At the airport, I screech into a semi-parking spot between two dark, shiny, expensive-looking cars that look like Transatlantic liners, but my car is small and I easily slip out through the crack in my door.
Oh God, I hope I’m not late.
Still wearing my headpiece as it is weaved into my own hair and all the accessories – i.e. the torch and the tablet which are attached to the costume, all I can say is I’m here, I’m green and I need to come clean.
So once inside, I scan the flight boards, realising that I don’t even know where he’s bound.
I could call Travis but by the time I catch a hold of him it might be too late. He’s probably already taxiing down the runway this very second. I run to the desk and ask someone from the staff to tannoy him. Behind the desk, the young man’s eyes pop out of his head, but he’s too polite to say anything as he does my bidding. If he’s still in the building I might be able to catch him before he whisks off.
Too nervous to sit, I wait by the desk. Several minutes pass, but nothing happens. ‘Can you repeat the announcement, please?’ I ask.
The young chap nods, hiding a smile. He thinks I’m trying to impress someone with a romantic Hollywood gesture. If he only knew how unimpressed Henry will be.
I wait a few minutes more, and he looks up at me with a kind but resigned shrug. ‘I’m sorry, miss, but there doesn’t seem to be a Henry Turner in the building.’
‘What about the flights? Can we check the passenger lists?’
‘I’m sorry, but that information is—’
‘Confidential,’ I conclude sadly. He’s gone God knows where, and it’ll probably be weeks before I see him again. I nod my thanks to the young man and turn away. It might be too late now, but I whip out my phone. Travis will at least know where he’s gone. Not that it makes a difference now.
‘Miss? Are you sure he’s a passenger?’ the chap asks me.
I whirl around to stare at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you aware that we have conference rooms?’
I clutch at the edge of the desk. ‘Conference rooms…?’
‘For business meetings. Would you like me to check if he’s booked one? That I can do.’
‘Please!’ I breathe, watching him type away on a keyboard.
His face lights up. ‘Ah. Right down the first corridor, last door to your left.’
‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ I whisper, unable to manage anything more. I’d vault over the counter and kiss him if I could, but I really don’t want to leave any traces of my green paint on him.
So I race down the first corridor and make for the last door to my left, skid to a halt at another sodding reception desk where a wide-eyed woman in a neat updo and a proper business jacket jumps at the sight of me, as you do when a green woman appears before you out of nowhere. She blinks at me repeatedly, as if I’m a dust particle in her fake lashes that will disappear if she bats them hard enough. Unfortunately for her, I’m still here.
‘Faith Hudson to see Mr Henry Turner,’ I gasp, barely able to breathe now. Boy, am I unfit, if only ten yards have left me wheezing. But it’s not the physical exertion – my heart is jackhammering its way up my throat for a very different reason.
‘Mr Turner is unavailable at the moment,’ she answers, trying to mask the horror spreading across her face as she takes in every detail of my appearance.
‘It’s pretty urgent,’ I rasp. ‘A matter of life and death, actually…’
‘I’m sorry, but Mr Turner is in the middle of a meeting. A very important one, in fact.’
‘That’s exactly why I’m here!’ I cry with a bit of poetic licence. ‘To save his butt!’
‘But…’ she counters, uncertainty on her face.
‘Please! Where is he?’ I beg.
She picks up the phone on her desk. ‘I’ll announce you. Your name again?’
‘Not necessary,’ I inform her as I round the desk and open a door leading to a flight of stairs. I catapult myself up them, snagging my costume on the banister finial, and I’m aware of a blast of cold air, but push it to the back of my mind as I’m running like the wind now, taking the steps two at a time to what I now realise is the third floor and wheezing like a chainsaw.
When I get to the top, there’s a young man standing by the door, but by God, I’m ready to take him down too.
‘Hey! Stop!’ he cries as I whizz past him without altering my pace. I’m getting good at this.
There is a short corridor flanked by doors on each side, but instinct tells me to head for the set of double doors at the end.
‘I said stop!’ cries the bloke from behind me, and as he is the only thing (metaphorically) standing between me and doing the right thing, I make a break for it by sprinting towards the double doors and slam into them with all my weight, only they swing open too easily and I am hurled through the air and land flat on my face.
All around me is darkness and silence, until a familiar voice reaches me. A full, baritone voice that I can’t quite place.
‘Faith…? You’re here…’
Where the bloomin’ hell is here?
‘Ow, ow, ow,’ I hear myself say, rolling over onto my back, which hurts like hell, and, on top of everything else, I sound like Donald Duck.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Turner,’ apologises someone else from above me. ‘But she just came out of nowhere and—’
‘Just fetch me a cloth and some ice,’ comes that deep, caressing voice again. Is it…? Dare I hope… Henry? What’s he doing in my home? I open my eyes to see I am surrounded by a group of curious faces staring down at me. Faces I’ve never seen before. And I’m not at home. Something is definitely wrong here.
And then he comes into view, kneeling down to me. ‘Heddry…?’ I whisper, my voice cracking, and I can taste something coppery in my mouth. My nose is bleeding, but I don’t care. ‘Is it really you…?’
‘Jesus, Faith, are you all right?’ he demands, but his voice isn’t angry, but more pleading as he helps me sit up, and I realise that my entire front is covered in blood.
‘I’b sorry,’ I say. ‘I cabe to speak to you, Heddry – to beg you to forgive be…’
At that, he looks over at the gobsmacked group of people. ‘Uh, ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please excuse us. Let’s get you cleaned up. You sound like you may have broken your nose.’
‘Doh!’ I suddenly sob. If you can imagine me begging in a nasal voice, it basically went like this:
‘I came here to tell them, especially Mr Kremlin!’
Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Mr Kremlin?’
‘Kremlin!’ I repeat. ‘As in Moscow! He was wearing a foam costume at school!’
‘Faith, you need to stay still now while we call for a medic…’
‘Henry – it’s important! They have a right to know what I did to you!’
He looks at me uncertainly, and then at his small audience. ‘Faith, I hardly think—’
‘Please,’ I beg, struggling to my feet and turning to the wide-eyed people at the conference table. And there he is, the Kremlin bloke. ‘I need to tell you the entire Truth, Mr Kremlin!’
‘Oh God,’ Henry groans and runs his hand through his dark hair. ‘You’ve done enough, Faith, trust me.’
‘Mr Kremlin,’ I say, hobbling towards him as Henry’s hand steadies me and applies a handkerchief full of ice cubes to my nose.
‘Later, Henry,’ I say, pushing it away. I know that, with blood spattered all over my green face and costume, I look like nothing they’ve ever seen before, but I have to get this out now or I’ll never forgive myself.
‘Please, I have to apologise to you especially. I lied to you when I said that the beach house was slipping into the sea. I only said that because I thought you were a buyer.’
At that, his eyebrows rise even higher. ‘I was a buyer, young lady, but after your stories of mundic block and Japanese knotweed—’
‘I know, and I’m so, so sorry! It was all a lie so that you wouldn’t buy the house! I was being selfish because I wanted it for myself! But I can assure you that it’s solid and sturdy and as safe as a mother’s arms. And because Henry designed it. Anything he designs comes from the heart. And he has a huge heart! He is a true gentleman. Did you know that he helped us pay the mortgage several times? I’ve only just found out myself.’
‘Faith—’ comes Henry’s voice from behind me. I look back at him, biting my lip. He is more beautiful than I even remember him. Because it seems that I haven’t seen him for years and years, during which I’ve yearned for him like craving for water through the drought of a desert.
I turn back to Henry’s investor. ‘If you don’t buy the beach house, someone else will, and you’ll be regretting it for a long, long time, sir.’
‘And why is that?’ he wants to know.
‘Because you’d be buying a piece of Henry’s heart. He put his entire self in that home. That house is founded on the man’s integrity.’
‘Faith…’ Henry calls me.
I turn to him in earnest. ‘Please let me finish Henry – you deserve more than that. Did you know, sir, that instead of kicking me out of his home, he even made me some truly exquisite furniture – as a gift?’
Henry groans under his breath. ‘Faith, thank you, but my guests aren’t here to hear about my private life and those close to me.’
‘Am I, then? Still close to you?’ I ask hopefully.
All heads turn to him.
‘As a friend,’ I assure them. ‘He’s got a wife. And an adorable little boy – his name is Orson – whom I love with all my heart, but I would never go near a married man. I’ve had that done to me, and believe me, it’s the last thing I would do to anyone else, and I’m—’
‘Faith – enough, now.’
‘Oh, Henry, I’m really, really sorry for everything that I’ve done to you. I never meant to hurt you or let alone damage your company! You are an honest man with solid principles and if anyone doubts that, well then I say they don’t know their arse from their elbow!’
‘No one is doubting his value, nor his honour,’ one of the women seated at the table reassures me. ‘As a matter of fact, we are here to listen to his recommendations.’
‘Oh? Good! Well then, in that case,’ I turn to give him a heavy pat on the chest, ‘Good luck. I’ll leave you to it. I’m sorry for barging in on you like that.’
And, having done what I’d come for, and having no other excuse to stay and just gaze at him adoringly, with a heavy heart, I turn to go.
‘One moment, young lady,’ the woman says.
‘Oh God,’ Henry groans under his breath, wiping his brow.
‘It’s okay, Henry – I’ve got you covered,’ I whisper to him.
She gets up and comes to stand opposite me, her eyes narrowing. ‘Aren’t you Faith Hudson, the interior designer who did Gabe York’s home?’
‘Yes, it’s precisely her,’ Henry assures her. ‘But please don’t—’
I blink. Oh my God, if she takes one single dig about my viral arse, I’m going to give her a nosebleed. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I am.’ I wipe my eyes, ready for it. I’ll face the humiliation. Anything to restore Henry’s reputation.
She holds out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you. Patricia Wickford.’
A huge, eerie sensation is mushrooming in my mind. ‘Sorry? Did you just say Patricia Wickford?’ The elusive Lady Patricia Wickford?
‘Yes. And this is my husband Robert.’
As in Lord Robert Wickford? ‘Oh my dear God, so you really do exist!’ is all I can say. ‘I was beginning to wonder.’
At that, Lady Wickford throws her head back and laughs. ‘You see, Bopper?’ she says, turning to her husband. ‘I told you we were too reclusive!’
‘So this is the young lady you were telling us about, Henry? The prodigy?’ the older man wants to know.
At that, Henry coughs. ‘Yes, Bopper – the up-and-coming designer who years ago won the award for her Home Hugs.’
Lady Wickford’s face lights up. ‘Yes, yes, of course! I love them!’
‘My dear, I also seem to remember you had quite a spill that evening, didn’t you?’ Lord Wickford says.
‘Bopper, you old sod, don’t embarrass the girl,’ she murmurs affectionately, then turns to me again. ‘Please forgive him. He’s not very good at holding his drink. I’m going to have to bribe the hostess to let us onto our flight. But he does have a good memory. So, Faith Hudson, we finally meet.’
‘Yes.’ And you two, I suddenly realise, are the couple who came to see the house the day I met Henry.
‘I absolutely hate Gabe York’s music,’ Lord Wickford sentences. ‘It’s too loud and in your face.’
‘Oh.’ Shitty, shit shit.
‘But I absolutely loved his house before Vanessa got to it.’
‘Oh!’ My breath escapes me so loudly it almost comes out as a scream. ‘You do?’ I brave a look around the table as people nod in agreement.
‘Absolutely,’ he says. ‘It’s the work of someone with excellent taste. Not that you’d know by looking at you now. I can only assume that you weren’t exactly planning to be here at our business meeting.’
‘That’s right, Bopper,’ Henry intervenes. ‘Miss Hudson had no idea of our meeting. A word, Faith?’ he says, turning to me.
‘Uhm, okay.’
With a hand to my elbow, he guides me to the next room and closes the door. ‘Just where the hell have you been?’ he demands. ‘I’ve been calling you for days! Why didn’t you answer me?’
‘I only just got all your missed calls. In any case, I thought you wanted to sleep with me!’
His head snaps back as if I’d slapped him. ‘You’ve made it very clear that that’s not happening,’ he says in his deep, deep voice.
‘No, it isn’t. So why did you call me?’
‘Because I remembered that I had your memory stick from when you last came to my home. And Trixie and Bopper were in between flights so I arranged to meet them here – with you. In proper clothes, not looking like… what is it you’re wearing anyway?’
‘I was at my niece’s and nephew’s World Monuments night at school. I was the Statue of Liberty.’
‘How very apt. Right, let’s get back in there. Jesus, you look horrible.’
And you look absolutely gorgeous as always, I almost say, but catch myself just in time.
‘We hear that you’re going to New York with Travis?’ Patricia says when we go back into the conference room.
I refrain from rolling my eyes. Does Henry tell them everything? ‘No, not anymore.’
‘You’re not?’ Henry asks, doing a double-take.
I shake my head.
‘But why? Travis has offered you a tremendous opportunity to work in the United States.’
‘I don’t want to work in the United States. I want to stay right here.’ With you. Only you are still in love with your ex-wife.
Henry’s eyes almost pop out of his head and then he checks himself.
‘Well, that’s excellent news,’ Lord Wickford says. ‘We wouldn’t want to lose you before we even got the chance to work with you, now would we?’
I turn to him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Lady Wickford laughs. ‘Henry, you devil! Have you not told Miss Hudson about our plans?’
I stare at them, one by one. Plans?
He clears his throat. ‘Actually, I tried leaving her a message, but it must have got lost, what with her trip to Italy and all…’
‘Italy?’ I ape, my eyes swinging to Henry’s.
‘Sicily, wasn’t it?’ he says.
I’m only a nanosecond behind. ‘Oh! Yes, Sicily – an absolute paradise!’
Lord and Lady Wickford exchange smiles and nod in agreement. ‘We did Taormina, but thought it was too elitist, you know, with all the rock stars like Bono and Mick Hucknall and Sting milling around. We like the simple life, small villages, you know?’
I swallow. ‘Well, then, I can certainly give you some pointers on where to go for peace and quiet.’
‘Brilliant, brilliant!’ she enthuses. ‘Now, we need someone to do our new offices in Truro, Faith. May we call you Faith?’
I nod in total stupor. This must be The Twilight Zone or somewhere abouts.
‘Excellent. And you must call us Trixie and Bopper. Any dear friend of Henry’s is also ours.’
I nod again, my mind still racing. Offices in Truro?
‘Bopper and I are off to France, but it seemed important to Henry that we see your work and oh am I glad that we did!’ she says, taking my hands as if I were her very best friend and confidante. ‘We absolutely love what we’ve seen of your work, Faith.’
‘I, uhm, thank you…’
‘So please pitch away,’ she says, sitting down at the table again.
‘Pitch…?’ I squeak, my knees turning to water. Years and years of killing myself to get their attention, and now that they are actually waiting for me to say something totally brilliant that will knock their socks off. I’ve got nothing but a torn shift (so that’s why my back was freezing) and a bleeding nose?
And all these years I have strived to look the part, to never leave anything unplanned, and now, at the most important moment of my career, instead of looking professional in the outfit that I had actually bought especially for this one day in the future, I have green paint on my face and arms and I’m wearing something akin to a sack of potatoes and a spiky crown with its twenty-five bloody windows.
‘Er, Trixie?’ Henry says. ‘Faith had no idea we were expecting a pitch. Perhaps another time, when you return?’
The gurus of interior design turn to look at me. ‘Oh? The fact is that we don’t rightly know when we’ll be back. Shame.’
‘I can do it now,’ I assure them.
Henry’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline in shock. ‘Now?’
‘Of course. Is that okay?’
His gaze swings to Lady Wickford who eyes Lord Wickford. ‘Why not? It’ll be in the most peculiar circumstances, with you dressed as the Statue of Liberty, of all things, but perhaps that’s a good omen?’
‘Okay, then, Lady and Lord Wickford, get ready for some original ideas.’
And I don’t know what’s happened to me, but suddenly I’m in Wonder Woman mode. I start telling them what they lack and I see Henry’s face going pale, but I ignore him. Enough of this deference. They need to know what’s missing in their exemplary style. An injection of spontaneity. And I am giving them just that, not with my ideas, but with whom I have finally let myself go to finally be.
I’m so lost in my project that idea after idea comes to me and I can tell by the look on Henry’s face that I’m totally smashing it. The couple are nodding at me and my confidence is growing by the second.
A month ago, if you’d told me that I would be doing a pitch to the ever-elusive Wickfords, I’d have laughed at you. But I would have been harbouring that hope in my heart. But if you’d told me that I’d be covered in green paint, I’d have said you were delirious. But now I’m delirious. I can’t even believe myself as all of my most personal and intimate ideas are flying out of my mouth. And what’s even more crazy is that they are nodding at me and smiling. It might all be politeness in the name of their friendship with Henry, but nothing can stop me now. For almost twenty minutes I dazzle them, checking Henry’s face every now and then. He, too, has sat down next to them, his eyes fixed on me, his face mirroring his pride.
When I’m done, Lady Wickford rises, followed by her husband and Henry. ‘My dear, you are a force of nature! I love your style and ideas – Bopper, what do you think?’ she says, turning to Lord Wickford who raises his hands almost in defeat.
‘Absolutely smitten,’ he says. ‘Simple ideas, and yet… genius.’
Lady Wickford nods. ‘Yes, yes!’
Henry exhales, and some colour returns to his face. ‘Brilliant,’ he breathes. ‘Thank you for your time, Trixie – Bopper. I know you have a flight to catch.’
She looks at her watch. ‘Yes, we do have to go now. Would you both like to join us for dinner and to discuss the details of our offer next Friday?’
Dinner? Offer? ‘Oh, absolutely, thank you,’ I manage to say.
‘Brilliant, Henry will bring you,’ she sing-songs, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
‘Good fun, Henry!’ Bopper calls as they head off.
We both watch as, arm in arm, Lady and Lord Wickford float out of the conference room.
I am still in shock. What can I possibly say?
‘Thank you, Henry, for organising this,’ I whisper, looking up at him. I had had no idea that he had planned this. He’d believed in me enough to contact them and ask them to give me a chance. Well, at least he believed in me? Or had he done it just to ease his conscience about what he did to me? Nothing can erase that, and if we’ll never be lovers, I can at least express my gratitude to him for changing my life with one single phone call.
‘And thank you for waiting all those years for Gabe. He never – I had no idea, Henry.’
He looks down at me, his face set as stone, his blazing eyes the only mobile part of him.
‘You’ve cost me quite a lot, Faith,’ he says, so angry that his voice is barely audible.
‘I know,’ I say, clearing my suddenly dry throat.
‘I had absolutely no idea Gabe had never actually paid for the house and he never said anything to me about the debt. Once the record deals came pouring in, I assumed we were doing okay. I know I’ve caused you nothing but trouble lately, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me…? I’ll work for you for free, in order to pay our debt.’ God knows how I’m going to eat, but there are more important things than food. There’s dignity, and reputation, and not hurting or taking from others.
‘It’s not your debt to pay, Faith,’ he replies, his eyes slowly sweeping across my face, down to my lips and then back to my eyes and it’s all I can do to not throw my arms around him and pick up where we’d left off the last time we were alone together. But I can’t. He has a wife and a son, and even if I have no children of my own—
‘Shit!’ I suddenly cry, gathering my costume from around my ankles and making a mad dash for the doors.
‘What? What is it?’ Henry calls after me.
‘I forgot to pick up the Chrysler building and the Fearless Girl!’