Claudia Carroll 3 Book Bundle. Claudia Carroll
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yet more slap to my sunburnt face as we natter away through the half-open door.
‘You’re playing a complete blinder, you do know that,’ I shout out to him proudly, shoehorning myself out of my jeans and into a long, bugle-beaded, slinky, silver cocktail dress that Jake insisted on buying me the other night. I naturally baulked at this, as it was a Louise Kennedy that even on sale still cost a bleeding packet, but he insisted. Said it looked well on me and besides, it was payback for the suit I bought him, what seems like another lifetime ago now. I tentatively step into it, clinging to the towel rack with one hand for support, I’m that tipsy, then yank up the gossamer-fine straps, zip it up my back as far as I can by myself and step back to check it out in a full-length mirror conveniently placed by the bathtub.
Not half bad, I can’t help thinking, twirling this way and that, straining to get a better view. Now believe me, I’m no Cameron Diaz, but there’s just something sexy and magical about the way the dress clings and shimmers, even in awful bathroom flourescent light. If I don’t exactly look a million dollars, then for tonight at least, I certainly feel it.
The dark circles under my eyes, I notice, have slowly started to fade a bit from being out in the sun with Lily so much lately, and there’s a colour in my cheeks now that was never there before. Most likely down to the fact that Jake’s getting pretty good at ramming food down my throat, combined with the fact that I’m sleeping a lot more soundly these days. Normally I go around looking not unlike Morticia Addams I’m that white and pasty, but not now. There’s an unmistakable glow there that was absent before and there’s only one thing I can put it down to. It’s feeling like I’m not alone any more.
It’s not me contra mundum any more and it doesn’t need to be, ever again. Because I’ve got buddies now, real pals. Some of whom, to my shame, have been under my nose for the longest time, including practically everyone that I work with.
‘What about that Shania one, Lady Up-Your-Arse or whatever she calls herself though?’ Jake chats away through the bathroom door. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone quite like her.’
‘Explain?’ I call back at him, while practically screwed up against the vanity mirror above the sink trying to lash on actual make-up. Harder than it sounds when you’re someone who rarely bothers with the stuff. No time, I always think, not to mention very little point. No sooner do I put it on than it’s sweated off me after approximately one hour of being even near the vicinity of the Post.
‘Well, it’s weird. While she’s talking away to you and seemingly interested in pursuing a half-normal conversation, the whole time she’s got her mobile out and is on Twitter. Non-stop.’
I roll my eyes to heaven.
‘Yeah, sounds right. Seen her do it a thousand times. She tweets like she’s running a director’s commentary on her own life. TMI syndrome I call it.’
‘Which is?’
‘Too Much Information. People who feel the need to tweet what they had for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Very annoying I’d imagine, if you happen to be following her.’
‘Bit of a fake, isn’t she?’
I smile to myself, while picking up wet towels and hanging them out to dry. Funny thing about Jake, he has the innate knack of being able to spot a phoney faster than Kim or Aggie can spot mildew.
‘And another thing, what’s the story with that guy Marc, your culture editor?’ Jake chats on companionably through the bathroom door. ‘Has to be gay, doesn’t he?’
‘Getting married at the end of the month,’ I shout back, lashing on more bronzing powder than you’d normally see on an X-Factor finalist, just to be on the safe side. ‘A civil partnership with a guy who works in advertising at the Post. And what’s more, not only did he tell me all about it this afternoon, but he actually invited me to the wedding too, I couldn’t believe it.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Well, I’ve known him years and in all that time, I just automatically assumed he never really liked me. He and I do nothing only snipe at each other.’
‘Why wouldn’t he like you? Jeez, did you see yourself this afternoon? You were totally surrounded by people everywhere you went. And they didn’t seem to just be rubbernecking you or sucking up to you because you’re their boss, they genuinely seemed to be having a laugh with you.’
‘You think? Really?’
I mean, I think so too, but it’s great to be able to get a second opinion from someone who was there, observing from the sidelines.
‘Are you kidding me? You were like Miss Congeniality downstairs, they were buzzing round you like wasps round a jam jar. Everyone wanted to chat to you, myself included. Only trying to get away from your woman I was stuck with, was next to impossible. Jeez, she’s something else isn’t she? Shania – Lady Up-Your-Bum, I mean. Kinda reminded me of Cruella de Vil’s granny.’
‘Oh Jake,’ I say guiltily, ‘I’m so sorry for not rescuing you … I was just so busy chatting, I kept on trying to get to you, but then someone always seemed to waylay me.’
‘No worries at all,’ he says kindly. ‘It was great to see you having such a good time.’
‘Well, thank you. I only hope you weren’t bored stupid.’
‘Not a bit of it. Have to say though Eloise,’ he chats on easily, ‘the whole shindig was a helluva lot better than you’d let me to expect. From what you’d told me, I was dreading the whole thing, kept thinking that I’d been in correctional facilities that sounded more relaxed. But I have to say it was – well, I haven’t seen you look as alive as you did down there, not once, in all the time I’ve known you. It was great to see, it really was.’
I stop in my tracks, deeply touched at this. What a total sweetheart, I find myself thinking, pausing for a second and pulling back from the mirror, where I’d been trying to put on eyeliner straight. Not many guys who’d have the patience to put up with a work do like this. Not any, as far as I know.
A random thought; should I go ahead and tell him right now? I’m certainly drunk enough and it sort of feels like the right time … But I swat it aside. Not before the big dinner tonight. Stick with the plan, Eloise. Tomorrow. After breakfast. Outside, in the gardens, where there’s no distractions. Just be patient, wait till then. You’re about to tell him potentially life-altering news, so it’s worth picking the right moment, isn’t it? Besides, I’ve already waited this long and we’re having such a lovely time …
Then I step out of the bathroom in all my silvery finery, to an appreciative wolf-whistle from Jake, which I immediately swat away, red-faced. He’s lying up against a mound of pillows on the bed now, shoes kicked off, stretched out like a sunbather, the picture of chilled-out relaxation.
Looking decidedly sexy too, I find myself thinking, right out of left field.
Jeez, where’d that come from?
Oh who am I kidding, I’ve been thinking it all afternoon. Just like every other straight, single woman at this do.
Still though, note to self; no more booze, strictly water for me from here on in.
Must be a hell of a lot drunker than I thought.
‘You look gorgeous,’ he says softly, eyeing me up and down in a way that I haven’t been looked at in years. Decades, even.
‘Come off it,’ I giggle back at him, I’m sure blushing hotly. ‘It’s not me, it’s the dress. Besides, you’re used to seeing me going around in my black widow’s weeds.’
‘No, you look really terrific,’ he repeats slowly, stretching his arms behind his head and looking at me so admiringly that now it’s starting to disconcert me a bit. I’m not used to it. Men either see me as asexual or else just treat me exactly as they would another guy.
‘Have to hand it to you,’