Izzy considered. Luce was right, so long as she didn’t mind.
‘Thanks, I’ll do that.’ Izzy looked up to see Thom and Declan, two other twenty-something Vintage Crew members, wandering in from the street. ‘Here comes the muscle. I’m guessing they’ll be here to help you out too if there’s anything you need.’
Meanwhile Izzy had to make sure that mind reading Luce didn’t twig exactly how much the awful guy from the building site was distracting her. ‘If that’s all out here, I’ll go and sort out the kitchen.’
Izzy had no idea what was going on with the skip man. Even now could still feel shivers on her skin, where he’d touched her foot. If Luce had the slightest inkling there was still a trace of his smell on Izzy’s jacket, and worse, that Izzy kept breathing it in, Izzy would never hear the end of it.
RE: RED ALERT!!!
To Dida and the cinema crew,
Quick tan central has been taken over by someone local called Joe Kerr, according to my mate who works in traffic at the council. Watch this space. Will send more info as I get it, the spies are out,
Ollie, sent from Goa, India
Friday Afternoon, 6th June
IZZY
At home
Nirvana
Back home, Izzy dived into her painting dungarees, and pushed her jacket firmly out of reach to stop herself from breathing in the scent of that insufferable man. Under her pillow, in her bedroom, two floors up from the sunny terrace outside the kitchen where she was going to be painting, seemed like the best place. That way she definitely wouldn’t be tempted to bury her face in it – two days on and the scent of the hot guy was still vaguely there, and she still wasn’t even sure what it was. Paco Rabane? Soap? And a hefty smudge of testosterone, no doubt.
Izzy had spent the morning helping Luce transfer her wedding dresses across to the cinema. Given Luce’s reticence, she had decided that direct action was the only way forward to ensure the Bridal Studio idea became a reality. A few well-chosen accessories transformed the projection room, and another part of their Vintage Cinema Club Plan was in place. Luce’s pale anxiety had been replaced with flushed excitement by the time Izzy left her.
As far as Izzy was concerned, the fastest way to reach Nirvana, apart from burying your head in fabrics that smelled of someone delectable, was to paint. The moment she had the brush in her hand, the real world around the edges melted out of focus, and all she concentrated on was her brush strokes. It soothed her, it calmed her, it took her to another level. Better still, the giant endorphin boost of satisfaction for whatever transformation she’d just pulled off, made her feel like she was flying. Talk about afterglow. And better still she got paid for the end result. Who wouldn’t have been obsessed with it?
Three years ago, when Vintage at the Cinema began, Izzy majored in white and cream and pale grey, but the huge public demand for all things white was turning. Fifties brights were very popular now, and rich aubergines were also going down a storm. As for sludgy pink chairs, they were flying out so fast, she could barely keep up with demand.
Izzy had hauled lots of bits and pieces from her storage shed lower down the garden, onto the terrace, which she had swathed in dust sheets. Sitting in a splash of sunlight, by the open kitchen French windows, she began to paint. Today, despite the air being filled with the scent of early-summer lilac, her mind refused to wander any further than yesterday’s grubby building site, and guess who…? It was as if her brain had the whole action replay on repeat. It was like when her younger twin brothers played on their FIFA game on X box, and the snippets of commentary kept coming round again and again. Except each time she heard her own voice in her memory, she cringed, and kicked herself, wishing she’d said something different. Talk about torture.
By four o’clock she was exhausted and bemused, but at least she had a satisfying array of transformed tables, cupboards, chairs and frames, drying in the sun. Just looking at them made her insides go all warm with a glow of well-being. Every time she made something perfect again, it reinforced that she was in control of her life. She was just about to head inside to wash her brushes when her phone rang.
She grabbed her handset. ‘Luce, shouldn’t you be picking up Ruby?’
‘No, I’m at work, Ruby and Lolly are at Dida’s.’ Luce gave a husky laugh. ‘And I’m ringing to tell you about a hot guy, at six o’clock.’
Automatically Izzy scanned the horizon, as she did whenever Luce tipped her off about talent in the vicinity. ‘Thanks for the heads up, but I’m definitely too far away to appreciate him from here.’
‘I’m not talking six o clock positions.’ Luce sounded as if she couldn’t believe Izzy hadn’t understood. ‘Six o’ clock is the time for the delivery I’ve organised for you to do. Remember the new initiative? And this delivery is to the yummiest guy ever, who’s just walked out of here. I’m setting you up, okay?’
Or how about not okay. Izzy was kicking herself now, but she’d brought this on herself, when she should have known better. The merest mention of a man this morning, and Luce had launched into a full blown “grab a man for Izzy” offensive.
‘Why didn’t you grab him first?’ Izzy queried. It was a fact of life that the male shoppers honed in on Luce, and she was exceptionally up for fun times, so long as it wasn’t any more than that. What’s more, sometimes flirting sold furniture, simple as.
‘I’ve got someone else in mind for now…’ Luce didn’t elaborate. ‘And to be honest this particular guy didn’t seem that interested in me.’
Not interested? Izzy couldn’t see that being true. As for whoever Luce was thinking about, Izzy didn’t always keep track of the string of guys who Luce saw. Sometimes she hooked up with Josh, who was a dead ringer for Henry Cavill, guaranteed any girl a great time in bed, but shied away from anything more permanent since his mum died. Or Cal, who was similarly gifted, and up for no ties, whilst working past a break up. The others came and went. End of.
A while back it had maybe seemed like Luce was going a bit more crazy than usual on her Friday nights off. But now Izzy came to think of it, lately she’d barely been aware of Luce’s liaisons at all. Luce passing over the guy with the delivery was maybe a sign of a bigger trend Izzy had been a) blind and b) stupid, not to notice.
Luce carried on. ‘There’s only a couple of bedside cupboards to deliver to him, and that small rocking horse of yours.’
‘No…’ Izzy let out a groan. ‘I know I have to sell things, but I love that horse, it’ll be a real wrench to let it go.’ She knew she shouldn’t complain. Sales were sales, and getting attached or sentimental in this business was not an option, especially now.
‘A rocking horse is definitely a better bet that a falabella pony.’ Luce complained. ‘Honestly these falabellas are all we hear about at the moment, Ruby and Lolly are crazy about them. Daisy Benson from school’s got one, unfortunately for Dida and me. They’re the size of a dog, but they’re actually a horse, in perfect miniature detail - they even smell of horse apparently.’
‘Sorry, but I’m with Ruby and Lolly on this one, they sound adorable.’ Izzy gave a smile.
‘Exactly, that’s the whole trouble.’ Luce let out a wail. ‘Daisy’s pony is just big enough to pull a little cart with a can of lager in. Ruby isn’t so bad, because she