‘And what’s more,’ Beth announced, one hand imperiously outstretched to attract a taxi as she looked at her friend over her shoulder, ‘you’re going to surprise the bastard with this get-up, which means you’re going to meet him at the venue. You can change at my place and I’ll drop you.’
‘Theo’s not a bastard.’ The rest of the sentence was slowly filtering into her brain with sickening remorselessness.
Beth was on a roll, and once in the taxi she ticked off all the reasons why Heather should follow her lead. She needed to strike out for herself, to prove to Theo that she was her own woman and not the doormat he assumed she was. She needed to break her habit of a lifetime of always, but always, dressing down, because the sea was actually teeming with fish—colourful, playful, easygoing fish—and there was no need to get tied up to the biggest shark in town. The day was coming, Beth warned, in the tones of a soothsayer ominously forced to predict the inevitable, when she would be out there on her own, when she could no longer hide away and make do with fairytale dreams. Where would she be if she took flight from reality and cowered inside her flat? Only emerging in clothes that made her invisible? Would she ever be able to find a partner?
Heather was suitably alarmed at the picture painted. ‘I don’t look good in bright colours,’ she ventured. ‘And I can’t camp out at your place until it’s time to go.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ The thought of confidently walking into a venue packed with people she didn’t know terrified her. She had managed to live her entire life without ever having to undergo the experience. At least if she arrived with Theo she could hide behind him.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Beth said encouragingly. ‘Better than fine. Trust me. Go on. Phone Theo now, before you chicken out.’
Beth’s voice was the consistency of honey, and Heather shot her a wry look, but really what she said—everything she had said—made sense in a way Heather had always recognised but had never confronted. As soon as she stepped away from her emotional interpretation of the scenario, she could see it for what it was. A pretend relationship that hadn’t become real at all. Because Theo hadn’t fallen madly in love with her. The pretend relationship had simply become one that involved sex. Apparently, and for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, he was physically attracted to her. But that meant nothing. As Beth had very kindly pointed out, Theo was attracted to any manner of woman and saw nothing wrong in having sexual relationships that were utterly devoid of significance.
Heather wanted significance. She had been willing to pretend that making love with him was just step one in attaining it. Maybe it was, but probably it wasn’t—and anyway, surely it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if Theo had a wake-up call? She indulged in the pleasant fantasy of shocking him and realised that Beth had thrust her mobile phone into her hand.
The call to Theo only served to harden her resolve. What had seemed a horrific idea at the time now offered distinct advantages. She was put through to Theo at what was obviously a highly inconvenient time. His voice, when he picked up, was curt. Heather got the feeling that she could have taken a rocket and landed on the moon for all he cared. He was in a meeting, he had no time to talk, and he wasn’t about to make time.
‘I probably won’t be able to get back to the apartment in time to leave with you…’
She could feel herself straining to hear him reject any such thing out of hand, but he didn’t. All he said was, ‘Fine, you can meet me there. You’re a big girl now anyway.’
A mountain of defeat settled on her shoulders like lead, although she fought to give him the benefit of the doubt in her mind. He was busy. He literally had no time to reassure her or even to chat. And that wasn’t his fault. She had hovered around him long enough to know that work was an all-consuming force in his life. She depressed the ‘end call’ button, blinking away the urge to burst into tears.
‘Well?’
‘I’m in your hands!’
Beth grinned broadly. ‘Good. And don’t expect any rest breaks.’
There were none.
Clothes came first. Of course with restrictions on the price, because there was no way that Heather was going to touch the Harrods account card that nestled like a bad omen in her purse. But price restrictions were of no matter to Beth, who confidently declared that youth was all about getting away with wearing cheap because youth could pull it off.
When Heather tried to argue the challenges of her generous figure she was waved down and pulled into shops where clothes of every hue and every cut were tried on and dismissed, or tried on and considered, maybe to return to later.
After dress three, Heather gave up squealing with horror at the amount of flesh being exposed and gave herself over to the experience of being transformed. By outfit six she was beginning to think that she really didn’t look too bad with less on. The breasts she had shamefully hidden from the age of thirteen suited the low cut necks of the trendy dresses, and her legs weren’t half bad. Yes, her figure was hourglass, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Claire had the model figure, but she had her own physical charm.
She lost count of how many outfits she had tried on before they finally decided on the right one. The fabric was soft and swirly, and clung to her body without cutting into her, and the cut of the dress, with its teasingly daring neckline, revealed a cleavage that most women, Beth assured her, would have died for.
Heather allowed herself to be reassured.
It was also a vibrant turquoise, and against that striking colour her skin looked radiantly healthy and her hair looked more positively fair.
It took less time to find the shoes.
‘I’ll never be able to actually walk in these,’ Heather said, eyeing them sceptically. They were cream and high, and reminded her of the delicate things Claire had used to wear as a teenager—shoes she had always thought she was way too heavy for.
‘You don’t need to walk. You need to sashay.’
Heather decided that sashaying would be just about all she could manage. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a fire alarm at any point.
She was beginning to feel transformed already, and, although she wouldn’t have dreamt of saying so to Beth, she hoped that Theo would sit up and take notice, maybe have his head turned. She played with the thought as she sat through a stint at the hairdressers, which had been booked earlier in the day.
Her fair hair was dyed to an impossible blonde, although Simon—very camp and very theatrical—left the rebellious curls, deciding in consultation with Beth that it gave her a provocatively wild look, at odds with her look of wide-eyed innocence.
She laughed when he asked whether she had a brother, but really the makeover had boosted her confidence enormously.
Three hours previously Beth had told her to switch off her mobile phone. Now she itched to switch it back on, so that she could share some of her happiness with Theo. She didn’t. She went back to the apartment with Beth, studiously avoiding any talk about the one that was still vacant. That momentary depression had lifted, like clouds on a summer day, and as the time drew nearer not even the tingling of nerves in her stomach could stanch the healthy appreciation of how she looked.
Beth let out a long whistle as Heather stood in front of the full-length mirror and gaped at the stranger staring back at her.
She was striking. The opposite of invisible. Beth had applied her make-up and it was bold without being clownish. Grey eyeshadow, mascara, blusher, lipstick and eyeliner. She looked…sexy!
There was a list of don’ts to accompany the look. Don’t walk fast, don’t get drunk, don’t talk too much, don’t talk too little, don’t flirt with the juniors, and, most of all, don’t sleep with the boss!
‘This was a good idea,’ she confided to Beth, as the car pulled up in front of the hotel. ‘I mean, I’m terrified of going in on my own, but…’
‘But you need to do that once in a while. It’s called independence. Now, shoo!’
Heather walked into the hotel, with very small steps for fear of spoiling her new-found image by toppling over on her heels, and discovered for the first time in her life that eyes were swivelling round to look at her.
So this was what it felt like! To walk into a place with your head held high and feel those sidelong interested glances! Instead of shuffling in, hiding behind a group of people, self-consciously aware of your unappealing outfit and hideously aware of what was underneath. Ashamed not to be skinny.
She was shown to the rooms that had been booked for the night, and already crowds were spilling out. A typical office crowd of mixed people, ranging from early twenties to near retirement.
Heather walked in and peered around, and spotted Theo almost immediately. He was standing in a group of people, doing his thing for the younger members of the organisation who were either laughing because they genuinely appreciated his wit or else laughing because they were in the company of the Great Man.
She shimmered through the crowds, noting that the interested glances hadn’t stopped, until she was standing directly in Theo’s line of vision.
As he registered her presence, Heather gave fulsome thanks to her friend for having ridden roughshod over her wishes and engineered a look that she had tried her hardest to avoid. It was worth every second of those embarrassing moments in dressing rooms, squeezing herself into outfits she would never have considered in a thousand years. Because the way he was looking at her now made it all worthwhile.