Chapter 52

Summer ended and autumn swept in with a vengeance. By the second week in September, thunderstorms were battering the country, hurricane-force winds were tearing the leaves off the trees and – with the dramatic drop in temperature – everyone was busy digging out their thermals.

The up side o chauffeuring Ray to and from work on cold mornings, Takao discovered, was that he no longer had to endure Ray sitting cross-legged in one of the salon's swivel chairs, a hairdryer blasting away in each hand, defrosting his feet.

'Ooh, someone's going to get the sack,' Ray crowed, poring over the day's appointments and giving Bev a nudge. 'Is that your writing? You've only gone and booked Try-it-on Tabitha in for nine thirty and forgotten to put Home Visit. And Takao's already got a nine o'clock and a ten o'clock lined up, so he won't –'

'Actually,' Takao interrupted him in mid-gloat, 'I wrote it in. And she isn't a Home Visit.' He shrugged his way out of his brown leather jacket. 'From now on, Tabitha's coming here for her appointments.'

Ray boggled at him.

'Blimey, how'd you manage that?'

Takao rolled up his shirt sleeves, ready to start work.

'She tried to grope me once too often. When I told her to cut it out, she offered me five grand to go to bed with her.' Takao's tone was matter-of-fact. 'So I said that was it, I'd had enough. No more home visits. From now on she either came to the salon or found herself another hairdresser.'

'Wow.' Ray was impressed. 'Masterful or what? Of course you know what this means, don't you?'

Wearily, Takao said, 'What?'

'This is going to make Tabitha keener than ever. In fact we'd better get a panic button installed in the VIP room, pronto.' Ray imitated Tabitha's lascivious, sex-kitten leer. 'She's going to be unstoppable now.'

At nine thirty on the dot, Tabitha Lester made her Hollywood entrance in a floor-length fake-fur coat, dark glasses, a silver tracksuit and pink Manolo Blahnik mules. Bev's hackles rose instinctively as she recognised Tabitha's companion.

Spotting Tala, Ray rushed over to give him a massive hug.

'I have the most embarrassing godmother in the world,' Tala told him. 'Her personal trainer, her manicurist and now her hairdresser all refuse to come to the house. She's a preying mantis in six-inch stilettos.'

'And you're the one paying the price.' Ray was sympathetic.

'Having to cart her around from one appointment to the next.' Tala nodded in mournful agreement. 'How fair is that?'

'Never mind,' Ray said soothingly, 'we'll take care of Tabitha now. You just sit down, put your feet up, and Bev will bring you a cup of coffee.'

Tala looked over at Bev, who was stonily flicking through the appointments and listening to every word.

'Only if she promises not to spit in it.'

Bev, who usually enjoyed chatting to the people waiting on the parma-violet sofas next to her desk, vowed not to chat to this one. Who the hell did Tabitha Lester's godson think he was?

Spit in his coffee? Ha, he'd be lucky if she didn't wee in it.

KRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKRKR

Half an hour, Tabitha had promised; it didn't take long for a wash and blow dry. Tala made himself comfortable on the sofa, deliberately closed his ears to his godmother's louder and more outrageous remarks as she carried on her one-sided flirtation with Takao Kinomiya, and glanced up at Bev-the-receptionist, who was making a point of acting like he didn't exist.

Fine. He picked up on of the glossy women's magazines on the coffee table and skimmed through and article entitled 'The Terrible Mistakes Men Make In Bed!'.

Good God, the detail it went into was mind-boggling, women's magazines these days were sheer porn. And as for the stuff they expected a bloke to get up to – well, that was nothing short of outrageous.

His glance flicking up from the page, Tala caught Bev looking at him. She immediately turned away, snatched up the phone and said, 'Yes, hello?' in a high-pitched voice, even though it hadn't rung.

Tala smiled to himself and turned the page. Ah, that was better, he like questionnaires. This one, called 'Do You Always Get What You Want?', sounded right up his street.

If you see a bloke you fancy, do you:

Ask him out?

Ask your secretary to arrange it?

Smile a lot and hope he'll take the hint?

Engage him in a conversation about the weather then suddenly say, 'Oops, Ive just remembered I'm not wearing any knickers?'

Any of the above would do nicely, thought Tala. Sadly, none of them had happened to him. Well, maybe the smiling option had cropped up in the past but more often than not the girl doing the smiling had followed it up with: 'You're Bryan Kutsenov's friend, aren't you? If you could introduce me to him, that'd be fab!'

This time Tala was the one aught out. Without even realising it, he had been gazing at Bev. When she looked up and their eyes met, a jolt of something he couldn't begin to describe shot down his spine.

Tala coughed loudly to cover his confusion, hurriedly turned over another page in the magazine and stared hard at a Tampax ad.

Oh yes, very brave, very macho behaviour for a grown man. Come on, Tabitha, come on, how long can it take for one sex-crazed ex-movie star to have her hair blow-dried?

Finally Tabitha was done. Takao brought her out to the reception area and she struck a pose.

'Darling, how do I look?'

'Like an old drag queen.' As her beloved godson, Tala was the only person on the planet allowed to tease her. Grinning, he helped Tabitha back into her fake-fur coat. As he did so, he became aware that, once again, Bev was eyeing him discreetly from behind the desk.

'I do not, I look wonderful,' cried Tabitha. Pouting, she turned to Bev. 'Don't I, darling?'

'Of course you do. Just ignore him,' Bev said sweetly. Under her breath she added, 'Everyone else does.'

The phone rang as Tabitha and Tala were leaving, giving Bev the opportunity to sound incredibly busy and pretend she hadn't noticed they were off.

'Shall I tell you a funny thing?' said Ray afterwards, when Bev had hung up. 'Every time I looked over, either you were secretly looking at Tala or Tala was looking at you.'

'Oh, don't be so stupid.'

'I'm not! Neither of you said a word, but there was all this . . . this stuff going on.'

'Stuff,' Bev echoed in disbelief.

'You know.' Ray made mystical movements with his hands. 'Stuff you can't describe.' He speeded up his fingers, wiggling them like worms.

'You can't describe it, that's for sure. Anyway, you're talking rubbish as usual.' Badly in need of some cosmetic reassurance, Bev reached beneath the desk for her lipstick. Always kept within easy reach, it was Chanel, it was glossy and it was pillar-box red. Since she reapplied it at least a dozen times a day – more, in times of stress – it was also her security blanket. A quick glance in the mirror behind her and a swift one-two was all it took to restore Bev's faith in herself and a sense of Zen-like inner calm.

'Rubbish, is it?' said Ray gleefully. 'Well, don't look now, but he's coming back.'

As the salon door swung purposefully open, Bev's hand jerked and scarlet lipstick slid up in a line from her mouth to the outer corner of her right nostril. Horrified, clamping both hands over her face, she ducked out of sight behind the desk.

No tissues down there.

Nothing to wipe her mouth on, except the carpet.

'Hello?' said Tala, above her. 'It's no good, I know you're down there.'

The carpet was looking tempting, but it was pearl grey and Takao would kill her.

There was nothing else for it. Crouching on her heels, curled up like a snail, Bev bent forward and wiped the lipstick off on the hem of her skirt. The white Nicole Farhi skirt she had saved up for months to buy.

'hello, hello?'

Finally, in slow motion, she rose to her feet. Tala was leaning over the desk, watching with interest.

'What?' Bev snapped defiantly, hating more then ever now that he'd ruined her very best skirt. And although the worst of the lipstick was off, she still had to keep one hand cupped, toothache-style, over the right side of her face.

'Okay, here goes. I think you fancy me.' Tala clasped his hands tightly together to stop them shaking. 'And God only knows why, but I know I fancy you. So how about it?'

Bev stared at him. The nerve, the absolute nerve!

'How about what?'

'Oh, come on, don't give me a hard time. I know I'm not great at this,' said Tala, 'but I'm pretty nervous, okay? You'd be scared too, if you had to do it.'

Deep breath, deep breath.

'Okay. Try it again,' said Bev.

Tala nodded and cleared his throat.

'Right. I'd like it very much if you'd come out with me some time. Maybe this Sunday, if you're free. Is that better?'

It was, but Bev hadn't finished being stroppy yet.

'I think I'm busy then.'

Tala snapped his fingers.

'Ray, what does this one here do on Sundays?'

Ray, eavesdropping frantically behind them and pretending to fold towels that had already been folded, stopped what he was doing and feigned surprise.

'Nothing. Well, unless you count sorting her make-up into alphabetical order.'

Thanks a lot, thought Bev. That was the last time she told Ray anything, ever. And why did everyone seem to find it so funny anyway? People sorted their collections of CDs and books into alphabetical order, didn't they? So why couldn't she do it with make-up?

'Sunday it is, then,' said Tala. Pulling a pen out of his inside pocket, he helped himself to an appointment card from the pile on the desk. 'Better tell me where to pick you up.'

Oh well, what the heck. It wasn't as if she had anything else to do. Still keeping a hand clamped over her face, Bev grudgingly told him her address through splayed fingers.

'Fine.' Tala clicked the pen shut in a businesslike manner. 'Right, well, Tabitha's waiting for me in the car. Sunday it is, then. Six o'clock.'

'Six o'clock.'

He raised his eyebrows.

'Think you can manage that?'

'Oh, I think so,' Bev replied with sarcasm. 'Just about.'

'Okay, 'bye.'

'Wait,' she yelped as he moved towards the door. 'You haven't told me where we're going! I don't know what to wear – smart or casual?'

Tala paused, then shrugged.

'Casual-ish.'

'Right.' Tick-tick went Bev's brain, racing through the contents of her wardrobe. Casual was fine, she could so casual . . . click click . . . caramel wool trousers teamed with her cream silk blouse, conker-brown cashmere sweater, single row of pearls, dark-brown ankle boots, Estee Lauder cinnamon silk eye shadow, Lancome mulberry lipstick –

'Oh, and don't worry about breakfast,' Tala added over his shoulder as he left. 'We'll stop for a fry-up on the way.'