From:[email protected]
Re:Hugo Henderson
Dear Pete,
I’m really sorry to do this at the last minute, but Hugo Henderson’s exhibition in the entrance of the church hall is going to have to be cancelled I’m afraid.
Apologies for messing you about.
Kind regards,
Jessica Bradley
CEO Star PR
To:[email protected]
From:[email protected]
Re:re: Hugo Henderson
Dear Jessica,
I was very surprised to read your email, especially after you explained your struggle to get this particular artwork displayed. However, I must say, it’s rather a relief not to have to tackle the committee again about the piece.
Thanks for letting me know.
And thank you for the donation towards church funds, which I assume still stands?
Peace be with you.
Pete White, Vicar
Hatfield Church
To:[email protected]
From:[email protected]
Re:Hugo Henderson
Dear Sally,
Thanks for your agreement to display Hugo’s Henderson’s Proud Man sculpture in the foyer of the library building. I’m so sorry, but Hugo has had a change of heart and would like to have the work removed.
I realise it has only recently gone on display and hate to put you to any trouble.
Apologies.
Best wishes,
Jessica
CEO Star PR
To:[email protected]
From:[email protected]
Re:Hugo Henderson
Dear Jessica
Thanks for your email!
I’m really sorry, but it’s going to take a few days to get the work removed. I’ll have to raise it at the management meeting next week. Hopefully we can sort something out. On a personal level, I’m quite disappointed as the work is a real favourite of mine.
Best wishes,
Sally
Jessica switched her computer off and sat for a minute, looking at her vague reflection in its black screen. A far cry away from the smiling, pouting selfies of her blog, her face looked resigned; tired and slightly chubbier than she would have liked.
‘You look like you need another cup of tea!’ Natalie said, passing, cup in hand. ‘Do you want me to make you one?’
‘Oh God, do you mind? It’s been one of those mornings.’
‘Not at all. In fact, why don’t you have this one? I haven’t touched it. Changed my mind – and it’s your favourite!’
She plonked down a white cup filled with a murky liquid that smelt slightly of grass on Jess’s coaster.
‘I know you recommended this rooibos stuff on your blog, but I just can’t get used to it.’
‘No? Well, thanks.’ Jessica had lifted the cup to her lips and tried not to gag. ‘Great. Mmm. I’ll drink it in a bit when it’s cooled,’ she lied. She’d wait until Nat was at her desk and subtly tip it down the sink.
‘Honestly, I wish I liked it as much as you do. It just tastes like peppery pee to me.’
‘Oh no, it’s delicious!’ Jessica lied. ‘I’ll be downing the whole lot in a sec!’
‘Great, well, I’ll grab my latte and we can drink them together while we have that meeting.’
Jess had wondered whether this was what was meant by putting her foot in her mouth.
It certainly tasted that way.
Chapter Nine
@BronzedBeautiful #soexcited to be using your #selftan kit before hitting the pub! @StarPR
Standing in the shower, having dried her skin until it was only ‘moist’, as required by the tanning kit, Jessica began to brush her body in ‘a slow, circular motion’ as stated in the Bronzed Beautiful instructions. The brush was wiry and her skin soon began to flare up in protest. She’d always had the kind of skin that marked very easily, so the redness didn’t bother her – it would soon fade.
It reminded her a little of sanding down a piece of wood before painting it. ‘Exposing the grain,’ Grahame had used to say when they were trying to do up their bedroom. She’d never been much good at DIY. ‘Make us a tea,’ he’d said in the end, taking the sander from her and giving her a kiss. ‘You’re great at making tea.’
She’d laughed. They’d probably only been together a couple of years at that point. She’d forgotten the way they used to laugh together.
Her body now red from top to toe, Jessica gratefully put down the brush and picked up the bottle of bronzer. ‘Apply with care!’ the bottle warned. ‘Using the gloves provided, apply lotion to prepared skin and gently rub in. Wait ten minutes before showering.’
The cream tingled a little as she applied it to her skin, but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Then came the waiting. Ten minutes doesn’t seem long when you were watching TV, or driving to work. Sitting in the bathroom, feeling damp, tingly and a little bit cold, the minutes stretched ahead like hours. She spent some of the time cleaning out the underneath of her nails with a pair of tweezers, and the rest staring at her rather alarming reflection in the mirror. The cream was very, very brown, but she knew from experience that – when washed off – it should make her skin just a couple of shades darker, as promised by the leaflet. When she’d read ‘dark mahogany’ she’d been a little concerned, but the saleswoman had been very reassuring when she’d phoned to double-check. ‘It’s just a deep, summer tan,’ she’d said. ‘Quite natural-looking!’
Finally, the time was up and she stepped into the shower and gratefully turned on the warm water. Washing herself down, she watched the orange liquid running from her body in little rivers. Her skin underneath showed up a golden tan colour – perhaps a little darker than she’d hoped, but absolutely fine.
It was only when she stepped out of the shower, towelled herself down and looked in the mirror that she realised it wasn’t exactly the ideal Hollywood glow. Her body was evenly covered, even her face was a pleasant golden colour. Except around one eye, and – bizarrely – on the knuckles of each hand. Whether she’d had a little dry skin in those places or not she wasn’t sure, but each had turned two or three shades darker.
‘Shit,’ she said, running her hands under the tap in the hope that she could remove some of the colour. She’d wanted to look as if she was ready for a night out, not as if she’d been brawling outside the bar.
She looked at her watch. She was meeting Bea in an hour, and she couldn’t cancel again.
‘Mum!’ shouted Anna from outside. ‘Have you finished?! I need to pee!’
Wrapping herself in her dressing gown, and shoving the empty bottle, sponge and body brush into the bin, Jessica left the bathroom, face firmly turned towards the floor like a guilty teenager.
Back in her room, she took a passable selfie using a filter and with the slightly dodgy eye the furthest from the camera. The tan looked OK in the pic – which was the most important thing. And perhaps tomorrow morning she’d look slightly less battered and bruised in real life
She rough-dried her hair then heated up the straighteners and forced her reluctant, kinky barnet into a sleeker style. Applying a bit of mascara and eyeliner to highlight her green eyes – and hopefully draw attention away from her dodgy eye stain – she then added a slick of neutral lipstick. She evaluated the result. Not too bad at all, if she kept her left eye in the shadows.
And it didn’t really matter that much, she thought to herself. It wasn’t as if she was getting glammed up for a blog-shoot or meeting a client. Bea wouldn’t care what she looked like at all.
Fit at 30
Bronzed Beautiful – Self-Tanning Kit
I’d been feeling a bit pasty recently, so decided to try out some home tanning. I’ve often been put off home tans with tales of an uneven appearance, or been worried that I’ll do something wrong. So I was reassured at th
e clear instructions on the pack, and the fact that Bronzed Beautiful offer tips for preparing your skin to avoid potential problems.
The cream went on smoothly, with a pleasant, tingling sensation, and in ten short minutes I looked as if I’d been sunning myself on a Mediterranean beach (and who has time for that?!).
I’d thoroughly recommend this tanning kit – it’s worked wonders for me!
#bronzedbeautiful #lookinggood #selftanning
COMMENTS
Jill
Thanks, I’m off to get myself a bottle!
LM
Natural is best – embracing who you really are. For thoughts on this, visit www.naturalisbest.org
UJ
Hello dear. You don’t know me, but I am the son of His Honourable Prince Alid of Mozambique. I read your website and wish to make contact to discuss a financial transaction that may prove very exciting for you. Please send your account details to [email protected] and my business associate will be in touch.
Chapter Ten
Old friends – good times. @thecockinn
Sitting in the pub waiting for Bea, Jess felt like she was waiting for a blind date. Her stomach fluttered with nerves and she realised in that moment how much she’d missed her friend. It had been so easy to get caught up with her new life, and it was only now the chips were down (or actually back on the menu) that she’d bothered to make a date.
She’d been quite surprised, actually, that Bea had agreed to meet her at all. Last time they’d met up Bea had cooked dinner for them both at her place, and Jess had refused to eat most of it as it didn’t conform to her new dietary plan.
It had been a couple of months ago, and Jessica had just managed to meet her weight-loss goal, plus had found that her Instagram had gained a lot of #cleaneating followers. ‘I just can’t eat dumplings,’ she’d said, after Bea had dished out a plate of hearty stew. ‘And red meat’s a big no-no.’
Had she really been so selfish?
Had she really said ‘no-no’?
Sipping her Diet Coke, Jessica felt her cheeks redden.
She hoped her friend would turn up; Bea was often late after work and sometimes had to stay unexpectedly for a couple of hours of unpaid overtime. Jessica had promised Anna she wouldn’t leave her with her grandparents for too long. ‘Mumm!’ she’d protested when Jessica had told her where she was headed for the evening. ‘I wanted to watch Hollyoaks! Granddad’ll be watching some sort of sport thing.’
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘Can’t I come to the pub?’
‘Not this time.’
‘What about Uncle Stu?’
‘Busy. Besides, Granny’s already cooked macaroni cheese.’
Anna had given her a dark look and that had been the end of it. She might not enjoy everything about visiting her grandparents, but even she couldn’t resist one of Gran’s special recipe mac n’ cheese dishes. ‘I add extra cheese,’ Jessica’s mother had told her once, with a conspiratorial tap on the side of her nose. ‘It makes it more … cheesy.’
When they’d let themselves in, Anna had rushed into the kitchen to give her Gran a hug and Jess had popped in to see her dad. As predicted, he was watching the snooker. The lowest rung of the sporting TV ladder. ‘Hi, Dad,’ she’d said, leaning down and giving him a kiss on the cheek. His skin was prickly and smelt of Manly Man aftershave.
‘Hi, love,’ he’d smiled, pausing the snooker in case he missed any of the action.
‘Just off to the pub then,’ she’d said.
‘Have fun,’ he’d said. ‘Say hi to Bea for me.’
‘Thanks. And Dad?’
‘Yes?’
‘Any chance you could do me a favour and let Anna watch Hollyoaks in a bit?’
‘Hollyoaks you say? OK, OK, why not?’ he said. ‘What’s it about?’
‘Oh, just, well, people.’
‘What sort of people?’
‘Well, young … good-looking … troubled. Blond, mostly.’
‘Right. Doing what?’
‘Arguing, making up, struggling with everyday life, having relationships, affairs, dying in car crashes, stalking each other, finding lost babies.’
‘Are you sure it’s suitable?’
She’d never really thought about it. ‘Yeah, I think so. Her friends watch it, so … and it’s just real-life, everyday stuff.’
‘Right. Like the lost babies your mum and I are always finding.’
‘Ha. You know what I mean!’ She’d smiled fondly at her old man.
‘Actually, love,’ he’d said. ‘I wanted to ask if you’re OK? Stu mentioned that you’re a bit stressed at the moment.’
‘Just, you know. Work stuff,’ she’d said, shrugging.
‘Well,’ he’d said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘Make sure you take care of yourself.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
Now, sitting at the table in the pub, Jessica smiled; the other men in her life might let her down sometimes, but she’d definitely lucked out when it came to her dad and Stu.
Just then, Bea walked in, her short, dark hair tousled and her round-framed glasses – her ‘Harry Potter’ specs – reflecting the light from the bar. She glanced around, saw Jess and gave a small smile.
‘Hello,’ she said, sitting at the table and dumping her bag on the floor. ‘I’m going to get a drink – want another?’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ Jessica smiled, sipping at her Diet Coke. Then, ‘Actually, I could go for a small glass of white.’
Bea’s eyebrows raised slightly, but she said nothing. Returning to the table a couple of minutes later, she plonked two mismatched glasses down. Hers an enormous red; Jessica’s a tiny 125ml white. ‘It looks pathetic,’ Bea said, nodding at the glass. ‘Sorry – I’ll happily get you a bigger one.’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Jessica smiled, taking a sip and feeling the slightly vinegary taste hit the back of her throat. ‘So, how are you?’
‘I’m OK.’ Bea looked at her then, her expression guarded. ‘So what’s up?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, come on, Jessica,’ Bea said, although her tone was even and reasonably warm, ‘you don’t speak to me properly for weeks, then suddenly you want to meet up. And on a gym night too!’ she added, with mock horror.
Jessica set her wine down on the table. ‘Have I really been that bad?’
‘Oh Bea!’ Bea said in a mocking tone. ‘I’d love to come, but I don’t want to lose mo-men-tum.’ She pronounced momentum as if it was a strange, foreign word.
For some reason, Jessica couldn’t help laughing along. ‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with going to the gym!’
‘Oh I know that!’ Bea said, her hand hovering over her midriff. ‘I know I should be going, and blah blah blah. It wasn’t the fact you were going to the gym or anything; it was the fact you seemed completely obsessed with it!’
‘I wasn’t completely—’
‘You were, Jess. And it just didn’t seem like you. Being fit, working out – that’s great. But I’d rather have a squishier version of Jessica who’s still got a sense of humour and time to see me once in a while than a gym-honed stranger.’
Squishier? ‘Sorry, I suppose … I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish.’
‘Just a bit.’ But Bea was grinning. ‘Do you know, the last two times we spoke, apart from a quick “how are you?”, you didn’t ask me a single question about myself?’
‘I didn’t?’
‘No. I counted. Not one. You didn’t ask how things were with Mark. You didn’t ask about Lucas or Lewis. And you didn’t ask me about work. The only time you discussed me was when you suggested I come down to the gym for a taster session, so that Dave could earn himself a free “man wax”.’
‘Oh.’ Jessica’s resolve to confide in her best friend began to
drain away. ‘Well, I do want to know. I am interested!’ she said.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. And I’m sorry, you know?’ Jessica saw Bea’s face soften and seized her advantage. ‘In fact,’ she said, ‘that’s why I wanted to meet you. I realised that I’d been a complete bitch and wanted to have a proper catch up,’ she lied. Thoughts of telling Bea about the situation with Dave faded into insignificance. Not yet. Not this time.
‘Well, if you must know, things have been awful at work.’
‘Oh Bea! Have they?’
Bea worked as a midwife at the local maternity unit. Always a stressful profession, things had been getting worse recently – lack of funding, lack of staff.
‘Yeah. We’re all racing around, trying to make sure we look after everyone properly, but it doesn’t feel like you can ever give enough. And I know …’ Bea pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. ‘Jess, I just know that something’s going to go wrong eventually. We go and go and go, and you just feel like something’s got to give.’
‘Oh Bea.’ Jess reached over and covered her friend’s hand with her own. ‘Isn’t there anything you can do about it?’
Her friend shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Quit?’
‘Would you really?’ Jessica was fascinated at the idea of being able to walk out of a job and go somewhere else to start again. That was where qualifications got you, she supposed. If you were a qualified something, rather than someone just making it up as you went along, you had proper choices. Not for the first time, she wished she’d followed Stuart’s lead and finished her university course.
‘Probably not.’ Bea took a slug of her wine and raised her eyebrows. ‘So, go on then. How are things on Planet Jessica?’
‘Oh, they’re OK.’
‘Just OK?’
‘They’re great. I mean, I’ve neglected the workout a little lately,’ she folded her arm self-consciously over her barely there belly bulge and smiled at her friend. ‘Which I suppose might be a good thing.’
‘Oh, I’m not saying that. I know I’ve been a bit off about it all, but I mean it’s great what you’re doing. I suppose I just feel a bit guilty that I don’t have the energy to do it myself. There’s … there’s been a lot going on.’
Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down! Page 6
