New York Valentine Part 25

'I don't think Mom will change her mind, even if you are very nice to me,' he said gently.

'No,' Elena said against his shoulder.

'She told me you were coming to see her, so I rushed over as fast as I could. I had to see you and ... well, you haven't been easy to see lately.'

'No,' she said again, wanting the tears to stop, but they came thick and fast, creating a stain on his shirt.

He still held her tightly.

'Have you followed me from Bloomingdale's?' Elena asked, lifting her head and scanning his face anxiously.

Sye smiled and nodded.

'So ... did you see me in the clothes store?' she asked, wondering why he was still holding her and not speed-dialling a psychiatrist.

Sye nodded again.

'I had a crazy moment.'

'No ... you had a sane moment,' he told her. 'You didn't buy another double shopping bag with a double knot on top.'

She searched his eyes. He was smiling, but he also looked concerned, sympathetic.

'Did you know?'

'About the compulsive shopping bag thing? Elena, anyone who's been in your bedroom knows.'

She rested her head against his shoulder and had the most wonderful feeling that from now on, everything had a very real chance of turning out OK.

Sye kissed her on the forehead then told her: 'You're worth full price, baby. Try to remember that.'

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Connor in town: Tight black T-shirt (Diesel)

Purple chinos (Jermyn Street)

Black ballet pumps (Freed)

Black messenger bag (Mulberry)

Total est. cost: $570

'Time for another c.o.c.ktail.'

'Flatiron-slash-Union Square is like the best neighbourhood. Seriously ...'

Connor's New Best Friend Freddie, c.o.c.ktail in hand, was holding forth.

Connor had only stepped off the plane a few hours ago, but already he was hunkered down in the bar of the nanosecond, surrounded by beautiful people, looking utterly at home.

Was Freddie's hair real, or fake? Real? Fake? Annie wondered. It was hard to tell. Especially after a second martini. He was light black were you allowed to say light black? But his hair was bleach blond, very straight and either made of plastic or totally covered in some heavy-duty hair product.

Still, real or fake hair aside, this was Annie, out in another achingly cool New York bar. Again. At home, she hadn't had a night out in months. Here it was routine. You ate out, you went out, you didn't even make breakfast at home, and she had the great gaping hole in her bank account to prove it.

'My famous NBF lives round there,' Freddie added.

'So who's that?' Connor asked.

'Emily Wilmington.'

'Emily Wilmington?' Annie repeated 'No way.'

'Yes way. Waaaaay yes.'

'I've seen her. She lives on Elena's street,' Lana chipped in. 'That's where we're staying.'

'Are you on 16th? Get outta here.'

'Do you know Emily Wilmington?' Annie asked.

'Of course I know her, she's my NBF.'

'Would you give her one of our dresses?'

'Mum!! That's a brilliant idea!' Lana exclaimed.

'Well ... yeah ... if I like your dress enough, then I will pa.s.s it on to her. She gets a lot of stuff and, believe me, most of it is ...' Freddie pulled a face, 'sooooo tacky.'

'Our dresses are definitely not tacky,' Lana said sternly.

'Lana ...' Annie turned to her daughter, 'has Elena told you? She wants to have a fashion show, so that all our potential customers can see just how amazing the new dresses are.'

'A fashion show? Genius!' Lana agreed.

'A fashion show?' Freddie clapped his hands gleefully. 'Waaaaaay exciting. I know this hotel. Soooo cool. My friend's the manager, I'm sure we could do a deal.'

'Will you invite Emily to our fashion show?' Lana asked quickly.

'I will ask her but her schedule ...' Freddie rolled his eyes, 'impossible!'

Annie couldn't help smiling at Connor's NBF, Freddie, who was also Emily's NBF. It was a complex web of relationships.

'Having a lovely time, Annie?' Connor asked, moving his arm around her, 'or missing home?'

'You know, sort of both. If I don't think about home, I am having the best time ever. But as soon as I stop for a moment to think about the babies, I miss them very much.'

'Time for another c.o.c.ktail.'

'Maybe. What do you think of Lana, by the way?' Annie asked in a whisper. 'Don't you think she's turning out so beautiful?'

Connor turned and took a long appraising look at Annie's daughter, who was currently deep in conversation with personal trainer Gawain. In true personal trainer mode, Gawain was drinking a gra.s.sy green pure vegetable and wheatgra.s.s concoction.

'Roddy's looks and your brains,' Connor said cheekily, 'a totally winning combination. She is going to go very far.'

Annie smacked his arm: 'Roddy's looks? Don't I have any looks left?'

'Nah, not really. You're a saggy mum now. That is your USR.'

When Connor saw how much this made Annie's face fall, he promptly called Gawain over.

Gawain, the buffest, trimmest man Annie had ever set eyes upon, positively skipped across to sit beside them. He was so dainty and light on his feet, Annie was convinced that he must once have been a ballet dancer. His muscles were firm and tight but tiny in the way she'd seen on the occasional dancer body she'd helped to dress in her days at The Store.

'Hi there, I'm Gawain, professional body re-sculptor, proprietor of Train with Gawain, trademark,' he said and held out his hand for her to shake.

She took his hand and shook it, although he'd done this only thirty minutes or so before when he'd come in and met her the first time. Maybe it was a self-promotion thing. He aimed to tell you his name and his profession so often that you always remembered him.

'Gawain, my darling,' Connor began, 'Annie and I were talking about her physique. She's on television in Britain, you know.'

Annie could have done with slightly less of the appalled surprise in Gawain's, 'Really?'

'Yes and, just like me, she could do with a little shape-up, don't you think?'

'Stand up,' Gawain instructed Annie.

Annie really did not want to stand up in some hipper-than-hot Manhattan bar and be professionally appraised by a body re-sculptor. But Connor prodded her and she got to her feet.

Now everyone at the two tables they'd occupied was looking at her.

'Yeah ... I'm getting it,' Gawain said, 'and turn.'

Annie shuffled round in the tight s.p.a.ce, trying to ensure that her well-padded derriere didn't deal a death blow to any of the astronomically expensive c.o.c.ktails.

Gawain leaned over and prodded a surprisingly sharp index finger into her lower b.u.t.tock. When she wheeled about in surprise, the finger went into the rounded bulge of flab around her tummy.

'I'm checking out the muscle structure,' he told her.

Muscle structure? Well in that case, she really didn't think he would find what he was looking for.

'Have you ever been in shape?'

Annie, still standing, not sure if she was allowed to sit down again or not, considered this question. She'd spent a lot of her adult life running after small children, running up and down stairs and walking very fast along London pavements in high heels. All this activity had kept her relatively slim in the past. But since the arrival of the twins, there had been much less walking, much more snacking, and the weight/food/activity equilibrium had been shot to bits.

But gyms ... workouts, sit-ups, weights and all that stuff. Dinah was into all that. Not Annie. Not at all. She'd set foot in a gym once or twice, but so long ago she couldn't even remember much about it.

'Well ... I walk a lot,' Annie replied, defensively.

Gawain laughed and shook his head. 'You walk?! Walking is not exercise. Walking is how you get to the gym.'

'So?' Connor broke in. 'What should she do? Where should she get started? I know you can help, because you work miracles.'

'Getting people who've been in shape back into shape is hard work but it can be done. Getting people who've never been in shape into any kind of shape at all is kinda tough,' Gawain declared. 'They've got no muscles, they've got no aerobic function, and they don't know what hard gym work is all about. Plus their mental att.i.tude usually sucks.'

'Oh, and there I was thinking you weren't going to be nice about me,' Annie said, her face reddening.

'If you've never been fit before, lady, it is going to be really, really tough to get fit. And that is the absolutely honest truth. You're going to have to want to be fit with every fibre of your being. You're going to have to want to work out every single day way past the point of throwing up with pain.'

'Lovely.'

'This is my card.' He handed it over to her. 'We could have one introductory session, I can a.s.sess you, I can give you a basic plan and you can see if you're going to be able to tough it out.'

Before she could get out the words, 'No thanks', Connor b.u.t.ted in with, 'If I buy it for her, Gawain, how much? Mates rates?'

Gawain blessed Connor with a perfectly white-toothed smile: 'For you, Connor McCabe, only $400.'

'Deal,' Connor said.

Annie gasped in horror. Not just at the phenomenal price but at the fact that Connor was buying it for her. If he bought it, he might even make her go!

'I'll add it to your bill,' Gawain told Connor, then brought out his phone, flipped through to the diary and asked Annie when she could fit the session into her schedule.