Hurt’s played him,’ Jay pointed out.
‘Even so … Who are you meeting here today?’
‘Another producer,’ Jay said before mentioning a name Connor didn’t recognize.
‘I’m sure he’d like to meet you,’ Jay added.
‘Thanks, I’d love to say hello,’ Connor gushed.
‘What about you?’ Jay asked. ‘Meeting anyone?’
‘Oh’ – Connor would at least enjoy this bit of the conversation – ‘my old friend … Annie Valentine,’ he said with relish.
‘Oooh! Annie Valentine.’ Jay looked impressed. ‘That show’s doing so well, isn’t it? Totally girlie pants obviously,’ he added spitefully, ‘but a ratings treasure.’
‘Hey! Don’t knock that show!’ Connor rushed to Annie’s defence. ‘I love that show.’
‘Sir?’ A waitress approached him. ‘It’s one p.m. Shall I show you to your table? You can wait for your guest there.’
‘That would be fantastic, thanks.’
Connor was shown to his seat right in the middle of the restaurant. It was a generous four-seater table, which had been set for two. Connor seemed to remember that he’dmentioned both his and Annie’s names when he’d made the booking.
The maître d’ was obviously a big Connor McCabe (or maybe, he had to grudgingly admit, a big Annie Valentine) fan, having placed them so conspicuously in the middle of the room like this.
Several minutes later, Connor cast another glance at his watch. Surely she’d be here soon … wouldn’t she?
Chapter Nine
Plain Jane:
Red trenchcoat (Debenhams sale)
Blue sweatshirt (her sister’s)
Faded khakis (Gap sale)
Lace-up shoes (Clarks)
Total est. cost: £105
‘You’re Annie Valentine!’
Many, many miles from Soho, Annie was walking round a branch of Hobbs and looking at the clothes carefully. She was taking hangers down from the rails, feeling the material, checking out the price tags and assessing cut and colour, like the true professional she was.
She had a tiny notebook in her hand with a small pencil pushed into the wire spiral binding. On the rare occasion when Annie found an item which met all her stringent criteria, she wrote it down in the notebook. Then Amelia would phone head office, a sample size 10 would be shipped out to the studio, and it might, just might,absolutely no promises or guarantees offered, be featured on the show.
Of course the programme was sent things ahead of season, but Annie also liked to do it this way round: go to one of the less fashionable edge-of-town concessions on her own and see what was really out there hanging on the rails for women to choose.
One of the shop assistants approached Annie to ask: ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, just taking a good look. If I want to try anything on, I’ll let you know.’
‘OK.’ The assistant smiled and looked at her for just a little too long.
Annie was trying to get used to this look. She came across it more often now. People would look at her and she could see them trying to work out why her face was familiar. ‘Have we met before?’ they would sometimes ask, to which Annie would wink and say: ‘No, but I’m sometimes on TV,’ as modestly as she could possibly manage.
‘YOU’RE ANNIE VALENTINE, AREN’T YOU?’
Annie was startled by the woman who ran straight up to her now, shouting this out at what seemed like the top of her voice.
‘YOU ARE! YOU’RE ANNIE!’ the woman went on. ‘I thought I saw you out in the street and I followed you in here.’
Annie was slightly taken aback. Not only had she been spotted, she’d also been followed. Even though the woman looked perfectly normal, it was just a bit odd.
‘Yes,’ Annie said, smiling at her fan. ‘How nice of you to notice,’ she added, hoping this would calm the woman down.
But it already felt as if there was something of a stir in theshop. The assistants had heard what the woman had said and so had several of the customers.
‘You have to help me!’ the woman exclaimed and reached out
‘Even so … Who are you meeting here today?’
‘Another producer,’ Jay said before mentioning a name Connor didn’t recognize.
‘I’m sure he’d like to meet you,’ Jay added.
‘Thanks, I’d love to say hello,’ Connor gushed.
‘What about you?’ Jay asked. ‘Meeting anyone?’
‘Oh’ – Connor would at least enjoy this bit of the conversation – ‘my old friend … Annie Valentine,’ he said with relish.
‘Oooh! Annie Valentine.’ Jay looked impressed. ‘That show’s doing so well, isn’t it? Totally girlie pants obviously,’ he added spitefully, ‘but a ratings treasure.’
‘Hey! Don’t knock that show!’ Connor rushed to Annie’s defence. ‘I love that show.’
‘Sir?’ A waitress approached him. ‘It’s one p.m. Shall I show you to your table? You can wait for your guest there.’
‘That would be fantastic, thanks.’
Connor was shown to his seat right in the middle of the restaurant. It was a generous four-seater table, which had been set for two. Connor seemed to remember that he’dmentioned both his and Annie’s names when he’d made the booking.
The maître d’ was obviously a big Connor McCabe (or maybe, he had to grudgingly admit, a big Annie Valentine) fan, having placed them so conspicuously in the middle of the room like this.
Several minutes later, Connor cast another glance at his watch. Surely she’d be here soon … wouldn’t she?
Chapter Nine
Plain Jane:
Red trenchcoat (Debenhams sale)
Blue sweatshirt (her sister’s)
Faded khakis (Gap sale)
Lace-up shoes (Clarks)
Total est. cost: £105
‘You’re Annie Valentine!’
Many, many miles from Soho, Annie was walking round a branch of Hobbs and looking at the clothes carefully. She was taking hangers down from the rails, feeling the material, checking out the price tags and assessing cut and colour, like the true professional she was.
She had a tiny notebook in her hand with a small pencil pushed into the wire spiral binding. On the rare occasion when Annie found an item which met all her stringent criteria, she wrote it down in the notebook. Then Amelia would phone head office, a sample size 10 would be shipped out to the studio, and it might, just might,absolutely no promises or guarantees offered, be featured on the show.
Of course the programme was sent things ahead of season, but Annie also liked to do it this way round: go to one of the less fashionable edge-of-town concessions on her own and see what was really out there hanging on the rails for women to choose.
One of the shop assistants approached Annie to ask: ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, just taking a good look. If I want to try anything on, I’ll let you know.’
‘OK.’ The assistant smiled and looked at her for just a little too long.
Annie was trying to get used to this look. She came across it more often now. People would look at her and she could see them trying to work out why her face was familiar. ‘Have we met before?’ they would sometimes ask, to which Annie would wink and say: ‘No, but I’m sometimes on TV,’ as modestly as she could possibly manage.
‘YOU’RE ANNIE VALENTINE, AREN’T YOU?’
Annie was startled by the woman who ran straight up to her now, shouting this out at what seemed like the top of her voice.
‘YOU ARE! YOU’RE ANNIE!’ the woman went on. ‘I thought I saw you out in the street and I followed you in here.’
Annie was slightly taken aback. Not only had she been spotted, she’d also been followed. Even though the woman looked perfectly normal, it was just a bit odd.
‘Yes,’ Annie said, smiling at her fan. ‘How nice of you to notice,’ she added, hoping this would calm the woman down.
But it already felt as if there was something of a stir in theshop. The assistants had heard what the woman had said and so had several of the customers.
‘You have to help me!’ the woman exclaimed and reached out
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