enough by now to know your tastes in women's clothes. I
won't let you down, I promise.'
He gave in and
smiled tolerantly. 'Well, if you're sure you want to go on your
own, sugar. Just don't let anyone rip you off with designer
labels.'
'I wouldn't
dream of it,' she replied.
It was just as
well he didn't see her go into town, for he would hardly have
recognised the self-confident woman who marched from shop to shop.
She knew exactly what she wanted all right, and it took a while to
find it. But this time she had no husband to take her round by the
arm and talk to the shop assistants on her behalf, as if she was
incapable of doing it for herself.
'Can I help,
madam?' The thin assistant looked over her glasses at Esther's
present attire, her narrow eyes seemingly calculating to a penny
what type of dress the client could afford, and assessing it wasn't
going to be one from her shop.
'Madam would
like to try on that black dress in the window,' she responded, with
sarcasm.
The shop
assistant's manner gradually altered, and what with the sale of two
rather expensive little numbers and a pile of silky underwear, she
made a reasonable bit of commission, all things considered.
Esther then
went on to a jewellery shop to purchase some costume jewellery that
was almost obscenely ostentatious. Luckily it was not as expensive
as it looked, though she doubted Kevin would know the difference.
She enjoyed shopping for herself, and realised how often she had
simply shopped with Kevin in mind. How easily she had forgotten to
be herself. She was beginning to look forward to Saturday night
with the gleeful anticipation of a teenager.
Saturday
evening she dressed quickly, and shrouded herself in the
ankle-length, plain black evening cape she had always hated because
she felt silly in it. She now realised what it was for.
'Essie, honey,
that looks lovely,' Kevin said, gratification on his face. The cape
had been a Christmas present from him, and she had never seemed
even slightly interested in it. He thought it chic. Esther thought
it covered a lot. She was glad he didn't look down, though, because
it didn't cover her shoes, which were tiny and strappy and
high-heeled: a dead give-away.
When they
arrived at the hotel she kissed him on the cheek. 'Go on in and get
me a gin, darling. I just have to go and powder my nose.'
'You don't
want me to wait?' He was confused at her self-sufficiency. She
normally hated walking into a room full of unknown people without
an escort.
She gave him a
gentle shove in the back, clutching her make-up bag beneath the
cape. 'Go on in. I'm not sixteen. I can cope.'
'Well, if
you're sure...'
The function
room was large. Kevin liked it because it had a sort of old-English
charm, he said. Esther knew the truth; the hotel was posh and
expensive and he hoped to patronise it on his own salary one
day.
As he entered
he fixed a professional smile in place, and greeted his work
colleagues and the dark-suited bankers with his almost upper crust
disdain. Very soon he stood with a drink in his hand, engaged in
serious conversation with a tall greying man with the eyes of a
crocodile.
Suddenly the
man's protuberant eyes popped even further. 'Oh my,' he said,
dwelling heavily on each word. 'Oh my, oh my! Who is that
woman?'
Kevin looked
around, choked on his drink, spluttered and coughed. 'That's my
wife!' he gasped in horror.
Esther was
dressed in the shortest black cocktail dress he had ever seen, and
wore extremely high heels, all of which accentuated the shapely
outline of her long legs. Not only that, her newly shorn hair was
sort of frizzed up, her face was exquisitely made-up, and her
earrings nearly reached the expanse of unblemished white flesh of
her shoulders.
She gave him a
warm smile from across the room, and her hips seemed to gyrate as
she walked towards him. 'Jesus,' he muttered, stunned to
petrifaction.
The banker
turned to him. 'She can still make you feel like that and you're
married to
won't let you down, I promise.'
He gave in and
smiled tolerantly. 'Well, if you're sure you want to go on your
own, sugar. Just don't let anyone rip you off with designer
labels.'
'I wouldn't
dream of it,' she replied.
It was just as
well he didn't see her go into town, for he would hardly have
recognised the self-confident woman who marched from shop to shop.
She knew exactly what she wanted all right, and it took a while to
find it. But this time she had no husband to take her round by the
arm and talk to the shop assistants on her behalf, as if she was
incapable of doing it for herself.
'Can I help,
madam?' The thin assistant looked over her glasses at Esther's
present attire, her narrow eyes seemingly calculating to a penny
what type of dress the client could afford, and assessing it wasn't
going to be one from her shop.
'Madam would
like to try on that black dress in the window,' she responded, with
sarcasm.
The shop
assistant's manner gradually altered, and what with the sale of two
rather expensive little numbers and a pile of silky underwear, she
made a reasonable bit of commission, all things considered.
Esther then
went on to a jewellery shop to purchase some costume jewellery that
was almost obscenely ostentatious. Luckily it was not as expensive
as it looked, though she doubted Kevin would know the difference.
She enjoyed shopping for herself, and realised how often she had
simply shopped with Kevin in mind. How easily she had forgotten to
be herself. She was beginning to look forward to Saturday night
with the gleeful anticipation of a teenager.
Saturday
evening she dressed quickly, and shrouded herself in the
ankle-length, plain black evening cape she had always hated because
she felt silly in it. She now realised what it was for.
'Essie, honey,
that looks lovely,' Kevin said, gratification on his face. The cape
had been a Christmas present from him, and she had never seemed
even slightly interested in it. He thought it chic. Esther thought
it covered a lot. She was glad he didn't look down, though, because
it didn't cover her shoes, which were tiny and strappy and
high-heeled: a dead give-away.
When they
arrived at the hotel she kissed him on the cheek. 'Go on in and get
me a gin, darling. I just have to go and powder my nose.'
'You don't
want me to wait?' He was confused at her self-sufficiency. She
normally hated walking into a room full of unknown people without
an escort.
She gave him a
gentle shove in the back, clutching her make-up bag beneath the
cape. 'Go on in. I'm not sixteen. I can cope.'
'Well, if
you're sure...'
The function
room was large. Kevin liked it because it had a sort of old-English
charm, he said. Esther knew the truth; the hotel was posh and
expensive and he hoped to patronise it on his own salary one
day.
As he entered
he fixed a professional smile in place, and greeted his work
colleagues and the dark-suited bankers with his almost upper crust
disdain. Very soon he stood with a drink in his hand, engaged in
serious conversation with a tall greying man with the eyes of a
crocodile.
Suddenly the
man's protuberant eyes popped even further. 'Oh my,' he said,
dwelling heavily on each word. 'Oh my, oh my! Who is that
woman?'
Kevin looked
around, choked on his drink, spluttered and coughed. 'That's my
wife!' he gasped in horror.
Esther was
dressed in the shortest black cocktail dress he had ever seen, and
wore extremely high heels, all of which accentuated the shapely
outline of her long legs. Not only that, her newly shorn hair was
sort of frizzed up, her face was exquisitely made-up, and her
earrings nearly reached the expanse of unblemished white flesh of
her shoulders.
She gave him a
warm smile from across the room, and her hips seemed to gyrate as
she walked towards him. 'Jesus,' he muttered, stunned to
petrifaction.
The banker
turned to him. 'She can still make you feel like that and you're
married to