When in Rome... (28 page)

“The thing is,” I say, “I’ve got some information here that I need to get to him. I’d really appreciate it if you’d make sure he gets it.”

“Of course,” she says smoothly. “Why don’t you give it to me now?”

I start rummaging around in my bag. All the bits of paper are crumpled up and in a mess. But before I can organize the statements one of the receptionists interrupts us.

“Vanessa, I’ve got a call for you. Shall I put them through to your voicemail or would you like to take it here?”

The woman looks up. “Who is it?”

“Didn’t say, but he says it’s important. I wouldn’t ask, but he sounded quite determined to talk to you.”

“Fine, I’ll take it down here.” She turns back to me. “I’m sorry, the papers you were talking about—shall I take them now?”

Vanessa . . . It couldn’t be her, could it? Mike did say he had a friend at David’s firm, some woman who used to work for the police, but surely this can’t be the same Vanessa who sent the postcard, the one who’s going to Malaga with him? Vanessa is standing over me and when I look up she must notice the recognition in my eye because she flinches slightly.

It is her! At least it could easily be, and I can’t risk it. I have to think quickly—thank God I haven’t given her the disk yet.

“Actually,” trying to sound as normal as possible even though I can feel myself shaking, “why don’t you take the call? I’ve got to sort through all these papers anyway.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I’ll just wait while you go through them. I’m sure the call can wait.”

There is no warmth in her smile and I’m running out of excuses.

I delve back into my bag and have a brain wave. I quickly find “ring tone” on my mobile phone display and within a couple of seconds it springs into action with a piercing rendition of a Bach fugue.

“Sorry, I’m going to have to take this,” I say apologetically and seize the opportunity to move away from Vanessa.

She walks over to the reception desk reluctantly to take her call. I quickly dial David’s number on my mobile.

“Good afternoon, David Bradley’s office.”

It’s Jane. Thank God.

“Jane,” I whisper. “It’s Georgie. Look, I need to talk to David.”

“Don’t we all,” says Jane mournfully. “He’s in with the senior partner. I can’t get in to see him. No one can. Except his new partner Vanessa. And I don’t like her much either. Only passed her exams last year apparently and already she’s a partner. Georgie, what’s all this trouble he’s in? I knew I shouldn’t have gone on holiday—”

“I’m downstairs with Vanessa now,” I interrupt. “Or rather, I’m trying to get out of her clutches. I’ve got some stuff for David and I don’t trust her with it. Is there a cafe or somewhere you can meet me in five minutes?”

Vanessa is putting the phone down and turning back toward me.

“Well, there’s a Starbucks round the corner,” says Jane.

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

“Vanessa,” I say loudly. “I’m really sorry but it looks like I’ve brought the wrong stuff. I thought I had some work-related papers that David had left at my flat, but it turns out they’re . . . um . . . other stuff, so I’ll just . . . give them to him later, okay?”

Before she can answer, I slide my phone into my pocket and make a dash for the door.

I order a hot chocolate with extra cream. I feel like I need something comforting and warm. As I pick up the cup I realize my hands are trembling.

I can’t believe that Mike is about to run off to Spain with Vanessa, the bitch brunette from Rome. She must have been keeping Mike posted on exactly what information David had all along.

There are people all around me drinking coffee, talking idly with friends. In the corner is a group of three boys who look like they’re bunking off school. They are sharing one coffee between them and smoking furtively. I long for the days when bunking off school was about the worst thing I could do. Unlike, say, being naive enough to believe my stupid ex-boyfriend and nearly getting David arrested.

My resentment of Mike grows as I stir my chocolate. What bloody right does he have to care so little about the feelings of everyone else? But really my resentment is directed at myself. I was so easily flattered by Mike I didn’t think to question his motives.

“Are you all right, Georgie?”

Jane wakes me from my reverie. Jane has been David’s PA for, well, forever really. As long as I’ve known him, anyway. She’s a formidable woman somewhere in her early fifties, with a very no-nonsense approach to life—David and the other partners are actually quite scared of her. If she thinks David is working too hard, she won’t put calls through to him and she knows more about his firm than any of the partners combined. And if she disagrees with you, well, you don’t often win an argument with Jane. But she is absolutely loyal. And right now I could do with a familiar face.

“Not really,” I say glumly, cupping the hot chocolate between my hands and taking a sip.

“Jane, you don’t think David would do anything wrong, do you?”

“David? Of course not. Best partner that firm’s got if you ask me. They work him too hard, of course, but that’s another matter. I’ve never seen someone so drained and tired. He needs to go on holiday, you know. Somewhere hot.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” A holiday. God, if only.

“Now what’s all this about? And why did Vanessa tell me not to put through any calls from you?”

I breathe a sigh of relief—at least it was Vanessa and not David refusing to talk to me. But it confirms my suspicions: it’s definitely the same Vanessa.

“David’s in trouble, big trouble,” I say wearily. “It’s partly my fault, but mainly Vanessa’s.” This may not be the absolute truth, but there’s no point in making Jane cross with me now, is there? And it is more Vanessa’s fault than mine. I mean, she actually meant to be bad, whereas I was duped into it.

“Go on.” Jane looks at me expectantly.

“I’ve got some stuff here—a disk and some papers—that will make everything okay, but he needs to get it soon. Like now, in the next hour. And Vanessa can’t know about it. If she does, she’ll ruin everything. She’s totally betrayed him.”

I add this last piece of information with a flourish, knowing that it will get Jane fired up. If she didn’t like Vanessa before, now she positively hates her.

“Georgie, are you telling me that one of the partners in the firm is acting unprofessionally? These are very serious allegations.”

“I know. But she is. She’s running off to Spain this evening. She’s a complete cow.”

For a minute I’m scared that Jane is going to tell me to stop wasting her time. That she doesn’t believe me. But then she looks up at me and opens her handbag.

“Is that the information there?” Jane looks at the envelope I’m clutching.

“Yes. Look, you’ve got to get this to David safely.”

“Of course. Now, Georgie, I recommend you go home now and have a bath. You look dreadful.”

“Do you think David will be okay?”

“If what you say is true and the information here is what you say it is, then I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

I nod silently. I need some words of reassurance. I can take David hating me, but I can’t take the possibility of his career being ruined. It would just be too unfair.

Jane picks up the envelope and puts it in her handbag. “Look, my dear, he’ll come round. They always do, just you see.”

She thinks this is still about me and David, I realize. She thinks I’m worried he won’t love me anymore. Of course I am worried about that—I could well have messed things up completely on the romantic front. But something tells me that we couldn’t have carried on as we were anyway. There were too many secrets. Candy, Mike, David—they all knew more about what was going on than I did. Well, I don’t want to be protected anymore. I don’t want to be the naive, trusting Georgie. If David had been open with me from the start with the whole Mike business, I’d never have believed Mike’s lies. If Candy had been honest about her feelings for Mike, I’d have left them to it and saved myself a whole load of heartache. I do love David, but I’m not sure that’s enough right now.

“Just you remember what I said about a holiday,” Jane is saying. “Looks like you could do with one, too.”

She nods at me and leaves. I look at the time—it’s still early, and I’ve got an idea. I do some mental calculations, and walk quickly toward the Tube.

“You really want it all off?”

“Yes, really.”

My hairdresser, Adrian, looks at me uncertainly. “How about a bob?” he suggests, but I shake my head.

“I want a crop,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “I want to look utterly and completely different.”

At this, Adrian’s face breaks into a smile. “One of those transformation cuts, you mean? Well, in that case, I’d say we need to do a bit of color, too, don’t you think?”

I nod gratefully and let him lead me to the basin to have my hair washed. David may have liked my hair long, but I’m not doing this for David. I’m doing this for me. I want a new start.

As Adrian talks to me about the flat he’s just bought with his boyfriend and the cost of furniture, I watch my appearance change. First, he divides my hair into sections, paints them with dye, and wraps each one up in tin foil. Next, when the foils have been taken out, he cuts away at my hair with scissors, inches of hair cascading onto the floor. There’s no going back now, I think to myself, and a big grin appears on my face.

An hour and a half after I first sat down, I am staring at myself appraisingly. I have short hair, with a teeny tiny fringe that virtually disappears when I put it to one side, and beautiful golden highlights that seem to make my skin glow.

I suddenly understand what Audrey Hepburn was doing inRoman Holiday . The film wasn’t about romance or about driving around in Vespas. It was about someone growing up. She needed to cut her hair to say good-bye to the girl who took orders and did what she was told. She didn’t turn her back on her responsibilities, but she changed the way she accepted them. After her weekend in Rome she was an adult who did things on her terms.

The girl looking back at me in the mirror isn’t the same Georgie who thought having Mike fancy her again would solve everything. Who expected Mike or David to provide her with everything, from a social life to financial status. No, the Georgie I’m looking at now is the same one I saw in Gucci. Except this time the transformation wasn’t quite so expensive.

I wince slightly when I think about my credit card bill, but then think what the hell—a few less cab rides and a ban on cappuccinos, and I’ll pay it off. The point is that in spite of everything, I feel good about myself. I finally feel like I’m in charge.

Adrian brings a mirror over so I can see the back.

“You know, I thought it’d be a mistake you going short,” he says. “But you look gorgeous. Like a little urchin. Now you go and show him what he’s missing, whoever he is.”

I want to tell him that there’s no “he” to miss anything anymore, but there doesn’t seem any point really. I like my hair. And that’s enough.

I stand for a moment looking at my reflection in the mirror, then I take out my mobile phone. There is one more thing I have to do.

“Candy? Hi, it’s Georgie. Can I come round and see you?”

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The reception to International Magazines Inc. is nearly as glamorous as David’s, but where David’s reception has lots of important-looking people in suits buzzing around and talking about the latest low-cost airline merger and the likelihood of further consolidation in the construction industry, this place is full of women with sharp haircuts discussing Marc Jacobs waiting lists and whether the Laura Ashley revival is just a flash in the pan.

But having felt so out of place in David’s offices, I now feel right at home. A woman tells me that she loves my hair and rather than do my usual “Really? You like it? I’m not sure it’s really me actually. Your hair is much nicer,” I smile graciously and accept the compliment.

I am thankful, however, that I had the insight to change my clothes before I came—this morning I resorted to borrowing clothes from my mother’s wardrobe and they didn’t fit me at all, but after my haircut I nipped into Top Shop and bought a simple black linen shift dress and a pair of ballerina pumps. My legs may not be particularly tanned, but still, I’m sure the pale and interesting look is in right now. I glance at myself in the mirrored walls of International Magazines’ reception and think to myself thatInStyle was right, you can make cheap clothes look expensive if you know what you’re looking for. I actually look quite sophisticated.

The doors of the lift open, and Candy emerges. She is still amazingly thin, considering she’s pregnant. She’s dressed all in black and her blond hair is tied back neatly in a ponytail. She looks at me and then does a double take.

“George! God, you look amazing. What happened to you?”

I give a halfhearted smile. “Oh, you know. Shall we . . . can we go and get a coffee or something?”

“Great!” I can see her taking surreptitious looks at me as we walk down the street. And she hasn’t made one comment about how I need accessories, or a different pair of shoes.

There is a small cafe on the corner and when we sit down I notice that “Stand by Your Man” is playing on the radio. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Candy looks tired. She tells me about her hectic schedule and a nightmare fashion shoot she’s trying to set up, but while her voice is bright and breezy, I can see real tension in her face. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Candy look stressed.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy, I think.

“So . . . ?” she says expectantly when we make it to a free table with our frothy cappuccinos. She looks at me, and then at the clock on the wall. I’m guessing I haven’t got much of her time.

“It’s about Mike,” I begin.

“Ah. Yes.” Candy looks thoughtful. “Don’t tell me. He’s leaving me for you. You’ve finally got your revenge. I suppose that’s your victory haircut. Am I right?” Her face is smiling but her eyes are thunderous.

“No!” I exclaim. “Candy, Mike has lied to both of us. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone else: he is going to Malaga, you were right. Only, I’m not sure he’s coming back. He’s got David into a whole load of trouble and he’s buggering off tonight. I just . . . I thought you should know.”