Finishing Touches (39 page)

‘Isn’t this posh?’ Cassie gazed around in admiration as a smiling waiter glided silently towards them to take her coat. As she walked with Aileen towards one of the grey
marble-topped coffee-tables Cassie understood for the first time what it felt like to sink into a carpet up to your ankles.

‘I thought we’d have a couple of drinks here to start off with, just to put us in the humour. They’ll cost an arm and a leg, but who cares? This is our night out. Then
we’ll go to another lovely hotel just across the road which won’t be quite as expensive, but Cassie, the food there is absolutely mouthwatering.’

‘Suits me!’ Cassie grinned, beginning to perk up.

‘What are you going to have?’ Aileen was busy perusing the drinks list. ‘I think I’ll have a kir royale.’

‘I’ve never tasted kir,’ Cassie admitted.

‘Oooh, it’s lovely! You’d like it. Have the royale, it’s got champagne in it. I’ll treat you. I got a big tip from some Saudi sheik’s wife today,’ she
added with satisfaction.

They ordered their drinks and sat back in their comfortable dusky-pink chairs, enjoying themselves. In the background someone was softly playing a piano, and Cassie, who loved examining
décor, gazed admiringly at the huge sparkling gilt-edged mirrors and the gold-filigreed ceiling, which was supported by magnificent marble pillars. The walls were decorated in a honey tone
which gave an air of warmth and brightness that was most appealing although the room was huge and ornate.

‘Wouldn’t Barbara give her eye teeth to be here?’ Aileen smiled wickedly as she began to make inroads into the bowl of savoury nuts the waiter had brought them.

‘Could you imagine the detective here?’ Cassie grimaced. ‘What she sees in him, I cannot imagine.’

‘Well, you know, they say opposites attract,’ Aileen said seriously, as she sipped the drink that had just arrived. ‘You know she’s so . . . so . . . opinionated and so
eager to be heard, and trying to get a few words out of him is like drawing blood from a stone. It’s like Judy and Andrew Lawson. She’s so gentle and placid and not very sure of herself
and he’s so flamboyant and arrogant and self-assured.’

‘Judy’s cracked about him,’ Cassie observed.

‘I know, and it worries me,’ Aileen sighed. ‘Do you think Barbara and Sherlock will make a go of it?’

Cassie laughed. ‘Don’t ask me, but they’ve been together a good while now. She’s even doing his washing for him.’

‘Is the woman mad!’ Aileen exclaimed in disgust.

‘You know Barbara!’ Cassie said drily. ‘I went home one Friday and I wanted to do a bit of washing in a hurry and I couldn’t get near the machine. She was washing his
sheets, his duvet-cover and about forty shirts. Using
our
powder and
our
electricity and
our
washing-machine—’

‘Typical!’ interjected Aileen.

‘Well, of course, when I pointed this out to her and told her I hoped it wasn’t going to become a regular occurrence, she got into a magnificent huff.’ Cassie grinned at the
memory. ‘Do you know what my dear sister said to me?’

Aileen arched a wing-tipped eyebrow. ‘What?’

Cassie took a sip of her drink. ‘She said, “It’s not my fault if you can’t keep a man and I can, so don’t go taking it out on me.”’

Aileen’s eyes widened. ‘The little bitch! God, what is it with her! She’s had a chip on her shoulder as long as I can remember her and
that’s
going back. What
makes her say things like that?’

‘I don’t know! You know her when she gets miffed! There’s just something in her make-up. Some people are born nasty and she’s one of them. She’s writing this gossip
column now for the paper she’s working for, and the things she writes about people! Of course she’s got that Noreen Varling one egging her on and feeding her juicy titbits. You should
see them in the Shelbourne drinking champagne. They’re so pretentious. And Noreen’s so big and stout and Barbara’s such a skinny little beanpole, they’re like Little and
Large sitting there taking people apart. It really is outrageous the way they take away people’s good names with their innuendos. One of these days they’re going to be sued!’

‘God help whoever is suing Barbara,’ laughed Aileen as she drained her drink. Cassie caught the waiter’s attention.

‘We’ll have two more, please.’

It was after nine when they left the Ritz to stroll back along Piccadilly to Half Moon Street, where they were having dinner in Fleming’s Hotel. It had stopped drizzling and the sky had
cleared and the pair of them were quite ravenous.

‘Just look at the chandeliers in here. Aren’t they magnificent?’ murmured Aileen, as they entered the plush hotel. It was much more intimate than the Ritz and Cassie thought
the peach-and-green decor was superb. Opposite the reception desk she noticed an ornate gilt mirror and an exquisite marble-topped table, upon which was placed the statue of a black stallion.
Although the Ritz had been sumptuous with its marble pillars and huge yucca plants, she far preferred the classical elegance of this smaller hotel.

‘This is lovely and you’re right about those chandeliers – they really sparkle,’ she said to Aileen.

‘Oh this is a real find. I’ve booked a table for us tonight. Wait until you’ve tasted the food. And the staff are lovely. I’ve been here several times.’ Aileen led
the way to the dining-room.

‘With anybody special?’ Cassie smiled.

Aileen laughed. ‘What do you think I am? A glutton for punishment? No! Madame Lefeur, the woman I work for, has a nephew Pierre, who is, as you can guess, French. He comes over to London
on business quite regularly and he stays with Madame Lefeur. They have this huge apartment over the salon. Talk about posh, Cassie! Anyway, he kind of fancies me, the fool! And he’s taken me
out and we’ve had dinner here a few times.’

‘What age is he?’ Cassie asked, intrigued, as they were shown to their table.

‘Thirty and unwed,’ Aileen laughed. ‘And unwed he’ll stay if he keeps on showing an interest in me. I’m not getting involved again for a while.’

‘Me neither,’ Cassie said glumly.

‘Ah, come on, let’s not get depressed,’ Aileen said hastily. ‘Here, read this menu. It would raise anybody’s spirits!’

Aileen hadn’t lied about the food. After a delicious five-course meal, they were fit for nothing. Stuffed to the gills, they walked out into the night air and back towards Piccadilly
Circus tube station.

‘Would you like to go to a nightclub?’ Aileen enquired. ‘We could go to Stringfellows or Jocelyns? I know people who work there so there won’t be any problem getting
in.’

Cassie laughed and yawned. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk that brandy. All I want to do is go to sleep!’

‘Me too,’ confessed Aileen. ‘It’s been an awfully long day and my feet are killing me.’

‘A right pair of ravers
we
are. Barbara would be disgusted with us!’ Cassie yawned again. ‘Tell you what, to hell with the tube. Let’s do it in style and get a
taxi home. I love those black cabs. I always feel like the queen when I’m travelling in one of them.’

‘You’re on!’ Aileen flagged one down. They drove back to where Aileen lived in Wembley, as Cassie was spending the weekend with her. It was all hours before they got to bed,
because once they got back to Aileen’s and had coffee, they were revived and stayed up half the night chatting.

They spent a lazy weekend together and both of them enjoyed catching up on all the news. Aileen was staying with an aunt who lived in a large redbrick house in Stanley Avenue off the Ealing
Road. Her aunt was a jolly woman in her early sixties and she was delighted to have Aileen staying. She had turned over the first floor for her niece’s use as she suffered from respiratory
problems and preferred to stay downstairs; so to all intents and purposes Aileen had a self-contained flat.

They had had a lovely lie-in and then breakfasted on juice, croissants, muesli and freshly ground coffee before going out for a stroll. Aileen liked Stanley Avenue. With its tree-lined street
and redbrick houses, it reminded her of Griffith Avenue in Dublin. There was a large Asian community so they meandered into some of the colourful Asian shops on the Ealing Road, looking at the
saris in the clothes shops and all the exotic fruit and vegetables and spices in the vegetables shops. Cassie bought some star-fruit and passion-fruit and some chillis and a host of different
spices. She was definitely going to experiment with her cooking and Aileen was invited to partake of a meal the following week. Then they went up to Wembley High Street and had a ball as they
dawdled around Marks & Spencers, C&A and their favourite, Boots. It was all still new to Cassie, and all still a treat. They spent ages in Boots looking at the make-up and toiletries before
going to McDonald’s for a Big Mac.

That night they set off again, this time to a cinema on the Tottenham Court Road. They were going to see
Star Trek, The Motion Picture
and they were so looking forward to it. Having
thoroughly enjoyed
Star Trek
in their youth, like all loyal trekkies they were dying to see the movie.

They enjoyed it immensely, apart from being disgusted that the film-makers had changed the layout of the
Enterprise
completely. The new bridge was a disaster and the new uniforms
didn’t show off Captain Kirk’s sexy bum the way the old one did. They munched popcorn, ate chocolates and drank Coke and felt fifteen again – only Laura was missing to complete
the evening.

The next day, Sunday, was lashing rain and they bought all the Sunday papers and sat curled up in front of a roaring fire reading them. Aileen, whose culinary skills had not improved, was
delighted when her aunt invited them to Sunday dinner, roast beef with all the trimmings.

It was a lovely weekend and it had cheered her up no end, Cassie reflected, as she got back to her flat on Sunday evening and began to press her uniform for work the following morning. Just as
well she was walking to work, she thought; she’d be putting on stones if she wasn’t careful. For the first time in ages she fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow and
she slept soundly.

Gradually Cassie began to settle down to life in London. Her work was engrossing and challenging and she continued to study for her banking exams. She made new friends and she
had Aileen, but still at times she would feel a terrible emptiness in her life. Robbie was never far from her thoughts and it annoyed her so much that she wasn’t strong enough to banish him
from her mind. Whenever old anniversaries or special days like Valentine’s Day came up or she heard a song that had meant something special, the old feelings would come flooding back and she
would get depressed. Then, no matter how much Aileen told her that things would get better – and wouldn’t Aileen know, hadn’t she gone through it herself – Cassie would
despair.

It was in such a state one evening that she was flicking through one of the evening papers when she saw an advertisement for a new course in interior design. She cut it out and kept it. After
she had finished her banking exams, she might like to try something different and she had always been interested in design.

She worked hard at her studies during those first few months in London, achieving honours in her banking exams, much to her satisfaction. But once her studying was completed and her exams were
over, she felt very much at a loose end. Cassie knew she could start a management course in September if she wanted and that would really give her career a boost, but the thought did not greatly
appeal to her. She felt restless and she wanted to do something not connected with work. Remembering the little cutting about the interior design evening course that she had kept, she sent away for
the prospectus. Cassie liked what she saw and decided that her next goal would be a diploma in interior design. It was something she had always wanted to do, ever since she was a schoolgirl, and
she looked forward to it immensely.

In the meantime she was kept busy with visitors from home. Her mother and Irene arrived for a long weekend and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, despite the fact that Cassie and Irene had got
separated from Nora in Harrods. Their mother had been in an awful state when they found her because, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember Cassie’s address.

John arrived with his new girlfriend, Karen, and Cassie liked her enormously. John was really working hard setting up his fruit and vegetable farm and Cassie thought a little sadly how proud
Jack would have been of his elder son. They spent the weekend seeing the sights and John and Karen had a ball. Cassie was delighted. Her brother deserved a break. He had always been a hard worker
and once the business got going he would have precious little free time.

Martin and a friend of his arrived later in the year and the pair of them spent their few days visiting every pub in London. Martin, who was an apprentice electrician, told Cassie that he was
about to move into a flat and that Nora was going mad about it.

‘I’m twenty, Cassie. I want to lead my own life. I know she’ll be on her own with Irene but I’ll call and see her and John calls in every day and cuts the grass and
things for her.’

‘Get your flat, Martin,’ Cassie advised her younger brother. It was hard on her mother, she acknowledged, that all her chicks were leaving the nest but that was life, unfortunately,
and Nora was lucky to have had her children living with her for so long.

Barbara phoned one week angling for an invitation for herself and Ian, and Cassie’s heart sank. Whatever about putting up with Barbara for a few days, she was not looking forward to having
Ian Murray under her feet. She couldn’t really refuse, though. After all, she had had John and Karen and Martin and his mate so she couldn’t plead shortage of space. Reluctantly, and
lying through her teeth, she told Barbara that she and Ian were welcome. They stayed a week and by the end of it Cassie was fit for an asylum. Ian was the laziest, untidiest man she had ever
met.

‘Maybe I’m being totally unreasonable but he’s driving me nuts!’ she wailed to Aileen, who was on a day off and whom she met for lunch in a little wine-bar off Kensington
High Street. Aileen laughed as she took an appreciative sip of the Sauvignon Blanc recommended by the waiter. Cassie, who had to go back to work, was sticking to Perrier, although she felt like
drowning her sorrows.