Chapter Twenty
When Auguste and I get out of the cab at the Oxo Tower the sky opens and it starts spattering with rain. We have to cross a terrace to get to the front door and while Auguste makes a run for it, I’m struggling to step normal sized steps in this tight-ass dress. Auguste, realising that I’m not behind him, looks back. He sees me shuffling awkwardly across the rainy terrace, in danger of quickly looking like a drowned rat, and jogs back. When he reaches me, he scoops me up into his arms and runs across the terrace so quickly that the rain only dampens my hair and skin slightly.
Swoon.
‘The bicep exercises have been helping,’ Auguste quips as he puts me down gently on the lobby floor of the Oxo Tower. We step into the lift, and I have no clue what to say because my heart is thumping so hard. It doesn’t matter though, because when I look up at Auguste, he is tapping quickly on his phone a tiny frown gathered between his eyebrows, oblivious to my lusty internal struggle.
The lift doors finally ping open. Auguste slips his phone back into his trouser pocket and offers me his arm.
‘I’m alright thanks,’ I say, deciding that not touching him would definitely be for the best.
We push open a glass door to enter the most dazzling room I’ve ever seen in real life. Not that I have seen many dazzling rooms in my life, but still. The walls are up-lit in gentle purple and pink lights and the sleek, long tables are covered with floral displays, only the flowers are made out of neon coloured perspex. The room is crowded with attractive, confident people looking dazzling, chatting away and holding up their phones to take selfies.
I feel my stomach drop nervously. I am usually quite confident in most situations but I am very much out of my element right now. I take a deep breath and try to mentally slip myself into my no crap, get things done PT persona. I am strong. I make other people strong. No-one is giving me funny looks because my dress is too tight.
‘I will grab us some drinks,’ Auguste says, his expression slightly horrified as he takes in the line of television screens across one of the walls, each one showing videos of different internet-famous British YouTubers.
I nod gratefully and, scanning the room, spot Henry in a corner by a floor length window that looks out on to the twinkling nightscape of London. He’s talking to two tall elegant looking women, one of whom keeps touching his arm. I start to take my tiny shuffling steps over in their direction.
‘Hi there!’ I say brightly when I eventually reach them.
Henry presses a hand to his chest. ‘Bess? Wow you… My gosh you look…’
‘Absolutely stunning,’ one of the women finishes for him. ‘I’m Elissa Devin, Henry’s new manager. It’s lovely to meet you at last.’
‘You too!’ I say nervously as Elissa goes in for the double kiss.
‘And this is Carole Cook, light entertainment commissioner at ITV2’
‘Wow!’ I blurt out, reaching my hand to shake hers. ‘I love ITV2!’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Carole chuckles, her eyes friendly. ‘That dress is a knockout!’
I run my hands over the dress self consciously. ‘It’s vintage. From the sixties, I think. One of my clients helped me to pick it out!’
Henry swings his arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek. Elissa gives me a wide smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Argh. I do not fit in here.
Carole starts talking to me about Personal Training and what kind of workouts she should do to get more energy and strengthen her core. Delighted to be asked to talk about something I know a lot about I dive right in, explaining the very specific benefits of Pilates to a rapt Carole.
I’ve moved on to talking about Barre classes when I’m interrupted by Henry clearing his throat and giving me a pointed look.
Eek. Yes. Tonight is about him. We shouldn’t be talking about me. I quickly change the subject, throwing him an apologetic glance.
‘Henry would be perfect for TV, don’t you think?’ I say. ‘He’s got so much passion. He’d be wonderful on some sort of culture show or something.’
Carole nods. ‘He’s certainly got the charm for it… and Bess, what was that you were saying about Barre classes?’
I feel Henry’s fingers dig slightly into my waist.
‘Uh, I think Auguste was getting drinks but perhaps he’s gotten lost in the crowd. I’ll go and find him, shall I?’
‘Thanks,’ Henry says gratefully. ‘I’d love him to shoot some stuff while we’re here. Thanks Bess.’
I slowly waddle away, peering around and over the beautiful influencers to find Auguste and, indeed, the drink that I’m starting to really really want.
I eventually find Auguste, standing by a table, tapping furiously on his phone, a couple of glasses of champagne, one of which I’m assuming is mine, on the table beside him.
‘There you are!’ I say, heading over and grabbing one of the glasses and taking a hearty gulp. ‘What are you doing? I thought you were coming to find us.’
Auguste looks up from his phone for a brief second. ‘Oh sorry, I just got caught up with something.’
‘Well at least you got the drinks,’ I say rolling my eyes and taking another gulp.
‘Uh, no I haven’t had chance yet. I am sorry,’ he says vaguely.
What? Then who’s drink have I been drinking? Ew. I hold the glass up and notice a slight lipstick mark around the rim. ‘I’ve been drinking a stranger’s champagne!’ I grumble.
Auguste is so engrossed in his phone that he doesn’t respond. He’s acting weird. Maybe he has sensed that I’m having wild thoughts about him and is trying to put me off, like I’ve been trying to put Henry off.
So I head to the bar myself and get my own champagne. In fact, I get two.
