A Constant Attraction (Attraction #2) (2 page)

“Oh, my gosh! These are gorgeous!”

As I looked at the reflection in the mirror I knew there and then, that treating myself to a new pair of heels was the best idea Erin could have ever come up with; unless they were delivered to me on a gold satin cushion by the luscious David Gandy or flown in by the 'Man Of Steel' himself, Henry Cavill of course! She was also correct when she exclaimed that “One can never have too many shoes”.

Checking out the elegant satin-like shoe, from every possible angle, I beamed with delight. I had teetered along in a couple of other pairs, before I had laid my eyes upon these beauties; which at first I couldn't because considering the height of the darn things. These however, they fitted like, well, like a shoe believe it or not; they were extraordinarily comfortable- as long as I didn't have to walk any further than five hundred feet in them, at any one time that is. The pair that I had bought from Cambridge for the evening out Marc and I had gone to, were more of a pump style heeled shoe, as the Americans call them and wine in colour. With the event consisting of wining, dining and dancing, they were the safer option (not so far to fall). These however were blood red colour and the killer heels; never in a million years did I think I would be able to stand up in them, never mind traipse around a shop. With first-class assistance from Erin though, as I had initially held on to her and walked behind clutching on to her shoulders; like a toddler does to it's walker, I was now able to parade up and down the aisle without any help what-so-ever. Ok, I still looked like a prancing pony, but with practise and advice from the runway queen herself, I will eventually get there. I felt so incredibly proud of myself, which probably sounds daft, but I reckoned I deserved a certificate of achievement once I'm back at school!

“You look fabulous darling”, Erin pronounces in her best Sharon Osbourne impersonation, that really falls flat on it's face, causing me to laugh so much that I nearly follow Erin's impression. And yes I did let out a slight snort at the end of each laughing phrase, which only makes us laugh even harder. Before we get thrown out of the shop for being too raucous, I suggest that I get out of these shoes and buy them. I love them and remembering Marc's comment, how he had thigh clinchingly whispered into my ear, that his favourite colour was in fact red, I knew he would love them too.

“What has happened to you Mrs?” I know Erin is jesting as she questions me, while I rummage around in my favourite monogrammed, Argylle bag for my purse.

“Erm! It's Ms now I have you know. And I have no idea what you mean.”

I can kind of do know what she means, but I don't let on to her.

Leaning against the counter, Erin takes the shoes from my hand so it then makes my mammoth search easier.

“Well you used to just dress in black all of the time when you were down here. Black trousers, black tops, black flat shoes...I was waiting for the day you came to work with your hair dyed black!” Erin tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“Now look at you, you're off at the other end of the spectrum.”

I couldn't disagree with Erin one bit. I had used to wear dark, dowdy clothes and I felt I wore them very well because that's exactly how I felt at the time. I had no reason to make any effort and didn't attend any occasions that required me to buy anything different. You know all of this already, but for Erin to ask me, it has really got me thinking. The way I dressed was as though as I was in mourning and I suppose I was in a way. I was mourning for the life that had been taken away from me at the hands of a despicable and controlling man. A man who vowed to love me until death do us part, which was very nearly the case the last time I saw him and the palm of his hand as he slapped me. He hit me with such force, I was knocked unconscious when my head hit the coffee table. My stomach churns at the memory....it's different now however.

So I wouldn't put this dramatic change of not only the exterior of me, but also interior, down to just Marc as I started the process long before I met him. It started the day I woke up in my hospital bed. Feeling sore and swollen was enough of an incentive for me to make the decision. From then on every day was a new one, a new transition, a regeneration I suppose. I'm giggling to myself as I think of a friend, a very good friend who shares an interest in Doctor Who with me....I wonder if there ever could be a female Doctor? Scandalous, I hear the cry!! Reining my thoughts back in again.....I recall the day Jackie commented and complimented on the fact I was starting to add more colour to the clothing I was wearing. I had ditched the bleach blonde highlights in my hair that I thought looked okay at the time and dyed it to a beautiful, warm auburn colour, then grew it back to the length it was before I had the children. My tresses used to be a lovely length, draping over my shoulders and down my back, but having a combination of a baby pulling on them whilst feeding him and the lack of time (or patience) to style or doing anything with it, I took the drastic decision to have my all of my chopped off. I seriously couldn't watch the hairdresser in the mirror, taking the first few cuts. She had already tied the hair into a ponytail, so when she held it aloft and said that they would use it for wigs.....

I did cry myself to sleep that night, kicking myself and wondering what the hell had I just done! How I was feeling at that precise moment, I could have quite easily gone out and bought myself a wig to cover up the super short spikes that were now there. Sods law would have well and truly have rubbed salt into the wound, had the wig been made out of my own beautiful locks though!

Obviously over time, a long time I might add, I had learned to live with it and let it grow back again a little. However I still kept it short while the kids were young.

Now it is back to its original length and a deep autumnal red colour. I know all of this is sounding daft and probably even more so, when I tell you that it does appear to be more naturally vibrant since meeting Marc, just like the rest of me feels.

Now not remembering what Erin had asked me in the first place, I rack my brain and I really can't remember! I break out of my reverie long enough to see that she is no longer standing next to me by the counter. Just where the heck did she disappear to? I've wished many folk would do a 'Houdini', but not Erin!

Looking from side to side and then back again to the now annoyed shop assistant, who is impatiently waving my receipt in front of my face. I apologetically take it from her and turn to find Erin standing by the entrance with her arms sternly crossed.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to notice I'd gone Ms Chambers!” Erin yells across a half full shop and makes a few shoppers stop sharply in their wake to look at who this loony woman is shouting at. I hush her by placing a finger on my lips and scowl at her, but then I am distracted by a figure staring through the window. I can't quite make them out as the glare from the sun is causing a shadow, however what I do make out is enough to make me frown.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you have waved, acknowledged or smiled at a person thinking you recognised them? Then have gone on to make a complete arse of yourself, when you realise they are not who you thought they were? Yup! I have had many of them, hence why even though I don't go to wave at this person, I swear I recognise them. It's something about the clothing they're wearing, more than the features of this person. I'm not sure if my mind is starting to play tricks on me because the thing is, if this person looks remotely like who I think it is, there would be no way on this earth I'd want to acknowledge them. A cold shiver escalates down my spine, causing me to shudder uncontrollably. I force myself to look away and turn my attention to Erin, before going back to the window again. In those few seconds the figure has disappeared. Oh for goodness sake Chambers, it is just one of those moments. Rubbing my eyes to focus ahead, I give myself a telling off. Forget it and move on.

Understandably
by now, Erin has lost all of her patience and marched herself over to me. Waving her hands directly in front of my face, “Earth to Isabel, are you receiving me?”

“Yes, yes I'm still here...just! Come on, there's one more shop I'd like to go to.” I grab a hold of her arm and link it as we march outside.

Heading towards one of the town's gift shops, I take in the beautiful and traditional buildings on either side of us. There is a broad range of varied and diverse businesses. These range from restaurants to charity shops, bakeries to smallest pub in the country! The bright Suffolk pink flashing on some of them, is as much a part of the history as the Tudor black and white fronted ones, and the cobbled street, which is a nightmare to walk on in heels! The atmosphere surrounding us is buzzing, but I am still able to focus on what today is all about. I have done the reflection and soul searching part, now I can enjoy the girly day out I am having. Peering at the mixture of joyous and frustrated shoppers, makes me inwardly chuckle about the love hate relationship I have with this infamous pastime, that some class as therapy. I am however, thoroughly enjoying today because of the nature of it and the company I have- So I can sort of understand the retail therapy side to it from that angle. However food shopping, forget it! To have people tutting at me when I abruptly stop to turn down the wine aisle or to be stuck behind folk waiting to pass thoughtless shoppers who stand directly in the middle to have a good gossip with one another, really.....that's good therapy? I think not! If I wasn't so IT illiterate I would have taken up online shopping a long time ago. Having said that though, as sad as this may sound, I don't think I would be able to give up the ungratifying task that is the weekly food shop. The amused rolling of eyes that fellow trolley pushers give one another and the best bit waiting a few minutes longer than necessary, to ask for the assistance of a drop dead gorgeous man, who just happens to be passing by, to reach me a box of muesli (which I detest) from off the top shelf....then proceed to check his butt out! (Come on ladies, you have got to have done that at least once!) Yes, it has its perks. It is also my social life. That person, who grumbles at me for suddenly changing direction, could be the only adult communication I get for the whole weekend. No I don't think I could ever give that up.

Without giving any warning to Erin I stop suddenly, causing me to jerk on her arm, as I realise the shop I was looking for is next to us. I then turn to apologise to the guy who has accidentally walked into the back of me. Tutting, he strides around us with the face of a pit bull upon him. Deja vu! Erin and I glance at one another and I can't help but giggle.

“I just need to go in here. As there is something I would really like to get for erm!...someone.”

The nonchalant manner in which I say the words, leads to Erin eyeing me suspiciously. Damn it! I'm crap at hiding things and trying to back track only means I dig myself in further, give it up now Chambers! Why couldn't I have said I was getting a gift for James or Joseph? Then again, it wouldn't look good presenting the shot glass I am about to buy to a young lad.

“Spill Chambers! There is an ulterior motive here and my 'Spidey Senses' are telling me, something or should that be, someone has put a skip into your step. You know you are totally rubbish at lying as well.”

Right at that moment my phone rings. I've heard of the saying 'Saved by the bell', can we add 'saved by the ringtone' to that as well now? On second thoughts, how psyched would I be if it was Marc calling me? Tentatively reaching for it in my 'Mary Poppins' bag, I see it is Rose or quite possibly Joseph. So let out a sigh of relief.

“Hello.”

“Hi mum. Granny insisted, I mean said that I had to call you, to let you know how I was doing.” Smirking to myself, I can tell by Joseph's voice and choice of words that he must have been forced to call. I just roll my eyes and smile, shaking my head.

Searching the shelves that are displaying various ornaments, stationary, books and bookmarks, I finally spot the shot glass I am after. Clamping the handset in between my ear and shoulder, I am able to free my hand so that I can pick up a few more souvenirs. We all know how women are are experts in multi-tasking, don't we?

“Well I am glad you did sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Half distracted by the phone call, manoeuvring around other tourists and shoppers, I come up on the perfect gift for Joseph. An aeroplane, that he can assemble himself and then paint. I know he'll love it, especially as it's a Spitfire. Ooo!! There's a Lancaster Bomber as well! Oh go on! He absolutely loves his war planes and wants to be an engineer in the Army or RAF when he's older.....older! Jeez, time is running away quick enough, never mind thinking about when he's older.

“I'm okay mum, it hurts a bit still, but granny and grandpa are taking me to the Fitzwilliam Museum today. They say it'll help take my mind off it.”