Page 87 of The Good Neighbour
“Out.”
Winston nodded and left the studio. The shaking began in Josh’s feet. By the time it had taken over his whole body, Suzanne had him in her arms.
The night and most of the next day passed in a blur. Josh had wanted to go to Queens Crescent to at least try and talk Hugh round but Suzanne had gently advised against it. Instead, they had done their work, drunk the wine and bedded down on the sofas.
Josh had woken with a thick head. As the models arrived, everything took on a life of its own. It was a blessing.
When it got to lunchtime, Josh realised that Hugh had probably gone by now. As he checked his phone for the hundredth time, Suzanne squeezed his shoulder.
“Nothing is final,” she said. “Let him work it through a bit before you try again. You owe him that much.”
“I don’t want him to think I’m not trying.”
Suzanne smiled. “I’ll be your character witness. If I get the chance, I’ll confirm to Hugh that you’re fully heartbroken. Now go and finish styling Bobbi.”
He obeyed her. The remaining hours passed quickly. He even participated in the silly gossip coming from the models. It was refreshing although a dull ache never left his gut. Was Suzanne right? He yearned to speak to Hugh but he would give him the space she thought he needed.
Ever the protective friend, Suzanne had roped Madeline in. She’d come with an outfit for him to change into and was shooed out by Suzanne almost immediately. She wasn’t risking him getting upset and losing the focus that was getting him through these hours.
He suspected Madeline had swept through his house and removed any used mugs and dishes. Wiping any trace of Hugh from the place.
He examined himself in the bathroom mirror. The same one a smug Winston would have egged himself on in. Madeline had chosen the white highwayman shirt he’d created for himself a few years ago. It had fitted his body perfectly and to his relief, still did. Paired with tight pinstripe trousers and black patent shoes, he looked pretty good.
I wish Hugh could see me.
He had to wipe this from his mind and go through this cold turkey. At least it gave him time to plan what he was going to say when he finally did speak to Hugh.
As usual, Club C had been decorated perfectly. The main colour of the collection was white so they had gone for a dark colour scheme. Aubergine and dark grey balloons covered most of the bar. The tables had black cloths and the staff were in the same aubergine tone as the balloons. The pieces would really shine.
The booths in the club were already taken and people were milling around on the dancefloor. The DJ played classical music. It would contrast brilliantly with the dance music they had for when the models came out.
His eye was caught by Mrs Wimpole making a beeline for him.
She can’t possibly know already.
“Joshua,” she said. “Is Hugh not with you?”
To his amazement, a tear rolled down his cheek.
“Oh my dear.”
She ushered him away from the lights and to her booth where the Professor waited.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Budge over and let him in.”
The Professor made room for Josh. Mrs Wimpole had his other side. She reached over and took his hand.
“Now. What is this all about?”
Josh hiccupped and told them everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. When he’d finished, Mrs Wimpole looked gravely at him.
“You are in a pickle.”
Those were her words of wisdom? The woman who had given a helping hand to most of his neighbours when they were struggling to find love. For Josh, she had nothing? That was typical of his luck.
Mrs Wimpole stared past Josh to the Professor on the other side of him. Josh snapped his head around in time to see the Professor nodding sagely.
