Never Mind The Botox: Rachel Page 7

  Rachel hung up and rang Rowan. As she suspected he jumped at the chance. She rang Shali back.

  ‘All sorted,’ she said. ‘Rowan will come with you to the summer party.’

  ‘You star, thank you. I’m really looking forward to it,’ said Shali.

  Rachel wished she could say the same thing. At least Rowan would be there now. He could help her keep Harry in check.

  Chapter 7

  A couple of days after the all-party meeting, Rachel headed out of Beau Street in the direction of the suit hire shop. The previous evening Harry had reluctantly allowed her to take his measurements so she could get him a black tie suit for the summer party. He hadn’t been exactly helpful as she did it, hardly standing still and continually asking if she’d finished. Her efforts to cheer him up while taking his inside leg measurement had had no effect at all. He’d decided the evening would be rubbish, he was grumpy about it and that was that.

  She entered the slightly musty smelling shop and a man with large glasses and a bulbous red nose appeared from the back.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to hire a man’s black tie suit, please,’ said Rachel.

  ‘We do prefer to fit them ourselves to make sure they’re right. Is the gentleman able to pop in?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid he isn’t, but I’ve taken all the measurements I think you’ll need.’

  Rachel took out the used envelope on which she’d written Harry’s measurements. The man looked at the random list of numbers suspiciously.

  ‘Do you know which is which?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Rachel. ‘I started at the top and worked down.’

  ‘Hmm, I see, so this is the chest measurement?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  The man looked at the envelope carefully and started going through the rails of jackets. He picked out a jacket and then looked again at the measurements.

  ‘Where did you measure the inside leg from?’ he asked.

  ‘Er, from the top of the inside of his leg, where else would I measure it from?’ Rachel felt herself starting to go red.

  ‘You’re meant to measure it from the crotch of a pair of trousers. If you measured right to the top of his leg, I’ll need to take a bit off this measurement otherwise his trousers will be too long. Are you sure that’s where you measured from?’ The man looked at her impatiently.

  Rachel suddenly wasn’t exactly sure where she’d measured from. She hadn’t been paying that much attention.

  ‘Yes, I think so, pretty much the top of his actual leg.’

  ‘Look, I’ll take an inch and a half off this measurement. That should be about right. But do ask the gentleman to check them, and if they’re not right, just bring them back.’

  ‘Great, thanks, I will,’ said Rachel, glad to get away.

  Later that evening when Harry came round, she showed him the suit.

  ‘Looks good, doesn’t it? What do you think?’

  ‘It’s a black tie suit, what do you expect me to say?’

  God, he’s so touchy, thought Rachel.

  ‘Would you mind trying it on, just to check I got the measurements right?’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ said Harry.

  ‘I think you should try it anyway, just to be sure.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Rachel, it’ll be fine! Just stop going on about it.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Rachel and she marched into her bedroom and put the suit away in her wardrobe. ‘Will you come here to get ready on Saturday?’

  ‘Guess so.’ Harry changed the subject. ‘Anything good on TV tonight or shall we go out for a drink?’

  Rachel thought they should go out, break the atmosphere a bit. ‘Oh let’s go out. A pub supper and a few beers sounds like a plan.’

  As they ate in the pub, Rachel chatted breezily about nothing in particular. She was careful not to mention work or the summer party again. Harry didn’t reply much to begin with but once they’d both had a couple of drinks, the conversation started to flow again, and after several more they were back to laughing and joking as normal. And also as normal, Rachel woke up the next morning late and hungover.

  It was just after six a.m. on the morning of the summer party and Rachel hadn’t slept well. She looked at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time and tried to go back to sleep. After a few minutes she gave up and got up to make a cup of coffee. She sat at the kitchen table in a pair of oversized pyjamas staring blearily out of the window. There wasn’t much to see really, just back walls and a few small patches of grass, but the familiarity of it was quite comforting.

  She ran through the day ahead in her mind. Harry was coming over around six thirty to get ready and she was going to spend an easy day doing a bit of shopping and generally pottering about. She had a bit of work to do on the Beau Street report, but that could wait until Sunday evening.

  She’d decided to wear a pretty safe black dress and heels, not too short or showing too much flesh. She’d booked a pedicure and blow dry, though, as well groomed was definitely the order of the day. That would take up most of the afternoon. But she was tired, so maybe she could squeeze in a quick nap before lunch to make up for the tossing and turning of the night before. God, men were lucky. Harry would have a five minute shower, run some gel through his hair and that would be it.

  She’d really wanted to talk to Harry about how important it was to her that the summer party went smoothly, but she hadn’t dare mention it again. They were bound to just end up rowing. Plus she didn’t want to make the evening bigger than it was. It was just a party after all. She’d managed to talk to Rowan briefly when she rang to check his ticket had arrived. He’d promised to keep an eye on Harry and that had made her feel slightly better.

  Rachel did go back to bed and slept so heavily that she was almost late for her beauty appointments. Her vision of spending a relaxing afternoon being pampered was ruined by the fact that she had to run for ten minutes once she got off the bus and arrived at the salon out of breath and sweating. But after a couple of hours of massage and magazines, she began to feel quite mellow. She had a long bath when she got home, and by the time Harry arrived she was feeling calm and actually starting to look forward to the party.

  She opened the door to Harry in her dressing gown, as she was saving putting her dress on until the last minute.

  ‘Just got up?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Ha, ha,’ said Rachel, mildly irritated by the remark considering how long she’d spent doing her hair and make-up. As Harry walked past her into the living room, a strong smell of alcohol wafted in his wake.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Football, great match.’

  Harry wandered unsteadily into the kitchen, took two slices of bread out of the bread bin and put them in the toaster. ‘God, I’m starving. I only had a pasty for lunch,’ he said.

  Rachel followed him into the kitchen and popped the bread back up. ‘Harry, we’re about to go out for dinner!’

  Harry popped the slices back down again. ‘I’m hungry now. And besides, I need a cheese toastie, not some fillet of fish with a load of rabbit food.’

  Rachel hesitated, trying to decide how best to react. She could tell Harry had already had quite a few drinks and the last thing she wanted was a row before they’d even left the house. Plus he should probably eat something.

  ‘Alright,’ she said, ‘but don’t take ages − our taxi will be here in half an hour.’

  Rachel was relieved to see Harry wolf down his sandwich and head in the direction of the shower. She’d already left out his black tie suit on the bed. True to form, Harry was out of the shower and getting dressed five minutes later. He walked back into the sitting room and stood in front of her, glaring.

  ‘What?’ Rachel asked.

  Harry looked down at his feet. His suit trousers were at least an inch too short.

  ‘Oh shit!’ said Rachel.


  ‘Yes, oh shit!’ Harry replied.

  ‘I told you to try them, you idiot,’ said Rachel.

  ‘You’re the idiot that measured them,’ retorted Harry. ‘Honestly, how hard can it be to get right?’

  ‘Well, if you’d stood still for ten seconds rather than dancing around like an eel on speed, I might have had a better chance of getting the measurements right.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going wearing these.’

  Rachel felt slightly panicked. What a start to the evening.

  ‘They aren’t that short. Let me have a look.’ She loosened the fastener on the waistband of the trousers and pulled them down so they sat a bit lower on Harry’s waist. ‘Look, that’s better.’

  Harry looked down and seemed marginally placated by the adjustment.

  ‘The taxi will be here soon. Why don’t you watch TV while I put my dress on? I’ll get you a beer.’

  Rachel quickly grabbed a beer out of the fridge and turned on the sports channel before there was any more talk of not going. She jumped into her dress and had just finished getting ready when the doorbell rang. Harry finished his beer and much to Rachel’s relief they left. As Harry walked in front of her to the taxi his beer-induced sway seemed to accentuate the shortness of his trousers. Rachel shook her head.

  The summer party was being held in a magnificent Georgian hall in the centre of London. Between the columns at the front were burning torches that were flicking gently in the light wind and Rachel could see an enormous sweeping staircase inside. Her heart started pounding slightly. The two doormen who greeted them were dressed in fairly comical outfits that included red socks, knee-length britches with tassels at the bottom, gold jackets and pointed red hats. Seemingly unaware of the fancy-dress-like qualities of their outfits, they greeted Harry and Rachel with very solemn nods and waved them in the direction of the great staircase.

  ‘Christ, this place is posh,’ said Harry.

  ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ said Rachel. ‘Look at those paintings on the staircase.’

  Large gilt-edged portraits of regal men and women regarded them from the middle of ornate panels as they climbed the staircase.

  ‘It feels like they’re all staring at me,’ said Harry. ‘Freaky load of old, dead people.’

  As they reached the top of the stairs there was a waitress holding a tray of champagne while an efficient-looking lady in a black trouser suit from Rachel’s office was discreetly checking invitations. Rachel took a glass of champagne.

  ‘Do you have any beer?’ Harry asked the waitress.

  Rachel cringed.

  The poker-faced waitress didn’t. She smiled politely at Harry. ‘Certainly, sir. They will have beer at the bar in the Rose Room where you’re having your pre-dinner drinks.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Rachel.

  She put her arm through Harry’s, straightened her back slightly and guided him through into the Rose Room. The room was already full of people chatting and laughing. Harry made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer. Rachel looked around for people she knew and was relieved to spot Rowan and Shali standing on the far side of the room. Shali had clearly not gone for the safe dress option like Rachel. She was wearing a very short silver puffball dress with a plunging neckline and a pair of sparkly slingback shoes.

  ‘Wow, look at you,’ said Rachel to Shali as they kissed each other on both cheeks.

  Harry and Rowan shook hands.

  ‘Thanks, you look fab too,’ said Shali.

  She also hugged Harry and Rachel noticed her momentary glance at his trouser length.

  Harry looked at Shali’s dress and gave Rowan an approving nod.

  Rowan grinned. ‘Thanks so much for inviting me,’ he said to all of them. ‘What a great place!’

  ‘I had a look at the seating plan. We aren’t together but both our tables are okay, no total losers,’ said Shali.

  ‘Thank God,’ said Rachel. ‘Do you remember last year? I had that miserable bloke Michael Morray and his wife on my table. They were such hard work. He hardly said a word all night. I hit all my best tennis balls of conversation over the net but none of them got returned. She was a vegan and hated that we were all eating beef. She also clearly thought that it was our fault that her husband worked too hard and she never saw him.’

  ‘If I had a wife like that, I’d never be home either,’ said Harry. ‘I’d just stay in the office all day eating bacon sandwiches.’

  They all laughed and Rachel was pleased that Harry seemed relaxed.

  There was then a loud knocking noise.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman, dinner is served,’ bellowed a small, rotund man standing in the doorway to the Rose Room.

  ‘Great, I’m starving,’ said Rowan. They found their places on the seating plan and went into the Great Hall. Huge chandeliers hung above circular tables decorated with crisp, white tablecloths and strikingly tall red roses. A string quartet was playing soft, lilting music.

  ‘See you after dinner,’ Rowan said to Rachel and he squeezed her arm as if to say good luck.

  Rachel and Harry found their table, which they were sharing with three other couples. Marcus, Simon and Louise were all from her department and here with their other halves, none of whom she knew. She and Marcus were the most senior people. Much to Rachel’s relief there were no partners on her table.

  Rachel could see Rowan and Shali’s table from where she was sitting and Rowan was busy walking round shaking hands with the other people on his table. He’s so polite, thought Rachel. By contrast, Harry had sat down already and was studying the menu.

  ‘Thank fuck for that! It’s lamb,’ said Harry to no one in particular.

  The others looked slightly shocked.

  ‘Oh, shall we do introductions?’ said Rachel quickly. ‘This is Harry. He’s my, er, partner.’ Boyfriend somehow sounded a bit tacky all of a sudden.

  ‘Hi,’ said Harry, raising his hand like he was answering a question at school but without actually looking up from the menu.

  Marcus followed Rachel. ‘Good evening, everyone. I’m Marcus and this is my wife Melissa.’

  Rachel paid close attention as they all introduced themselves, repeating their names in an effort to remember them all. Good networking practice. Harry focused, instead, on pouring the wine, his glass first.

  To Rachel’s relief, dinner was relatively uneventful. Marcus’ wife fortunately asked Harry what he did, giving him the opportunity to exaggerate and show off at the same time, two of his favourite pastimes. But he didn’t offend anyone and the stories he entertained the table with were just about decent.

  After dinner the disco began playing and people started to move about between tables.

  ‘Come on, let’s mingle,’ said Rachel.

  They went and found Shali and Rowan who were chatting at the bar in the Great Hall.

  ‘Rowan, why don’t you stay with Harry for a bit while Shali and I do the work rounds,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Great plan,’ said Harry, turning to order at the bar. ‘Large scotch, no ice. Rowan, what are you drinking?’

  ‘Your brother’s a good laugh,’ said Shali as they walked away.

  ‘Yes, and he’s married, don’t forget,’ said Rachel.

  ‘I know, calm down. I’m just saying he’s great company,’ said Shali.

  ‘Yes, you’re right, he is. Look, catch you in a bit − I’m off to chat to a few people.’

  Rachel circulated around the room, making sure she said hello to most of the partners and anyone else she felt was important. Harry had started off drinking at the bar with Rowan, but the last time she’d looked over he was talking to Paul from the post room. Harry had a habit of making new best friends at this sort of event, particularly those who hung out at the bar and liked sport. Paul fitted the bill perfectly. She could see them drinking and laughing and was slightly concerned that things might get a bit out of hand, but at least it left her free to chat.


  ‘Hello, Rachel, are you having fun?’

  Rachel turned round. It was Carl Stephens and his wife. Rachel composed herself.

  ‘Hello, Carl, and you must be Sarah, very nice to meet you.’ Rachel held her hand out to an attractive but unremarkable woman in a flowery dress with short dark hair that feathered around her face.

  ‘Hello, are you in Carl’s team?’ Sarah seemed genuinely interested.

  ‘Yes, I am. We’re working on a project together at the moment, so he’s keeping my nose well and truly to the grindstone.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘Don’t you listen to him. He’s a right old softie underneath.’

  Carl looked slightly uncomfortable and was about to reply when Rowan walked past them. Rachel grabbed him, pleased to be able to change the subject.

  ‘Carl, can I introduce you to my brother, Rowan. He’s here as Shali’s guest. Rowan, this is Carl Stephens. He’s one of the partners in my office.’

  ‘Ah yes, so he is, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Stephens.’ Rowan was slurring his words as he spoke. ‘Sorry if I seem a bit drunk,’ he continued. ‘That’s because I am. Haven’t been out that much lately − you know, new baby and all that. Seems I’ve turned into a bit of a cheap date in the meantime.’

  ‘How lovely, a new baby. Is it your first?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Yes, well, that I know about anyway!’ Rowan laughed and tried to punch Sarah on the arm but missed and stumbled sideways a bit. ‘Sorry, think I better carry on my journey to the gents’ before I fall over completely. Very nice to meet you. And try not to spend too much time in hotel bars now, will you, Carl, hey?’

  Rowan winked clumsily at Carl and wandered away in the direction of the gents’.

  Carl looked shocked and Rachel was both mortified and speechless at the same time.

  ‘What did he mean by that?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I have no idea,’ answered Carl. ‘Rachel, it seems that your brother can’t take his drink.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Rachel. ‘He’s not normally like that at all. I think he’s just a bit worn out by his new baby and a bit out of practice as he hasn’t been going out much for the last few months. I’ll make sure he doesn’t have any more.’