Connor returns:
Green and white polo shirt (Boss)
White jeans (Ralph Lauren)
Brown belt (Ralph Lauren)
Tennis shoes (Nike)
Total est. cost: £580
‘He will bend you till you scream.’
‘There’s no need to be jealous, Annie and I go way back.’ With these words, Connor moved his hand right round Annie’s waist and squeezed.
Annie smacked him, but Ed just laughed. He was sitting on the sofa opposite the two of them and found it funny and more than a little bit sexy that his lover was draped across a famous TV star.
But as Connor had mentioned earlier, he and Annie went way back, ‘but not back to before I was gay.’
Ed looked at his watch: ‘It’s only 4.15 p.m. and we are already hammered... welcome back, Connor!’
Connor had returned in a triumphant blaze to London, demanding immediate partying and celebrating with lashings and lashings of booze. He had touched down in Gatwick at 11 a.m. yesterday morning, dumped his bags, had a shower, and rung round his agents, producers and directors to arrange a series of meetings and lunches. Then he’d re-established contact with his personal trainers and masseuse, and finally, bearing two bags of duty free, turned up this afternoon at Annie and Ed’s, where he’d installed himself in the kitchen.
Not to cook, but to busy himself with limes, crushed ice and a blender making sensational margaritas.
‘I know, so nineties,’ he’d told them, ‘but just the thing for a wet Saturday afternoon.’
So, they’d moved into the sitting room with an entire jugful of margarita and begun a great long chat session, punctuated only by the comings and goings of Owen and Milo, plus Dave’s joyful yip-yapping if anyone so much as walked past the house.
‘You have a dog!’ Connor had gushed as soon as he’d set eyes on Dave, ‘how come you’ve never even told me you have a dog?’
Annie had rolled her eyes before insisting, ‘The dog is nothing to do with me.’
Meanwhile Connor had got down on his knees and started fussing over Dave with the whole tummy rubbing and ‘hello boy’, ‘good boy’, ‘you like that doncha’ routine which separated the dog people from the non-dog people.
The margarita afternoon was allowing them to catch up on all sorts of news. Hector was still in California, sorting out the handing over of the lease, the return of the gym equipment and the hire car. All the ‘star management’ stuff he seemed to enjoy doing for the man in his life.
‘So, are you really coming back?’ Annie asked, resting her head on Connor’s large, comfortable chest, delighted to have him in close proximity once again. ‘You’re not going to live in LA any more? You’re going to be a proper British movie and telly star… like—’
‘—Dame Judi Dench,’ he joked: ‘you know, never say never. But I’m back for now. There’s something new in the pipeline…’ he waggled an eyebrow at them.
‘Tell!’ Annie instructed.
‘No way. This is secret. Top, top secret.’ He put his hands over his lips.
‘Pour him another drink, babes,’ Annie instructed Ed, ‘we’ll get it out of him.’
‘No!’ Connor insisted. ‘Over there, I barely had one glass of wine a week – for five months! I’m already schlosched,’ he added, slightly for effect, but already seriously in danger of slurring.
‘And to think you used to be AA,’ Annie pointed out.
‘Oh, that was just for the showbiz contacts,’ Connor confessed, ‘everyone who’s anyone goes, you know.’
‘That is so shallow,’ Ed pointed out.
‘I know, but shallow is my middle name,’ Connor said with a lazy grin.
‘At least you look good,’ Annie told him.
And he did too. He was bronzed, but the real stuff, not the whiffy orangey glow from a bottle. And he was so buff, his teeny waist leading straight down to snaky dancer hips. And the buttocks! Well, Annie had spotted them and they were magnificent.
‘Ed should go to the gym, maybe you could give him a few tips,’ Annie volunteered, hopefully, as Ed snorted tequila from his nose.
‘Hey, I run… a bit. I referee rugby,’ Ed said in his own defence.
‘It’s true, you’re all right,’ Annie assured him with a smile, ‘and I can hardly talk.’
‘Ed, my place, Saturday mornings, 11 a.m.; just wait till you meet Ben. He will bend you till you scream.’
‘We are talking about exercise here?’ Annie just wanted to be sure.
‘So, your career,’ Connor began, putting an arm protectively around his girl, ‘we need to talk about your career. I saw the DVD you sent me of the pilot episode. You were wasted! They threw you, the gem of the entire show, away. Your producer was a tit.’
‘Aw sweet, you’re just saying that cos you’re my friend.’
‘No. I’m saying that cos you’re my rival. You’ve got the magical X-factor, girl.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Ed agreed from his sofa.
‘You got charisma.’ Connor lifted her chin to study her profile. ‘Has Rafie been in touch?’
‘Has he hell,’ Annie couldn’t help replying, ‘I think he has slightly more important things to do, like making your next top-secret mega deal. You’re not going to be the new James Bond or something, are you?’ she asked excitedly.
‘Oh, please, I think Daniel Craig is wearing those Speedos very well… for the moment. Where’s it all going for you?’ Connor asked, focusing on Annie’s career again, ‘what doors have you knocked on? And what is that buzzing noise?’
Annie sat up and looked around the room. ‘It might be my phone,’ she said, spotting the mobile on one of the side tables. She picked it up: ‘Three missed calls and a message.’
Usually, she might feel a flicker of worry at this… that it was something to do with the children. But right now, she knew Owen was upstairs with Milo and an enormous bowl of salted popcorn watching Dr Who re-runs, and Lauren was at Greta’s house. Greta’s mother had even phoned to say she’d arrived.
‘Talk amongst yourselves,’ she instructed Ed and Connor, then dialled up her voicemail.
What she heard surprised her, to say the least.
‘Hi Annie, Bob here, trying to get you urgently. Phone me. Been speaking to Tamsin Hinkley. She produces two great cookery shows for Channel 4. She’s thinking about the makeover format but is wondering how to make it fresh and modern. I mentioned you, she’s interested in having a chat, so you should speak to her as soon as possible. Phone me.’
Annie’s eyes widened in excitement. Channel 4? Channel 4! ‘She’s thinking about the makeover format… she’s interested in having a chat!
‘Oh boy,’ Connor said to Ed, pointing in Annie’s direction, ‘looks as if she’s just heard something…’
‘Uh-huh,’ Ed had to agree.
Annie wanted to call Bob back straight away, but Connor wasn’t going to have that.
‘Tell!’ he instructed.
‘It’s just a thought… just an idea… but there’s someone who wants me to give her a call…’
‘Who?’ Connor asked immediately.
‘Tamsin Hinkley?’ Annie said, not sure if she’d got the name right.
‘Tamsin Hinkley…’ Connor’s brow creased, which made Annie think two things: Tamsin is bad news and Connor hasn’t had Botox yet.
‘I’ve not heard of her,’ he said finally.
‘Oh.’
Annie couldn’t deny that this was disappointing. Tamsin was bound to be another Finn-type, scraping about for a slot on digital TV. Maybe she’d already heard that Annie would work for £1,000 a month.
‘What kind of programme is it?’ Connor asked.
‘She’s thinking of doing a makeover show, but apparently she wants to make it different.’
‘It’s got to be you,’ Connor chipped in, ‘Annie’s Wardrobe on a Budget. Annie’s Recession Chic.’
‘Why Costco is cool,’ Ed added.
‘How to buy Prada at Primark,’ Connor went on.
‘How to make do with Mango when you really want Miu Miu,’ Ed couldn’t resist, then: ‘Annie Valentine, the Nigella of budgeting,’ he announced.
‘Ooh, I like that!’ Connor was grinning.
‘Will you both shut up?’ Annie was beginning to feel nervous, despite the four or – good grief – five margaritas she’d had.
‘I’m going to phone Bob and talk to him about it. Then I’ll… I’ll try and get hold of Tamsin.’
Both Connor and Ed could hear the anxiety in her voice.
‘Let me help,’ Connor offered, ‘I could speak to her first. I could introduce you.’
‘No, babes,’ she insisted, turning on her way out of the room, ‘I think I have to do this for myself.’
‘Doncha just love her?’ Ed asked Dave, as he scratched the dog’s head.