‘How would you feel,’ she says, ‘about joining us here for a few months?We need someone good to work on a couple of jobs we’ve got lined up.’
She tells me about the jobs.She tells me what I’d get paid.I close my eyes and mouth ‘thank you’ to the universe.My career isn’t over after all.
‘That sounds great,’ I say.
‘Brilliant!’says Rachel.‘We won’t need you for another three weeks – does that suit you?’
‘It absolutely does,’ I say.
Katie and Jeanne are delighted by my news, but although the call has boosted my spirits and my confidence, I’m still a nervous wreck at the prospect of seeing Tadhg.
‘I hate all my clothes,’ I say.
‘Well, I don’t hate all your clothes and I have excellent taste,’ says Katie.She’s perched on my bed, surrounded by half the contents of my wardrobe, which I have spent the last hour trying on and then flinging away in disgust.
‘I know I’m acting like this is a date or something …’
‘It is you who say it,’ says Katie solemnly.
‘But I … OhGod, I know this is pathetic, but I really want to look my absolute best,’ I say.‘So he doesn’t have a reason to look at me and think,Ah, God love her, the years have not been kind.’
‘First of all, they’ve been very kind, so kind that I’m starting to worry you’ve got a portrait in the attic like Dorian Gray,’ says Katie.‘And second of all,he will not think that!’
‘Well, I definitely won’t look like the glitzy celebs he usuallyhangs out with,’ I say.‘They all have designer wardrobes and, more importantly, stylists.’
Katie jumps off the bed, heads to the wardrobe and grabs a seventies day dress I got when I went to Paris last year.My last-ever holiday with Dave, though of course I didn’t know it at the time.That doesn’t seem so important now.
‘Wear this,’ she says.‘It’s gorgeous, it’s flattering and you can never, ever go wrong with vintage.It’s literally priceless.’
‘It cost thirty quid,’ I say, ‘in a kilo shop in the Marais where you pay by weight.’
‘Tadhg won’t know that!’says Katie.‘This dress is the sort of thing those celebrities send their stylists out to find.That’s why it’s beyond a mere financial price.Its value is that there is nothing else like it out in the world.You can always be confident in vintage, because what vintage says is simply that you have exquisite taste.’
Well, when she puts it like that …
‘Wow, Katie,’ I say.‘You should be a stylist or a life coach instead of a history teacher.’
‘No way,’ says Katie.‘I’d miss the long holidays.’
At one o’clock the next afternoon, I’m nervously pushing open the door of the restaurant.I’m wearing the Paris dress with black tights and stack-heeled ankle boots, and I spent an embarrassing amount of time on my make-up, trying to make myself look naturally radiant and fresh-faced.It’s mercifullydim inside, the sort of low, warm light that screams ‘luxury’.There are booths running down one wall, offering customers a modicum of privacy.
A haughty maître d’ bars my path.‘Do you have a reservation?’
I draw myself up to my full height (five foot five, thanks to the heels).‘I’m meeting Tadhg Hennessy.’
His expression doesn’t change.‘Oh yes?What’s your name?’
I should have known it wouldn’t be that straightforward.Otherwise any randomer who’d heard where a celeb was dining could roll up and claim they were joining them.
I sigh.‘Laura McDermott.’
The maître d’ checks a list and then his expression does change.‘Ah.I beg your pardon.This way, please, madam.’
I follow him to the back of the restaurant, careful not to bump into a table in the elegant gloom.
And there, sitting in a booth, wearing a needlecord checked shirt, a navy blue cardigan and a pair of glasses that look like the ones he had in college, is Tadhg.
He’s looking at his phone, thank God, so he doesn’t see me until I’m practically at the table.I want to be cool, calm and sophisticated.I want to stride up there like classic Joan Collins on her way to buy up a rival’s company.I want to just nod curtly, hold out my hand and say, ‘Tadhg.’
