Chapter Forty-One
Chrissie’s Monday had been fraught. It had started with the hangover from hell – entirely her fault after downing all those gin and tonics the night before at The Beagle and Bugle. She was mortified at making an idiot of herself in front of the proprietor. The phrase “sex on legs” had surely been invented just for Jack.
Chrissie had driven to work in her mother’s car, confident she was no longer over the limit. Harsh January light had forced her into wearing an old pair of sunglasses. Behind the shades her eyeballs had been the same colour as the red cones cordoning off an area of roadworks. Pneumatic drills had throbbed in time to her headache.
As she’d walked into the offices of Hood, Mann & Derek the air had crackled with tension. Nobody had known why apart from young Jessica in Accounts. The girl had been visibly bursting to tell anybody who’d listen. She’d ventured into the open plan area shared with Dee and Amber, ready to spill the gossip beans but an apoplectic Steve Hood had intercepted her. Steve, normally so mild, had bristled like an angry porcupine. Jessica had paled to the colour of a McDonald’s McFlurry and scarpered. Steve had then insisted a very hungover Amber leave the office and go home. This had confused Dee and Chrissie because they’d been emotionally wrecked too. Then Clive Derek had rung Chrissie on her internal line informing that Katherine Colgan had resigned with immediate effect. He’d stipulated that Chrissie must not discuss this news with anybody, and then insisted she cover Cougar Kate’s workload. Chrissie had barely ended the conversation with Clive, when Steve had summoned her and Dee into his office. He’d promptly dropped the bombshell that Amber’s ex-boyfriend was with Cougar Kate.
Both Chrissie and Dee had spent the day aghast at the additional misery Amber would suffer when she found out. They’d also been terrified she’d ring in for a chinwag and accidentally find out. Predictably Amber had tried speaking to both women. They’d had to be curt to the point of rudeness to get her off the phone.
Chrissie’s highpoint of the day had been skipping off to the local hair salon in her lunch hour. She’d been given a style makeover more usual for someone like Cheryl Tweedy-Cole-Fernandez-Versini-thingybob. She’d floated out of the salon like a helium balloon, until seeing Andrew outside the office. His uninspired attempts to woo her had not been appreciated, especially when he’d asked for money. She’d stalked off, outraged, only to have Clive Derek do a double-take and spend the rest of the afternoon hassling her to go out for dinner. What was it with some men? And why did she always end up with the prats going after her?
Chrissie had heaved a sigh of relief when the working day had drawn to a close. Dee had grabbed her arm on the way out and chatted loudly about how much fun they were going to have at Bluewater, which had sent a hovering Clive Derek back into his office. Thankfully there had been no sign of Andrew. Dee had hugged Chrissie good-bye insisting she was going home for a hot soak followed by a chillax in front of the telly.
Chrissie had then driven to Bluewater fizzing with excitement at the prospect of shopping. For one moment, she’d felt a twang of guilt at refusing Andrew financial help. A second later she’d squashed the thought. Andrew was no longer her responsibility. His dodgy dealings and debts were no longer her concern. And anyway, if she had agreed to help him, her plans for a big fat shopping spree would have become a big fat full stop. No way! She was single, she worked hard, and right now the money in her bank account was hers to spend.
When Chrissie arrived at Bluewater, the first thing she did was visit Boots. She bought eye drops guaranteed to put sparkle in the sorest of eyes, then browsed the cosmetic counters. Testing samples, she was like an excited child at a pick ‘n’ mix sweet counter. Clutching her purchases, she disappeared into the nearest Ladies. Inside the washroom she positioned herself in front of a huge mirror and began applying brown and gold-tones to her lids, mascara to her lashes, and slicked a lipstick across her mouth in fire-engine red. Finishing off with blusher to her cheekbones, she stood back and preened. She couldn’t believe the transformation. What with the hair and now the make-up, she looked like she’d been dolloped with celebrity gloss. This Chrissie was as shiny as a new one-pound coin.
She spent the next hour impersonating a woman attempting a shopping challenge, like one of those daytime programmes on the telly where you had to try on as many outfits as possible in a time slot to win all the clothes. By half past six she was laden with carrier bags and absolutely desperate for a coffee and something to eat. She sailed out of Next looking at her watch instead of where she was going, and smacked straight into a man with such force she fell backwards, thumping down on her coccyx. Her shopping flew in all directions.
‘Ooof,’ she gasped, as hard flooring slammed into soft flesh. Chrissie had always thought her bottom well padded, but at that moment it could have done with an extra layer.
‘Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,’ said the man, rushing to gather up all the scattered bags.
It occurred to Chrissie that if this person had wanted to steal her purchases, she’d have had to let him. She was in no fit state to give chase to anyone.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘I’ll live,’ she groaned, addressing the man’s feet. It was a whole different world down here on the floor. A group of teenage girls walked past and sniggere
‘Here, let me help you up.’ A hand appeared in front of her face. Oh, but her back hurt. ‘I feel terrible,’ said the man. ‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘That makes two of us,’ she said to the hand.
‘Let’s get you on your feet.’ She found herself being hauled upwards, and her face contorted with pain. The man notice. ‘We’re not far from Boots. Do you want me to buy some paracetamol or…,’ his voice trailed off. When he spoke again he sounded surprised. ‘Chrissie?’
Chrissie attempted straightening from her bent-double posture so she could look properly at the man. Craning her neck upwards, her eyes widened in surprise as she realised it was Jack, the proprietor of The Beagle and Bugle.
‘H-hello.’ Hell, he was even better looking than she remembered. And here she was doing an impersonation of Quasimodo.
‘You look like you’re in agony. Can I fetch those painkillers?’
‘I have some in my bag, thanks. I can take them without water.’ She reluctantly clung on to his arm with one hand whilst rubbing her throbbing lower back with the other. ‘I was finished here anyway. I’ll be fine after a hot bath.’
Jack regarded her doubtfully. ‘Where’s your car?’
‘Across the other side of the shopping mall.’
‘Listen, I’m parked behind this shop. Let me take your shopping, and come with me. I’ll drive you to your car.’
Chrissie was going to protest but then realised this made sense. She nodded her agreement and, still hanging onto Jack’s arm, the two of them made slow progress to his vehicle. By the time they’d reached her car and transferred the shopping bags across, the painkillers had kicked in and she was feeling a little better.
‘Are you okay to drive?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Chrissie assured. ‘Thanks for helping me.’
Jack smiled, the effect of which nearly had Chrissie falling to the floor again. ‘Sorry again. It’s my night off and I was in a tearing hurry. I only came out to buy a new pair of jeans, and then I was going to chill out in front of the footie.’
‘Oh, and you haven’t even bought your jeans,’ said Chrissie in dismay.
‘Doesn’t matter. Look, have you eaten?’
Chrissie shook her head. ‘Not yet. I was about to grab a coffee and a sandwich prior to–’
‘–me knocking you flat,’ said Jack ruefully. ‘Can I make up for what happened by taking you out for some dinner?’
‘Honestly, you don’t need to do that,’ Chrissie protested.
‘I’d like to,’ Jack insisted.’
‘Then y-yes,’ Chrissie stuttered. She suddenly felt flustered. ‘I’d like that. If it’s no trouble,’ she added.
‘It’s definitely no trouble. I happen to know a very nice restaurant that does amazing food,’ he said, a twinkle in his eye. ‘If you’re sure you can drive, follow me.’
Which was how Chrissie found herself, half an hour later, sitting at a beautifully laid table in The Beagle and Bugle.