A Night in With Marilyn Monroe by Lucy Holliday

Author:Lucy Holliday [Holliday, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007582266
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

There was no time to get home to change before meeting Dillon, so after I left Cass’s flat in Maida Vale, I just nipped to the MAC counter at Selfridges, where a very talented transvestite with extremely delicate hands has given me a fresh face of makeup for the price of a new kohl eyeliner. He was very complimentary about my new hair colour, and suggested all kinds of makeup tweaks to help make the most of it, and even though I might feel a little bit like I’m wearing enough on my face to sink a medium-sized battleship, I don’t actually look like it.

Then I made my way to the Chanel concession and spritzed on my first-ever puff of Chanel No. 5.

Then I undid one more button on my shirt.

And now, on the dot of seven thirty, here I am arriving at the restaurant.

It isn’t exactly the simple little calamari-serving Italian trattoria Dillon made it out to be.

I mean, I listen to enough of Olly’s talk about the restaurant business to know that this place, Sapori, on Chiltern Street, is the very latest venture from some super-successful restaurant group, and therefore The Place to eat, drink and – most of all – be seen.

I don’t know if Dillon’s heart-warming tale about spurning the snooty three-Michelin-starred place for their inegalitarian bookings policy is quite so heroic now. I mean, I assume he must have pulled a string or two of his own to get a reservation here at such short notice.

Unless, of course, he’s just had a table booked here every night for the next three weeks ever since he first went into rehab, just to cover all the Big Apologies he knew he was going to have to do.

Anyway, now that I know it’s this place, I really wish I’d done the whole schlep home to get changed. It’s all a bit painfully hip here, and I’m not sure my super-tight skirt, womanly blouse and nude heels are going to cut the mustard.

Still, it’s too late to do anything about it now.

Really, really too late, because I’ve already told the hostess who I’m here to meet, and she’s already leading me across the restaurant towards a booth table where Dillon is waiting.

Sitting there, by himself, not knowing that I can see him and so not putting on any of his usual easy swagger and charm, he looks softer, and younger, and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen before.

It hurts my heart, just for a moment.

And then he sees me, and his face breaks out into that familiar devilish grin, and my heart isn’t the part of my body that I can feel any more.

Dillon gets to his feet.

‘Hey, blondie.’ He leans down to brush my cheek with his lips. ‘You look sensational.’

‘Good to see you,’ I say, primly. ‘Nice restaurant.’

‘Well, we won’t know that for sure until I get my hands on that calamari,’ Dillon says, ushering me into my seat. ‘So, I’ll get the waiter, will I, and you can order something to drink?’

‘Yes, please.

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