Under a Greek Spell

by Simone Hubbard

  ‘I most certainly have, and many others. Listen, I’ll have to dash and get this meal started. Otherwise, James will get here and the food will still be cooking. I’m already peckish, anyway.’

  ‘Well, there’s a first for everything. You’re feeling peckish? You must be sickening for something. Couldn’t you have James as a starter, if you get my drift? On second thoughts, let’s not go there. See you Sunday. Let’s say 10.30 – we’d better set off earlier as the shops shut early.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose 10.30 would be better. Isn’t your keep-fit class tonight?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve just had my tea and was washing up when you texted me. By the time you have your meal, I’ll have eaten, thrown myself round a hall and be ready to eat again.’

  ‘Right, Steph, I really must get some food prepared. I’ll see you Sunday. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.’

  ‘And you. I hope James appreciates your efforts.’

  ‘Yep, me too. Bye.’

  I wish I could get enthusiastic about James but I can’t. He didn’t even come to Mum’s surprise birthday bash. He was working, apparently, but he could have swapped days off like I had to. As the song says, that don’t impress me much.

  Anyway, I’ve got a fitness class to attend. The last few months of comfort eating have caught up with me. Now I’ve got a very good incentive to go – I need to get bikini-ready. Well, maybe tankini-and-kaftan-ready.

  Chapter 2

  Stephanie

  ‘Earth to Helen, earth to Helen, come in, are you receiving me?’

  She’s very quiet this morning and has hardly said two words on the way here. We’re having brunch at the new Greek cafe we wanted to try before hitting town for our shopping spree. Helen seems to be on another planet. I haven’t mentioned James but I know he’ll be at the bottom of this absenteeism.

  ‘Sorry, did you just say something, Steph?’ She glances up from the rabbit rocket, as I call it, that she’s been pushing round her plate for the last ten minutes.

  ‘I was just saying it seems very quiet in here today, a bit like you. What’s up with you? I’m all excited about our holiday, even though it involves a boat, and you’re limper than that lettuce. Let me have one guess – could it be something to do with James, by any chance?’

  ‘Oh, don’t, Steph. You’re always putting a downer on him.’

  I tut and take a deep breath in and out while I contemplate a tactful answer. ‘That’s because he’s always doing something to let you down. What happened the other night?’

  There’s a big sigh as the lettuce is nudged round the plate yet again. ‘He didn’t show up,’ she replies eventually, lifting her head and looking forlorn.

  ‘What do you mean, he didn’t show up? I thought he was almost on his way when he texted you.’

  ‘I know. I texted him two hours later to say I was hungry and could he give me an ETA. He replied, “Really, really sorry. Just finished. I’ve let you down again.” I rang him straight away but it just went to voicemail.’

  ‘I bet it bloody well did! He’s stringing you along, Helen. I keep telling you he’s not interested.’

  ‘Yes, but why not? When we’re together, we have a really good time. He cooks dinner, we have plenty to talk about, he plays his trumpet and sings to me, he’s amazing in…’

  ‘Whoa, I don’t need to know the rest, thank you. I bet your neighbours love him blasting out tunes on his trumpet.’

  ‘No one’s said anything.’

  ‘No, I’m not surprised they haven’t confronted you about the music man, knowing how you’ll react. You’d be telling them where you’d stick that trumpet. Which makes me understand even less why you let him walk all over you. If I or any of your friends let you down like this, you’d soon put us in our place. But James gets away with it.’

  ‘He did leave this on my desk at work with a note to apologise.’ Helen pulls out a necklace from under her top.

  Admittedly, it’s very nice. But I’m not impressed by him trying to buy her affection. ‘It’s lovely, Helen, but that’s not the point.’

  ‘Yes, but he’s got a lot on his plate with work and playing in the band…’ Helen’s off again, the defence for the accused.

  ‘Yes, Helen, we’ve all got a lot on our plates. What gives James special dispensation? In fact, don’t even answer that. I can’t bear listening to another load of excuses for him. Let’s pay for this food and get on with some retail therapy before I say something that I might later regret in court – like, I’m going to kill him.’

  Chapter 3

  Helen

  We’ve been in the clothes department of Debenhams for about half an hour now. Steph works for the company but in another store. She’s planning to use her staff discount card and she’s having a field day. She shot off the minute we arrived, like a kid in a sweetshop. I’m just wandering around, picking things up and putting them back.

  My head isn’t in shopping mode. It’s in why-has-James-let-me-down-again mode. I keep going over it, picking over conversations, wondering if I’ve missed some vital signs. But no, there’s nothing; it’s a complete mystery. I’ve still not heard anything from him since the other night. Steph and my closest friends have all told me that I’m not to text him under any circumstances. I’m naturally ignoring this advice and have just written him a text while Steph’s been running around the store like a woman possessed. She’s heading back in my direction, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I just about manage to press send and slip my phone into my bag. If she catches me texting him, she’ll confiscate my phone and delete his number.

  ‘Oh, there you are. Thought I’d lost you. What do you think of this? Is it a bit too long? Thought I could wear it with these…’ She shows me a nice long summer dress. But, oh my God, the heels on those shoes.

  ‘Bloody hell, Stephanie, are you trying to end up in casualty? You’ll do yourself a mischief in them.’

  ‘Hmm, I suppose you’re right. I just don’t want you towering over me.’

  ‘I’d hardly say that me being two inches taller means I’ll be towering over you. What about lower heels and a shorter dress?’

  ‘I really like this dress. I could always have it taken up, I suppose. I know someone who’ll do it,’ she answers cheerily. ‘Listen, I’ve got loads of stuff to try on. The assistant’s put it to one side for me. Can you come and give me your opinion? You’re much better at putting outfits together than I am. Speaking of which, where are the things you’re trying on?’

  ‘I’m fine, I’ve got plenty of holiday clothes,’ I answer half-heartedly.

  ‘Oh, Helen, I wish you’d snap out of this trance that you’re in. This just isn’t like you. You’d normally have loads of outfits for me to swoon over by now.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. Maybe we can pop into Michaela’s Boutique after we’ve sorted you out. Right, lead the way. Let’s see these clothes.’

  Steph’s got so many things to try on that we have to split them into batches. I sit on a faux leather cube outside the curtain and she bobs out to show me tops, skirts, trousers, dresses, tankinis, and swimsuits.

  I’m so glad I’ve persuaded her to come away with me. The last year has been awful for her. She wanted to start a family and Richard kept stalling, saying, ‘I’m not ready to settle down yet’. He then walked out in January admitting that he didn’t want kids, which left Steph in bits. He’s living with his best mate and it looks like the next step will be divorce. They’ve had some counselling but neither of them wants to compromise.

  She’s now immersed herself in going to the gym and to the various classes that are included in her membership. She has a brilliant circle of friends, and they go out all the time, leaving their husbands or partners babysitting. Sometimes they’ll go out for the day and take the kids. She’s a natural with them and she’d make a brilliant mum. Our own mum is disappointed that neither of us has any
kids yet. She’s desperate to become a grandmother. She used to always be dropping hints in front of me and Steph, but she’s gone very quiet since Richard left. The situation is made worse by her sister Angela, who already has her grandkids Jack and Lily. I can tell Mum is envious of her sister because we haven’t yet produced grandchildren for her to spoil.

  While Steph is trying on the entire stock of clothes in the shop, I’ve got the store radio to amuse me. In-store offers are being announced in between Steph’s outfit appearances. There are some knives on offer in the basement. I hope Steph’s not heard that. She’ll be down there like a shot and then she’ll pay James a visit, shouting, ‘Keep away from my sister or I’ll set my dad on you!’

  The adverts finish and a song comes on that sums up my feelings – ‘Only Love Can Hurt Like This’. Two sales assistants are chatting away. My ears prick up when I hear the name ‘James’ mentioned. It follows me everywhere I go. I’m trying to earwig but my train of thought is broken by a rather pathetic-sounding whimper.

  ‘Helen, are you there? Can you help me?’ Steph’s voice is muffled and she sounds a little distressed.

  ‘What’s up, sis?’ I whip the curtain back. I’m confronted with Steph, who I can’t actually see because she’s disappeared into the long dress.

  ‘I’m stuck in the dress. I think you’ll have to cut me out,’ she whimpers.

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a drama queen. I’m sure we’ll wiggle you out somehow.’ I can’t help laughing uncontrollably.

  ‘It’s not bloody well funny, Helen! Mum’s friend ended up in casualty after getting trapped in a dress and falling over.’

  ‘Well, it just goes to show you why we need risk assessments for everything. Now, stay still. Is there a zip somewhere?’ I’m still snorting with laughter.

  ‘Yes, at the back. And stop laughing, it’s not funny.’

  ‘Not to you, Steph, but you can’t see yourself. In fact, I’ll just take a photo and then you’ll see why I’m laughing.’ I quickly pull my phone out of my bag and take a photo of Steph. This could be one for Facebook later.

  ‘Don’t you bloody well dare take a photo of me like this! Just get me out!’

  ‘Okay, I’ll try. Breathe in and I’ll unzip you… It’s coming. Stop wriggling about, you silly moo.’ Now Steph’s laughing too and I can’t keep hold of the zip. ‘Why are you laughing? I can’t unzip the dress.’

  ‘It’s what you just said – “It’s coming”. I was just thinking that people are going to wonder what’s going on in here!’

  Right on cue, one of the assistants asks, ‘Are you two all right in there?’ at which point we both collapse into fits of hysterical laughter, barely able to answer ‘Yes, we’re fine, thanks!’

  Chapter 4

  Stephanie

  It takes about ten minutes to get me out of the dress. We figure it out eventually, and finally queue up at the tills with all my purchases. I’m just glad I’ve got a staff discount card.

  ‘Yes, please!’ shouts a rather dishy assistant.

  I glance at his name badge. My brain can’t quite compute that his name is James. Un-bloody-believable. I’ve just got Helen laughing for the first time in I don’t know how long and now we’re being served by a gorgeous guy called James, who I want instantly to dislike.

  ‘So, how are you two ladies today?’ he asks in the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard. He’s got an Irish accent that has made my knees go weak.

  ‘Oh, we’re great, thanks. Are you new here?’ I can’t believe this sex-on-legs guy with the voice of an angel is working at the store down the road from mine. Why on earth isn’t he at our place? The hours would fly by.

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve just moved over from Ireland – you can probably tell from the accent,’ he replies. He starts to scan my things through and packs them neatly in a bag. ‘Are you going on holiday, ladies, or are you expecting a heatwave here?’

  Before I can answer, Helen has got in on the act. She’s already whispered in my ear that the guy is drop-dead gorgeous. ‘Actually, I’m taking my sister on a Caribbean cruise.’

  ‘Oh, fab. I went on a cruise around the Caribbean a few years ago. It was amazing. You’ll love it,’ he replies.

  I get in quick before Helen starts taking over. ‘I’m a bit apprehensive, if I’m honest. I get seasick for a start.’

  ‘Oh, don’t let that worry you. I’m the same. That ferry crossing from Ireland always makes me ill, but I was fine on the calm Caribbean Sea. Just think about all those exotic places you’ll get to see. So, now, that will be £169.69.’ Helen bursts into laughter, and James understandably looks puzzled. ‘Was it something I said?’ he asks, completely oblivious to the 69-69 bit that’s obviously tickled Helen.

  ‘No, it’s my crazy sister’s sense of humour. Just ignore her.’

  ‘Would you like one of our store cards to receive ten per cent off your purchase today?’

  ‘Well, actually I have this.’ I hand over my staff card.

  James looks a bit flustered, ‘I’m so sorry. You should have said you worked here before I started prattling on about discounts and, well, everything else.’

  ‘I actually work at the store up the road. You were just doing your job. I’ll probably see you when we get back and we can exchange tales of the high seas.’

  ‘Yes, that would be good. Enjoy your trip,’ he says, smiling and giving us a cheeky wink.

  I can’t turn round quickly enough. I must be as red as a beetroot by now. ‘Think I’m ready for a coffee, Helen, and a sit down. My legs have gone to jelly.’

  ‘I’m with you there. He was absolutely gorgeous. Shame about his name, but then everywhere I turn these days there’s a James. While you were having your dress drama, the two dressing-room assistants were talking about a James who, I think, works here. It’s got to be him. All I caught was, “Oh, it must have been awful for him”. Then you started whimpering for help to get you out of that bloody dress so I missed the rest of the story.’

  ‘Oh, sooo sorry to have a crisis while you were earwigging sales-assistant gossip. Come on, lets grab a coffee here.’

  Our coffee revives us. Helen is finally in high spirits and ready to hit her favourite, Michaela’s Boutique. It’s a bit fancy for my liking, and expensive, but she can easily afford it on her wages.

  We stroll in and sink into the carpets. The boutique just oozes panache, with its chandeliers and beautiful vases of fresh flowers. Helen is in her element as she chats to Michaela about the latest must have items. Helen selects some classy separates and a couple of exquisite dresses while I examine the price tags, saying ‘How much?’ every two minutes.

  I don’t think I’d pay these ridiculous amounts even if I won the lottery. I mean, £200 for a dress – it’s just insane. And that’s a cheap dress in here. Helen keeps reminding me about quality and I keep reminding Helen that fashions change before quality has time to matter. She just tuts and shakes her head. I think Michaela gets the measure of me and subtlety tells Helen and I all about her next venture which will be a mid-price clothes shop with home interior items.

  ‘Right,’ Helen declares, ‘I’m going to try these on. Are you coming with me or are you going to continue your embarrasing “How Much” campaign?’

  ‘No, I’ll come with you. Might as well enjoy the luxurious changing rooms even if I’m just sitting outside.’

  ‘Come on, Steph. I did offer to buy you that top you liked, but you refused on principle.’

  ‘Too right. It’s twice the price it should be. Anyway, I’m sorted with what I’ve bought.’

  Helen disappears into the huge fitting room, leaving me to flop into the luxurious dark plum chaise longue in the seating area. I’d love to put my feet up but I’d soon be falling asleep to the relaxing music gliding through the sound system. Not like my place, where there’s an advert every five minutes. What was it? Oh,
yes, the offer on knives…

  My thoughts are pulled back to the present when Helen appears, wearing the first of the dresses. She seems perplexed. From the front the dress looks fantastic but then she turns round and I understand why she’s flummoxed. There’s no way the two halves of material at the back are ever going to join up.

  I can’t resist a little snigger, as I attempt to zip the dress up. ‘No, Helen, it’s definitely not going to fasten. Do you want me to get you the next size up?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m a size 10, end of. They’ve obviously cut it wrong.’

  The dressing-room assistant offers her opinion. ‘Quite a few clients have bought the next size up for this particular dress. It’s from the French Oui, Oui collection. It seems French women are differently proportioned to us.’

  Very tactfully put. So, basically, French woman are slim and we’re fat, it’s a fact, get over it. I wish I knew their secret – munching on croissants and cheese all the time – but they’re never in a million years going to share it with us.

  Helen doesn’t back down in front of the assistant. She turns round and marches back into the changing room. My phone instantly pings to let me know I’ve got a text.

  Maybe you could bring me

  another 10 just in case and

  a 12 but I’m NOT a 12!!

  I text her back.

  Whatever lol

  We finally make it to the tills. After Helen’s slow start, she’s made a phenomenal comeback. The dress (in size 12 – she says she’s cutting the tag out as soon as she gets home), some shoes to match and a clutch bag. She’s also treated herself to a couple of other dresses, a nice pale green semi-formal one and something for work. I can’t really remember; it’s all a blur.

  Michaela is folding all the items neatly into tissue paper as if she has all the time in the world. And wouldn’t you just know it she’s also going on a cruise blah blah blah, then she hits Helen with the total price like it’s a couple of pounds. I don’t even hear what she says past the six hundred bit, but Helen gets out her store card, calm as you like, and doesn’t flicker an eyelid.