My thoughts wander again to my absent husband – not that he’s ever far from them. If he doesn’t come back to me, will I find myself going out on date nights with Jen? It doesn’t bear thinking about.
Jenny texts her date back to find out when and where they’re to meet. ‘I should go home and get myself ready,’ she says.
‘You’ve got Cinderella to finish first,’ Petal points out.
She kisses my daughter. ‘I’ll have to do that tomorrow, darling.’
Petal tuts. Now is not the time to point out that one day men will be a lot more important to her than her Cinderella jigsaws. But I hope that it’s a day that’s a long time coming. Instead, I content myself with, ‘It’s your bedtime now, little lady. Kiss Jenny good night.’
Without protest, she does, then I kiss Jenny too and she shrugs on her jacket. ‘Text me and let me know how you get on.’
‘Wish me luck,’ she says.
‘You don’t need it,’ I assure her. ‘You’ll be fabulous.’
As I watch her go, I do hope that Jenny finds herself a nice man. It’s clear that all she wants is a home, a family of her own. That’s not a lot to ask for, is it?
‘Bedtime,’ I remind Petal. ‘Now.’
My chubby-legged child pads through to my bedroom and climbs onto the bed. ‘You could have your own room tonight,’ I point out. ‘Jenny’s staying at her own house tonight.’
‘I like your bed,’ she says.
I sigh. ‘OK.’ But to be truthful, it’s nicer having Petal here rather than sleeping alone.
She snuggles in under the duvet and demands, ‘Story.’
‘A short one.’ I slide in beside her and read from a book called Fussy Freya, which we got out of the library last week.
‘When is Daddy coming home?’ she asks sleepily.
‘I don’t know, sweet pea.’
‘Doesn’t he love us any more?’
‘He adores you.’ See what I did there? That neat deflection? I have no idea if he adores Mummy any more is what I really mean.
‘Then I wish he’d come back. I can only have The Gruffalo when he’s here. Daddy’s better at it than you.’
He is. I can’t argue with that. He’s an excellent father. None better. That’s why his continued absence is all the more confusing. As Petal slips her thumb into her mouth and sinks into sleep, I think I might join her myself. The night is young, but I’m not. I give in to a glorious yawn. I could force myself to stay awake and sit on the sofa watching rubbish television by myself, but what’s the point? Might as well have an early night.
I’m curled up next to Petal, drifting in and out of sleep, when I hear a key in the front door. Dude barks and bounds out of the bedroom wagging his tail like a loon.
Rousing myself, I glance at the clock. Not yet midnight. I thought Jenny wouldn’t be back this evening. Perhaps her date didn’t go as planned and she doesn’t fancy spending the night alone. Slipping out of bed, I pull on my dressing gown. We can have a cuppa and a data download together about her evening before she goes to bed. Hopefully, that will make her feel better.
In the living room, I flick on the light and then jump out of my skin. It isn’t Jenny. It isn’t Jenny at all.
At the top of the stairs, there’s a man standing there and, probably because I’m disorientated with sleepiness, it takes me a minute to realise that it’s Olly.
‘Hi,’ he says and the familiarity of his voice makes my heart contract.
He drops the holdall he’s carrying on the floor and, seconds later, we’re in each other’s arms. I hold him tightly, feeling that if I let go for even a moment, he might just disappear again.
‘Where have you been?’ I ask as I smother him with kisses.
‘Miami,’ he says as he smothers me back.
That makes me pull away. ‘Miami? What on earth have you been doing there?’
Olly sighs. ‘It’s a long story,’ he says.
Chapter 86
Olly whips open the holdall on the floor. He pulls out the dirty shirts and pants and socks, tossing them onto the carpet with abandon. Underneath it all is a whacking great pile of cash.
I gasp out loud. ‘Have you robbed a bank?’
‘This is straight from Lola Cody’s safe.’ More gasping. ‘It’s our money?!’
‘All of it,’ he says.
Throwing my arms round him, I hug him again. ‘You did that? For us?’
‘I couldn’t let them get away with it, Nell. I couldn’t have lived with myself, so I sold the Vespa, bought a ticket with the money, and went to stake out the offices of Home Mall.’
He’s sold the Vespa. Good grief, I know how much that scooter meant to him. I never thought he’d consider parting with it. Pulling my dressing gown round me, I cuddle up next to him. For the next few days, I think I’m going to be glued to his side – as I’m sure Petal will be too.
‘But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me know where you were?’
‘Because you would have told me it was a bad idea. You would have wanted me to come straight back.’
He does have a point.
‘Say you understand,’ Olly urges. ‘I needed to do it without any distractions.’
I don’t like to tell him that in doing it this way he’s driven me to distraction. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’
‘Now you don’t have to worry any more,’ he says.
While we both sit on the floor and stare at the money, Olly fills me in on the details: the dreadful serial killer motel, the long days sitting in the rental car, the dodgy neighbourhood, the scuffle as he tried to leave, the two burly mechanics who came to his aid.
I’m just so filled with emotion that he would think to do this for us and I could also kill him for putting me through the agony of thinking that he’d run off with another woman. But as I look at him I can see the hollows round his eyes, the tiredness there. His clothes are rumpled and he smells like a skunk. It doesn’t look like he’s been eating properly either. There’s a bad cut on his ear and I wonder if the unexpected fight as he left was more difficult than he’s letting on.
‘We could have done it together, Olly,’ I say.
‘We couldn’t. I had to do this alone. If it had gone wrong… ’ Suddenly, his voice cracks and his words are thick with emotion. ‘If something had happened, I couldn’t have lived with myself.’
I wrap my arms round him tightly once more. ‘But it didn’t,’ I say. ‘You’ve come home safely to me. We’re a family again.’
‘That’s all that matters, isn’t it?’ Olly strokes.
I nod, uncertain of my own voice. ‘I’m so pleased you got the money back,’ I whisper. ‘Delighted. Thrilled.’ I let my fingers trace the contours of his face. ‘But all I really wanted back was you.’
His lips find mine and there is nothing that has ever tasted sweeter. If I’m kissing these lips for the rest of my life then I’ll die a happy woman.
Olly’s body presses against mine and together we lie down on the carpet. He undoes the belt of my dressing gown and I shrug it off so that it becomes a blanket for us.
In my haste to get my husband naked, my fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt. I give up and help him to tug it over his head. His ribs are black with bruises and I trace the outline of them, wondering how these were caused.
Olly stills my hand with his. ‘Explanations later,’ he murmurs. He sinks on top of me once again.
The door crashes open.
‘Daddy!’ Petal cries. ‘I thought I heard you.’ She launches herself across the room and barrels into him.
He lets out an ‘ouff’ as she crashes into his ribs. Olly envelops her in a bear hug. ‘Have you missed me, Petalmeister?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Mummy isn’t a very good daddy. You’re much better at it.’
Olly looks over at me and smiles. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
I can see tears filling my husband’s eyes as he holds our daughter close.
‘You look completely worn out,’ I say, squeezing his arm.
‘I am,’ he admits.
‘Then let’s go to bed.’
He raises a questioning eyebrow.
‘All three of us,’ I confirm. There’s no way that we’d get Petal back into her own room now that Olly has just returned home.
So, with a wince, Olly picks Petal up and carries her through to our bedroom. We all slide under the duvet. Me on one side. Olly on the other. Petal slap bang in the middle. Dude slinks in and settles at the foot of the bed.
‘Now go to sleep, Daddy,’ Petal instructs. ‘Or you’ll be tired in the morning.’
‘Night, night. Sleep tight, Petalmeister.’ Tenderly, he tucks the duvet around her.
Our daughter knees us both into position until she’s comfortable.
He winks at me over her head and mouths, ‘I love you.’ Looks as if the passionate reunion will have to be put on hold. I grin to myself. But we will get it.
Chapter 87
I’m panicking, panicking, panicking.
‘Calm down,’ Olly says. He puts his hands on my shoulders and massages them. ‘Everything will be fine.’
I try to breathe so that I don’t hyperventilate.
‘Have I remembered everything?’ I ask.
‘It’s too late now,’ Olly says. ‘It’s all about to kick off. Are you ready?’
‘Just need to slip on my dress.’
‘Better get a wiggle on, Mrs McNamara.’
Turning to face him, I give him a long, lingering kiss.
‘Hmm,’ Olly says. ‘What was that for?’
‘For making this possible,’ I say. ‘For rescuing me from the depths of despair.’
‘Isn’t that the duty of a husband?’
I smile at him. ‘Then you execute your duties very well.’ This is my first show. My first proper show! I’ve just taken a quick break from the madness to get myself ready. We’ve managed to secure a small dressing room backstage, which, frankly, is little more than a cupboard but at least it’s away from the main fray.
Three months have gone by since Olly returned from Miami with all of our money, safe and sound. Now we’re at the massive Fashion Frenzy design show in the heart of London. With some of the money that Olly got back from Lola Cody, I splashed out and organised a catwalk show to feature my handbags. I have a warehouse full of Nell McNamara bags that arrived from China several weeks ago and this is the start of our big push towards moving them. The handbags came out better than I could even have hoped and I’m just praying that we get enough interest for it to be the first order of many.
I also took some of the money and bought back Olly’s cherished scooter without him knowing – which was, miraculously, still in the showroom window of Vroom. Ben sold it back to me for the price he’d given Olly. I think he was just glad to see it returned to its rightful owner. Olly, it goes without saying, was beside himself with joy. I think it’s the least I could do after what he did to get our money back.
The rest of the cash, of course, went straight to paying off the bank, to help cut my loan repayments. I tried to give some money back to Phil too, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So that’s where we stand now. We’re still in debt, but not cripplingly so.
What else can I tell you? Oh, we had an order from a highend French department store for our handbags. They’d seen the scandal about Yves Simoneaux and Marie Monique in the trade magazines and fell in love with the products and decided to give them a trial. It’s not a massive order, but it’s a start, and I’m thrilled that something good has finally come of that whole episode. Of Yves or Marie, I’ve heard or seen nothing since. Thank goodness. I’d give her another good whacking if I did. And him. Seems as if they’ve disappeared off the face of the earth, or at least crawled back into the hole that they came out of. Result!
Also, Olly has managed to secure a couple of regular gigs in pubs in town, three nights a week, playing his beloved music, which will help to ease our cash flow situation as he’ll be bringing in some regular money. I wouldn’t say that we’re exactly solvent, but we can, at least occasionally, veer out of the ‘own brand’ aisle in the supermarket now. Tod also helped me secure some funding from The Arts Council to go towards the costs, so, whereas to come to this show would normally have cost me an arm and a leg, it’s just costing me an arm.
You might have gathered from all my excitement that I’ve finally found my mojo again. It might have taken a long time, but with Olly safely at home and things firmly back on track between us once more, my confidence gradually returned too.
Following Tod’s advice, we’ve taken on a PR agency and they’ve managed to get some of the bags to A-list celebrities who we’re hoping will be papped while wearing them. The money that we’ve spent on the agency already seems to be paying dividends. Today alone, I’ve done a dozen press and television interviews that they fixed up for me. They’ve also arranged for the editors of some of the biggest fashion magazines to be here in the audience today. One of the big, glossy lifestyle magazines has offered me a double-page spread, featuring me in their ‘entrepreneur and mother’ feature. Me!
This is a brand new collection that we’re showing today and I’m just head over heels in love with it and I hope that everyone else will be too. I’ve gone retro Britpop, modinspired in a big way and the handbags are going to feature the Union Jack, the London Underground map, traditional red buses, and the iconic telephone box.
The models will all be sporting sixties-style clothes, plus some original vintage pieces I’ve sourced from the market at home – our forte, I think – and Olly has dug deep into his record collection to take charge of the music for the event. If it’s a success, we’re planning to take the concept over to the New York, New Designers show next spring.
Petal’s with us and because of the electric atmosphere, she’s as hyper as if she’d had two dozen bags of Haribo Starmix, and is racing round the room, bouncing off the walls and the ceiling. I’ve given her a little role in the catwalk show and I’m hoping that this is a good idea.
‘Petalmeister,’ Olly says. ‘Chill.’
‘But I’m too upcited, Daddy!’
‘Come and sit on my knee for five minutes to calm down. You need to be ready for your big moment.’
Our daughter sighs her resignation to this plan and clambers onto Olly’s knee where he grips her in a bear hug, which does look somewhat like a police-approved restraint hold. I smile to myself. What will we do when she’s fifteen?
Then, just as I think I really must get changed, there’s a knock on the door and Tod pops his head round it. ‘We’ve all just come to say good luck. Have you got time?’
‘Yes, of course.’
For my big day all the chip shop crew are here – the indispensible Jen, Constance and, of course, Phil. I wave them into the cramped space.
Whatever happens in my life, I’ll always have time for the most important people in my life. Without them, none of this would have been possible.
‘Nell, love,’ Phil hugs me. ‘It all looks great out there.’
‘Good. You lot seem as nervous as kittens.’ They’re also all done up in their Sunday best.
‘Tod’s been doing a great job keeping us all well topped up with champagne,’ Jen tells me. ‘Soon we’ll be feeling no pain.’
I laugh. ‘Just don’t drink so much that you nod off in the show. I want you wide awake and cheering loudly.’
‘You can rely on us for that,’ Phil assures me.
‘Good luck, Nell, love. I’ve got butterflies for you,’ Constance admits. Her hands flutter anxiously to her chest.
‘Hey,’ I say, catching sight of the big sparkler on her finger.
‘What’s all this?’
My friend flushes and glances over at Phil. ‘We were going to tell you later, after the show.’
‘You’re engaged?’
‘Yes.’ They giggle in unison.
‘Yesterday,’ Phil says. ‘We came up to Lon
don early and I proposed.’
‘You dark horse!’
He grins shyly. ‘Let’s just say I’d been planning it for a while. We didn’t want a fuss though.’
‘A fuss you will have,’ I warn them. ‘You must tell me all about it.’ I throw my arms around Constance and then Phil.
‘I’m delighted for you both.’
‘Nearly ready?’ Tod asks.
I take a steadying breath. ‘Just about.’ This is turning out to be quite a day.
‘One more thing,’ Tod says. His grin says that’s he’s left the best until last. ‘I’ve just had a text from the office.’ He pauses to increase the suspense.
‘You’re killing me,’ I tell him. ‘Just spit it out.’
‘Lola and Benito Cody have been arrested for fraud. Looks like there’s going to be a court case. The other businesses that lost their money now have a chance of getting it back and Mr and Mrs Cody could be looking at a custodial sentence.’
I want to slump to the floor with relief. ‘Did you hear that, Olly?’
My husband nods his head. ‘I did, but I’m not sure that I believe it.’
‘Me neither,’ Tod says. ‘Let’s cross our fingers and hope that those guys get what’s coming to them.’
Overjoyed, I hug Olly and then I hug Tod. I know that, in the background, Tod has been working away to bring this to fruition. Seems like his hard work may well have paid off.
A woman with a clipboard and headphones puts her head round the door. ‘Ten minutes, Ms McNamara.’ She disappears again.
‘I have to get ready,’ I say to Tod. My models will be waiting for me to give the last-minute once-over to their outfits before the show kicks off. ‘But I’m going to make damn sure that I have a glass or two of champagne to celebrate that later.’
‘We’ll leave you in peace,’ Tod says, despite the mayhem that’s about to break out around us.