***
I splashed out on Thursday shopping for clothes. By then Jason’s instruction for me to have a female escort had worked its way through the system. Gibson, as she was known to me – what happened to first names? – drove me to the shops, the kind I would have never dreamed of shopping in a few weeks earlier. Trying on clothes, I discovered Gibson may be my security escort but she was not going to take on the role of personal shopper. I was left indecisive and unsure of what to buy.
I wandered up and down the aisles, picking up hangers and holding clothing against my body without a clue as to what worked or did not. In Harvey Nichols, I saw the names of designers who normally I would only read about in fashion magazines: Vivienne Westwood, Alexander McQueen, Donna Karan…. The prices were exorbitant and made me gasp. Everything was so gorgeous and stylish and I could not imagine wearing any of it.
Colours I could manage to judge for myself. I had my own particular way of handling shades and my artistic brain helped. It was the styles, the cut and fabric, which lost me. I gave up on the high and mighty end of the clothing market and tried Top Shop. The prices were not as shocking but still I had no idea how to change my image. Did I want to though? Was the real reason I was not succeeding due to my humble origins?
My mum and I had always shopped together and Marks and Spencer’s was a typical store or other common high street brands. Much of the time, we had ended up at the local supermarket buying anything on offer or on sale. We did not go to high-class functions and it had been easy to pick clothes for work or leisure. Nothing I chose made me feel out of place or lowly.
Being with Jason things were going to be different. His suits came from Savile Row and were tailor made. His buffed leather shoes were elegant, his watches were the brands advertised by Hollywood stars and he even made a pair of jeans voguish.
I was faced with the reality of being inept at changing or refining my appearance. Whatever Jason wanted on his arm was unknown to me for the simple fact we had never gone anywhere posh together. My dreams of evenings spent at fancy restaurants, box seats in theatres or lavish social occasions had all come to nothing. I gave up after four shops and returned to the house with less bought than I had anticipated.
I briefly summarised my day to Jason over dessert. He was less distracted and seemed happy to communicate.
“I’m crap at buying clothes,” I slumped in my seat, playing with my spoon. “It’s alright for you, just shirts and suits,” I grumbled.
Jason smiled at me. The first time he had smiled since showing me around the house.
“Silly girl. Go up to an assistant and ask for help. They get a commission for helping you. I’m surprise they weren’t falling all over you in. Or hire a personal shopper.”
“Well I suppose I don’t look the part. It is a vicious circle until I look the part they won’t wait on me,” I shrugged my shoulders in mock despair.
“Assert yourself, Gemma. You’re going to be on show soon, you need to play the part well. I’m not a Professor Higgins. You’ll have to sort this out yourself.”
I grinned at Jason’s reference to Pygmalion. “On show?” I gawped.
“Yes. This weekend. We’re having lunch with my parents. We’ll drive over on Saturday.”
My mouth dropped into an O shape. That expression made him smile in amusement.
Already! Well I had been asking for signs of commitment.
“You’re right I can’t keep you cooped up indoors indefinitely. You’ll get up to mischief eventually and slip out unattended, I can see it coming.” He picked out an apple from the fruit bowl.
“What about my parents? They have a right to know I’m involved with someone.” I watched as he tossed the apple up and down in his hand.
“Would they be about on Sunday? Have them over for lunch?”
Wow, that would be amazing. They would be impressed and gobsmacked with Blythewood House.
“I’m sure they’d be about, they’re not much for going away at weekends. I’ll give them a call,” I beamed. “I have to tell them I have a boyfriend!” That was going to be one interesting conversation.
“Good, it is decided then,” he rose and headed for the door.
“What about your golf?” I remembered his weekly Sunday golf session.
Jason paused in the doorway. “I can survive a week without golf, the weather hasn’t exactly been kind recently,” he grinned as he bit down
into the apple.
“Hi, mum!” I said biting down on my lip. I glanced over to Jason, who was sitting reading the newspaper on the sofa.
Mum’s voice always seemed to have a degree of nervousness about it, as if I was going to say something terrible.
“How are you both?” I asked. The usual pleasantries were exchanged. “I thought you ought to know, I’ve moved,” I braced myself for the gasp.
“First you quit a good job and now you’ve moved! What are doing darling?” Her blood pressure was probably rising with her voice.