‘Right, I’m going to my room,’ Anna interrupted, pushing past them and into the house.
‘OK, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready!’ Jessica said, turning her attention back to a dripping Robert. She’d talk to Anna later.
‘Let’s just say it was an experiment that went wrong,’ he said as they walked through to the kitchen.
‘What kind of experiment?’
‘Well, book research. I thought why not try one of the pedal boats at the lake.’
The pedal boats were a new addition to the attractions offered by the local council at the lake in the park close to Jessica’s house. A small area had been cordoned off, and a few white pedal boats had been purchased. Tiny pedal boats.
‘Aren’t they for kids?’ she asked.
‘So I realised …’ Robert replied. ‘The guy gave me a funny look when I said I wanted to book one. But I thought that I can’t recommend this kind of thing to readers if I haven’t tried it myself!’ He shook his trouser leg slightly, spraying droplets onto her kitchen floor. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘So, I got into the boat and of course, I’m immediately tipped into the lake. Which is freezing cold, by the way. And up to my thighs.’
‘Oh dear,’ she tried to suppress a giggle, but it was hard.
‘And then I got my shoe tangled up in a reed, so the guy had to wade in and drag me out.’
‘Whoops.’
‘Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly over the moon.’
‘I can imagine,’ she found herself laughing again, and this time he joined her.
‘I’m an idiot, basically,’ he said.
‘Yes, yes you are!’ she smiled. ‘But somehow you get away with it.’
‘Thanks … I think.’
‘Look, do you want me to dry those trousers? You can’t stay in those.’
‘Would you mind?’ I was walking home, then realised yours was closer and wondered, well, I thought you’d be back from the school run around now. And people were looking, laughing a bit.’
‘Of course. I can get you a pair of Dave’s joggers or something?’
‘No. No, look, I’ve got boxers on – still dry. They’re practically shorts. I’d rather not, erm, borrow anything.’
‘Ok then, hand them over.’ She held out her hand and he peeled the wet trousers off, revealing boxer shorts adorned with a picture of Mr Happy.
‘Seriously?’ she said, taking the wet trousers and nodding at his choice of underwear then feeling embarrassed that she’d acknowledged his pants at all.
‘Yeah. Well. Didn’t expect to have to take my trousers off in front of anyone today,’ he said. ‘Besides, they’re my lucky ones.’
‘Or, perhaps not.’
‘Good point.’
‘Well, look, I’ll get these in the dryer – you finish making the tea,’ she said. Their eyes locked for a moment as he passed the soggy trousers to her and she felt a shiver of something she hadn’t felt for years. The combination of excitement and a feeling of being utterly safe: at home.
He smiled, self-consciously. ‘It’s not often that a woman gets to dry my soggy trousers, you know.’
‘Yes, I feel very honoured,’ she grinned. It was somehow both the least and the most romantic moment she’d had in a long while. If they’d been stars of a rom-com, they’d have begun kissing passionately, or dancing in the kitchen. Or he’d have told her that he was just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to dry his kecks.
As it was, she held the sodden trousers at arms’ length and walked through, dripping, into the utility room. Who needs romance?
She was shoving the wet trousers into the dryer and setting it to ‘rapid’ when she heard the doorbell ring. ‘Just a minute!’ she shouted, out of habit.
‘Don’t worry!’ Robert called. ‘I’ll get it.’
Was he seriously going to answer her door in his pants? Jessica straightened up and raced through to the kitchen, to find it empty – a pool of water the only evidence that Robert had been there at all. She was reminded of the scene at the end of The Snowman – had it all been a dream?
He probably wishes it had, she thought when, walking through to the hallway she found the him standing next to a Lycra-shorted, grim-faced Dave.
‘What on earth is going on?’ Dave asked, his voice a Phil Mitchell growl.
‘Nothing!’ she and Robert said in unison.
‘Nothing,’ Jess repeated, despite a sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘Robert just, well, popped over. He’d had an accident and—’
‘So you’re inviting so-called clients back out of hours now?’ Dave stormed. ‘And they’re hanging around half-naked while your daughter’s upstairs? And,’ he eyed Robert suspiciously, ‘what kind of accident?’
‘Honestly, mate, you’re overreacting.’ Robert interjected. ‘It really isn’t what it looks like.’
Dave looked at him. ‘So you’re telling me there’s nothing going on with you and Jess?’
In front of the stocky, built-up Dave, Robert looked like a flimsy schoolboy. ‘Well, no. I mean, I suppose she’s told you about the kiss, and—’
‘What kiss?’
‘It was nothing!’ Jessica said, a smile still fixed on her face. ‘Honestly. I didn’t tell you because, well …’
‘Seriously, I would never have kissed her on purpose,’ Robert added, helpfully.
‘So you’re saying you don’t find my fiancée attractive?’ Dave continued, his features clouded with rage.
‘No. I mean, yes. I mean, she’s very attractive. She’s great.’ Robert began, not doing himself any favours. ‘But I know she’s engaged, mate. With the kiss, well, I guess I hoped, but …’
‘So you do find her attractive?’ Dave raged, making it very hard for Robert – or anyone else – to understand exactly what he wanted him to say.
‘Seriously, Dave. This is all about nothing!’ Jessica interjected.
‘A kiss?’ Dave said. ‘And this clown saying that he thinks you’re unattractive? You’re OK with that?’
‘It was nothing!’ she insisted.
‘It wasn’t nothing,’ Robert said, suddenly. ‘I do, I mean, I really do like you, Jessica. Of course I find you attractive. Very attractive, if I’m honest.’
‘What?’ Why now? If there was ever a time to tell a lie, this was it!
‘But I’m not going to mess with your happiness,’ he said. ‘That’s if you are happy,’ he added, darkly.
Jessica closed her eyes. Robert was a good two inches shorter than Dave. And a good 50 per cent less muscle-bound.
‘Look, do you want to take this outside, mate?’ Dave said, squaring his shoulders in a way that Jessica recognised.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she said, putting a hand on Dave’s arm. ‘Look, Robert fell in the lake at the park, OK? I’m drying his trousers and he’s having a cup of tea, and that is it.’
‘Because I’m not going to let anyone make me look like a mug,’ Dave went on, ignoring her. ‘We’ve told people we’re engaged, and if you’re hooking up with clients left, right and centre …’
‘What?’ And what did he mean about ‘telling people’? Was it his image rather than his heart he was concerned with? ‘Hooking up with clients?’ she was angry now. ‘Perhaps you’d better go if you think so little of me.’
‘No, no. I’ll go,’ said Robert, picking up his shoes and opening the front door.
‘But your trousers!’
‘Don’t worry, you can keep them. Or whatever.’
‘Good idea,’ Dave said, darkly. ‘Mr Happy.’
Robert stopped, his shoulders tense, but seemed to work through whatever retort had come to him and let it go. ‘OK. Bye, Jessica. And sorry,’ he said, without turning round.
As the door closed
, Jessica stood in front of Dave – his face still red from the confrontation. ‘Thanks a lot, Dave. If you must know, Robert is one of my most successful clients. And now I doubt he’ll be coming back.’
‘Look, Jessica – client or no client. He doesn’t have the right to kiss you—’
‘He knows that. The kiss was ages ago. It was a goodbye kiss that went wrong.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’
‘I don’t think we were even together!’
‘Look,’ Dave said again, his voice a little calmer. ‘I brought some stuff with me. I was going to talk about maybe moving in again. But perhaps it’s not the right time.’ He turned his back, spinning expertly on the balls of his feet like a dancer.
‘Seriously? But—’
The door had closed behind him. Moments later, she heard his car fire up in the drive and screech away.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Meeting with @TamzinPeters from @Dagenham& Diamante for an interview with Proximity Magazine! #FunTimes #LovemyJob #realitystar
‘Fanks so much for comin’ wiv me,’ Tamzin said again, managing to plug her seatbelt in after a battle caused by her acrylic nails – each of which was pierced with a small ring. ‘I ’ate these interview fings.’
‘It’s no problem,’ Jessica smiled, as their taxi pulled away from King’s Cross. Although in truth it was a bit of a problem. Because she’d had to leave early again. And cancel a meeting. And even bin a call from Dave when he’d finally rung shortly before she needed to catch the train, after a morning of missed calls and silence.
‘So, you really hate interviews?’ It was hard to believe somehow.
‘Yeah.’ Tamzin stared down at her shoes, each of which had a heel so high and thin that Jessica wondered how she managed to keep up with Rocky without them snapping. She’d switched to flats when Anna was born and had only just worked her way up to her three-inch maximum twelve years on. ‘I loike bein’ on TV n’ that, but some of the journos, they just make me look stupid all the time. You know. Loike they want me to get it wrong or whatever,’ continued Tamzin.
Which was probably true. Jessica looked at her with new sympathy. She’d always thought Tamzin was oblivious to the way she was portrayed. ‘I get it,’ she said, at last. ‘Trying to trip you up, that sort of thing.’
‘Yeah. Sometimes I fink I should start a blog. You know? To write the troof – loike your one. Keepin’ it real.’
‘Yeah.’
They arrived at the hotel where they were due to meet the journalist. The small café area with its leather club chairs and oak tables was almost empty. In the corner, a man was talking on a mobile phone. An elderly woman sat with a book and half an orange juice. A tall woman in her thirties, sitting with a laptop, got up as they came in.
‘Hi, Tamzin!’ she gushed, holding out her hand and wincing slightly when Tamzin grabbed it with her talons. ‘I’m Suzy. How you doing?’
‘Yeah. Fine fanks.’
‘And you are …?’ Suzy said, looking Jessica up and down quizzically.
‘I’m Jessica Bradley – Tamzin’s PR. I’ll be sitting in on this, if that’s OK.’
‘Sure,’ came the response, although Jessica felt the atmosphere freeze up slightly. She understood. Suzy had wanted free rein with Tamzin. Well, Jessica was on the case now and no one was portraying her client as an idiot. Hopefully. ‘You look awfully familiar,’ Suzy said to her as she took a seat. ‘Have we met before?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve been in the Daily News recently, though – so maybe from that? And I do a bit of blogging.’
‘Oh right … yeah. I think I might have seen that,’ came the answer. ‘One of those clean-eaters, right? I suppose you’re going to put us to shame now with an herbal tea?’ Her tone was slightly challenging.
Damn. ‘Well, green tea and mint, hopefully,’ smiled Jessica, inspecting the menu and wishing that she could plump for a croissant as well but deciding against it.
‘It’s hot chocolate for me,’ smiled Suzy, gesturing at the waitress who was putting fresh oranges into the plastic tube leading to the juicer. ‘With extra cream,’ she added, her eyes meeting Jessica’s with a challenging look, ‘and sprinkles! Tamzin?’
‘Water,’ Tamzin said. ‘Bottled,’ eyeing Suzy suspiciously, as if she might be slipping something into her drink, or trying to paint her in a certain light depending on what she ordered.
‘Sure.’ Suzy smiled at the waitress and reeled off the order quickly, before bringing out her phone and opening up a voice-recording programme. ‘You don’t mind me recording, do you?’ she asked. ‘My shorthand is terrible.’
‘No problem,’ said Jessica quickly, after Tamzin looked at her for a response.
After a few generic questions to put Tamzin at her ease, Suzy came to the Little Accidents campaign. ‘So, lots of mums are interested in your bladder problems,’ she smiled. ‘I wondered how everything’s going. And whether you’re benefiting from these products you’re endorsing.’
Tamzin paused, as if wrestling with something, then said, ‘Actually, I don’t need ’em now.’
What? The whole point of the interview from Jessica’s perspective had been to promote Little Accidents and her new client in one fell swoop – a double whammy.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I mean, they were good when I’d just ’ad Rocky, you know? But I did me exercises and fings have got better.’
‘I see.’
‘What Tamzin means,’ interjected Jess, ‘is that the Little Accidents range have helped her to feel better, even when things do go wrong.’
‘Nah, that’s not it!’ Tamzin retorted, ignoring the nudge that Jessica gave her under the table. ‘I don’t piss meself, awright?’
‘So you’re not endorsing the range any more?’
The penny dropped. ‘Oh. Yeah. Well, I fink they’re great, you know. If you need ’em. And …’ she looked at Jessica pleadingly.
‘Yes,’ Jessica said, stepping in automatically. ‘And as a mother, I really rely on them, like lots of women do.’
‘You do?’ Suzy’s eyes lit up. ‘How about in the gym? Do you find that they help there?’
Surely she was meant to be interviewing Tamzin? ‘Yeah, I mean, of course,’ Jessica lied.
‘Right.’ Suzy scribbled something on a pad. ‘So, Tamzin, you’re now saying you no longer use or need Little Accidents?’
Tamzin flushed. Under the table her leg had begun to wobble slightly with the stress.
‘What Tamzin wants to say,’ said Jessica, ‘is that although she enjoys wearing the range, and although she still does suffer from time to time, her pelvic floor is much stronger now. Little Accidents are a good – and attractive – fail-safe.’
‘Yeah, what she said,’ nodded Tamzin.
‘Right.’ Suzy’s tone was notably more clipped. ‘So Tamzin’s not able to say that for herself.’
Tamzin flushed. ‘Look—’ she began.
‘Let’s move on, shall we?’ Jessica interrupted.
‘OK,’ Suzy said. She picked up her phone and swiped onto the net. ‘Tamzin: I want to ask a bit about Dagenham and Diamante and your possible relationship with Connor. But before I do … Jessica, your blog is Fit at 30, is that right?’ She held up her phone, revealing Jessica’s blog homepage.
‘Yep, that’s me.’
‘OK. Do you mind if I quote you, perhaps for another piece? Just a bit about sportswomen and urinary incontinence?’
‘Yeah, OK.’ Jessica flushed. ‘But—’
‘That’s great. Thank you.’
The interview concluded with a few probing questions about Connor and his suspected ‘other woman’ on the reality show, questions Tamzin answered quite admirably.
‘How do you fink it went?’ Tamzin asked as they walked into the fresh air.
&n
bsp; ‘Oh, pretty good,’ Jessica said, still a little uneasy about what she might have agreed to personally. It wasn’t as if she was being paid anything to endorse Little Accidents, after all. She was just meant to be getting them coverage, not to be the coverage.
The taxi arrived and Tamzin stepped in. ‘Fanks again,’ she smiled, lifting her long legs into the back of the cab. ‘D’ya want a lift or anyfink?’
‘No, it’s fine. I have to make a few calls,’ Jess said, waving her mobile phone.
‘OK, call me tomorrow?’
‘Yep, no problem,’ she smiled.
As the cab drew off, Jessica looked at her phone. She had another missed call from Dave – no message. She debated whether to leave it after his behaviour yesterday, but decided to be grown up about it.
‘Hi, Dave,’ she said when he answered. ‘You called?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ A silence. ‘Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about yesterday, you know? It was a bit of a shock to find a bloke at your house walking around in his pants.’
‘Yeah, I suppose. But you know me, Dave. You should trust me.’
‘I know. Sorry,’ he said again, sounding genuinely crestfallen. ‘Look, I think we ought to get back on track, don’t you? Things have been a bit … weird. You know, what with me leaving you, and the whole pretending I hadn’t thing.’
‘Yeah,’ she said.
‘And, well, you … you quitting the gym,’ he said, his voice breaking slightly with trauma.
‘Not quitting, exactly …’
‘Anyway, now we’ve said we’re engaged,’ he continued. ‘I thought maybe we could go out for dinner or something? There’s a new vegan restaurant in town I want to try – it’s French cuisine, thought you might like it. You know, keeping on track with the diet and everything. And reconnecting a bit?’
‘OK. Sounds good.’
‘Tomorrow night?’
‘Yep, why not?’ She felt a bit resigned about it: was it the food or was it Dave that was putting her off?
‘Great, it’s a date!’ He rang off without saying goodbye.
On the train, she began to plan what to wear. Maybe her almost too-tight black jeans? With something looser on top? Or might her navy dress fit again? She googled the restaurant’s website to see whether it was fancy or more casual. All she could find was a picture of an enormous onion, sporting a handlebar moustache and a chef’s hat and winking conspiratorially. ‘We put the veg into vegan!’ was the restaurant’s inspiring slogan.
Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down! Page 23
