Cornwall. I should be looking forward to seeing him, it's been six months since I last did, but where am I going to find the energy to put on a front? With the added benefit of Matt's friendly little phone call to my Mum, informing her that I was seeing another man, I'm facing interrogation. I told my mother it wasn't true - it was true at the time, not now - but I know my Mum well enough to know she didn't believe me, even when I'm on the other end of a phone and she can't see me twiddling my hair. What would I tell them? That I have fallen in love with a man and I don't know how old he is? He owns a sex club and, oh yes, he's an alcoholic. I've not helped myself by not making the trip to see them, my work excuse pitiful, and I fully expect the third degree from Dan when I see him tomorrow. I need to prepare myself for his questioning. It's going to be the grilling of my life.
My mobile blurts from my desk, dragging me from my daydreams and tapping pen. It's Ruth Quinn. I inwardly groan. This woman is proving to be a challenge herself. She rang on Tuesday and demanded an appointment for the same day, and I explained that I was busy and suggested someone else may be able to make it, but she insisted she wanted me. She eventually settled for my first appointment, which happened to be today, and she has since called every day to remind me. I should just ignore it, but she will only call the office.
'Miss Quinn.' I greet tiredly.
'Ava, how are you?'
She always asks, which is nice, I suppose. I won't tell her the truth. 'I'm good. And you?'
'Yes, yes, fine,' she chirps. 'I just wanted to check our appointment.'
And there you go. She's so demanding. I think I might be pricing myself out of this job. 'Four thirty, Miss Quinn.' I reiterate, for the third consecutive day.
'Lovely, I look forward to it.'
'Great, see you then.' I hang up and blow out a long, calming breath of air. What was I thinking ending my Friday on a new client, and a difficult one at that?
Victoria comes breezing into the office, her long, blonde locks fanning over her shoulders. She looks different. She looks orange! 'What have you done?' I ask, completely alarmed. I know I'm not seeing particularly clearly at the moment, but there's no ignoring the tone of her skin.
She rolls her eyes and retrieves her compact mirror from her Mulberry to inspect her face. 'Don't!' she warns. 'I asked for bronzed.' She scrubs at her face with a tissue. 'The stupid woman used the wrong bottle. I look like a cheese puff!' She continues to scrub her face while huffing and puffing.
'You need to get yourself some body scrub and head for the shower.' I advise, turning back to my computer.
'I can't believe this is happening to me!' she cries. 'Drew is taking me out tonight. He'll run a mile when he sees me like this!'
'Where are you going?' I ask.
'Langan's. I'll be mistaken for a Z lister. I can't go like this.'
This is a complete catastrophe for Victoria. She and Drew have only been seeing each other for a week, another relationship off the back of my cluster fuck of a life. All I need now is for Tom to walk in and declare he's getting married. Selfishly, I'm not happy for anyone.
Sally, our general office dogsbody, comes scuttling out of the kitchen and stops in her tracks when she spies Victoria. 'Wow! Victoria, are you okay?' she asks, and I smile to myself as Sally gives me an alarmed look. All of this beautification stuff goes straight over our plain Sal's head.
'Fine!' Victoria snaps.
Sally retreats to the safety of the stationary cupboard, escaping a very riled Victoria and an even more miserable me.
'Where's Tom?' I ask in an attempt to distract Victoria from her fake tan crisis.
She slams her compact mirror down on her desk and swings around to face me. If I had the energy, I would laugh. She looks terrible. 'He's at Mrs Baines. It would appear the nightmare continues.' she huffs, ruffling her blonde locks around her face.
I leave Victoria and her glowing face, returning to staring numbly at my computer screen. I can't wait for the day to end so I can crawl