Never Mind The Botox: Rachel Page 3

  ‘Too little sleep, too many cocktails,’ Rachel whispered back. ‘And please don’t let me be sick, I couldn’t bear it,’ she added.

  In the front of the car, her parents were having an in-depth discussion about the best route to take.

  ‘We should stay off the main road,’ said her dad. ‘All those Saturday shoppers: we’ll be stuck for ages. I suggest we take the B139 and then cut up past the old vicarage and then down to that T-junction. You know, the one with the sign for the lavender shop.’

  ‘Yes, dear, whatever you think,’ said her mum. ‘We should avoid the road up to Lanes School as well. Grace said that they’ve a car boot sale on today and there’s bound to be a queue.’

  ‘Ah yes, good point. I’ll turn off by the supermarket,’ said her dad.

  Rachel put her head in her hands in despair.

  Rowan looked over and squeezed her leg. ‘Nearly there,’ he said.

  The day was pretty much as bad as Rachel thought it would be: hours of trailing round dusty rooms full of old furniture. Her parents stood and admired the craftsmanship, while she and Rowan pretended they were presenters on The Antiques Road Show to relieve the boredom. The only high point was the enormous piece of chocolate cake that she had in the cramped tea shop.

  On the way back, as promised, they stopped at the garden centre. Her parents ended up arguing as her dad refused to ask where the daffodil bulbs were, preferring to look for them himself. He was still looking for them fifteen minutes later, by which time Rachel’s mum had asked someone, been through the tills and was loading them in the car along with her new bedding plants.

  Eventually they got back home and Rachel and Rowan both fell onto the sofa to watch TV. As they sat there watching sad Saturday game shows, Rachel suddenly couldn’t wait to get back up to London. After all, she had a big day on Monday to prepare for: first day out at Beau Street and she needed to be ready. On time and on the case, as Carl Stephens had said. She could do that, she thought. No problem.

  Chapter 3

  Rachel got back to her flat on Sunday evening. As she opened the door she was hit by the smell of stale pizza. Harry had left after her on Friday and hadn’t bothered to clear up. She stared wearily at the mess. How hard was it to put a few things in the bin? Just as she finished clearing up, Harry rang.

  ‘Hi, how were the Dullards?’ he said.

  ‘My parents are not dull,’ said Rachel defensively, still cross about the pizza.

  ‘Since when?’ said Harry.

  ‘They just like their routines; nothing wrong with that,’ said Rachel, not in the mood to have a debate about the dullness or otherwise of her parents.

  ‘No, nothing at all,’ said Harry.

  ‘Also, the flat really smelt of pizza when I got back. You could have put it in the bin, you know,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Sorry, I went back to sleep and ended up leaving in a bit of rush. Anyway, I was ringing to see if you fancy a drink?’

  ‘No, no tonight. I’m really tired and I’ve got an early start. Maybe tomorrow,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Oh come on, Rach, just a quick one. I haven’t seen you all weekend. I promise to get you home on time.’

  Rachel hesitated. Harry didn’t often admit that he missed her. But she needed a clear head in the morning. ‘Sorry, Harry, not tonight. I’ve got stuff to get organised.’

  ‘Okay, you be a good girl, go and polish your shoes ready for school tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t tease me, Harry. I’ve got a new project starting and I could do without having a raging hangover on the first day.’

  ‘Alright, I guess I’ll survive. Call me tomorrow, though, okay?’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ said Rachel and they hung up.

  The next morning Rachel woke up early and spent quite a while getting ready. She had a vision of the Beau Street Group being full of immaculate people floating about in white coats and she wanted to make sure she created a good impression.

  Their offices weren’t far from Harley Street and she was meeting the two other members of her team, AJ and Rosa, in the reception. Rachel got there a few minutes early and as she went into the building, the security guard popped his head out of a small room just inside the front doors.

  ‘Lovely day,’ he said, looking out of the large glass pane to the side of the rotating doors. ‘Wind was a bit south-westerly earlier, but it’s dropped now. Shouldn’t be any rain either, so that’s good.’

  From inside his room Rachel could hear a radio, a lady’s voice reading slowly what sounded rather like the shipping forecasts but it was probably just the news. The security guard was a twinkly sort of guy in his sixties, the sort who’d probably worked there for twenty-five years and would soon be joining the carriage clock generation.

  ‘Now, who are you here for?’ He spoke to her as if she was a small child.

  ‘Beau Street Group.’

  ‘Ah yes, let me show you where to go.’ He moved over to where there was a map of the building on the wall and stood by it, slightly to one side, facing her. He coughed slightly as if he was about to start a speech. ‘Now, you are here,’ he said, waving his arm in a theatrical manner towards a large red ‘You are here’ arrow on the map. ‘You need to proceed across the lobby to the reception desk, where you can sign in, here.’ He turned his hand and ran the back of his fingers across the map and then tapped his finger on the square box marked ‘Reception’.

  ‘What, that reception desk over there?’ Rachel asked, pointing to the reception desk that was in full view about twenty feet away.

  ‘Precisely,’ said the security guard.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said Rachel, rather bemused as to why they had needed the whole map on the wall presentation thing. ‘I’ll, er, just walk over there, shall I?’

  ‘Yes, you do that.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Rachel and walked over to a striking but slightly scary looking receptionist.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the receptionist said, tossing her hair slightly as she spoke. Her smile looked slightly lopsided and Rachel suddenly had an overwhelming urge to leap across the desk and peer at her face for signs of surgery. She resisted.

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’m Rachel Altman from Payne Stanley, here to see the finance director, Tom Duffy. He should be expecting me.’

  ‘Take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  ‘I’m just waiting for two colleagues,’ said Rachel. ‘They should be here in a few minutes. I’m slightly early.’

  She sat down and looked around. If the reception was anything to go by, the offices were going to be lovely. The surfaces were adorned with opulent flower arrangements and the decor was deep red with heavily textured wallpaper. The seats in the waiting area were a mix of finely upholstered chairs and soft leather sofas. Small boxes of leaflets advertising various miracle treatments sat on the coffee table, next to a neat pile of beauty magazines. Rachel sat and flicked through one, listening to the quiet hiss of the air conditioning while she waited for the other two to arrive.

  AJ arrived first, shortly followed by Rosa. By the time they’d all signed in, Tom Duffy had arrived in reception. He walked over to them and looked at each of them in turn. Rachel could see that he wasn’t quite sure which of them was in charge, so she quickly stepped forward and held out her hand.

  ‘Hello, Rachel Altman, very nice to meet you, Tom. Can I introduce my team: Alistair James, but everyone calls him AJ, and this is Rosa Castelli.’

  ‘Hello, welcome to the Beau Street Group,’ Tom said, smiling at them and gesturing towards the small lift behind reception. ‘Let’s go up, shall we.’

  The three of them followed Tom into the lifts, up and into a meeting room.

  ‘Can I get you some coffee?’ Tom asked.

  ‘That would be great, thanks,’ said Rachel.

  After the obligatory tea party, they all eventually sat down.

  ‘I understand that you and Carl Stephens have known each other q
uite a long time,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Yes, probably ten years or more now,’ said Tom. ‘We’ve worked together a few times before. How much has Carl told you about this job?’

  ‘He’s given us the basic briefing and we’ve seen the email you sent, but it would be great to hear it from you directly,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Well, it goes without saying that this is all totally confidential,’ said Tom.

  Rachel, AJ and Rosa all nodded earnestly.

  ‘We’ve been approached by the Equinox Practise, a large US-based cosmetic surgery business who are planning to expand in Europe and are interested in buying us. We weren’t looking to sell, but if we can get a good price for the business then we’ll definitely consider it. In order to work out how much they might be prepared to pay, Equinox have asked for a load of information − how much we charge for the procedures we do here, what profits we make, what sort of client base we have, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Yes, I saw the list you sent to Carl,’ said Rachel, nodding.

  ‘Well, we’d like you guys to prepare that for us and then present it to the Americans when they come over in just over a month’s time. It will be much better if it comes from someone independent; avoid them worrying that we might have been selective about what we tell them.’

  ‘Okay, no problem,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Good,’ said Tom. ‘It will be interesting to see how much they might be prepared to pay for us,’ he added, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.

  He didn’t quite rub his hands but Rachel could tell he was imagining the prospect of a large wad of cash coming his way. She’d seen this before, in other businesses they’d worked with. Management teams had often started out very positive about selling, only to be disappointed by the offer that followed. She hoped that this business was as good as they thought it was. It would make a nice change to be able to deliver good news.

  ‘I’ll have the team start bringing you in the information you need. You can work from this office, and I’m just around the corner so just come and find me if you have any questions,’ said Tom.

  Rachel spent the rest of the day finding her way around, organising their project room and briefing Rosa and AJ.

  ‘Don’t forget we need to be professional at all times,’ said Rachel. ‘This is no different to any other business that makes money out of providing a service.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said AJ, laughing. ‘No different at all. Apart from the fact that we’re not in a factory and there are still pictures of tits everywhere.’

  ‘They’re hardly the same as girly calendars, AJ,’ said Rosa. ‘They’re just adverts for boob jobs.’

  ‘I think you’ll find the expression you’re looking for is breast augmentation,’ said Rachel. ‘And it’s what they do, so it’s hardly surprising that they’re advertising them. We’re going to have to get used to talking about this sort of thing and using all the proper expressions as it won’t be that long until we’re standing up presenting about it.’

  ‘I think it’s hilarious,’ said AJ. ‘I have no idea how I’m going to talk to the doctors about what they do with a straight face.’

  ‘You wait until you have to meet the doctors who do penis enlargements,’ said Rachel. ‘That will take the smile off your face.’

  AJ looked horrified. ‘Do they do those here?’

  ‘I expect so,’ said Rachel. ‘Carl said they did pretty much everything going. Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough. We’re getting all the sales figures tomorrow.’

  When Rachel got home she rang Harry and arranged to meet him for a drink. As she got ready to go out she looked at herself in the mirror. She pulled her brown, shoulder-length hair away from her face and peered at it closely. She had a few lines around her eyes and her mouth that she hadn’t really focused on before. Laughter lines, she was pretty sure. That was a good thing, surely? It meant that she was happy and had plenty to laugh about. Rachel hoped this job wasn’t going to start making her obsess about what she looked like. She’d never even thought about cosmetic surgery and now she was going to spend a few weeks studying it in detail. Would it make her more likely to want to have it? Or maybe it would put her off for life. Rachel comforted herself with the thought that the latter was the far more likely option. She was bound to come across some horror stories.

  Harry was playing on the fruit machine when Rachel arrived at the pub.

  ‘Hi, get me a pint, will you?’ he said without looking up. ‘Nearly done.’

  Rachel went over to the bar and ordered a pint and a gin and tonic. She sat down at a table near the fruit machine and watched Harry as he finished using up his credits. His hair flopped slightly onto his forehead as he peered into the machine, trying to see if the matching shapes were just a couple of nudges away.

  He’s very good looking, she thought, remembering how totally spellbound she had been when she first met him. Harry had a very direct way of talking, and that included talking about his feelings for Rachel. She’d never met anyone before who had managed to do that while still being totally cool. A couple of weeks after they’d met, Harry had said to her, ‘You know, Rach, I think it’s the fact that you’re so smart as well as pretty that makes me crazy about you.’ He’d said it in such a matter-of-fact way that it came across as simply that, a fact. She’d been so surprised and flattered that she’d had no idea what to say in reply. So she’d said nothing. Instead, she’d got up, taken his hand and flagged down a cab to take them back to her flat. What a night that had been. For a long time Rachel hadn’t quite been able to believe her luck and kept waiting to find out what the catch with Harry was.

  Eventually she worked it out. His directness made him incredibly persuasive and she found it almost impossible to say no to him. As a result, he was constantly leading her astray. When he wanted to go on somewhere and she wanted to go home, he would say to her, ‘It’s not as much fun if you don’t come. I just want you with me, Rachel.’ And she knew he meant it.

  Harry finished his last spin and came over to join her.

  ‘Good day at school?’

  ‘Yes, really good actually,’ Rachel said.

  Normally she wouldn’t bother to tell Harry much about the details of her day as she knew he wasn’t interested. Office jobs were just that, as far as he was concerned. Rachel often wondered how Harry could be so into her at the same time as being so disinterested in something that was such a big part of her life. However, this project was different: she was sure he’d be interested in this one. Yes it was confidential, but this was only Harry. He didn’t exactly move in the same circles as cosmetic surgeons.

  ‘I’ve started a new project: a cosmetic surgery business that’s up for sale,’ she said, quickly adding, ‘I think quite a lot of celebrities might go there.’

  ‘Wow, how cool! What sort of things do they do?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Most things, I think. We’ll be finding out tomorrow. Certainly plenty of boob jobs, though, judging by the posters they have about the place.’

  ‘Will you get to see the before and after photos?’

  ‘Harry!’ Rachel gently punched his arm. ‘I know we get to look at most things but even we don’t have good reason to start rifling through medical photos. I might get to find out which celebs have had stuff done, though, as we’re going to be having a good look at the client base.’

  ‘Might be a few good stories in that,’ said Harry.

  ‘I’m sure the whole place is full of stories. Anyway, I haven’t got long to learn all about it as we’re going to be presenting to the American buyers in a few weeks. So I’ll need to know my Botox from my buttock lifts by then.’

  ‘Buttock lifts? Too weird,’ said Harry. ‘Why would you bother doing that?’

  ‘Because people don’t like having saggy arses, I guess,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Well, they should use you as their after model,’ Harry said, slipping his arm around Rachel’s waist.

  ‘Wh
at are you after?’ said Rachel.

  ‘You,’ said Harry.

  Rachel laughed. As usual Harry was pushing all the right buttons.

  ‘How was your day?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Not bad. I spent most of it trying to track down this bloke who’s promised me an intro to a golf pro he knows. Apparently he’s teaching some great new putting technique and I want to interview him about it. He’s already got a few of the top golfers on his books and I want to get to him before it becomes old news. Found the bloke eventually, and I think after a few rounds of golf and a couple of decent lunches, the story’s mine.’

  ‘It’s a tough life,’ said Rachel. ‘One sporting event or long lunch after another. I don’t know how you cope.’

  ‘I know, it’s taken years of training,’ said Harry.

  ‘Years of watching sport and drinking lager more like.’

  ‘Every job has its own type of training. I just happen to be perfectly suited to mine.’

  Rachel had to agree with him. Harry was perfectly suited to his job. Mind you, she was pretty good at hers too; well, most of the time anyway.

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s go and get a curry.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Rachel, suddenly realising how hungry she was.

  As they were eating, Harry’s phone beeped with a text message.

  ‘It’s Paul,’ said Harry. ‘He’s got some spare tickets for the comedy club and wants to know if we want to meet him there?’

  ‘What time do you think it’ll finish?’

  ‘Probably around eleven thirty. It should be a laugh. I’ll text him back yes.’

  ‘Okay, but I can’t be too late − early start in the morning and I need my beauty sleep,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Hardly,’ said Harry.

  The show actually finished well after midnight and by the time Rachel got home it was closer to one a.m. She reluctantly set her alarm for six a.m. and climbed into bed.

  Chapter 4

  Rachel sat in the meeting room at Beau Street convinced that she was sweating curry. The room wasn’t that big and it had got quite warm with the three of them working in it. Rachel grabbed two breath-freshening mints from her bag and put them in her mouth, swilling them round to get rid of any hint of last night. The double shot latte that she’d drunk on the way in had kicked in though, and she was raring to go. One of Tom Duffy’s team had dropped off a large set of files containing sales and client information that morning and they’d also been given a computer with access to booking records.