Shopping with the Enemy Page 5

  ‘Miss Wisneski?’ Maria asked, standing in the doorway, smoothing down the front of her blue and white striped work dress anxiously.

  ‘Yes? Has the tennis coach arrived for the boys?’ Svetlana asked.

  ‘Yes. But he has forgotten the password.’

  Just the tiniest of creases at the side of Svetlana’s eyes gave away the fact that she was frowning.

  ‘Do you know the tennis coach? Do you recognize him?’

  ‘Yes,’ Maria replied, ‘I’m sure it is him. But maybe the boys can look out of the window here and check.’

  ‘Maria, you worry too much,’ Svetlana said, but nodded. Her two young sons, Michael and Petrov, walked into the room immaculately dressed in full tennis whites, carrying their rackets.

  ‘Hello boys,’ Annie said with a smile as they walked past. They were beautiful children with Svetlana’s fine features, length of limb and their father’s shiny black hair and dark eyes. Always so sombre and well behaved. And how did Maria keep them so neat? Annie wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard either of them so much as giggle.

  ‘Hello, Miss Anna,’ Petrov, the younger boy replied with a smile which seemed more polite than sunny.

  ‘Hello, how are you?’

  ‘Very well thank you,’ he replied with a curt nod of his head.

  ‘Say hello, Michael,’ Svetlana ordered.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Anna,’ he said, complying. ‘That is Yann,’ he confirmed as he approached the window, ‘so we’re not about to be kidnapped, Maria, we are in fact going to play tennis. Boring.’

  ‘Michael, you can be very ungrateful,’ Svetlana complained.

  Michael just shrugged, turned and followed Maria and his brother out of the room.

  ‘Bye-bye, Mama,’ Petrov said and blew his mother a kiss from the door.

  ‘So what’s that all about?’ Annie asked when she was once again alone with Svetlana. ‘Are they really in danger of being kidnapped?

  ‘Very rich children are always a target, but my number one problem is that Igor wants the boys to go to military academy in Russia,’ Svetlana replied, her voice dark.

  ‘Oh no.’

  Annie knew this meant trouble. Igor, Svetlana’s most recent ex-husband, was by far the richest, most powerful and most terrifying of her exes. Plus Michael and Petrov were the sons and heirs to Igor’s vast fortune. Igor had tried to take the boys out of the country before and if he now wanted them to go to school in Russia, he would do all he could to make this happen.

  ‘St Petersburg,’ Svetlana added. ‘Igor wants the boys to go to the military academy there like he did. Pah!’ she spat the word out forcefully. ‘Turn them into vicious robots just like him.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I will stop him,’ Svetlana said simply. ‘I am taking Harry’s advice and we are being careful.’

  ‘Thank goodness for Harry,’ Annie said. She didn’t just know Svetlana’s calm and sensible English husband well; she had introduced them to each other. Svetlana had been in need of London’s best divorce lawyer and via a high-powered client at The Store, Annie had managed to get hold of him.

  Suddenly Mayfair mansions, Chippendale chairs and maids didn’t look quite so appealing to Annie if it went hand in hand with kidnap threats and tennis coaches who had to use passwords.

  ‘Anyway, enough about my little problems,’ Svetlana said. ‘Come upstairs, come to my dressing room, I want to show you some of the clothes I am thinking of buying for the new season.’

  In the pale blue dressing room, home to snowy white, ornately carved wardrobes and a vast, glittering chandelier, Annie tried to look with knowledge and appreciation through the clothes which had been brought here on approval by the swankiest boutiques in London. But faced with another row of mini tunics and a putty green double-breasted blazer, Annie finally had to blurt out: ‘I don’t understand it any more.’

  ‘What?’ Svetlana demanded.

  ‘Fashion!’ Annie blurted out.

  Svetlana turned cool eyes on her.

  ‘But Annah, fashion is your business, fashion is how you make your money. You need to understand fashion every single hour of the day. You need to know. You need to be way ahead of the rest of us.’

  ‘I know it’s urgent, it’s completely critical, my love,’ Annie exclaimed, ‘but right now … I just don’t get it. I honestly can’t see. I’m looking at shoulder pads and lacy inserts and I just feel burnt out, I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Annah you have been working too hard,’ Svetlana warned her. ‘How can you be full of good ideas when you are working so hard for everyone? Filming all day long, looking after your family, helping me with my business – you are working too much.

  ‘In your week off, you must go away for a proper holiday,’ Svetlana insisted. ‘If you’ve lost your feeling for fashion then it is the most important thing to rest completely, Annah, or you will lose your job. The television people will find another presenter. I will find another advisor for Perfect Dress. If you are not in fashion, if you are not au courant then you are not in work.’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, I know that!’ Annie snapped. ‘Don’t you think I’m completely stressed out knowing I could lose everything? How can I go away on holiday in that frame of mind? How am I supposed to relax for one second?’

  Svetlana shook her head, wagged a finger at Annie and gave a knowing smile. ‘But this is exactly why you need to get away. As soon as you rest, all will come flooding back. Your powers will return. This is how it works.’

  Svetlana turned to the full-length Louis XIV mirror at the end of the room, checked her reflection and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘How many high-powered, all-important rich men have I been married to?’ she asked.

  Annie couldn’t quite remember … Was Harry her fifth husband? Or her sixth?

  ‘I drag them from their business life, kicking and screaming in protest – then two days in a penthouse suite in Monaco and their perspective returns, four days in penthouse suite in Monaco and they are once again ready to conquer the world. I was very good wife,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘but it was never appreciated. I was always traded in for younger model.’

  ‘You are a good wife,’ Annie reminded her, ‘and Harry will never trade you in.’

  ‘No. Harry is a different kind of man. Just good, honest, hard-working millionaire. But I can afford to be married to a nice man now.’

  Annie couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘You need a proper holiday,’ Svetlana repeated, ‘so this Friday we fly to Milano, fashion capital of the world, and we make a five-day visit to a spa hotel so expensive even I can only go there once a year. OK? So you need to go home and pack.’

  Chapter Seven

  London

  Night-time Annie:

  Men’s striped nightshirt (Bonsoir – bought for Ed years ago)

  Thick layer of anti-ageing serum (Estée Lauder)

  Towel on head (M&S)

  Chipped pink toenail polish (Mac)

  Total est. cost: £130

  ‘NEW MOVES … I think I was promised some new moves.’

  Annie stopped towelling her damp hair and looked over at her husband who was lying in bed with a smile that could only be described as expectant.

  ‘Let me see,’ she began, ‘I’ve been ordered off the set by my boss, I’ve driven my daughter back to New York in a fury and you happen to think now is a good time to mention new moves? You must be completely barking mad. The only new move you’re about to get, my sweetheart, is a karate chop to the nadgers.’

  ‘Annie …’ Ed smiled and held out an arm, ‘come over here and cuddle up. Your boss has ordered a holiday because she thinks you’ll get over it. Despite her big, flouncy tantrum, I can absolutely promise you that Lana will get over it and in the meantime, you need cuddling, you need massaging and I think I could work with you.’

  He patted the bed encouragingly.

  ‘I miss Lana … we
used to phone every single day. I’ve had two texts since she’s gone back.’

  ‘I know you do and I’m sure she misses you too. But she’ll come round. You’re both good people and you will get over this. Just give it a little time. C’mon, over here.’

  ‘You really think you could work with me?’ Annie asked. She couldn’t help smiling at him.

  ‘Yeah, I know you’re trying very hard to put me off with that shapeless flannel nightshirt thing, but I can see past it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really, so why don’t you just take it off and come over here and see me?’

  With that Annie pulled the nightshirt up over her head and let it fall to the floor.

  ‘Now that is much better. That is 100 per cent better.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really, now get over here.’

  As she approached the bed, she wondered if now would be a good time to mention Svetlana’s offer.

  ‘I might like to ask you for a very big favour …’ she began.

  ‘That sounds good,’ he said, putting his warm arms around her and pulling her in towards his fuzzy naked chest, ‘sounds very, very good because if you have a favour to ask me, then I’m definitely …’ he paused to kiss her mouth, ‘going to ask for one in return.’

  Slowly, they began to kiss with intent, with concentration and with roaming hands, focusing on how to make this as enjoyable as possible for each other.

  ‘It’s been too long,’ Annie murmured as Ed kissed the base of her neck, ‘liking that, definitely liking …’

  More very good moves were played and Annie was on her back, being licked, being touched and explored. Her foot was dangling from the bed, the sensations from her toes, travelling up her legs, adding to the complete, all-over body pleasure.

  ‘Oh yeah …’

  But … but … how was her foot being licked while Ed was very busy elsewhere?

  Annie ignored the question for another moment or two, but then raised her head from the pillow.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ she blurted out.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s the dog!’ she complained.

  ‘What?’

  They both sat up now and looked over the side of the bed.

  There was Dave. The dog promptly sat down and looked up at them a little guiltily.

  ‘He was licking my foot!’ Annie explained, freaked out. ‘I thought it was you.’

  ‘But I was—’

  ‘I know where you were … it was completely weird! I do not want a dog licking my foot while I’m trying to concentrate on you … and new moves and trying to have a good time.’

  ‘Fair enough, I wouldn’t want the dog licking my foot either … Well, I don’t know – was he good? Was he better than me?’

  Annie gave Ed a playful smack on the shoulder.

  ‘Dave! Out!’ she ordered.

  The dog just cocked his head to the side.

  ‘Out!’ she yelled and hurled a pillow in his direction.

  Dave saw the pillow coming and high-tailed it towards the open door.

  ‘Annie, he’s a nice old boy,’ Ed complained, ‘don’t frighten him.’

  ‘Go to the door and wiggle the knackered handle until it closes. Please,’ Annie asked.

  ‘OK, OK …’ Ed ran his arm over her shoulders and tried to soothe her.

  ‘Stupid blooming dog. Now I’m all distracted.’

  ‘Honestly, lie down, focus, I can take you back … just give me a chance here.’

  Annie glanced at the door.

  ‘He’s still there!’ she complained. A grey muzzle and two beady eyes were poking round the edge of the door.

  ‘Dave, buzz off!’ Ed said, getting out of bed and waving his arms in the direction of the animal, ‘I have work to do here. I’ll see you later.’

  He pulled the door closed and played with the handle until there was a click.

  ‘Right,’ he said, heading back to the bed with an eager smile, ‘where were we?’

  But as the kissing got going again a ghostly wail drifted towards the room.

  ‘Waaaaaaaaaaaah …’

  It was the sound of Micky, tireless cot escapologist.

  ‘No prizes for guessing who that is,’ Ed began wearily. ‘You or me?’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Annie replied, ‘you take the dog downstairs. Then we’ll see if there’s any chance of reviving the situation in here.’

  ‘Muuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmyyyy!’

  The little voice sounded tragic now.

  ‘And up we get,’ Annie said, stepping from the bed and wrapping a dressing gown around her naked body. She got to the door ahead of Ed, turned the handle and it came clean off in her hand.

  The spindle fell to the floor on the other side of the door and she was left staring at a firmly closed door with a hole where the handle used to be.

  ‘Ed!’

  ‘Oh fuddle.’

  Years of teaching had left Ed with a remarkably muted swear vocabulary. He got out of bed to assess the situation. He examined the hole where the handle had been with such a bewildered expression it would almost have been comical if the wailing from the twins’ bedroom wasn’t growing louder.

  ‘They’re both awake now. You have to do something.’

  ‘Yes, I had noticed,’ Ed said dryly.

  He pushed his finger into the hole the handle had left and felt around a little. He tried to pull the door open. But the catch was still holding firm.

  ‘We’re locked in!’ Annie exclaimed, beginning to feel slightly panicked now. The crying was reaching fever pitch and she was desperate to go and console her children. ‘What do we do now? Let’s get a coat hanger and poke it about, we’ve got to open the door.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Ed hurried over to the wardrobe and brought out a thin wire hanger.

  With Annie urging him on, he tried various attacks: he poked the wire about in the hole, he poked it at the catch. Nothing worked.

  ‘MUMMMMY!’

  That was definitely Micky’s voice and it was growing louder.

  ‘He’s out of his cot,’ Annie said, really worried now. What if he fell hard on to the floor? What if he came out of his room and tumbled down the stairs?

  ‘Oh for Pete’s sake,’ Ed exclaimed, poking at the catch again.

  ‘Mummy?’

  The voice was definitely coming closer and sounded not so much upset now as questioning.

  ‘He’s coming to the door … Micky! It’s OK, but Mummy and Daddy are stuck in the bedroom.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘Micky? Are you there?’ Annie asked, face pressed against the hole as she tried to scan the landing for any sign of her son.

  There was a snuffling sound and then Annie saw Micky’s great big blue eye pressed against the other side of the hole.

  ‘Micky!’ she said, smiling with relief.

  ‘Mummy?’

  He sounded smiley too.

  ‘Can you help?’ Annie asked in her most encouraging voice. ‘Do you see the funny knob with the stick on the floor?’

  Micky’s eye moved away from the hole.

  ‘This will not work,’ Ed hissed.

  ‘It’s got to be worth a try.’

  ‘Stick,’ Micky declared. This was followed by a heavy clatter against the wooden floor.

  ‘What was that?’ Annie asked.

  Ed smacked his hand against his forehead: ‘Probably the doorknob falling off the spindle.’

  ‘The spindle? You’re very technical for someone who’s made a complete balls-up of fixing our door,’ she snapped.

  ‘You can take this all out on me later, but right now it is not helping,’ Ed whispered fiercely.

  ‘Later? Later as in when the fire brigade are here trying to work out how to open this door? Do we even have a phone in our room so we can contact them? Where will Micky be by then? He’ll probably have gone down to the kitchen and turned on the gas.’

  ‘Not helping …’ Ed re
minded her.

  Annie put her eye to the hole to see what Micky was up to and immediately gave a yelp of pain.

  ‘Owwww!’

  She pulled her head away, hand clutched over her eye.

  The spindle plopped through the hole and on to the carpet.

  ‘Clever boy!’ Annie managed, despite the tears streaming from her poked eye.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Ed exclaimed. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I think I’ll be fine,’ she said, hand over her eye again.

  Ed slotted the spindle halfway through the gap and turned it. The catch pulled back and the door popped open.

  ‘You clever boy,’ Annie cooed, ‘you clever, clever boy!’

  There stood Micky in his blue babygro with an unusual, concentrated look on his face. Before Ed or Annie could quite register what it meant, he opened his mouth and hit them with a gush of projectile puke.

  It was almost an hour later when Ed and Annie finally fell back into bed, soggy, still smelling slightly of toddler puke and far too tired for any romantic rekindling.

  ‘You know some time ago you promised me a mini-break, far away from the domestic mayhem,’ Ed complained. ‘A mini-break, Annie, where is my mini-break?’

  ‘I did. I totally did, babes. We will go on a mini-break. Just you and me to a lovely place far, far away from the madness.’

  ‘When is this happening? And where?’

  ‘I will book us a mini-break. I promise.’

  ‘Please do …’ Ed turned and landed a kiss on her forehead, ‘because it may be our only chance to have sex this decade.’

  He turned out the bedside light but just as they settled down to sleep, he remembered: ‘What was the favour you wanted to ask?’

  Annie hesitated. It was one thing to ask your husband for a huge massive favour when he was all blissed out and contented post-sex. It was quite another when dogs, puking babies and general exhaustion had got in the way of the big romantic reunion.

  ‘Well … I dunno …’ she began, ‘it’s a crazy plan. Don’t know if I’m even close to pulling it off. In fact, let’s not talk about it now.’

  ‘What? Tell me,’ Ed insisted.

  ‘Well, it’s just Svetlana … she knows I’m on a forced holiday, and she’s offered to take me on a spa break with her but you know … it’s really not fair … there would be too much to organize if I went away.’