In the last instalment, Annie has finally admitted that her old house needs repair and reaches out to a builder, recommended by Bea. Her mind has also been on Reef Mayer, celebrity footballer. Now she knows who he is, she has more surprises coming her way …
Read on
I call the number Bea gave me for the general builder. He answers quite quickly but seems distracted.
‘So, basically,’ I conclude as I ramble on about the state of my dwelling to someone who doesn’t appear to be listening, ‘do you think you could come and take a look? Give an estimate for repairs?’
Wherever he is, his voice echoes as if he’s in a bathroom and I make an eugh face and try not to imagine the toilet roll on the wall beside him and his jeans bunched at his ankles. Then it dawns on me that he might have picked up the call while mending something in someone else’s bathroom. Bea had sworn by him. Good builders are hard to find she’d told me every day since she’d given me the number as well as to call the builder before he got too booked up. His name is Anton which doesn’t sound like a builder at all, more like a hairdresser or a chef or something.
‘Yes, of course but I won’t be able to come until …’ it goes quiet at his end. He’s going to tell me he can’t come for months and Bea will be cross because I’ve dragged my feet and now he’s booked up. ‘Actually, how are you fixed for Monday morning? Something got cancelled. Ten o’clock?’
‘That’s great,’ I say. ‘Brilliant. I’ll text the address and my name is Annie. Annie Lambert.’
‘No problem, Annie Lambert. It’s in my diary now so I’ll see you then.’
His baritone voice is slow and warm and I picture a man in his forties with a pot belly, long hair and a ponytail. He sounds casual and laid back and in for a big shock when he sees the place.
The streets are cold and unusually quiet by the time I get to the Gloucester Road. No large vans loading or people waiting at the pedestrian crossing. Pot plants and flowers are out on the pavement in front of the florist but no one is there to stop and look at them. The sign at the barber’s shop sways in the easterly breeze but I don’t see any takers for a trim or a shave in any of the seats. The woman in the estate agent’s looks up at me hopefully but looks back at her computer as I pass. No one is buying houses today.
At the practice, Amira is showing a patient out. She’s wearing a thick, polo neck sweater under her white tunic and blows into her hands. She pulls me inside and closes the door quickly.
‘Time for a tea before your next appointment?’ she asks while pulling me down the corridor into the tiny kitchen at the end of it. Amira pays me no attention as she fills the kettle and lets two Ross Physiotherapy Centre mugs bang clumsily onto the narrow counter. She pulls out a packet of Earl Grey and plops a tea bag into each mug.
‘So?’ she says over her shoulder and before I can ask, so what? She goes on to say that her youngest son wants his autograph.
‘Whose autograph?’ I’m taking my coat off and unravelling my never ending scarf. Amira swings around.
‘Oh so your diary is so full of celebrity clients you don’t even know which one of them I’m talking about?’ Her wavy black hair obscures half of her face. She hands one of the steamy mugs of tea to me. It burns my frozen fingers. ‘Mr Famous Footballer, silly. I told the boys Reef Mayer is your patient. It was the only thing I’d said to them in six months that even caused a raised eyebrow, let alone a full on turn around on the gaming chair. Zain actually stopped playing his game. For a whole minute he stared at me. I was so thankful to Reef Mayer for that. It was getting to a point where those boys were in serious danger of not recognising me anymore. Kash could have moved a random Pakistani woman into the house and they wouldn’t know it wasn’t me.’
I giggle at her earnest expression.
‘To be honest, I had no idea who he was until Bea and the others told me. I Googled him when I got home. He’s my first famous client.’
‘Around here he’ll probably be the only one so you better make the most of it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean get him on the company Instagram so we get more calls.’
‘You seriously think we’ll attract more clients because I treat Reef Mayer?’
‘It’ll put us on the map.’
‘I didn’t even treat him fully. He says he’ll come back.’
Amira’s eyes do that bugling thing which is quite disturbing seeing as she has large eyes to start with. Just then my work mobile rings.
‘Annie Lambert speaking.’
Now my eyes bulge when I hear a friendly, male voice. Reef Mayer is on the line and I walk his call to my office while Amira shouts out, ‘Get a selfie. Get a few. I want to be in one. My sons will love me again. They’ll respect me.’ I run to my room and hope Reef can’t hear her.
‘Bad time to call?’ Reef asks.
‘No, no.’ I grab a pen. ‘You want to reschedule your unfinished appointment?’
‘Actually I was calling to ask about that drink. Or dinner?’
‘You mean …?’
‘I mean like you and me, a table for two. What do you think?’
‘I think I might just have won the respect of Amira’s sons.’
‘You what?’
‘It’s okay. But a drink? I mean that would be nice.’ As I draw out my answer I catch the image of my lower tummy in the mirror and suck it in. Reef couldn’t have noticed it or my blotchy skin when he came for his appointment or he wouldn’t be asking me out now. I’ve Googled him so I know full well I don’t look like any of the women he’s dated. Not one of the women on his Instagram looked any shorter than six feet tall. They were all high heels and leggy beauty and if Reef Mayer thinks I can squeeze into any of the designer clothes those women had on, he has another think coming. I don’t do heels. I don’t do glamour and I’m beginning to wonder if this is a joke, a dare or a publicity stunt cooked up by his agent. That must be it.
‘Um, Reef, are you sure you want to go for a drink with me?’
‘Of course he does,’ Amira hisses from the doorway. I shoo her with my hand.
‘Why would you ask that?’ Reef sounds somewhat dejected. ‘I get it. You found out who I am and you don’t like football? Is it because I have a son?’
‘No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that. I’m not sure I –’
‘You’re going out with someone. Damn, you have a boyfriend. I didn’t even ask. Are you married?’
‘I’m not dating. I’m not married. I just wouldn’t have thought I was your type.’
‘I don’t have a type. I just like you. Didn’t I make it obvious enough?’
The only thing obvious to me had been that I’d felt like jelly around him. I was a lustful woman who saw a handsome man and realised it had been years since I’d kissed a man, handsome or not, let alone one who was half naked in a room with a bed.
‘Okay,’ I say and it blurts out on a loud sigh because I’d been holding my breath.
‘Well don’t do me any favours.’ He laughs aloud and I picture his smile and the crinkles at the sides of his eyes. ‘How about Saturday?’
‘I thought you weren’t sure when you’d be here again?’
‘I won’t be, not for a couple of weeks, but I can’t wait to see you. I’m in Birmingham filming a documentary. It should wrap up by the weekend and then I’m in London recording a football programme.’
‘You are busy.’
‘Well, got to make the most of the attention. It won’t be on me forever. Some other football celebrity will be in the spotlight and I’ll have more time for Noé again.’
‘Your son?’ The cute little boy in the pictures online.
‘Yes, he’s mostly with nanny’s at the moment. His mum is in yet another reality show, away on some farm in Norway. God knows.’ He sighs heavily and takes a few moments to consider his next sentence. Amira is mouthing something to me but I bat her away again. She lets the door slam behind her.
‘Sorry, where was I?’ asks Reef. ‘Yes, so, I can send a car for you. What if they collected you about six, six thirty? There’s a restaurant at the hotel but we can go anywhere you like. You decide.’
‘I don’t actually know Birmingham.’
‘It’s fine. I’ll choose something and next time you can choose.’
Next time? This is all moving a bit fast for me. Usually, if I like someone and they like me it generally takes weeks of skirting around, finding ingenious ways of crossing paths and rereading One Day before anything actually happens. But here is this breath of cool air, whipping life into my lungs and reddening my cheeks. The gust of Reef Mayer leaves me tongue tied and my pulse thrumming though my arteries.
‘Okay,’ I say, so loudly I shock myself. ‘I can be ready for six and I’ll see you at your hotel. Can’t wait.’ I sound like a robot because Amira, whose head is round the door, is feeding me the lines to say to Reef.
‘Brilliant, I’ll see you Saturday, then.’
I need time, I think to myself as soon as I hang up. Time to think about what I’ve just said yes to. Who I’ve just said yes to. Reef is a celebrity for goodness’ sake. While Amira is quizzing me about what I’m going to wear and what the hell I’m going to do with all that hair – she knows a brave hairdresser – the buzzer in the waiting room sounds and my next appointment has arrived.
More next Monday!