When the car stopped, Richard kept the engine running. A sure sign he wouldn’t be coming in. However, as he leaned towards her, she readied herself for the kiss goodbye, half closing her eyes in anticipation. She could feel the warmth of his skin as he came close, could smell his faint cologne. Just when she expected him to make contact, he swerved past her to wrestle with the door handle until he finally pushed open her door.
‘Wretched thing often sticks,’ he explained, as he sat back in his seat, putting both hands on the steering-wheel. He turned towards her, his features unreadable in the shadowy dark of the car. ‘You were a star tonight. Thank you.’
Picking up her cue, she got out swiftly and said good night.
Later, sitting up alone and nursing a small, consoling glass of whisky, she had written off her disappointment in his evident lack of interest as an aberration brought about by the effects of alcohol and success. Her response moved from disappointed to pragmatic. If that was how he wanted things between them, fine. She counted herself lucky to have him as a friend. Thank God she hadn’t embarrassed herself. She twisted her engagement ring round her finger. She had never doubted her feelings for Nick and she was sure he had felt the same for her. She still found it extraordinary how certain they had both been about each other from the beginning. Would she ever find someone like him again?
As soon as they were engaged, Nick wanted to make things official by asking Maureen for Christie’s hand in marriage. He had spoken to her once or twice on the phone when she had rung to talk to Christie. She hadn’t been impressed. ‘Christine, why is your young man at your flat so early in the morning on a weekday? I hope you aren’t living together. Your father would be so disappointed.’
‘Mum, no, he’s not living with me but he does stay the night sometimes. It’s almost the year two thousand so, please, let me be.’
Hmm. Well, I’d like to meet him, that’s all. Just to make sure he’s right for you. You’ve always been such a bad judge of character and could do with the benefit of my experience.’
‘Mel likes him,’ Christie protested.
‘Well, I don’t much approve of her lifestyle either. Fashion students don’t live in the real world, do they?’
And now Nick and Christie were engaged. Mel knew and so did their friends. But they deliberately kept Maureen in the dark. As soon as Christie was wearing her rather large and sparkly engagement ring, she arranged to drive up to see her mother. ‘Mum, is it OK if I come up for Sunday lunch?’
‘Well, if it’s nice I may be working in the garden and not want to cook.’ Maureen was justifiably proud of her small garden on which she lavished much care.
‘That’s all right. It’s just that I was going to bring someone to meet you. Nick.’ Christie held her breath, waiting for her mother’s reaction.
‘Why didn’t you say so? You are silly and secretive sometimes. I’ll do a coronation chicken salad with my new potatoes. Will he like that?’
As they pulled up at Maureen’s, Christie couldn’t help comparing this humble house to Nick’s parental pile. Nick squeezed her hand. ‘I’m a bit nervous. Do you think she’ll like me?’
‘Couldn’t give a toss if she doesn’t.’ And she didn’t. Nick was everything she had ever wanted in a man, and whatever her mother said wouldn’t change her mind. As they clicked open the gate, the front door opened to reveal Maureen dressed in her best. She looked at Nick and almost fainted. As she was to tell her circle of church-flowers ladies later, ‘He’s like that Mr Darcy but with better manners. Christine’s no Elizabeth Bennet but she’s done very well for herself. I did think the ring was a little vulgar, though.’
Nick laid on all the charm he had for Maureen, and after lunch and the obligatory tour of her manicured back garden, he asked her if he could marry her daughter. Maureen couldn’t get the sherry out fast enough. At last, a son-in-law. And a son-in-law who would inherit a highland castle at that.
‘So what I’m saying is …’ Julia seemed not to have drawn breath since they’d begun lunch. They were in Le Caprice, just around the corner from the Ritz, at her ‘usual table’. Prominently positioned in the corner to the right of the bar, she could see everyone entering the restaurant and, more importantly they could see her and her guest. From the moment Christie had sat down, Julia had taken control of the conversation. This was the first time since their working arrangement had been established that her agent had invited Christie to anything remotely social. Not that this was remotely social, as it turned out. They had discussed the minutiae of Christie’s presenting style and one or two other media opportunities that Julia might pursue on her behalf.
Christie surreptitiously nudged at the sleeve of her cardigan so that she could see her watch. As she suspected, the time had whizzed by. If she didn’t leave soon, she would never get to Libby’s school in time for the meeting with Mrs Snell, the head teacher. Although she was listening to Julia, her mind was already on its way there. She had no idea why she had been asked to come in. It was still early in the new term and Libby hadn’t mentioned any difficulties at school. Mrs Snell had been irritatingly circumspect, insisting that it was better they talked face to face. ‘And perhaps it would be wise not to mention to Libby that you’re coming to see me,’ she’d added, as an afterthought, yet still wouldn’t be drawn on the reason. Why not? Questions had been racing through Christie’s mind since the call two days ago, but she had failed to come up with any answers.
‘… you’ve got great on-screen chemistry with Sam,’ Julia carried on. ‘And you really do connect with the viewer. You’re one of those presenters who can see right down the bottle of that camera lens to reach your audience. Your confidence is building and you’re getting into your stride.’ She leaned across the table. ‘Your interview technique is interesting too. You make it all appear warm and friendly but, when need be, you’re not afraid to ask the tough question. And …’ she paused ‘… since the dress fiasco, you haven’t looked too bad either.’
Christie was annoyed that her agent still insisted on referring to her first appearance in those terms. Julia had phoned her after each show during the subsequent two weeks, pronouncing herself satisfied or not with what she had seen. Meanwhile, Frank and Mel both took every comment personally until Christie stopped reporting back.
Having Julia’s watchful eye had both reassured Christie and put her more on edge. She had breathed a huge sigh of relief when Julia had eventually pronounced herself satisfied. Her confidence had also grown because, since Gilly had introduced her to the nation, they hadn’t crossed paths. Christie worked from Wednesday to Friday, happy in the knowledge that the other woman wouldn’t be there to undermine her.
‘There is one thing that I wanted to ask you about, Julia.’ She twisted her wedding ring around her finger.
‘Ask away.’ Her agent gestured with a manicured hand that the floor was hers.
‘I’ve just checked my bank account and I’m a bit concerned that I haven’t been paid as much as we agreed. It’s probably a mistake but I wanted to check.’ Her shopping had made a nasty, guilt-inducing hole that hadn’t been filled as promptly as she’d anticipated.
‘Of