‘So that’s settled then,’ said Jenna. ‘We go to town, buy a suit like this one and some accessories, a few shirts, some jeans, some shoes, some bits and pieces and there we have one beautifully-styled Jason Watson, ready to knock ’em dead.’
‘Absolutely. I’ll list the stockists I’ve used for you. I’ll email them to your phone, shall I?’
‘Please.’
They spent the next couple of hours in various gentlemen’s outfitters, putting together the new Jason look, though Jenna could not resist buying a couple of traditional stiff-collared and cuffed shirts together with a silk tie and cufflinks too.
‘I just want to know what you’d look like properly suited and booted,’ she said over a snatched lunch in a suitably private little basement Moroccan restaurant in Knightsbridge. ‘Just . . . out of curiosity.’
She blushed down at her tagine.
Jason’s eyebrows shot up. He had understood her implication.
‘Curiosity, eh?’ He took a bite of his flatbread and chewed thoughtfully. ‘You want to dress me up as a boss, yeah?’ He swallowed. ‘Perhaps we ought to get a big desk as well, then? You know. To bend you over.’
‘A big desk might be an idea,’ she said, lowering her eyelids in coquettish acquiescence.
He shook his head. ‘I’ve cost you enough already today.’
‘Don’t start that again,’ she pleaded quietly. ‘You’ll pay me back. You’re already paying me back, by being here. By agreeing to do all this.’
‘Well, don’t forget, we’ve got a little bit of role-reversal to sort out later. We’ve shopped for my new look. Next up, we’re going out to shop for yours.’
‘Not next,’ Jenna cautioned. ‘Next, we’re meeting Tabitha to thrash out the details for the show.’
‘Thrash out? Don’t put ideas in my head, girl.’ He winked and her fork felt a bit wobbly in her hand.
‘Honestly, we need to get on,’ she said. ‘Are you done with that lamb? I said we’d meet her at two, and it’s nearly ten to now.’
‘Fine, but it’s a postponement, not a cancellation. Tabitha first, shopping trip after that.’
‘I promise. I’m going to ask for the bill now, OK?’
They had to dash to Mayfair, but Tabitha was still at lunch herself when they turned up, ten minutes after two, with bright eyes and shining faces.
‘Sorry, she won’t be long,’ said Shona, rising from her desk in the empty gallery. ‘I’ll get coffee, shall I?’
‘A glass of water would be great, actually,’ said Jenna, feeling the sour London air on her breath. ‘It’s gasping out there.’
Tabitha came rushing in as soon as Shona disappeared into the back room.
‘So sorry, darlings, lunch with my accountant, always seems to drag on. Do come upstairs. You must be the famous Jason.’
She stopped mid-whirl to look him up and down as if he were a canvas she’d been asked to value.
‘That’s me,’ he said. His new clothes seemed to have given him a burst of confidence because he didn’t slouch or roll his eyes but returned Tabitha’s gaze with a cool dark searchlight of his own.
‘Well,’ was all she said, leading the way upstairs.
Ensconced in her office with a jug of iced water and an electric fan whirring on the desk, Tabitha opened the meeting.
‘You are a surprise,’ she said to Jason.
‘I thought you would have seen me in the papers. I made them all,’ he said, with a hint of pride.
‘This isn’t the man I saw in the papers. I must admit, I was bracing myself for a tough sell. But . . .’
Jenna turned to Jason. ‘You see what I mean? A little styling really does work wonders.’ She spoke to Tabitha. ‘We’ve been to see Alfonso.’