If the Shoe Fits (12 page)

• • •

Teddy arrived for lunch at one o'clock and was greeted with an empty plate. Eleanor quickly explained about her unexpected wine binge of the previous night and told her father that she was going to take him out instead.

“I don't know that I feel like eating out, Ellie love. You know how I don't like eating in front of strangers.”

“Nonsense, Dad. We're only going to a pub, and the only people who will be there will be people like us. They'll be more interested in their own plates than watching you eat from yours. Besides, I'm starving, and seeing as I was too lazy to cook something; it's either a pub or a sandwich. Personally, I'd prefer the pub.”

“Well, as long as it's not too full, then,” conceded Teddy.

“We'll pick a quiet pub, I promise,” assured Eleanor. “And we'll hog the cozy corner seat, deal?”

“Deal.”

Foregoing the town center, Eleanor and her father decided to walk a few blocks to the high street. Eleanor lived in a bustling part of Cardiff that was littered with tiny side streets, and had family-run pubs almost on every corner.

“This one looks nice,” said Eleanor, ten minutes later, leading her father through the door of a homely looking pub. “And look, there are mainly older couples in here. Perfect.”

They sat down and swiftly ordered the popular Sunday roast, lamb with all of the trimmings. While they waited for their meals, Teddy had half a stout, while Eleanor, trying to be sensible, stuck to mineral water.

“Did you manage to get hold of Tandy?” asked Eleanor.

“Yes, David said that he'll be able to make the meeting, and told me not to worry. He said he was glad I was finally taking a stand over all this.”

“Excellent! I always knew he was a good solicitor,” beamed Eleanor.

“I still don't feel entirely comfortable about this, Ellie.”

“Dad,” said Eleanor warningly.

“I know, I have to do this,” sighed Teddy. “That doesn't mean I have to like it.”

Eleanor frowned at the unhappiness in her father's voice, and felt her anger at Christie rise to a higher level. Teddy didn't need this, not at his time of life. After the trauma of losing Eleanor's mother, he shouldn't have had to deal with anything else. Luckily, their food arrived promptly and the sight of it brought a smile to her father's face.

“This looks good,” he said happily. “I haven't had a lamb roast for I don't know how long.”

Eleanor made a mental note to buy lamb more often. She never really thought about what meat to use when she cooked Sunday lunch for her dad, and being naturally disorganized, usually ended up grabbing one of the last chickens from the shelf in her local corner shop.

The meal was delicious, and Eleanor had the satisfaction of seeing her father eat every last scrap from his plate. At least his appetite hadn't been ruined by the Christie situation, and for that, she was thankful. On top of everything else, she couldn't handle worrying about her father's health, too.

They finished their meal in companionable silence, and Teddy indulged in another half of stout. They debated on whether they should order a dessert, but Eleanor assured her father that she had a large chocolate gateau at home just waiting to be consumed. Disorganized she might be, but when it came to desserts, Eleanor was always ready.

They arrived back at the house in time for the Sunday afternoon matinee on BB2. Eleanor quickly made a pot of tea, brought out the gateau, and settled down with her father to watch
Calamity Jane.

The movie, always a firm favorite, soon had them both singing along with Doris Day, and by the time they joined in on “Secret Love”, half the gateau was eaten, and the teapot was empty. Teddy left around tea time, armed with a package of sandwiches and a small bottle of stout.

“You take these back with you and put your feet up, Dad,” said Eleanor, as she kissed him goodbye.

“Thanks, love. I've had a grand afternoon. We should do this every week.”

“Maybe we will,” she replied warmly, looking at her father's bright eyes with pleasure. “I'll tell you what, next week we'll rent a couple of old movies, and I'll cook us a nice lamb roast, just like we had today, only better. Then we can spend the afternoon stuffing our faces while we watch the classics.”

“Sounds wonderful, love. I'll bring the cakes, shall I?”

“Brilliant! That's settled, then.”

As she closed the door on her father's retreating back, Eleanor smiled. They hadn't had so much fun for a long time, and it was lovely to see her father looking so happy. They'd always spent Sunday afternoons together, but usually had a quiet lunch at home followed by a walk around the local park. Normally they'd talk about Eleanor's childhood, rehashing forgotten memories and wishing they were still living in the past. It was always nice to reminisce, but Eleanor suddenly realized that talking about the good old days probably wasn't helping her father at all. Today they hadn't mentioned Eleanor's mother once, which sort of made Eleanor feel a bit guilty. The guilt was far outweighed by her father's beaming face, though.

“Did you have an enjoyable afternoon, Ella?” asked Muse, who had obviously been sleeping somewhere, judging from the way she was stretching her body.

“Yes, I had a great afternoon, Muse. The best.”

“That's nice, dear. Now … Ella! Are those running shoes on your feet?”

“Um … ”

“Shoes! Now!”

“Right.”

• • •

The following day saw Derek go to hitherto unknown lengths in gaining Eleanor's attention. First, she was greeted by a face full of tulips as soon as she entered the building. Speaking through a mouthful of petals, Eleanor thanked him awkwardly and hastily boarded the elevator. When the morning coffee break arrived, with it came a box of chocolates, shoved ruthlessly into Eleanor's handbag.

“You'd think he would have got me some decent ones,” remarked Eleanor disgustedly, eyeing the small box of supermarket-brand chocolates with distaste.

“Don't be ungrateful,” chided Jake, who was doing his best not to laugh, but failing miserably.

“If I have to put up with Derek the Letch, I don't see why I can't have something I'd enjoy for my trouble. I can still taste those half-dead tulips, and now he sends me bargain-box chocolates? I mean, come on, give me a break.”

When Eleanor's lunch hour arrived, she took the precaution of sending Jake out for a sandwich. Technically, it should have been her who got their lunch, seeing as Jake was her superior, but as soon as Eleanor gave him ‘The Look,' Jake knew it was more than his life was worth to avoid the trip to the deli across the road.

As soon as he returned, Eleanor grabbed her sandwich and escaped to the studio. There were no shoots planned for that day, so she knew she'd be able to hide without any danger of being disturbed.

The studio was in darkness, and Eleanor had to take small, very careful steps in order to avoid bumping into any of the equipment. Luckily, she had her mobile with her, so she used the built-in light to help her to navigate around the various cables and props that were dotted all over the floor. Smiling triumphantly, she spotted the area where she had changed into her “costumes” the previous week.

“Perfect,” she muttered.

As she ate her sandwich, she mulled over her recent change in circumstances. Derek had always been annoying, but slightly amusing at the same time. Now she wasn't so sure; today's behavior felt a little bit stalker-ish, in her opinion. She was going to have to be extra careful. She debated speaking with Charming about it — he was her boss, and this was work related after all — but Muse's advice stopped her. She was supposed to be avoiding her “Prince” for the entire week, and Eleanor didn't think that a premeditated meeting would fall into Muse's “Must-Avoid-At-All-Costs-Plan.”

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was just making excuses to see Charming. The first person she usually went to when she had a work related problem was Jake. In fact, the first person she went to when she had
any
problem was Jake. This sudden urge to confide in Charming was a heavy indication that she liked him more than a little bit.

Crap.

Feeling suddenly gloomy, Eleanor wrapped up the remaining sandwich and stuffed it into her bag. Glancing at her watch, she realized that she still had half an hour to kill before she was due back. She looked around her, trying to find something to distract herself for the next thirty minutes, and spotted a bag on the floor. Curious, she balanced her mobile on the stool she had been sitting on, and investigated.

Kneeling down, Eleanor opened the bag and emptied its contents. She giggled as she came across the sets of lingerie that she had modeled the previous week; Jake must have forgotten about them. The red lacy bra had a tear in it, so Eleanor quickly shoved it back into the bag, not wanting to damage it any further. The blue set, however, was still in pristine condition. Chuckling to herself, she quickly decided to strip off and change into the frothy bits of lace once again. As soon as she was done, she angled her mobile so that the light would shine on the mirror. It was still dark, but there was enough light for Eleanor to see the result.

Of course, Eleanor didn't have full make-up on, and her hair was doing its usual impression of dark fuzz, but she still looked fairly good. She turned a few times, looking at herself from as many angles as possible, giggling the entire time. She'd felt really uncomfortable when she had been sitting in front of a camera, but now that she was alone, she felt much better. The underwear was very revealing, and it made her feel a little bit naughty. She pouted playfully at an imaginary camera, stifling her giggles as she did so. She posed, winked, lifted her hair above her head, and tried her best to look sultry. All in all, she was having a marvelous time.

And then the lights came on, causing her to jump so hard that she bumped into the mirror, knocking it over and sending shards of glass everywhere. She froze.

Crap! Crap, crap, bloody crap!

“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Jameson, I believe we've stumbled upon one of our model's rehearsals. If you go with my assistant, she will get you some refreshments. I'll be with you as soon as I can.”

From the mumble of voices that followed, Eleanor assumed that Mr. Jameson did as he was asked. She heard the door close, followed by a series of hurried footsteps.

“Miss Gibson! Eleanor!”

“Er, hi,” she squeaked.

Charming came to a halt a few feet in front of her, and Eleanor had never felt more embarrassed in her entire life. She was practically naked, and she was surrounded by pieces of shattered glass. Why was it that she always looked like such an idiot whenever this guy was around?

“Why did I know that it
had
to be you?” said Charming. “You're bleeding.”

“Bleeding stupid,” she muttered.

“No, really. You've cut yourself. Right by your, um, right by there.”

Charming gestured vaguely towards Eleanor's chest and cleared his throat. Eleanor, if it was possible, went several shades redder and looked at herself.

“Bloody hell!” she shrieked.

“I think we'd better get you to the hospital. That might need stitches.”

Eleanor groaned. She looked around frantically for her clothes, and moved to get them.

“Oww!” she cried, and started hopping on the spot.

Charming held his arms out and stopped her.

“There's glass everywhere; stay where you are.”

Charming took his jacket off and used it to brush away some of the debris, then he passed Eleanor her clothes and waited for her to put them on. As soon as she was decently covered, he helped her out of the studio and ushered her towards the elevator.

“Damn, wait here a moment, I'll be right back,” he said, depositing her against the wall.

He was as good as his word and returned after a couple of minutes. By now, Eleanor was shaking a little. Her left boob was aching from the cut it had sustained, and her right foot was throbbing. She was also still suffering from mortification. She couldn't even look at Charming, and did her best to avoid his gaze all the way to the hospital.

Typically, it was the same doctor who attended Eleanor's cuts. At this point, Eleanor didn't even try to explain herself when the doctor raised a querying brow at her. She allowed him to stitch up her foot without uttering a murmur, and didn't even comment when he told her how lucky she was not to need stitches on her breast. He cleaned the cut and put a dressing on it, and told her to keep it dry for a few days and keep an eye out for signs of infection. Throughout all this, Charming was present, adding to Eleanor's discomfort.

“Should she rest at all? Will she need time off work?” asked Charming, as the doctor put the final piece of surgical tape on the dressing.

“It all depends on the type of work that she does,” said the doctor, stifling a grin. “As long as she doesn't do anything that might, um, aggravate the injury, she should be able to work as normal. She'll need to keep off that foot for twenty-four hours, though, or she'll loosen those stitches.”

“Right. Thank you, doctor; we'll bear that in mind.”

We?

Charming helped Eleanor to her feet and put her jacket around her shoulders. Nodding at the doctor briskly, he supported Eleanor as she limped out of the cubicle.

“Where do you live?”

“Um, Jewel Street. It's not far, I can get a taxi. You need to go back to work.”

“Don't be stupid,” he said irritably. “I have the car with me. It'll be quicker to take you home myself.”

“Oh, okay then. Thanks,” she replied in a small voice. “I'll give you directions.”

“No need, I'll use the sat nav.”

Conversation after that was non-existent. Eleanor couldn't work out Charming's mood at all. He had been nothing but helpful for the last hour or so, but she couldn't help feeling that he was annoyed at her. He certainly looked like he was holding his temper in at the moment, judging by the hard expression he was wearing.