Page 20 of Love Will Save the Day
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning I wake up feeling better than I have done in weeks. Last night I contacted all ten of the people who messaged Henry’s website and six of them have booked in for sessions. SIX! And one of those has even booked me out for two months. I asked the woman if she was sure she wanted to pay me up front, and she replied that with all the publicity from Henry’s videos I’ll likely be booked up soon and she wants to be sure she doesn’t miss out. Can you believe it? Of course I didn’t argue with her and this morning a whole bunch of money made its way into my account. The most exciting thing about today, though, is that my dad’s coming to visit, and while I still can’t afford to take him for a slap up meal, Icanafford to buy some really lovely ingredients with which to cook him something. I can’t wait for him to see that I’m living in a place like this. Of course, I know it’s only temporary, but he doesn’t, and once he sees me here, sees that I am safe and doing well, he’ll stop naysaying and see that I’m made to live here and not in the suburbs of Bristol.
I get dressed into my workout gear and head downstairs to begin this morning’s session with Henry and Auguste. And even though Henry insists we listen to some weird obscure fusion music while we work out, I feel full to bursting with energy and happiness at the way things are going.
After the workout I spend the next hour replying to more messages for clients and I’ve managed to secure bookings with another two. My goodness, if it carries on like this, I’ll be a fully booked for the next three months at least. That would mean I wouldn’t have to get another job at a gym. I could be fully freelance – the dream!
Thank god for Henry, I think as I wash myself in the shower. And thank god for the mystery woman, whoever she is and wherever she is.
‘Thank you mystery woman,’ I sing out loud while I rinse off. ‘You are my hero too.’
After drying off, I pull on the nicest dress I own – a dusky pink woollen affair – and my knee high boots and head downstairs to wait by the door for my dad to arrive. He barely even gets one knock in before I’ve yanked open the door and pulled him into a hug.
‘Hiya, my love,’ he says as I bury my head into his chest, the comforting smell of him bringing unexpected tears to my eyes.
Dad stands back looks me up and down.
‘You look really well, lass,’ he says before pinching one of my cheeks. ‘Your cheeks are lovely and rosy.’
I laugh. ‘Oh, it’s just blusher,’ I say.
Dad steps into the house and takes in the size of it, the high ceilings and elegant décor.
‘Wow, you’ve landed on your feet, love,’ he says.
I shrug, slightly reticent to take undeserved credit for the fact that I’m currently living here but pleased that he is so clearly impressed. I get a vision of how different today would feel if Dad were coming to see me at the old studio flat with the broken floorboard and the family of mice and Mr Hemmings lurking about in the stairwell, just waiting to be mean.
‘Hello! You must be Mr McKinley!’ Henry booms as he comes down the stairs and spots Dad. He holds out his hand and shakes dad’s warmly.
‘Hello there,’ Dad says. ‘You are Auguste?’
‘Oh no.’ Henry pulls a face. ‘I’m Henry. I own the house.’
‘Ah. And very nice it is too,’ Dad says. ‘Good bones.’
‘I love it,’ Henry says. ‘Welove it.’ He swings his arm around my shoulder which, for some reason, makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. My dad raises his eyebrows.
‘Hello there,’ Auguste says coming out from Henry’s studio. ‘I am Auguste. It is my pleasure to meet you. I am Bess’s new roommate.’
Dad shakes Auguste’s hand and then points at the Persian rug on the floor.
‘This is a lovely piece,’ he says, bending down to touch the rug. And then he starts to go into great detail about the type of silk used to make it and how the design of it is a work of art. I can’t help but giggle as he gets into his stride. I glance up at Henry to roll my eyes but he’s tapping something out on his phone with narrowed eyes.
‘That is very interesting, sir,’ Auguste says, bending down with my dad to inspect the rug with him. ‘I see this rug every day and I do not know its history.’
I widen my eyes and shake my head at Auguste but it’s too late. My dad has set off on a detailed speech about the entire history of Persian rugs.
I give Auguste a small smile as he engages in the conversation, seemingly very interested in my dad’s spontaneous seminar.
‘Come on!’ Henry says finally putting his phone in his pocket and clapping his hands together. ‘We’ll be late!’
I frown. ‘Huh? Why?’
‘I’ve booked us a table for lunch,’ Henry says, eyes sparkling.
‘I… I was going to go grab some ingredients and cook!’ I say, my stomach sinking because I absolutely can’t afford to pay for that. At least not yet. Plus, I was kind of looking forward to hanging out in this lovely kitchen and catching up with my dad.
‘Nonsense!’ Henry says. ‘I’ve booked Gianni’s in Chelsea. You’ll love it. My treat!’
