Forever Fredless Read online

  'You’re, you’re j…joking, aren’t you?' I asked, feeling like the world’s biggest imbecile.

  She pointed at me, barely managing to speak for giggling, nodding.

  'I can’t believe you actually fell for that!'

  I nodded, an embarrassed smile creeping across my face. 'Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.'

  'The way you grabbed the towel. God, I think I’m gonna pee myself. It’s so funny,' she giggled as she climbed up from the floor.

  I shook my head, wincing from the pain, and tried not to laugh as I walked out of the room, hearing nothing but her incessant shrieks behind me.

  That night, as I lay in bed listening to one of Jo’s soothing meditation CDs, I began thinking about the day's events. I couldn’t believe I’d made such a fool of myself on the train to work. How I’d managed to end up with concussion was way beyond me. I wish I could remember. Never mind, I guess I’d never know, unless I rang that guy who had helped me to the hospital. What was his name? Paul something or other. But did it really matter? Probably not.

  Then, as usually happened when I was nodding off to sleep, my mind began to wander back to Fred. The music calmed me as I thought back to that amazing day, sixteen years ago, and I imagined how he’d probably changed into the most gorgeous tall, dark and handsome hunk.

  So Jo finally knew about him. It hadn’t been at all difficult telling her. I thought she’d laugh herself silly and tell me how stupid I really was, but instead she thought it was romantic. It was so strange that after all this time of being her closest friend, I’d received a completely different response to what I’d expected.

  It proved to me that I could trust her with anything. I could tell her anything. Why I never did, I’ve no idea. I felt silly for not doing it before.

  I was so completely relaxed that my head no longer throbbed and I knew I was on the verge of sleep, when the morning's events suddenly came to me.

  I thought I’d seen Marc and I’d tripped over something. I must have been knocked out. God. How embarrassing. And then, at the last second, I’d realised it wasn’t even him. God, how humiliating.

  I tried to forget all about the awful incident, made somewhat easier by the gentle sounds of a waterfall and exotic birds chirping. Sounds that eventually sent me drifting off into that wonderful world of dreams.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  '…that’s right, Syd, Twinkie and Perky have started fighting. No. No, it’s the first time. Yes. Yes. No. Boots used to have a similar problem with Pepper…'

  A week later, I sat in Julianne’s large office, waiting for her to finish a phone call with her local vet.

  The managing editor of Liberty was a bit of a cat person. Okay maybe ‘a bit’ was an understatement. I was actually beginning to think she collected them. Currently she had thirteen. Yes, that’s right. Thirteen cats. And they were just the ones at her penthouse apartment. There were four more in the office (yes, I know, four cats in a London office!). Whenever Julianne interviewed potential new employees, she would always stipulate that they must be keen on cats or it just wouldn’t work.

  She was such a good client that she was on a casual first name basis with the vet, Syd. He’d been to the office a few times to give Beckham, Kylie, Johnny and Clooney their shots, so we all knew him quite well. He was always amused at our choice of names for the cats. Everyone in the office was obsessed with celebrities, so it was only apt for these beautiful creatures to be named after their idols. As Julianne considered them to be the office pets, we had all been involved in naming them.

  'That’ll be fantastic, Syd. Are you sure it’s no problem? Excellent. I’ll see you around eight tonight, then. Err, why don’t I cook you dinner then, as… as a thank you? Yes? Excellent. Look forward to seeing you. Yes, you too, Syd. Bye. Bye.' Julianne slowly replaced the receiver, a smile creeping onto her face.

  'He’s coming for dinner,' she squealed.

  It was common knowledge that she had the biggest crush on Syd, but because he had only been divorced a short time, she had wanted to give him time to come to terms with it before asking him out.

  'That’s great,' I said, 'you finally decided to do it, then?'

  Julianne nodded enthusiastically as Beckham dived onto my lap and began nuzzling my face. I gently put him on the floor and watched him walk round the desk and attempt to do the same to Julianne.

  'Who’s my beautiful baby Beckhams then?' she said, cuddling the cat before continuing.

  'Yes. I finally decided to do something about it. Carpe Diem! Seize the Day!' she shouted so loudly and punched the air that it made both me and Beckham jump.

  Had she gone completely raving mad?

  Standing and putting Beckham back on the floor, she turned to me and laughed, 'I watched that old film with Robin Williams, Dead Poet’s Society, last night and it made me think. I mean, it really made me think. I decided: why wait? We only live once and it’s such a short life, so we should do exactly what we really want to do. Don’t you agree?'

  I nodded, still a bit confused, but I happily went along with whatever she was saying.

  'So, that’s why I decided to finally ask Syd round for dinner,' she smiled, looking decidedly pleased with herself.

  'That’s great, Julianne, it really is. But what exactly does Dead Poets Society have to do with this, though?'

  'Oh, never mind – it’s not important. The important thing is that I’ve decided to take the bull by the horns a bit more often, to make more opportunities for myself… and others. Which is why I wanted to see you this morning.'

  I raised my eyebrows.

  'You’ve been writing articles for us for a few years now, and I think it’s about time that you have your own column. What do you think?'

  My mouth must have dropped to the floor and my eyebrows shot to the ceiling, because she began laughing.

  'I’m guessing you’re quite pleased with the prospect, Kate?' she asked, as she picked up a pink watering can and began pouring water into the large green plant in the corner of her office. Funny, I'd always thought it was plastic.

  'Pleased… pleased? God no – I’m ecstatic. Julianne, thank you, thank you, thank you!' I yelled, jumping around her office. Beckham looked at me in total disgust and belted out through the cat flap in the door.

  'You’re welcome. Really, it was about time you were given the opportunity to shine. I’ve always enjoyed your style of writing, and with Josie leaving us to go to Australia – I thought you were the best woman for her job.'

  My face began to ache from the enormous grin I couldn’t get rid of. I could hardly believe it. I’d always loved working at Liberty, but to have my own column? Wow. I mean WOW!

  'We’re having an editorial meeting this afternoon, so we can discuss content then. I’m glad you’re pleased, Kate,' she said warmly as she stood and started to put on her pale pink Chanel jacket.

  'Right, I’m off into town to buy a new outfit for tonight,' she winked, 'I’ll see you after lunch.'

  Julianne certainly wasn’t your average editor in chief. We laughed after watching The Devil Wears Prada, because even though she is a huge fan of Prada, she couldn’t be more different from that bitch, played so well by Meryl Streep. Julianne was the exact opposite and we loved her for it.

  The rest of the day was spent in a daze. I had my own monthly column. It was so bizarre because I hadn’t seen it coming at all. A marvellous surprise. Thank you, Dead Poets Society – whatever you are.

  The editorial meeting had been great, especially considering it was the first time I was really a part of it from the inside. Normally, I sat in on it just to be told exactly what they wanted me to write. For example, in recent months I’d been told to interview (by phone) a couple of women who presided over some boring societies that were hardly worth mentioning in Liberty, but for various reasons we had to include them – I think one of their husbands was friends with the director, or something like that. It was all political, really.

  Before that I’d had to wri
te about the opening of a flashy new boutique in Knightsbridge – I didn't even get the chance to go. I had to do the interview by phone, while one of our photographers took advantage of the free champagne.

  Most of the time, I’d be given press releases and be asked to re-write them. But now, now I had my own column. Whoopee! Of course, we’d discussed possibilities for future editions, but Julianne had pretty much thrown the ball in my court. Everyone was keen on my idea to focus the next few articles on some of the more unusual beauty treatments that were available these days. The possibility of a few free treatments had, of course, crossed my mind before I’d brought up the subject – why not take advantage?

  Researching online, I’d jotted down the names and telephone numbers of a couple of places and then sat down and tried to think of an appropriate way to approach them.

  ‘Good afternoon. I’m calling from Liberty magazine. I’d like a free treatment so that I can review it please?’

  Didn’t quite have the right ring to it. I tried a few others but they weren’t quite right either so I settled on ‘Good afternoon. I’m Kate Robinson from Liberty magazine. I’m currently reviewing beauty treatments and would like to know if you would like to feature…’ By the time I’d got that far they were practically begging to be involved.

  So far, I was booked in for a day of Thalassotherapy treatments at a nearby spa, a day at a new sports, fitness and relaxation centre and a free Chinese massage with a fabulous new masseur who had just got off the plane from China.

  I couldn’t believe my luck.

  CHAPTER SIX

  'Good morning, Miss Robinson. I’m Giselle Noiseau. Welcome to our Thalassotherapy centre. I do hope you enjoy your day. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to let me know. If you’d like to go through to the changing rooms, please change into your swimsuit. Here is a bag for your belongings and a key for your locker, some slippers and a robe for you to wear. And finally, here is your schedule for the day. Have fun. Just ask for me at reception, if you need me. I shall see you later.'

  Clearly Giselle was a very busy lady, so I simply nodded, smiled and said very little, anxious to get started on the pampering session. So, after changing into my bathing costume and placing my belongings into the bag and locker provided, I headed out to find what exciting treatments beckoned.

  Glancing at my schedule sheet, I read 9am - Treatment Room 5.

  Wandering around the huge, peaceful centre ,that resembled an overgrown swimming pool, with its beautiful pale mosaic tiles and soothing white ceilings, I eventually found room number five. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock and there were about seven other people waiting outside. No-one said anything. Not a look, not a smile, not a word. What a lovely bunch.

  A few obviously weren’t new to this Thalassotherapy lark, armed with novels or magazines; they sat on posh white leather designer chairs, oblivious to everyone else, waiting for their treatments to begin. I peered around the door of Treatment Room 5 and saw a small swimming pool. I hoped it was heated.

  I turned back around and looked at the bored faces of the others as I sat down into the oddly uncomfortable chair. If this was supposed to be exciting; why did they all look so miserable?

  There was a girl who looked to be about thirteen, reading a rather thick hard-backed novel. She looked frightfully upper class, with her open robe revealing an Armani swimsuit and Versace slippers (I work at Liberty, it's my job to know what people are wearing). Her long dark brown hair was immaculately tied back in a perfect French braid. She stretched out her long, slender legs, accentuating her sickeningly perfect figure. I self-consciously pulled my feet under my seat and pulled the robe tightly around my stomach. I know my body was pretty good, but compared to that young Megan Fox lookalike, I felt positively frumpy.

  Sitting next to her was a short, balding man, with a permanent grimace on his face. He also had a book in his hand but didn’t bother to open it. Instead, he did nothing but stare at the countless mosaics opposite, with an occasional glance at the clock on the wall above me.

  Completely oblivious to everybody else, were an elderly couple, who sat bickering about something or other. I couldn’t understand a word, as they spoke quickly in Russian. He was trying to read a newspaper and she kept pushing it to one side. It was easy to tell the couple were wealthy – both were dripping with gold, even though the receptionist had pointed out to me that jewellery should not be worn during treatments.

  A middle aged gay couple stood by the entrance to the treatment room. I imagined they were in the ‘honeymoon period’ of their relationship, as they appeared to be unable to keep their hands to themselves – and clearly were not worried what we thought about it, either.

  Lastly, there was a rather normal looking woman of about 35. She sat next to me, fidgeting with her fingers nervously. I had noticed her in the changing room, and had nodded good morning. She’d smiled back but not said a word. She was very short but pretty, with short blonde curly hair and a curvy figure. She was clearly nervous about something.

  Finally – dead on nine o' clock, a young man appeared, hurrying towards us. He clapped his hands and smiled, revealing the most perfect set of gleaming white teeth I've ever seen.

  'Allo, my name is René. Please follow me, but first remove your robes and slippers and valk through ze small vater pool by ze door, to make sure ze feet are clean. Ve zertainly don't vant any grime getting into ze pool!'

  I stepped into the water, which was freezing cold and quickly out again the other side, silently cursing.

  Once everybody was inside Treatment Room 5, René closed the large thick glass door behind him.

  'Pleaze place your swimming caps on your ‘eads and zen hop into ze pool. Ze water is lovely and varm.'

  He was right, the water was positively divine – like soft warm milk. I sank down, looking forward to some form of relaxation, when René suddenly yelled, 'Run! Run! I vant you to run as fast as you can all ze way around ze pool, okay? GO, GO, GO!'

  I got such a fright that I bolted as fast as I could, overtaking everyone.

  “Okay, miss? Miss? Vhen I say run as fast as you can, I prefer zat you don’t create a tidal vave, no? Okay?'

  I slowed considerably and mouthed 'sorry', hoping no-one else had really noticed my faux pas. Well, he had said run fast.

  We carried on running for a few more laps until he finally slowed us down and, eventually, we stood still.

  'Now, I vant you to put one leg on ze side of ze pool. Yes, yes, that’s it, that’s it!' he yelled, clapping his hands as he walked around the edge of the pool, checking on everyone’s progress.

  Fortunately, I was relatively fit, after starting aerobics quite a few months before, but I could see the elderly couple were having some problems with this exercise. René gave them a hand but not before the poor woman nearly drowned after her husband accidentally used her head as a grab rail.

  Another twenty minutes later and René clapped his hands excitedly, telling us the class was over and we could get out of the water. I allowed everyone else to exit ahead of me, so I could enjoy a quick relaxing swim before my next ‘treatment’. After this, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  'Vite, miss, please. Quickly, quickly,' he clapped again. Somehow he always managed to make me jump. I shot out of the pool, afraid of getting into trouble with Colgate there.

  Checking my schedule, I noticed I was immediately due in Treatment Room 6. Next to this was the name René. Joy.

  Quickly grabbing my things, I skipped into the next room, not forgetting to splash my feet and flip flops into the ice cold water by the door first.

  Inside this room was another pool, smaller than the first. The same group of people and René stood staring at me with raised eyebrows.

  Mumbling my apologies, I rushed down the three steps into the water. Again, it was delightfully warm. Before anyone had the chance to warn me, I bashed my leg against a metal object under the water.

  'Ouch.'.

  'If you
were ere a minute ago, you would have eard me tell you to be careful of ze bars in ze vater, miss,' he smiled falsely.

  What an ass. Him, not me.

  I smiled back and heard the lithe young model to my side, tut. I turned and looked at her in disbelief and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head at me. She probably fancied him.

  'Everybody, please face ze vall in front of you. Hold on to ze bars by your side and ve vill begin,' he gestured, walking around the pool and turning on the jets.

  Erupting in a mass of bubbles, the jet streams began their work of pummelling each and everyone’s bodies. René reached into the water to adjust the position of the jets.

  'Okay, now ve start. I vant you to turn to your side so zat ze jets push into your side. Now move ze body up and down, up and down, up and down. Ze jets should massage every part of ze side of your body, okay? Up and down, up and down. Zat’s it. Yes, yes. Now move your arms, so you massage ze arms and shoulders. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Yes, yes, yes.'

  Clearly he was starting to get a bit excited. I noticed that every time he said ‘up and down’, he focused on the girl beside me. I sneaked a look and she smiled sexily back at him. God, she was only about thirteen for goodness’ sake. Paedophile.

  Unfortunately, he saw that I’d noticed, so he bent down in front of me.

  'Oh dear, miss, I don’t zink your jet is in ze right position. Let me move it for you,' and he tweaked the jet so that it caused me a little problem.

  Firstly, it was now in the perfect position to virtually remove my swimsuit without any assistance from me. Every time he told us to turn around or to the side, I was forced to hold on to it for dear life. It was rather embarrassing. I know very well that he’d done it on purpose, as he kept smirking. As did she. However, I did manage to get my revenge on her a few moments later, when we had to face the jet so that it focused on the lower stomach area...

  I certainly didn’t do it on purpose, but it pummelled my bladder to such an extent that I peed myself. It was only a little bit. At first I was totally and utterly embarrassed, as you could see a few yellow bubbles bobbling around within the water. I tried to ignore them, until I noticed that the bubbles were headed straight for the pompous little cow. I tried hard not to laugh, especially when she spotted it and couldn’t get away from it. What a lovely warm feeling.