Just the Way You Are Read online

  ‘All right then, but if he’s a complete twonk, misogynist, emotionally stunted or a creep then your Cilla Black days are over!’

  Gwen clapped her hands gleefully and jumped up and down on the spot. ‘This is why you’re my best friend! I’ll set something up for today if that’s cool?’

  I swallowed down the doubts and reservations and gave a weary nod.

  She skipped off in the direction of her bedroom, then stopped and turned to look at me. ‘By the way, you look really smart today.’ Slowly, drip by drip, she realised. ‘Oh that’s right, today’s the big day isn’t it?’

  A broad smile swept across my face.

  ‘It certainly is!’ I struck a catwalk pose and pouted. ‘Do I look like Sleek Magazine’s Next Top Dating Columnist?’

  Saying the words out loud made my stomach do somersaults. I’d grown to love running the dating column over the last three months and had loads of ideas to make it my own. More than anything I wanted to run it permanently and make it a real prominent feature of the magazine. All I needed was a chance. The only thing standing in my way was Maddie McQueen, my arch-enemy since university and general poisonous bitch. My heart rate soared and goose bumps rose on my arms. I felt excited and utterly terrified in equal measure.

  ‘Good luck babe, you’ll smash it.’ Gwen gave me a hug and I left before she could offer me some charred remains calling itself toast.

  The letter was still burning a hole at the bottom of my bag when I got to work. I was ten minutes late thanks to some road works and an old dear who couldn’t use a zebra crossing.

  After sprinting up the steps like a woman possessed and digging out my mood-board, I finally relaxed. My shoulders slumped into the back of my chair and I let my head tilt back. There was so much riding on today; it all came down to a single pitch that could go one of two ways. If it was a complete disaster, then I’d lose my dream job and be promptly punted to the horoscope section.

  The scent of coffee wafted around me. That could only mean one thing: Fran was in the building. I opened my eyes and there she was. Her tall, lithe frame towered above me and she was carrying two paper cups of steaming hot coffee.

  ‘Thought you could use this,’ she said.

  Originally from London, Fran’s voice had a sultry raspy quality that I could only dream of imitating. Whenever I tried, I ended up sounding like I had a sore throat.

  ‘This is why I love you.’ I sat up and took a cup, throwing her a grateful smile.

  ‘So today’s D Day, is it? Your big pitch with Miranda and Paddy.’

  My blood froze at the mention of Miranda’s name. She was Sleek magazine’s answer to Jaws.

  ‘Yep, here’s my mood-board.’ I lifted it up and passed it to Fran for her appraisal. ‘Oh, not only that; I’ve got a bloody blind date this afternoon!’

  ‘And just what is that?’

  My shoulders slumped at the sound of the voice behind me. I recognised it instantly: Maddie bloody McQueen.

  ‘It’s a cheese sandwich, Maddie,’ I said, spinning my chair around to face her.

  She narrowed her little eyes at me, making herself look even more pinched and gaunt than she usually did.

  ‘Very funny. If that’s what you’re presenting to Miranda and Paddy, then I’m even more confident with my pitch. I delivered it to them a few minutes ago and let’s just say they were pretty impressed. They were going to hear yours first but you had timing issues, didn’t you?’

  My stomach did a belly flop to my shoes. Everyone knew Maddie had the gift of the gab and I could imagine her blowing our bosses away with a killer pitch.

  ‘You can still try if you want to Ava, it’ll just be pointless. Ciao for now.’ She breezed off back to her desk and threw a smug little smirk over her shoulder to me.

  I looked down at my mood-board and heaved a sad sigh.

  ‘Don’t let her get to you,’ Fran advised. ‘You’ve worked so hard on this pitch, you’re gonna ace it. And what’s this I hear about a blind date?! Spill, Clements.’

  ‘It’s this guy Gwen met at one of her fashion parties; his name’s Greg and he’s a male model. According to Gwen, he’s a hottie and a sweet guy rolled into one; after her last attempt at setting me up, I’m a bit sceptical to say the least!’

  ‘That guy who made the whistling noise? I didn’t like the sound of him at all. Look, this guy might look like Ashton Kutcher during his hot phase; you won’t know unless you go. Just think, today could be the day you land your dream job and the love of your life,’ Fran pointed out.

  I wanted to believe her – really I did – but when one editor made Voldemort look kind-hearted and the other was about as fierce as Winnie the Pooh, the odds were pretty stacked against me. As for my blind date, Gwen’s taste in men was dubious at best, so this Greg guy wasn’t likely to be my soulmate.

  The familiar tug of desire to rip the letter open and devour its contents resurfaced again but I batted it away. I wasn’t quite ready for the storm of emotions reading it would unleash.

  It wasn’t long before the witching hour came. At midday, Miranda came oozing out of her office and approached my desk.

  ‘Ava, could you come with me please?’

  I gulped and grabbed my mood-board. I flashed a terrified expression to Fran, who just made a “rock-on” sign with her fingers and turned back to her computer.

  That was it. I was on my own. I followed Miranda to her office like an innocent fly wandering into a spider’s lair. The door shut with a finality I wasn’t altogether comfortable with.

  Miranda took a seat in her large black executive chair. She crossed one leg over the other and her lips curved into a sly smirk. To her right sat Paddy, who looked typically clueless and unaware of the undertones behind his colleague’s supposedly sweet smile.

  ‘Hello there Maria, I didn’t know you were applying for this!’ he said in his jovial Scottish lilt.

  ‘I-It’s Ava, Paddy…’

  ‘So, Ava,’ Miranda said as she made a little pyramid with her fingers and rested her chin on in. ‘why don’t you take us through your lovely mood-board?’

  My heart began to pound in my ears and my breath became short. I held my board in front of my chest so they could see it, my hands trembling terribly. The slick, polished speech I’d prepared had vanished from my mind. Shit, shit, shit. Why did this have to happen now?

  ‘We’re waiting.’ Miranda’s voice was terse and she looked at me with a malicious glee, as though she enjoyed watching me fail.

  ‘Oh y-yeah, sorry…’

  I caught sight of Paddy’s shoulders slouching and his gaze travelling to the far corner of the room. Come on Ava, pull it together.

  ‘I-I…um…I-I…’

  A cold sweat washed over me and I began to tremble with abject fear. An unwelcome but familiar burning feeling rose in my throat and I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

  ‘Would you excuse me for a minute?’ I asked.

  Neither of them looked impressed but I was past caring at this point. I looked for the nearest escape route but knew my sickness wouldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed a wastepaper bin by the door and was violently sick in it.

  I knew as I walked out of the room that the job wasn’t mine.

  I took some time out to sit in the ladies’ toilets and cry. Today was supposed to be the day I landed the job of my dreams and instead I’d thrown up in front of the people who would either make my career or break it. I’d probably end up being stuck doing the wordsearches or the horoscopes: they were areas where only the worst staff were sent.

  I went into my handbag to get my make-up and my fingers closed in around the letter. Given that I was already an emotional wreck, I figured that adding to it probably wouldn’t do any harm.

  I was just about to open it when Fran came in.

  ‘Dare I ask how the pitch went?’ she asked, taking in my tear-stained face.

  I let out a hollow chuckle. ‘Well I went in there, couldn’t say anything about what
I wanted to do for the column and threw up in the rubbish bin.’

  She clapped her hands to her mouth, presumably to hide the trademark Cheshire cat grin working its way onto her face.

  ‘Only you Ava, only bloody you!’ She pulled me close for a hug. ‘You’re a one-off, you know that?’

  When she pulled away, she caught sight of the envelope in my hand. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If I’m right, it’s a letter from someone I thought had forgotten about me a helluva long time ago,’ I answered.

  ‘Open it!’ Fran’s eyes widened with curiosity and she eyed me expectantly like a kid waiting to receive their birthday presents.

  Hands trembling, I tore open the envelope and unfurled the paper. For a very long minute, I couldn’t look at it and viewed it instead through half-closed eyes.

  ‘Come on, I can’t take this any more!’

  I took in a deep lungful of air and prepared myself to look at what was written on the page. Every fibre of me told me not to, that I should put this Pandora’s Box of words back in my bag and forget about it. However, Fran’s expectant stare and the niggling questions at the back of my mind made me look. When I did, my breath caught in my throat. In front of me was the most beautiful love letter I’d ever read.

  Dear Ava,

  How do you start writing a letter to someone, six years after breaking their heart?

  It may seem strange that I’m writing to you again after so long, but I can’t ignore how I feel any more. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last six years, it’s that life’s too short not to go after what you want. And Ava, all I want is you.

  Since that day I was supposed to meet you in Heaton Park, I’ve kicked myself for being such a coward. Seeing how upset you were afterwards killed me. Every fibre of me pulled me towards you that day but my stupid self-doubt stopped me. I was scared of not being enough, of disappointing you. Little did I know that by convincing myself to stay out of the picture, I ended up doing the very thing I was trying to avoid. Words can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you; I hope you can forgive me.

  After trying to convince myself to forget you and telling myself to move on, I’m still totally and completely in love with you. Spending the best part of a decade thinking about what we could’ve had together has been torturous. It could’ve been me holding you tight or kissing you or showing you how special you are. Now, it’s finally time for me to do something about it. I know you could have built a whole life with someone else, but I’ll regret it forever if I don’t at least try. I’ll let you know who I am soon: for now just enjoy the magic of the letters. If anyone deserves a fairy tale, it’s you. Keep smiling, beautiful.

  Love always,

  ?

  A stray sob escaped from my throat; it was a happy sob, full of joy at what I’d just read and the chain of events it could potentially set in motion.

  ‘Who’s it from?’ asked Fran.

  ‘It’s from my secret admirer,’ I replied. ‘He’s back!’

  Chapter 3

  Before I knew it, it was time for my date with Greg. The contents of the letter had made me a bit reluctant about going – amazing secret admirer versus dubious blind date picked by my scatter-brained best friend – but I didn’t want to let Greg down.

  I got to Café Rouge just as the lunchtime rush was about to start. It was a small, smart-looking café nestled between an independent bookshop and a dry-cleaner’s. The air was warm for mid-October so I took a seat at one of the little metal tables outside. A huge red parasol emblazoned with Café Rouge rose up from the centre, protecting me from the sun’s rays. Since I was a bit early, I took the opportunity to have yet another mint and fix my ponytail. My hair had dried now so the whole thing had gone very bushy and I looked like a badly groomed poodle.

  Greg arrived shortly after. I saw a tall, slender figure walking down the street and instantly knew it was him. His fitted blue shirt, black trousers and smart shoes, plus the way he carried himself all screamed “male model”. His hair was closely cropped and, as he drew nearer, I spotted a cheeky glint in his eye. Maybe this date wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  ‘Ava Clements?’ he asked in a thick Liverpudlian accent.

  ‘That’s me!’ I stood up too quickly and knocked my chair backwards. Smooth Ava, really smooth.

  I picked it up and offered my hand to him, which he shook firmly.

  ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Greg Williams,’

  He smiled and we sat down. I picked up a menu and peeked over it to look at him. Gwen wasn’t wrong; he really was a good-looking guy. I could just imagine his face gracing some high-end men’s fashion campaign. He caught me looking at him and flashed a half-smile. My cheeks began to burn and I dropped my eyes back to the menu.

  ‘You know, when Gwen told me she had a mate to set me up with, I didn’t expect someone who looked like you,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I hope I’ve exceeded your expectations then!’ I allowed a slight barbed edge to creep into my response. I couldn’t tell how he’d meant that remark so decided to be on my guard.

  ‘I don’t know yet, I think I’ll reserve judgement until after the meal.’

  Ouch, that stung. I drummed my fingers on the table and took quick glances at the menu in front of me. I knew I couldn’t let one slightly off remark ruin a whole date; I had to be open-minded and see what Greg had to offer. If I didn’t, I could well end up knee-deep in cat litter and tins of Whiskas.

  After a few minutes, a waiter came to take our order.

  ‘I’ll have the steak and chips and a pint of Coke please mate,’ said Greg.

  ‘Can I have the penne carbonara and a mineral water please?’ I handed the menus to the waiter and smiled as he took them away.

  Out the corner of my eye, I saw Greg raise his eyebrows sceptically.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer but felt it was polite to at least ask.

  ‘Nothing, nothing…’ He trailed off and folded his arms, causing the delicate material of his shirt to strain at his biceps.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I didn’t feel comfortable with the atmosphere that had developed between us. It was obvious I’d done or said something to offend him but I couldn’t think what.

  Greg shook his head and curled his top lip in a very unattractive way then sat forward so he could see me.

  ‘I just… I thought you would’ve ordered a salad instead of pasta, that’s all.’

  The comment took me aback. I certainly hadn’t been expecting that; since when did your choice of food matter so much on a date? I’d clearly been out of the game too long.

  ‘Oh… OK, forgive me for sounding stupid here but why does what I have to eat bother you?’

  He let out a sharp breath and glared at me like I’d asked the most stupid question ever.

  ‘Well look at me, Ava. I’ve modelled for Calvin Klein, Burberry and Primark; I’ve got a certain image to maintain.’

  You certainly have if you’re modelling for Primark, I wanted to say.

  ‘Right…’ I said slowly, not quite understanding what he meant.

  ‘What I mean is,’ he continued, seemingly having read my mind, ‘I can’t just be seen with any old heifer. My agency’s looking to get me into acting and presenting so who I’m seen with is everything. Don’t get me wrong love, you seem nice enough although your face is quite plain and you could be doing with losing about a stone. A big bowl of pasta isn’t going to do you any favours; I’d have gone for a salad if I were you.’

  I sat opposite him, open-mouthed and scarcely able to believe what I’d heard. He’d called me ugly and fat and critiqued my food choices; he’d only known me five minutes! Cheeky bastard.

  ‘Goodbye Greg.’ I calmly got up and walked away from the table as fast as I could.

  Just before we wound up for the day, Paddy and Miranda called a surprise editorial meeting. As usual, they’d sprung it on us on a Friday evening, when everybody was too busy thinking about th
e weekend ahead to contribute good ideas These meetings almost never happened at the start of the week when people were refreshed and full of energy.

  ‘Right everybody, I know it’s only October but we need to start planning for our Valentine’s Day issue right now. Our competitors Mirage and Glitter will already have started and you can bet your life they’ll have something big planned to shift issues. It might be an exclusive interview with a big celebrity or a huge features project but whatever it is, we need to do something bigger and better. Mirage beat us in the circulation figures last year and we can’t let the same thing happen again. I want us to pull something spectacular out of the bag. I know it’s quite soon to be thinking about it but does anyone have any ideas?’

  Maddie’s hand shot straight up in the air. ‘We could compile a list of the city’s top Valentine’s date spots.’

  How original, I said to myself, our competitors would never think of that. Then again, I didn’t exactly have a list of amazing ideas myself.

  ‘That’s good Maddie, but I want you all to think big. Think amazing, think of something that’ll really pull the readers in.’ Paddy sat forward and rubbed his hands together, waiting in anticipation for one of us to produce the gold nugget that would blow Mirage and Glitter out of the water.

  A sketchy idea formed at the back of my mind but I wasn’t sure it was any good. Then again, I reasoned, it couldn’t be any worse than Maddie’s one.

  ‘Um…’ I tentatively raised my hand. ‘What about doing a Valentine’s love story with a twist? M-Maybe the couple met or got together in unusual circumstances? We could even gather two or three together and make a feature out of them.’

  Miranda rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘I don’t really think the readers want any twists on Valentine’s Day stories. We should stick with traditional boy-meets-girl tales, the ones that everybody knows and loves.’

  She shot a sideways glance at Paddy, waiting for him to agree with her like he usually did. However, his deep brown eyes were still firmly fixed on me.