Forever Fredless Read online

  As the session came to an end, I found myself hoping that I wasn’t in for any further ‘treatments’ with René and his side-kick. Fortunately, when I’d gotten out of the water, and checked my timetable, I didn’t have anything to do for an hour – during which time, I could use any of the other facilities at the spa. First, I popped into the shower to rinse off any remnants of pee.

  Wrapped in my robe, I decided to have a wander round the spa. The only thing I really disliked about it was the fact that it was so quiet. Some meditation music wouldn’t have gone amiss. I peeked into a few of the rooms, noticing odd looking overgrown baths full of dials and knobs. There were tiny little rooms for massages, a large airy room for T’ai Chi, a gym (which I shied away from because René was in there, with his little friend), swimming pools, Jacuzzi, Turkish bath, sauna and, thankfully, a bar. That’s more like it.

  I decided to have a small fruit smoothie (they didn’t serve real drinks) and jot down some notes for my article while I waited for session number three, which was called ‘Jet Shower’ and was with someone called Cherie.

  Cherie turned out to be a vivacious American girl with a love for sadomasochism. At least that’s the conclusion I came to, after our little tête a tête in Treatment Room 10. I made sure I got there well in time for my session. I didn’t want to be frowned upon again by anyone I’d already met (or not met, as the case was) that morning. I stood waiting outside the door; I would have sat, but there was no chair. I also noticed that the glass door was thicker and not transparent like the others had been. Also – I was the only person waiting this time, leading me to believe I was in for a much more enjoyable experience.

  Out of nowhere bounded a tiny, yet butch young woman. 'Well, hello there. You must be Miss Robinson?' she yelled as if I were standing a mile away.

  I nodded, newly apprehensive and a little scared of what this woman was going to be doing to me.

  She clearly saw the fear on my face and laughed.

  'Oh, silly. I’m not gonna hurt you, y’know? Come on in. There we go. Now let me just close this here door behind us. Now, if you’d like to take off your swimsuit, we can start up this invigorating jet shower. It does wonders for your skin. You’ll lurve it. I assure you,' she hollered as I stood, cowering in the corner of the room.

  Had she told me to remove my swimsuit? Had I heard right? Surely not.

  'I’m sorry, err Cherie, did you tell me to take off my swimsuit?'

  'That’s right honey. Just whip it off, and we can begin,' she winked.

  Oh God. A butch woman was telling me to take off my swimsuit and then she was winking at me. I kept thinking to myself, be brave, be brave. It’ll make for great reading in the Liberty article. After all, that was the reason I was there in the first place.

  I slowly and tentatively removed my one piece.

  'That’s it, honey. I've seen it all before. Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna bite ya,' she winked again as if biting was the first thing on her mind. Yeauch. God, give me strength.

  'Right, if you’ll just stand at the end of the room there. That’s it. Face me. Good girl.'

  I stood, butt naked, at the end of a strange long room that was completely tiled – floor, walls and ceiling, and I looked towards her. It seemed to happen in slow motion from then. Cherie pulled out a huge hose and aimed it right at me and turned it on. Freezing cold water shot out, hitting my feet, legs and stomach.

  'Aargh!'

  'Don’t worry, honey. It’ll only be cold for a few seconds,' she shouted above the sound of the gushing water.

  The water soon became warmer and, every now and again, Cherie would yell for me to turn to my side or to face her or to face away from her. Standing totally naked being hosed down by a butch woman with a fully flexed fire hose, has got to top my list of most humiliating experiences ever.

  It may be particularly good for circulation and cellulite – but I’d rather stick with the orange peel, thank you very much.

  I was beginning to believe that the staff of this place had neglected to be told that I was a Liberty magazine reporter and should be treated with the utmost respect and given the best treatments possible. After a few more similar experiences, I was glad to be back in the changing rooms, putting my clothes on, to get the hell out of there. I understood why that other woman had looked a tad nervous, earlier.

  Admittedly though, my skin did feel invigorated.

  Naturally, my colleagues were later thoroughly entertained by my encounters with Cherie and René, and no, I doubt I’ll ever live that one down. But the upside to the whole experience is that Julianne was over the moon with my article.

  'I absolutely love it, Kate. It’s fantastic. It’s got exactly the right amount of humour and that perfect personal touch. Your column is going to be a hit with our readers. I can feel it.'

  And it was.

  I had lots of response from readers who shared my sense of humour, some even wrote to tell us about similar experiences they’d had. We ended up writing a ‘spin-off series’, interviewing some of the readers and visiting spas all over the south. Our readership increased by twenty five per cent after only two months. Liberty was becoming a huge hit.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I didn’t think my life could get any better. My career had blossomed so much that even Fred couldn't keep my thoughts away from my next article. Until, that is, the most bizarre, life-changing, jaw-dropping thing happened to me. Me!

  Lying in bed, indulging in a much needed lie-in one Saturday in mid-May, there was a knock on the door. Yawning, I sat up and looked at the clock. 9am.

  'Is that you, Jo?' I yelled, 'Come on in!'

  But there was a knock again.

  Begrudgingly climbing out of bed, I pulled on my fluffy pink dressing gown and matching slippers. 'Hang on. I’m coming!'

  I opened the door to be greeted by a man in a suit facing the other way.

  'Hello?'

  He turned around and I actually gasped, out loud. He was easily one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen. He wasn’t exactly tall, but taller than me, with cropped dark brown hair and brown eyes. He wore an expensive dark blue suit with a pale blue shirt and tie. Armani, I think.

  'Good morning. I’m looking for Miss Kate Robinson.'

  His voice was deep and smooth. The kind of voice you could listen to for hours.

  So lost for words, I completely forgot that I’d just got out of bed and must have looked hideously terrible.

  'Are you Miss Robinson?'

  I nodded, 'Err…ye..yes, that’s me. Kate R….R…Rob…in..son.'

  'May I come in, Miss Robinson?'

  I managed to compose myself before asking with a smile, 'And you are?' just as I realised I'd yet to brush my teeth. I closed my mouth quickly, not wanting him to get a burst of morning breath.

  'I’m sorry, Miss Robinson, I should have introduced myself. My name is Tony Fonseca, I’m a solicitor with Fonseca & King. I’m terribly sorry to bother you at the weekend, but I have some important news for you. May I come in?'.

  Curious what business a solicitor could possibly have with me, I let him in. Suddenly completely embarrassed at the state I was in, I wrapped my dressing gown tightly around my waist and blushed.

  'If you’d like to make yourself comfortable, I’ll just go and change,' I said, leading him into my cosy little lounge.

  'Thank you.'

  'I won’t be long.'

  I dashed into the bedroom, throwing open the wardrobe doors, ripping off my dressing gown and falling over my pyjama bottoms as I tried to get them off. Not wanting to look like I’d made too much of an effort, I slipped on a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans, my favourite white Hard Rock Café T-shirt and brown boots.

  Rushing into the bathroom, I scrubbed my face and teeth, gave my hair a quick brush, threw it up into a messy ponytail and then applied mascara and eye-liner as well as a few squirts of perfume.

  I stopped for a moment, checked myself in the mirror before taking a few deep breaths.
Then I walked back to the lounge.

  'Sorry about that.'

  'That’s quite alright, Miss Robinson, no need to apologise,' he said with a smile.

  'Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea?' I offered, realising I hadn’t had anything to drink yet.

  'A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.'

  He followed me into the kitchen.

  'May I?' he asked, pulling out a stool at the breakfast bar.

  'Of course, please sit down. How do you like your tea, Mr Fonseca?'

  He looked up; clearly impressed I hadn’t forgotten his name already.

  'White, no sugar, thank you.'

  'Well, Miss Robinson…'

  'Please, call me Kate. Nobody has called me Miss Robinson since I was at school, apart from that time I was stopped by the police when I...' I stopped myself and blushed, 'just call me Kate.'

  'Okay, Kate. Please call me Tony. I’m sure you’re wondering why I'm here. Well, I’m saddened to inform you that your uncle, Sam, has recently passed away.'

  'My Uncle Sam? But I didn’t even know I had an Uncle Sam. You’ve come to tell me that? That’s a little odd, isn’t it?' I asked, passing him his tea.

  'He specified in his will that when you be told of his death, he be called ‘Uncle Sam’. He is not, in fact, your real uncle. His real name is Samuel Jorge Rui Encarnação Pinto Oliveira Simões. Apparently, he knew you when you were a child.'

  I didn’t think I'd ever heard such a ridiculously long name and it certainly wasn’t even vaguely familiar. I had absolutely no idea who this man was, and I said as much to Tony.

  'Well, Kate, he obviously knew you well, because he has left you his entire estate.'

  'I’m s..s..s..orry. He’s left me his entire estate? Didn’t he have any family of his own?'

  Tony shook his head sadly.

  'I’m afraid not. He never married. His will indicates that almost everything he owns should be left to you.'

  Tony placed his briefcase on the kitchen worktop and pulled out a folder. He stood and turned to look at me.

  'Kate, Mr. Simões has left you his house in the Azores, his apartments in New York and Toronto, his resort in Skegness…'

  'Wh..at?'

  My eyes opened wide, 'Of course. Uncle Sam. Now I remember. We used to stay at his resort in Skegness. He looked after me a few times, when Mum and Dad wanted to go out on their own. And he often kept Mum company when Dad went fishing. Yes, even before I was born, Mum and Dad knew him. God, how could I forget him? He was such a sweet man. Hang on a sec. If Mum knew him before I was born, and he’s leaving all this to me,' I gasped at the thought.

  'What if? What if he’s really my father?'

  Okay, perhaps I was being a bit melodramatic, but you never know. Why else would he leave me everything he owns?

  'I don’t know, Kate. Perhaps that’s a question for your mother. But perhaps you shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.'

  'How did he die?' I asked.

  'Cancer.'

  Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about the poor man, whose apparent only source of happiness was the odd time spent with a little girl and her parents so many years ago.

  'But I haven’t finished yet, Kate. As I was saying, he’s left you the house in the Azores, the penthouse in New York, the apartment in Toronto, the resort in Skegness and the amount of,' he glanced down at his paperwork, 'just over a hundred and forty seven million pounds sterling.'

  The room began to sway, I heard a crash, something warm and wet dripped down my chest and then...

  'Kate? Kate?'

  I opened my eyes to find an angel looking down at me.

  'Are you alright, Kate?' the angel said.

  I felt as if I was dreaming.

  'I’m rich, aren’t I?' I asked as I slowly stood up before sitting down in the little sofa in the corner of the room.

  'Yes,' he laughed, 'you’re a very wealthy woman. Are you feeling alright? Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps you need something a little stronger than tea?'

  I nodded with a grin.

  'I don’t have anything, though, I really need to go shopping. Could you pop next door and call Jo for me? It’s okay, she owns this flat. She’s my best friend. I’d really like her to be here. Plus, she’ll have something strong to drink,' I said in a slightly giddy tone.

  Tony stood up, nodding, and went out the front door.

  I sat up and noticed that I had tea down my favourite T-shirt.

  'Oh, shit.'

  Jumping up, I grabbed a towel and began frantically rubbing at the stain before realising that I could now afford to buy millions of T-shirts just like it. I stopped rubbing and started laughing.

  Within minutes, Jo and Tony walked back into the kitchen.

  'What’s going on, Kate? Are you alright? And why do you need something strong to drink so early in the day? It’s not even 10 yet… and why are you laughing?'

  'T-Tony, te.., tell her, please.'

  Half an hour later, Jo and I were both drinking brandy. Tony, sensibly, stuck to the tea.

  'I can’t believe it. It’s just so surreal, isn’t it? I’m a millionaire. Kate Robinson, millionaire. Do you think it sounds right?'

  Jo nodded, 'Of course it sounds right. It was meant to be.'

  'Well, while the two of you come to terms with all this, I’d better leave you to it. Kate, we obviously have some paperwork to attend to, shall I come back later today or tomorrow? I’m here until Monday morning, then I’m flying to New York. What suits you?'

  Jo answered for me. 'Why don’t you come back later, Tony, and we’ll have a celebratory dinner. We’d love you to stay for that, wouldn’t we Kate?'

  I nodded, 'Absolutely, that would be fantastic. If you come round here say, about 5.30 and when we’ve sorted out the paperwork, we’ll go upstairs to eat.'

  A warm smile spread across his face, 'That would be lovely, thank you. I’ll see you at half past five, then. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.'

  He shook my hand, then Jo’s, picked up his briefcase and was gone.

  Jo looked and me and we both shrieked with laughter.

  'You’re rich, you’re rich!'

  'I’m rich, I’m rich!' I yelled back, clinking our brandy glasses together.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jo threw a dinner party that evening, inviting Anna and John, Liz, Julianne and her new man Syd (yes, they were officially a couple).

  One of those rare people who could concoct a delicious meal from the sparsest of ingredients, Jo was a real whiz in the kitchen and that evening managed to create the most delicious prawn roulade, followed by chicken à la king (Jo loved to 'play' with 70s recipes) with one of her traditional twists and finally, the pièce de resistance, Baked Alaska. She was amazing. Truly amazing.

  A few bottles of champagne had already been polished off by the time we’d gotten to the dessert and most of the conversation had revolved around my staggering news.

  'So, tell us, Tony, how did Kate become lucky enough to have you as the solicitor handling Uncle Sam’s estate?' Jo asked, as she lazily leaned over to re-fill everyone’s glasses.

  'No, Carly, darling, a half glass of champagne is more than enough for you,' she winked at her daughter, who stood up and said she’d had enough adult talk for one night, anyway.

  'I’m going to watch TV in my room,' she leaned over and kissed my cheek after kissing her mum. 'Congratulations, Kate. Goodnight, everyone.' She was such a sweet kid. I felt truly proud to have had a small hand in her upbringing.

  Everyone mumbled their ‘night nights’ as she shuffled her feet out of the room.

  'Sorry, Tony. Go on,' said Jo.

  'That’s alright. I’m actually Portuguese myself. I moved to the States to study law and I now work between there and the UK. Samuel Simões was looking for a solicitor based in New York and London, who could speak Portuguese,' he answered.

  'But Uncle Sam spoke perfect English,' I said.

  'Yes he did, but he wan
ted someone that could speak Portuguese to handle the estate after he passed away, particularly to help you deal with things in the Azores. He assumed that you would at least visit the house there, before deciding whether to keep or sell it. In either case, you’ll need my help. Portuguese bureaucracy isn’t the easiest to deal with, especially if you can’t speak the language,' he said, as he took a small sip of his champagne.

  'So, you’ll be visiting the Azores? Wow, how exciting,' giggled Liz. 'You’re so lucky. I’ve never even been abroad, I haven’t even got a clue where the Azores is – are I mean – is… whatever,' she slurred.

  'I haven’t had the chance to even think about anything, yet, but yes, of course I’ll be going over. Why don’t you come with me? In fact, why don’t you all come with me? On me, of course. That’ll be fantastic. A holiday for my closest pals. What do you reckon? Please say yes.'

  Eyebrows rose inquisitively.

  'I’m totally and utterly completely serious. We’ll have a fabulous time. Say yes. All of you say yes!'

  'Yes, yes yes!' shouted Liz at the top of her voice, giggling and almost falling off her chair.

  'Well, it goes without saying that Carly and I would absolutely love to come,' winked Jo.

  'Kate, darling. I would love nothing better than to join you in the Azores, but I don’t think I’ll be able to, what with work and everything. And who’d look after all my pussy cats?' breathed Julianne.

  'Oh go on, Jules. I’d be happy to look after them. At least you know they’re in good hands. You could do with a holiday,' offered Syd as he gently kissed her cheek and rubbed her back.

  'Yes, come on, Julianne, just for a week or two. I’m sure we can work something out at the office. That’s what the assistant editors are for, aren't they? To fill in for you, every now and again?' I coaxed.