemed to take Dinah by surprise. ‘Why would dentists book a conference at Claridge’s?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Annie countered. ‘Have you been to the dentist’s lately? The prices they charge? The boundaries between cosmetic dentistry and plastic surgery are apparently blurring.’

  ‘Bet Gray told you that,’ Dinah teased.

  ‘Anyway . . .’ Yes, Gray had told her that. ‘I’m going to think up a very good, very glamorous reason for me to be at Claridge’s at the same time. So we’ll meet by accident . . . me looking fabulous. He’ll be really, really sorry he didn’t call me and the rest will be easy!’

  ‘Hmmm . . . it sounds a bit obvious.’

  ‘It won’t be obvious. You forget what a brilliant actress I am. Haven’t I learned from the masters, Roddy and Connor?’

  ‘Annie!’ Dinah warned and then began to list all the reasons why Annie should not get beautifully dressed up and hang out at the Claridge’s bar in the hope of ‘accidentally’ bumping into Gray: it was too desperate, it would look like too much of a coincidence, what if he wasn’t pleased to see her? And so on.

  ‘I hear what you’re saying,’ Annie said once the list was over.

  ‘And you’re going to ignore it.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘You’re going to embarrass yourself.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ Annie insisted. ‘He’ll be delighted to see me. I’m sure of it! We got on so well at the party. He’s just one of those men who doesn’t rush in, he needs a push. Honestly! He needs to be shown the way. Trust me on this. He needs some surprises in his life and some fun. He needs me!’

  ‘Oh boy,’ Dinah sighed.

  Annie had never set foot in Claridge’s before. Although she’d left work early in a fresh, painstakingly chosen camel and pink outfit with new (Chanel!) shoes, as soon as she passed the top-hat-and-tails footman and entered the marbled, chandeliered lobby, she felt a little unequal to the occasion.

  This was true early twentieth-century splendour. This was a hotel where women should still be wearing veiled cocktail hats and lizard-skin heels, toting alligator handbags and silver cigarette cases.

  Only sleek black bobs, real diamonds and thick scarlet lipstick were appropriate here.

  After asking directions, as casually and as bravely as she could, Annie made her way to one of the most elegant bars she’d ever encountered. It was dark and snug, but the mahogany table tops, brass lamps, glittering mirrors and glasses meant it sparkled with very expensive glamour. The seats were low slung, comfortable leather, the tables decked with heavy glass ashtrays and flowers. There was the gentle buzz of just a select handful of guests talking quietly.

  This was the perfect rendezvous for would-be lovers. With a little pang, she wished Gray had called and that they were meeting here on purpose. How romantic that could have been.

  Never mind . . . she brushed the thought aside. He was a man who needed to be told what was good for him, just as she’d explained to Dinah.

  She approached the handsome dark-haired barman and smiled winningly.

  ‘Hello, how are you? Quiet afternoon?’

  Once he’d made his reply, she asked for a gin and tonic.

  ‘A double, madam?’ he wanted to know, because this was, of course, the kind of place where everything came with a possible upgrade.

  ‘No, thanks. And can I have a mineral water too, please?’

  Once further clarification had been made as to which of the five available sparkling or still mineral waters she wished to drink, Annie had another question for the barman: ‘I just wondered if I could ask a little favour?’

  ‘No problem, madam,’ he assured her, when she’d explained what she wanted. ‘Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring your drinks.’

  He also brought the bill, which proved this was one of the most expensive bars in Europe as well as one of the loveliest.

  But the drinks were beautiful: they sparked and fizzled from real crystal tumblers with fresh lime slices and many chunky ice cubes.

  But Annie wasn’t so lost in her admiration of the place that she didn’t notice the small stream of people heading from the doorway she’d carefully positioned her chair to observe.

  OK – she took a steadying sip of her G&T – time to be cool.

  She watched as Gray came into the lobby. He looked good: dark navy suit, crisp white shirt, navy tie with subtle polka dots. He was several inches taller than the people he was talking to and had that proud, upright posture of a confident man. A good profile, she noted once again, nice nose, strong chin.

  Yes, he would do. He would most definitely do.

  Annie turned her head slightly to the side and willed him to look over. She had a back-up plan in case he didn’t, but it would be so much easier if he just did.

  Several long seconds went by. She took another sip of her drink.

  ‘Annie?’ came his voice finally. ‘Annie? Is that you?’

  She turned to see him striding purposefully towards her, while the small group of men he’d been talking to hung back.

  ‘Gray! What are you doing here?!’

  ‘Annie, what are you doing here?’ he countered, adding quickly, ‘I mean, my God, that’s fantastic’ – he looked almost flustered – ‘I’ve been trying to call you for days but your number can’t be in my phone properly and I haven’t been able to get hold of your mother to—’

  ‘You could easily have got me through The Store,’ she reminded him, not willing to fall for the old ‘I tried to call’ chestnut.

  ‘The Store!’ He smacked his forehead lightly. ‘I’ve been phoning Selfridges’!’

  Ah! Now he was forgiven.

  Annie smiled broadly at him: ‘That’s very sweet of you. Is this where your conference is being held?’ she asked, succeeding in sounding just the right kind of surprised.

  He nodded.

  ‘Bit posh, innit?’ she teased.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he asked, still standing, but leaning towards her, with both hands on the back of the chair opposite hers, which was surely very positive body language.

  ‘Well, obviously, I’m stalking you,’ she said, an eyebrow arched.

  When he just smiled in response to this, she quickly corrected him: ‘No! Don’t flatter yourself! I’ve got a job on here.’ Her voice dropping low, she elaborated: ‘An American actress, far too famous to actually come into The Store, is upstairs in the honeymoon suite trying on a load of our clothes and any moment now I’m going to be summoned up to help her and her stylist with the final decisions. That’s why I need a quick drink, believe me.’ She winked at him.

  ‘Who?’ he was desperate to know.

  ‘I can’t tell you!’ she teased. ‘Goodness me, we’ve only just met. I can’t let you into any state secrets.’

  ‘But we’re going to meet again, aren’t we?’ he asked, then took a quick glance back at the huddle of dentists still in the lobby waiting for him. ‘I’m a bit tied up right now . . . but could we get together for dinner later? There’s something on but I can get out of it and I’d love to take you out. You are looking fabulous, by the way.’

  See? She was right, he was delighted to see her. Dinner?! But no. It was time to be cool. He had not phoned, so she was not available. Basic dating rules.

  ‘Oh! I’m going out tonight . . . What a shame.’ She didn’t explain further. Let him think she was on a scorching hot date, it would do him good.

  At that moment, bang on cue, as previously arranged, the barman approached the table: ‘Madam, I’m so sorry to interrupt . . .’

  ‘No, no problem,’ she assured him.

  ‘There’s a call for you from suite number one. You’re to make your way up.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she told him with a smile. A great tip really did
buy you fabulous service here.

  ‘I have to go,’ she told Gray. ‘Wish me luck!’

  ‘At least let me make sure I’ve got the right number for you, so we can set something up soon.’ He was almost pleading. This was excellent progress.

  ‘Hmmm . . . my evenings are a bit tied up for the next week or two,’ she told him, just to dangle the carrot a little longer. ‘But . . . how about Sunday? Would you like to meet for lunch?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ he told her.

  ‘Well, let’s meet on Tower Bridge at one p.m., Sunday then, I know a nice place round there. And here’ – she reached into her handbag – ‘this is my card. You can phone me if you’re going to be late.’

  ‘I won’t be late!’ he assured her. Then, as she stood up to leave for her phantom appointment at suite number one, he leaned over and kissed her on both sides of the face, giving her a hit of sexy citrus aftershave and coffee breath.

  ‘Is there something . . . ? Umm, on your cheek? What is that?’ He brushed at her face, while her toes curled up as much as they could in tight Chanel.

  On the tip of his little finger was a frazzled clump of eyelash extension, which he was examining with great curiosity. She thought she’d felt something odd happening out there at the corner of her eye. The acrylic debris looked like a squashed spider.

  ‘Ah! It’s my new mascara,’ she managed. ‘I think I’m allergic to it or something. It’s doing very strange things to my lashes. Anyway,’ she brushed the offensive item from his fingertip, ‘thanks for telling me. Well . . . I’d better head off.’

  On reflection, her sashay through the lobby, past the group of dentists and towards the grand staircase would have been so much more elegant and effective if her brand new, staggeringly high heels hadn’t caused her a vicious ankle twist and her mobile hadn’t been trilling with the latest Crazy Frog anthem. Thank you, Owen.

  ‘Dinah!’ she hissed into the phone, once she was safely at the top of the stairs, into a corridor and out of sight. ‘I said I’d phone you!’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Silver fox Gray’s date wear:

  Black lightweight wool suit (Armani)

  White T-shirt (Paul Smith)

  Thick white shirt (Gant)

  Black socks (Paul Smith)

  Boxers (Paul Smith)

  Black lace-up ankle boots (Oliver Sweeney)

  Aviator shades (Ray-Ban)

  Est. cost: £890

  ‘And how would you make me over?’

  Annie leaned on the metal railing of Tower Bridge and marveled at the great swollen ‘gherkin’ building which rose up and swaggered high above all the other office blocks surrounding it. The gherkin? Really? Why not just name it ‘the willy’ and be done with it? The Tower of London, once so monumental and impressive, was now squeezed underneath a skyline dominated by vast modern towers.

  She turned to take in the view on the other side, just in time to see Gray walking briskly along on the opposite pavement. He was early too but he obviously hadn’t spotted her yet. His face and gold-rimmed aviator shades were set against the frisky wind, his jacket was flapping and he had a hand on his head as if to keep an invisible hat in place.

  ‘Hey, Gray!’ she called out. For late forties, he looked fit. Worked out, she thought, watching the wind push his T-shirt against his flat stomach – definitely.

  ‘Gray!’ she called again, louder this time, as he hadn’t heard her and was still marching purposefully on in his head-to-toe black.

  Giving her own outfit an automatic, anxious little smooth-over, Annie prepared to cross the road to catch up with him. For the occasion, she’d chosen a full-skirted black and white dress, black high-heeled ankle boots and one of her key spring items – a wide-sleeved, cropped orange jacket. A lipstick that matched the orangey red of the jacket exactly had been the one special date purchase she’d allowed herself. Well . . . er . . . the boots were new too . . . but . . . they’d been too hard to resist. And footwear was so important on dates, she’d reminded herself as she’d handed over the credit card. Men always noticed footwear, even if they didn’t think they did. Boots and shoes seemed to play on their imagination like nothing else, so if the new boots meant she landed Gray . . . wasn’t that practically an investment?

  ‘Gray!’

  Finally, he turned and his slightly surprised expression changed to a smile.

  ‘Annie! Hello there!’ He pushed his shades up into his hair and walked over, moving straight in to give her a kiss not on each cheek, but on the lips as he put a bunch of flowers into her hands.

  The brush of lip, hit of mint breath and spicy aftershave was a very pleasant experience Annie thought she’d definitely like to repeat soon.

  ‘Flowers! Thank you. You really shouldn’t have!’ she gushed with a big smile.

  ‘So,’ she began, ‘we meet on the bridge. Me and the master of bridgework.’

  ‘Oh ho! Very good. Look at that building.’ He pointed to the gherkin as if it had just popped up into view. ‘Fantastic.’

  ‘Well, I suppose,’ she offered grudgingly. ‘If you like that sort of thing. How was your journey?’ she asked.

  ‘Fantastic!’ he told her with a smile. ‘Roof down all the way, first nice day of the season for it. How about you?’

  She didn’t think her forty minutes spent on the underground merited such a rapturous reply.

  ‘And your children?’ was his next question. ‘What are they up to today?’

  ‘Oh, they’re busy,’ she told him. ‘Hectic schedule . . .’

  Annie had arranged for Dinah to take them for lunch, then Lana had agreed to walk Owen up to his karate lesson and wait for him there. This meant her home was empty . . . so if lunch went well, she was going to invite Gray back for coffee and a little light canoodling.

  With small talk, lots of smiling, sizing up and eye contact, Annie held the arm he’d offered her as they crossed Tower Bridge and made their way down to Butler’s Wharf where she’d booked a table for two at the Chop House.

  Gray kept up a pleasantly steady flow of chat and with the anxious butterflies in her stomach settling, she began to enjoy herself.

  When he asked if she’d been on many dates ‘since your husband . . . erm . . .’ she quickly cut in with: ‘Oh, loads. I like to get out in the evenings. Keep busy. It’s easy to get a date, you know, Gray.’

  ‘For you, I’m sure it is,’ he offered gallantly.

  ‘But it’s not so easy to get a good one,’ she told him, eyebrow arching.

  Their table came with the riverside view she’d requested.

  ‘I love it down here on the river,’ she said once the menus had been studied, the food and drinks ordered. ‘It doesn’t feel like London, it feels European but this is one of the oldest parts of the city, you know. This is where the first kings and queens lived, where they kept the prisoners, hanged the pirates. This is where ships set sail hoping to return laden down with goodies from all over the world. I like to think that this’ – she gestured to the stretch of river – ‘is where shopping began.’

  It made him laugh.

  When the wine was poured, they clinked glasses and he asked her to tell him more about her work: ‘It sounds very intriguing. Basically, you help people to shop?’ He sounded a little incredulous, as if he couldn’t quite believe this counted as a job. Annie had weathered this reaction plenty of times before.

  ‘It’s an American concept,’ she told him. ‘America is the home of good service, after all . . . Think of me as a super-enhanced sales assistant. Customers book an appointment with me, we discuss what clothes they’re looking for, what lifestyle, what budget they have, then I take them through the relevant sections and departments, making suggestions until we find all the outfits they want. In short, I’m there to give my clients a happy shopping experience. I help people make great wardrobe investments, not expensive mistakes.’

  ‘And you’re on commission?’

  ‘On top of my wages, yes.’
/>   ‘And you do this on a freelance basis as well?’

  ‘The thing you’ll get to know about me, Gray,’ Annie teased, ‘is that I have fingers in many pies. I do home consultations, because they pay well and because they’re such great fun. Who wouldn’t love to have a good old rummage through other people’s wardrobes?! I also buy and sell used designer clothes and accessories on the internet and I’m a trained stylist, believe it or not.’

  ‘Oh yes! You told me when we met that you’d worked on films.’

  ‘Aha . . . the film days . . .’ She smiled, carefully picking a large cooked prawn out of its shell. ‘My globetrotting twenties. Roddy, me and our surprise baby Lana. We were always happy to go wherever the work was: France, Romania, Poland, Morocco . . . wherever.’

  ‘Sounds incredibly glamorous,’ Gray said.

  ‘It was,’ she agreed. ‘I think I probably took it for granted, thought life would always be as simple and as much fun as it was then. But babies grow up, they get baby brothers, everyone has to go to nursery and then to school, suddenly you need a bigger home and a regular income. Roddy landed a string of good theatre jobs based in London, so we stopped travelling so much. Finally he got his soap role, I had my nice job at The Store and we got grounded, just like everyone else I suppose . . .’ But this came with a cheerful smile. ‘I don’t regret it,’ she told him truthfully, ‘I’ve done my wandering and it’s nice to be home again. And I’ll tell you one thing, it’s much more fun making the not-so-beautiful look wonderful than dealing with leading ladies all the time. Everything you’ve ever heard about actresses is true,’ she exaggerated, but only slightly. ‘They are only so talented and so supernaturally beautiful because they’ve sold their souls to the devil!’

  ‘So how would you make me over?’ he challenged her, propping his chin up with his hand and giving her a look that made her suspect the intensely green eyes leaping from his tanned face were created by tinted contact lenses.

  ‘I don’t think you need a stylist,’ she told him, hearing the flirty little purr in her voice.