The Personal Shopper (26 page)

When Owen had exited to the bathroom
, Ed told Annie: ‘I’ve
 
been a teacher for nine years now. If there’s any
 
regurgitating, vomiting, fainting, losing control of bladder or any other bodily functions to be done in public, I’m your man.’

‘Well, that’s very reassuring,’ Annie told him. ‘You know, I have to thank you for all your help with Owen. He’s coming on so well . . . an
d you handled that better than I did
.’

‘No problem, honestly . . .’ Ed was threatening to blush. ‘Now’ – he went quickly for a change of subject – ‘shall I get the tube back to Highgate with you charming people? See you safely to your door?’

Then, just as Annie had thought she was beginning to warm to Ed, he plucked a vibrant yellow cagoule from his backpack, pulled it over his head and – although they were still indoors – put the hood up and pulled the toggles tight so that his face was framed with scrunched yellow nylon.

This gave Annie something close to a rhubarb moment of her own.

She quickly looked away. Owen’s admiration for Ed had given her an idea. She’d ask the teacher in and sound him out over coffee.

Chapter Seventeen

Science kit Owen:

Grey T-shirt (Asda)

Enormous jeans (Gap sale)

Belt (St Vincent’s uniform shop)

Socks (Asda)

Very well-equipped science kit (Connor)

Total est. cost: £60

‘
Er . . . I think there’s a slight problem.’

Ed lived in Highgate too (‘I must show you my grimy little abode . . . maybe next time, when I’ve arranged for the industrial cleaners to come round’) so he insisted on walking them home and Annie, in turn, insisted he come in for a coffee.

Even if she hadn’t had something she wanted to ask him, she wouldn’t have liked the thought of sending him straight back to a grimy little abode without something in the way of thanks, so she guided him into the kitchen, while her children splintered off to their rooms.

‘I need to make a call,’ Lana explained.

‘
Yes, I know, darlin’, you’ve not spoken to Seth for at least two hours now, obviously you’ll want to snuggle down for a long chat and fill him in on everything that’s happened
,’
was what Annie wanted to say, but didn’t.

‘There’s something I want to show you, just give me a minute,’ Owen told Ed.

Annie put the kettle on and made a quick check on her emails and her eBays at the kitchen table while she chatted to Ed.

As she poured hot water over the instant coffee plonked into the bottom of two large mugs, her mobile rang.

It was
an emergen
cy call of the wardrobe variety.
‘Ruby, darlin’, of cou
rse I can come tomorrow evening,’ she assured her panicked client,
‘
Not tonight. No, it’s a bit late. Yeah . . . we’ll look through the cupboards and we will find something . . . No . . . Of course not . . . What about the black and red one that we bought together last month? No? Well . . . Yes . . . I’ll see you tomorrow and
please, my darlin’,
don’t panic!’

As she talked, Annie brandished a small bottle of brandy and made tipping gestures to ask if Ed wanted some in his coffee.

He gave her the thumbs up so she slugged a little into both mugs.

‘OK, nighty night then, Rubes. Bye,’ she said and put down the phone.

‘I didn’t realize you were on call,’ he teased as she placed the mugs on the table and pulled up a chair.

‘Oh yeah, twenty-four seven,’ she told him. ‘A wardrobe emergency can strike at any time,’ she said and took her first sip of coffee, curling her hands round the mug. ‘Aah!’ The brandy takes the edge off the caffeine – you’ll sleep better,’ she explained.

‘Right.’

‘So, how long have you lived round here then?’ Annie asked, able to meet his eyes again now that the cagoule was off.

‘Oh, ages,’ Ed replied. ‘But on and off. My mum bought her place here years and years ago and I used it as a base whenever I needed to. I’ve only been here full-time for a year and a half. Mum got ill. I took the job
 
at St Vincent’s so I could move in and look after her.’

‘Oh . . . and how’s she getting on?’ was Annie’s next question.

With a sad little smile, Ed told her: ‘I’m afraid she died. Six months ago now.’

‘Oh! I’m ever so sorry, Ed. I’m sorry,’ she repeated, trying for one moment to imagine life without Fern, and having to push the horrible thought away, ‘I didn’t know.’

‘No, don’t worry, honestly . . .’ Ed tailed off and took a mouthful of coffee.

‘And how are you coping?’ Annie asked, full of concern for him now.

‘Well, I’m . . . you know . . . just getting on with things.’

He leaned back in his chair and ruffled his hair before continuing. ‘Hannah, that’s my sister, and I . . . we were looking after Mum full-time at the end, which was fine, it was what we all wanted, but it was pretty hard going . . . My Italian girlfriend left me and went back to Italy . . . my rubbish car got nicked . . . the usual triple whammy stuff.’

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Annie sympathized.

‘Obviously we miss her . . . miss her a lot.’

Annie heard the involuntary swallow that this caused him.

‘But,’ he went on, ‘I’m trying to focus on how great it is to be back out here again. Back teaching, getting out again . . . meeting new people.’ He nodded, as if in her direction. ‘It’s very nice to be taking part in life again.’

‘How old was she?’ Annie wondered.

Owen’s head popped round the corner of the kitchen door and he asked, ‘Can Ed come to my room for a minute? There’s something I want to show him.’

‘Hang on a minute, Owen,’ Annie told him. The head disappeared.

She turned her attention back to Ed and he replied, ‘Mum was fifty-nine, four weeks from her sixtiet
h birthday. It was such a pity
.’ He let out a sigh and turned his attention to his coffee cup.

‘I’m really, really sorry,’ Annie said once again.

‘Anyway’ – he looked up at her and gave a smile, hoping to draw a line under this conversation and start afresh in a new direction – ‘I have a favour I want to ask you. It is a bit bizarre, though.’

It was her turn to smile: ‘Now that’s funny,’ she told him, ‘because I have a favour I want to ask you . . . and it’s really bizarre.’

‘You first then,’ he said.

‘No, no, definitely you.’

‘Well, I was just wondering, if you’d consider . . . I mean, if it’s not too much . . .’ The request was turning him slightly pink. ‘I just thought since it was the kind of thing—’

Owen’s head popped up at the door again: ‘Ed? Could you come and see—’

‘Just a minute!’ Annie cut him off and he skulked back out again.

‘Ed,’ she reassured the teacher, ‘it’s OK, we’re all friends here, just spit it out.’

She wondered what on earth was coming next.

‘Boston, USA. Job interview. Well, not job, exactly . . . a term’s paid research into the roots of rhythm and blues.’

Her eyebrows knitted: what was he talking about?

‘I’m desperate to go. I was supposed to go last year, but because of poor old Mum . . . well . . . but so, there .
 
.
 
. you see?’

No, she did not see at all. Boston? His mother? What?!

‘I need a suit,’ he clarified. ‘A proper, decent suit that
will stand up to inspection by sophisticated
American academics.’

Ah! The fog was clearing.

‘I need not just the suit, I need the whole outfit, you know, quite the thing. I think Americans take all that pretty seriously, don’t they? And anyway, I have no
 
clue. But you, you’re always so wonderfully’ – he waved his hand in her direction, taking in the happy pairing of red lipstick, red Topshop jacket, black ankle boots and Dries Van Noten skirt – ‘wonderful. And you work in that scary place. So I thought, you’ll know all
 
about this. You’ll be just the right person to help me.
 
There.’ He looked really very embarrassed about it. ‘Bizarre request. What’s yours?’

Wonderfully wonderful?
He was a case this man, no doubt about it.

‘I’d be happy to help you find a suit, Ed,’ she assured him. ‘It would be no problem at all, it would be a pleasure. You tell me when and I’ll book you in an appointment. Now . . .’ she hesitated, feeling slight embarrassment of her own creeping up, ‘I know you like to camp . . . have you heard of the Man and Boy Orienteering weekend by any chance?’

‘Heard of it? My friend Clyde runs it! It’s brilliant,’ came Ed’s answer. ‘I’m desperate to take my nephew Sid, but he’s only six. Does Owen want to go?’ Ed guessed straight away. ‘Are you looking for someone
 
to
 
go with him? Because I am definitely
your man.
 
You
 
know, so long as you’re OK with that . . .’ He
 
backed down quickly. ‘And obviously so long as Owen . . .’

She waved away his reservations and told him that she would of course check
Owen was happy with the idea
.

Such was Ed’s enthusiasm for the project, she began to think he wasn’t just a case; he was, in fact, bonkers.

‘What tog rating is his sleeping bag?’ Ed asked, along with other incomprehensible questions. ‘It’s just, if he has a thick one, we could bivouac. We could do without the tent altogether. Spend the night under the stars. Really bivvy down with nature. Provided it’s dry of course, although the modern bag can cope with a stiff shower or two.’

Annie had been thinking camp-site, with hot showers, a restaurant, possibly even Tourist Board stars. She was now feeling nervous.

‘Owen’s got all the details. Maps, plans and projects. He’ll love talking to someone else about it who can make out one end of a compass from another. What is Owen up to anyway? Owen!’ Annie called sharply in the direction of the hall.

‘How’s your dentist?’ Ed asked all of a sudden, taking her by surprise. In response to her raised eyebrows, he explained: ‘Owen told me about him.’

‘Oh! Well, he’s not “my” dentist. It’s early days. Very early. I’d forgotten how stressful the whole dating, getting-to-know-someone thing is . . . trying to say and do the right thing all the time. God, it’s exhausting! Tonight has been great fun. So relaxing.’

Ed held up his coffee mug to her in a toast-salute: ‘To relaxing fun,’ he said.

Lana slouched into the kitchen and crumpled melodramatically into a chair, head slumping to the table.

‘You can only get voicemail?’ Annie guessed.

‘Why won’t he answer his phone?’ Lana wailed, obviously so stricken that she wasn’t embarrassed to mention this in front of a teacher.

‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason,’ Annie soothed. ‘The battery’s probably flat. Please, stop worrying about it.’

Although secretly, she suspected Seth was not phoning as often as he had before. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved about this, or worried.