Never Mind the Botox Page 2

  ‘You’re so organised! How long until you start the big new job?’

  ‘Not until the end of next month, so I should be fine by then. Plenty of time to get some serious shopping in as well; make sure I make the most of my new assets,’ said Meredith, gently patting her chest.

  ‘Meredith, you work in a bank, not the bloody Moulin Rouge! Plus you have more clothes than most department stores; you can’t possibly need any more.’

  ‘Ah, but lots of them won’t fit me any more, will they? I’m bound to need a few new things.’

  Daisy laughed. ‘Any excuse. Right, is there anything I can do before I go? Make you something to eat maybe?’

  Meredith shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine. To be honest, I’m just looking forward to some time on my own.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure. But if you need anything, you just ring me, okay, and I’ll be straight over,’ said Daisy. She leant down to give Meredith a hug.

  ‘No, don’t do that!’ said Meredith, sliding away to avoid any painful contact.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t think.’ Daisy sat on the sofa and put her arm around Meredith instead. ‘You take care, okay?’

  Meredith nodded. ‘I’m not doing anything for the next week, except recuperating.’

  ‘Good. And it’s great to finally have you back in London, by the way,’ said Daisy, rubbing her hands together. ‘We’re going to have some serious fun. I see cocktails, I see dancing, I see men – well, for you anyway. I’m still taken.’ She winked mischievously at Meredith.

  ‘It’s great to be back, really great actually,’ said Meredith, smiling fondly at her friend’s enthusiasm. ‘When the headhunters first rang me about the job, I knew straight away that I wanted it. I didn’t tell them that, of course. I told them it would take a big offer to persuade me to move back to London, and luckily that’s what they got me! I can’t wait to start now.’

  ‘Well, I’m expecting big things,’ said Daisy. ‘And plenty of new clients for my gallery. Is that clear?’

  Meredith grinned. ‘You’d better get some decent artists in then.’

  ‘If you weren’t such an invalid… ’ said Daisy, raising her fists in mock anger.

  ‘Joking, joking,’ said Meredith, starting to hold up her hands. ‘Ouch! Look, stop making me laugh and go sell some pictures, will you.’

  Once Daisy had left, Meredith walked slowly into the bedroom, lay down on her king-size bed and within a few moments had drifted off to sleep. She woke up a few hours later feeling dreadful. Her arm had gone numb from where she’d been sleeping on it and the painkillers she’d taken had worn off, leaving what seemed like every part of her body in pain. She got up and went over to her bag in which she’d put her aftercare notes. The nurse had tried to talk her through them, but she’d been so desperate to leave that she hadn’t been listening properly. What she really wanted to do was have a bath, but it was pretty obvious from her mountain of bandaging that wasn’t going to be possible. She skimmed through the notes. Beau Street held a walk-in clinic every morning for patients where they could get advice about any aspect of their recovery. Not a bad service, thought Meredith, if you don’t mind wandering around in broad daylight looking like something from a kid’s game of doctors and nurses that went horribly wrong.

  She went into the kitchen and heated up some chicken soup, which made her feel like a proper invalid. As she sat on the bar stool at the end of the large island covered in grey granite, the immaculate modern kitchen with its handle-less doors and stainless steel appliances suddenly felt rather sterile and lonely. She picked up her soup and moved into the sitting room, tucking herself into the corner of the L-shaped sofa and flicking on the TV to break the silence. It was going to be a long week.

  Two days later, Meredith was still feeling awful. She’d taken as many painkillers as she was allowed but her head was pounding and her bandages were itching like mad. She rang Daisy.

  ‘Hey, babe, how are you doing?’ Daisy asked cheerfully.

  ‘Not great actually,’ said Meredith. ‘Really struggling with the pain across my chest and I’ve got a blinding headache that I can’t seem to shift. I’m also finding it pretty hard to sleep.’

  ‘Do you want me to come over?’ Daisy sounded concerned.

  ‘No, it’s okay. I don’t think there’s much you can do. I just wanted to hear a friendly voice, that’s all, and I can’t ring my mum – she’ll just panic that she’s too far away,’ said Meredith. Her voice broke as she spoke and a few tears slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away and took a deep breath.

  ‘Paris isn’t that far away,’ said Daisy.

  ‘I know. I think I just need a decent night’s sleep and to stop feeling sorry for myself,’ said Meredith.

  ‘You’re bound to feel pretty rough. What did the doctor say you should do?’

  ‘I’ve got some notes, but mainly it just says to come in and see them if I’m worried. And I can’t face doing that yet. This is probably just how everyone feels.’

  ‘Why don’t you have a look online?’ Daisy suggested. ‘There’ll be loads of chat forums and stuff that you can read from people who’ve done the same thing. They might give you some good tips to help you sleep a bit better.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Meredith, not convinced. Online chat rooms weren’t really her thing – far too much vacuous nonsense being spouted by people with no real friends, in her view.

  But later on that evening, when she was still pacing her bedroom in despair at how bad she felt, it suddenly didn’t seem like such a silly idea. Studiously avoiding all the ‘after’ photos – she had no desire to stare at other people’s scars – Meredith began searching around online. She was overwhelmed with sites offering advice and tips on recovering from cosmetic surgery, but as she clicked around one advert caught her eye. Chat with a doctor online now, the advert offered. If she was going to take advice from anyone then a doctor seemed like a better option than some other random patient. She clicked on the advert. It took her to the website of the Equinox Practise, a cosmetic surgery business based in Chicago that offered aftercare advice online. Meredith had a look at the options. Equinox offered a platinum aftercare plan that provided twenty-four-hour access to a doctor online. It was outrageously expensive and included so many disclaimers that Meredith nearly gave up. But the thought of being able to chat to a doctor now, right this minute, and without leaving her flat was just too tempting.

  She put in her credit card details, grimacing at the total that presented itself, clicked I Accept on the outrageous terms and conditions that gave her no rights whatsoever and then waited for an email to arrive with her login details. Two minutes later, the email arrived in her inbox. She wrote down the details and then logged on to Equinox’s website. A screen popped up in the corner of the welcome page: Experienced surgeon Ryan Miller is online and available to chat to you.

  Meredith clicked on the message and a dialogue box opened up on her computer screen.

  Hey there. This is Ryan Miller. How can I help you?

  An hour later, Meredith was feeling much more cheerful. Following Ryan’s instructions, she was back in bed propped up by an elaborate construction of pillows supporting her arms and neck. She’d also made herself several cold compresses using flannels dipped in iced water and was rotating them around her forehead, neck and chest. The pounding was beginning to subside, and although she was still in plenty of pain she felt much more in control. What a great service!

  The next morning, she woke up feeling a little better. It had been rather weird trying to sleep with so many pillows, but she’d eventually drifted off and had slept for six straight hours – the most since she’d got home. Ryan had asked that she let him know how she was. He’d told her that he wasn’t back online until late afternoon, so rather than deal with one of the other doctors in the team, Meredith decided to wait. She made herself breakfast of wholemeal toast with honey and a large glass of water – Ryan had also recommended small, easy-to-digest meals and plent
y of fluids – and settled down for a day of reading glossy magazines and working her way through the TV box sets she’d stocked up on.

  One minute after Ryan had said he would be back on the ‘desk’, as he called it, Meredith logged on to the Equinox site. The corner of the welcome page showed that Ryan was online but that he was busy chatting with another patient. Meredith registered to talk to him and was told she was third in line. She wandered impatiently around her flat, stopping every few minutes to check her computer, until a dialogue box popped up on her screen. Ryan was free. She jumped back onto her chair and smiled as she saw Ryan’s message pop up.

  Hi, Meredith. How are you feeling today?

  Meredith and Ryan chatted for ten minutes, and like the day before, he told her when he would be next online.

  Over the next week, Meredith logged on to speak to Ryan every day. They talked about her recovery, but also about her new job, why she’d had the surgery done, what the weather was like – all sorts of stuff. Ryan turned out to be great ‘virtual’ company, and before Meredith knew what was happening, talking to him became a welcome part of her daily routine. He reassured her that she was recovering normally and, as they talked about what she would look like once the bandages were off, she felt an increasing sense of excitement and confidence that the more feminine look she’d been longing for was just around the corner.

  Chapter 2

  Three weeks after her surgery, Meredith was out shopping. As she perused the rails of her favourite Bond Street boutique, she caught sight of her profile in one of the mirrors and for what seemed like the hundredth time, her heart jumped with delight. Her prominent nose had been replaced by a dainty ski-jump shaped one and the final traces of bruising were now easily covered with makeup. Her breasts were still sore and held in place by the most hideous support bra Meredith had ever seen, but she was thrilled with her new shape. She picked up a soft, cropped leather jacket and tried it on. Her curves helped the jacket hold its shape, and for the first time in her life, her athletic shoulders looked in proportion: it fitted her perfectly.

  ‘That suits you,’ said one of the shop assistants standing nearby. ‘It makes your waist look tiny.’

  Meredith smiled happily at her new hourglass figure. ‘Yes, you’re right, it does,’ she said, turning around and around to look at herself from all angles. ‘I’ll take it,’ she said, ignoring the ridiculous price tag. She was celebrating.

  That evening she logged on to tell Ryan about her new purchases. At first they’d just chatted using the Equinox aftercare site, but as their conversations had got longer and longer, Ryan had given her his email address. As she was typing him an email, Ryan’s profile on her instant messaging program turned green. He was logged on too. Meredith clicked on his name.

  Hi! Was just typing you an email.

  Cool, what about?

  Been out buying new clothes.

  Good for you. The team are looking good then?

  ‘The team’ was Ryan’s expression for her new breasts.

  Yeah, they look great actually.

  Why don’t you email me a picture?

  Meredith stopped and stared at the screen. A picture? She knew what Ryan looked like as his picture was up on the Equinox website, and to be fair, the fact that he looked pretty damn handsome hadn’t escaped her notice. But send him a picture of her? Was she ready for that?

  No one here to take one, she replied quickly and sat back in her chair, waiting for his reply.

  What, you’ve got no friends?

  That’s not what I said! Meredith laughed as she typed. Cheeky sod.

  Ask your boyfriend then.

  Meredith paused. There had been a few men in Paris, but none had made his way across the Channel.

  Not got one of those either.

  Interesting.

  Meredith grinned. He was flirting with her. I’ll see what I can do, she typed.

  After she’d finished chatting with Ryan, Meredith rang Daisy and invited her over for supper the next day.

  ‘I’ll give you a fashion parade of my new stuff,’ Meredith promised.

  ‘Nothing I’d rather do more,’ said Daisy. ‘I’ll cook; just make sure you’ve got some decent wine in.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got about fifty bottles I had shipped over from France.’

  ‘That might just about do us,’ said Daisy, laughing. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  The next day Meredith spent ages getting ready for supper with Daisy. She tried on at least five different outfits, settling finally for a fitted white shirt with a ruffled front and a black pencil skirt. She pulled her long, dark, curly hair into a simple ponytail and then opened a bottle of red wine, pouring herself a glass.

  ‘You look very smart,’ said Daisy in surprise when she arrived. ‘I look a right scruff in these old jeans.’

  ‘No different from normal,’ said Meredith.

  ‘Hey! I look smart when I’m in the gallery,’ Daisy protested.

  ‘Daisy, your idea of smart is wearing a pair of dungarees that don’t have paint splashed on them. Anyway, I want you to take some photos of me.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Oh, you know, send to my mum, that sort of thing,’ said Meredith casually.

  ‘Alright, but can we eat first? I’m starving.’

  Meredith sat on a bar stool sipping her wine, amusing herself at the chaos that Daisy was creating in her previously immaculate kitchen. ‘I think there are a few pans in that bottom drawer that you haven’t used yet,’ she said, pointing to a drawer under the cooker.

  ‘You’d better be careful that I don’t tip this over your head,’ said Daisy, energetically stirring the contents of a small saucepan with one hand and wiping her face on a tea towel with the other.

  Meredith grinned. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘You can get me a top-up for starters,’ said Daisy, nodding towards her nearly empty glass. ‘And this is nearly ready − do you want to get some plates out?’

  Daisy poured her sauce out into a small jug and then served up: steak with homemade béarnaise sauce, roast potato slices covered in sea salt and rosemary, and a salad. She’d made a chocolate mousse for dessert that she put in the fridge to chill.

  ‘Wow, this is delicious!’ said Meredith, stuffing a huge mouthful of steak and béarnaise sauce into her mouth. ‘You can come again.’

  ‘Thanks. And don’t talk with your mouth full,’ said Daisy.

  After they’d eaten, Meredith and Daisy sat chatting and working their way down the bottle of wine.

  ‘How’s Dougie?’ Meredith asked. Dougie was Daisy’s boyfriend. They’d been dating for more than two years and Meredith expected it wouldn’t be that long before they were engaged. He worked in his family’s construction business as a project manager.

  ‘He’s in great form, thanks,’ said Daisy. ‘You know him – always cheerful, always chatty.’

  ‘You’re so lucky. I could do with someone like him. Someone steady, reliable… ’

  ‘Oh, stop! You’re making him sound like a pet Labrador,’ said Daisy, laughing.

  Meredith laughed too. ‘Hardly. But you know what I mean.’

  Daisy nodded. ‘I’m sure you’ll meet the right guy soon. You’ve got a whole new country to choose from, not to mention a whole new look!’

  ‘Do you think it looks obvious, you know, that I’ve had something done?’

  Meredith turned her head from side to side so that Daisy could look at her from all angles.

  ‘I guess that people who know you well will probably notice that your nose is smaller. But anyone else won’t be able to tell a thing. And your chest looks natural to me.’ Daisy grinned mischievously at Meredith. ‘But I guess that they’ll feel different. So it depends how closely you let people examine them!’

  Meredith sighed and peered down at her chest. ‘The general view seems to be that most men will notice implants, which does worry me a bit. I mean, when do you bring that up? On the first date? At the undressi
ng moment? Or only if he spots that they’re not real? And what if he doesn’t like, well, you know, the feel of them?’ She shook her head and gave Daisy a ‘solve that one’ look.

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about that,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Well, I have. And I don’t think there’s an easy answer. I’m hoping that somehow when it comes to it, I’ll just know when the right time is.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s right,’ said Daisy, squeezing her friend’s arm. ‘Don’t worry; it will all just fall into place.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Meredith with a sigh. She tried to put the thought of taking her clothes off in front of someone to the back of her mind. No point worrying about it now. ‘Right, enough of that, I think it’s photo time.’ She got up and fetched her camera. ‘Where do you think I should stand?’

  Daisy looked around. ‘Against a plain background would be best. How about against that piece of wall over there, next to the sideboard?’

  Daisy pointed at a patch of bare wall between a huge bay window and a beautiful baby grand piano.

  Meredith walked over and stood awkwardly in front of the wall. ‘Here okay?’

  Daisy lined up the image through the camera viewer. ‘Yep, there’s fine. Come on, relax and smile!’

  Meredith forced a rather false smile.

  ‘Terrible,’ said Daisy. She began to give a running commentary as she took more pictures: ‘And here we have the lovely Meredith Romaine from London. She’s thirty-six, twenty-six, thirty-six, loves to travel and cares deeply for small children and all animals. Her ambition if she wins Miss World is to learn how to become the perfect hostess. Right after she learns her three and four times tables.’

  Meredith laughed loudly.

  ‘Better,’ said Daisy, capturing several shots.

  They both peered at the shots in the tiny camera viewer.

  ‘They look great, thanks,’ said Meredith.

  ‘Do you want some profile ones?’ Daisy asked, seemingly enjoying her photographer moment.

  Meredith took a large gulp from her wine glass. ‘Do you think we should take one, well, you know, with my shirt off?’ she asked Daisy, feeling increasingly bold.