Stilettos & Stubble

by Amanda Egan

  And as I drifted in and out of sleep, I kept thinking ‘Why can’t I find a bloke as nice as Tom to share my life with?’

  *****

  My mobile signalling a text woke me at about four in the afternoon and I was relieved to find that the agonising headache had all but left me. My mouth still felt revolting and my stomach was churning but I felt far better than I deserved to.

  The text was from Daddy.

  ‘Your mother is at bridge tonight. Fancy a pub meal? xx’

  The last place on earth I really needed to be was in a pub but I was surprised to find that I felt incredibly hungry. A quick bite with my dad would do me the world of good.

  And I had yet another favour to ask - hopefully my last.

  *****

  ‘Percy, I just don’t get it! I’m sorry darling but I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill here. There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, you’re a beautiful young lady.’

  Daddy and I were finishing off our meal, comfortably chatting about everything and nothing, when I’d broached the subject of ‘the new me’. As always, he’d defended me, complimented me and bolstered my confidence but I didn’t need that this time - I needed him to come round to my way of thinking.

  I frowned and tried desperately to gather my thoughts in my still dehydrated brain. I had to get through to him.

  ‘Daddy, you have to stop seeing me as your daughter and, just for once, step back and see me the way others do. There’s no getting away from the fact that I’m no Page Three pin-up but I need to start making the most of what I’ve got - you know, dressing to my full potential, wearing stuff that suits me and doesn’t make me look like a bloody great circus elephant! I’m not talking surgery or anything drastic like that, just a complete wardrobe overhaul.’

  He looked at me and fiddled with his unlit pipe, desperate to get out into the fresh air for a puff-up. ‘You know, I blame your mother for this. Always putting you down, never encouraging you. She’s got a bloody lot to answer for.’

  I smiled at him, feeling a twinge of sadness. I was so lucky to be blessed with such a fab dad but was he truly happy? How could he be when he loved my mother with all his heart and she treated him the way she did? He deserved to be loved back, not walked all over and used.

  I suddenly felt a huge wave of guilt - I was just as bad. Here I was again, trying to cadge yet more money out of him just so that I could try to dig myself out of the pathetic hole that had become my life.

  ‘I’m sorry, Daddy. Forget I asked. It’s just me being stupid again - no amount of new clothes will make a difference. I guess I was just grasping at straws.’

  ‘Percy, you know I’d do anything for you and your mother. Anything. You’re my world. But I don’t want you trying to be something you’re not when you’re perfectly fine as you are.’

  I nodded, understanding every word, but it didn’t really help my situation. I’d put a plan into action and now I wouldn’t be able to go ahead with it. Back to the drawing board.

  ‘But …’ Daddy continued, ‘… if you really feel that this is what you need to do, I’ll lend you a grand. That must be enough to get you started? I don’t really see the sense in it because you’re my lovely girl and nothing will change that but … I’m happy to do it if it means that much to you.’

  It wasn’t possible to love my father any more than I did but my heart overflowed at that moment and I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.

  ‘Oh thank you, thank you Daddy. You really don’t know how much I appreciate it. I swear I’m gonna change my life, turn it around. And I promise I won’t let you down.’

  Taking my chin into his hands, he looked into my eyes. ‘That’s my whole point, Percy. You never let me down.’

  And with my addled brain and pickled liver on that significant night, I vowed silently to myself that this time, I really would do something to make him proud of me.

  *****

  OK, so it was hardly the scene from ‘Pretty Woman’ but Tom and I had a ball.

  He’d rung me a few days later offering to accompany me on my first shopping trip and telling me it was good to have a man’s eye to comment on my choices.

  ‘Trust me, Perce, I know about these things. Very in touch with my feminine side, I am!’

  Of course, this sent Mia into paroxysms of delight when I told her - surely that meant a second date? The wedding bells were by now chiming loudly in her little head. No amount of trying to convince her that Tom and I had just hit it off as friends would work, so I left her to her fantasies and hit the stores with my personal shopper.

  I was totally used to the way the snotty size zero shop assistants looked down their perfect little noses at me but Tom found it a bit of an eye opener.

  ‘Shit, they’re bitches, aren’t they? Did you see that stick of a thing give you the once over when you asked if they had that black dress in a size eighteen? She looked like she had a little bit of sick in her mouth. I don’t know how you put up with it, Perce.’

  I put up with it because I’d developed a mighty thick skin. I knew the shops to completely avoid (nothing over a size twelve) and I knew the ones where I needed to gather all my courage just to get through the door. I was sick of Marks & Spencer and BHS - I had to step out of my comfort zone and look further afield.

  And it was funny how facing that challenge seemed so much easier with a friend by my side. Tom seemed to enjoy shopping and his comments were honest and to the point. Had he been a boyfriend, I may have gone a bit huffy but from him it worked.

  ‘No Perce, that top will make you look like a milk maid. Never a good look on a larger lady. Try this cross-over number. I bet it makes your boobs look fit!’

  And he was right - every single item of clothing he picked out seemed to tone down my size and accentuate the positives. It was certainly a talent I’d never known a man to have.

  As we shared a bottle of merlot at lunch to boost our energy levels for the afternoon ahead, I looked at him and laughed. ‘Blimey Tom! If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were gay. There aren’t many men who can shop till they drop and give such excellent fashion advice.’

  He’d just finished checking out the bum of a very cute passing blonde, making it more than clear that he was straight, and I added, ‘What’s your story? How come you’re a pocket-sized Gok?’

  He sipped his wine and replaced the glass on the table, leaning over to me. ‘Four sisters. That’s my story. I grew up in a house full of cosmetics, frilly knickers and hair straighteners. They’d ask for my opinion before they went on a date and I’d always be honest.’

  ‘I just can’t believe you haven’t got yourself a girlfriend! Women would kill for a man like you. Life’s just not fair is it?’

  ‘Oh, I try not to think of it as unfair. I like to think that it will all become clear when the right one eventually comes along. There’s someone for all of us, you know. Now knock that drink back and let’s get moving. We’ve got trousers and tops galore but I’m still determined to find a dress that you actually like - those legs are way too good to hide.’

  *****

  We returned to my flat at about six, laden down with bags and desperate for the pizza I’d promised by way of thanks.

  Struggling up the stairs to my doorway, we became aware of the sound of sobbing and my heart sunk to my boots. Bloody Dopey Diana, the neighbour from hell.

  There she was, huddled outside her front door, hair extensions askew and mascara streaming down her orange fake tan. ‘Oh, Percy! I’m so glad you’re home. Stavros has dumped me and I’ve locked myself out.’ The hysterical sobbing began again and she looked up at me pitifully.

  Tom glanced at me and raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing around his eyes and mouth. Diana really was a sight and it was hard not to see the funny side.

  I juggled my bags in my hands, trying to get my key in the door at the same time as offering sympathy. ‘Oh, Diana. That’s a shame. Come on in and we’ll see w
hat we can do about getting you back in your flat.’

  She stood up shakily and smiled weakly at Tom - a male audience was her favourite and she was never one to let an opportunity pass her by, even in times of crisis. ‘Thank you Percy, you’re very kind. If I could just use your bathroom to freshen up, then I can ring a friend to bring round my spare key. I don’t even have my bloody mobile on me.’ And the tears started again.

  Once inside my hallway, she headed to the bathroom and Tom and I to the kitchen. I fed Bogey, who gave Tom the once over and declared him ‘OK’, and then I opened a bottle of wine.

  Tom whispered, ‘Who’s the Barbie doll and what’s she on?’

  I giggled and told him to shush. ‘She’s a soppy tart who always ends up with the wrong men - she makes our love lives look successful by comparison, but the trouble is she goes for all the sleazebags. Wealthy, Greeks, lounge lizards - you know the type? The trouble is, once they’ve bedded her, they dump her.’

  Tom shrugged. ‘Well it’s hardly surprising is it? Is there anything real going on there? I mean what hasn’t been done? It’s like a walking piece of plastic!’

  ‘One of the bonuses of playing with the rich boys, I guess. They pay for everything. Boobies were courtesy of Alexei and the Botox was down to Thaddeus.’ I handed him a glass of wine and sat myself down at the breakfast bar, opening some nuts and emptying them in to a bowl.

  Diana reappeared a few minutes later looking ‘Barbie-box’ fresh and instantly made a beeline for Tom, extending her perfectly manicured hand to him. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t introduce myself before, it was terribly rude of me. I’m Diana DeVere and I don’t usually look this dreadful.’

  Tom took her hand and smiled nervously. I noticed that size-wise they made the ideal couple - she was petite and perfect - but far too high-maintenance for the likes of someone as decent as Tom. In fact, as she balanced her pert little bottom on the stool next to him, he looked positively terrified. Man-eaters were not his bag, that much was clear.

  Diana had different ideas. She’d been dumped and it was never too soon to start prowling for fresh meat. But first things first. I knew instantly what her opening line would be - if he wasn’t solvent, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  ‘So … Tom. Tell me what do you do for a living?’ She twiddled her over-dyed hair and fluttered her ridiculous false eyelashes.

  Tom gulped and took a sip of his wine to steady his nerves. ‘I’m … erm … I’m an architect. Really rather boring actually.’

  Diana tittered and simpered, the pound signs almost visible in her baby blue eyes. Tom had just become a whole lot more attractive and the dumper, Stavros, was starting to become a distant memory.

  ‘Oooh, an architect. I’ve dated a few of those before. I find buildings very sexy, you know.’

  I had to turn to the window to busy myself with Bogey’s bowl as I didn’t trust myself not to have a fit of hysteria. As I bit down hard on my lip and attacked the bowl with the scourer, I made a mental note to shoot myself if I ever became that obviously desperate for a man.

  Tom flushed and fiddled with the rim of his glass, making it clear that he found her attentions unsettling. ‘Oh no, nothing sexy about my job. Just lots of boring plans and drafting tables. Yep, dull, dull, dull!’

  Diana was having none of it. Architects made great husbands, and she’d obviously had her fill of wealthy foreigners, so it looked like it was time for a change of plan - to her Tom was looking like a pretty safe bet and men never said no to her.

  After she’d made the call to her friend with the spare key, she said she’d have to dash as they’d decided to meet up in the Harvey Nick’s bar. ‘But I do hope we meet up again some time, Tom.’ She held his hand longer than necessary and then added, ‘Percy’s got my number if you ever want to hook up.’ And she shimmied her tight little leather clad bum out of my flat without a word of thanks for rescuing her.

  Tom immediately collapsed forward into a heap at the breakfast bar, his head hitting the wood with a might thump. ‘OH MY GOD! What was that all about?’

  I laughed, topping up his glass with the drink he was no doubt in need of. ‘That, Tom, was you being chatted up by a notorious gold-digging hussy. You like?’

  ‘Like? I was frigging terrified. She is seriously scary stuff, Perce!’

  ‘What, you mean you don’t want me to give you her number? Oh, and there was I thinking there could be romance on the horizon.’

  Tom shook his head, still in shock. ‘No, I do not want her number and if she ever asks you for mine, you don’t know it, OK? I think she’s scarred me for life. Order that bloody pizza, Percy, I need sustenance and if I ever set eyes on that woman again, I’m telling her I’m gay.’

  Chapter Five

  I was feeling pretty hot for the first time in my life. And when I say ‘hot’, for once I didn’t mean sweaty and uncomfortable. I looked fit and attractive and it was all I could do to stop myself from pausing and admiring myself in shop windows or the wing mirrors of parked cars.

  My new clothes had toned down my size and the carefully applied make up (techniques passed on by an orange beauty assistant) made the most of my strong face.

  As it was such a beautiful day, I’d decided to give my new look a whirl and head into the City to see if the world was ready to take on the tweaked version of me. It may have been my imagination, or maybe my newfound confidence, but I could have sworn that I’d turned the heads of a few men and even had a couple of cars toot me!

  Elated, I decided to treat myself to coffee outside a little Italian café as I browsed the paper for any suitable jobs. There had to be something out there for me - a job where I was useful and part of a team. I just wanted to feel that I had a place and purpose in life.

  The usual dross was under the ‘Situations Vacant’ section - telesales, commission only and lap-dancing. I giggled to myself, wondering what sort of a reaction I’d get if I turned up for an audition for that!

  I suddenly spotted an older man at the table next to me. He smiled, obviously wondering why I was chuckling to myself, but I had no intention of telling him. He was bald - totally, shiningly bald - with the most stunning features. A good strong jaw line, razor sharp cheekbones and strikingly feline eyes. His hands, though huge, were immaculate and put my own to shame. It was evident that he was a regular at the local nail bar. I made a mental note to give my own a seeing to when I got home and then slipped both hands under my bottom to hide them.

  ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ His voice was soft and with an underlying hint of playfulness. He was gay - that much I was certain of - my gaydar was a finely tuned piece of equipment and, for some inexplicable reason, homosexual gentlemen always wanted to befriend me.

  ‘Beautiful day, yes,’ I answered with a smile and then returned to my paper. Shit, my voice was deeper than his! I could change some things but there were others I just had to accept. My thousand pound loan wouldn’t stretch to changing the pitch of my voice but some men liked a woman to be deep and husky, didn’t they?

  ‘Not seen you round here before.’ He clearly wanted to strike up a conversation. ‘This isn’t your regular caffeine-hit joint is it?’

  I put my paper down and explained that I was from Fulham and was just in town for the day, having a mooch around and enjoying the sunshine. He didn’t need to know about the new me or how I was giving it a trial run - it felt too personal to share with a total stranger and I didn’t relish the questions it might encourage. He certainly seemed direct enough to ask them.

  He gestured to my folded paper. ‘Job searching?’

  I nodded. ‘Pretty unsuccessfully too. Not much out there at the moment for an …’ I stopped myself from adding ‘unattractive big girl’ - I wasn’t unattractive any more, I was fit and gorgeous and this was my new confident self - ‘… for anyone really,’ I added. ‘Not much work about for anyone.’

  He swigged back the last of his coffee and stubbed out a cigarette. Then he stood and reached into his jean
s pocket, chucking a business card on my table as he left.

  ‘I might just be able to help you there. Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll have a chat. Ciao!’

  As I saw him lean over the table to leave the card, I was sure I saw the faintest traces of leftover make up on his chin and lashes.

  But then he was gone, shouting over his shoulder as he left, ‘The name’s Annie, by the way.’ As he made his way through the City crowds like a catwalk model, heads turned and people moved out his way. I had an instant admiration for him. Apart from the smattering of attention I may have received that day, why didn’t people do that for me?

  *****

  I sat for a while, watching him disappear, and then picked up his business card.