Free The Exchange by Carrie Williams Page A

the corner, so that I didn’t have to carry on diverting the conversation from Morgan.
    ***
    Lulu turned out to be an ethereal, slightly distracted woman with silky silver hair and a face twenty years younger than her likely age. Photos of her late actor husband – who I recognised from several movies – covered the wall behind her as she talked to me and explained what she wanted of her new assistant.
    It was hard to concentrate when I was surrounded by so many wonders. I felt like a kid in a sweet shop, and I wanted to run hither and thither, touching the extravagant materials, holding dresses up to my body to parade in front of one of the antique mirrors. It was torture not to be able to do so, but I forced myself to listen attentively to Lulu. It
would
be marvellous to work here, I kept telling myself – it was quiet, so there’d be plenty of time to look through the clothes and even try them on. And I could read, and surf the net, and listen to music. The hefty price tags meant that when somebody did come in, the till would ring itself silly. There’d be absolutely no pressure – the quality of the clothes meant they’d sell themselves, to those with the money and taste to buy them.
    And how I wished I was one of them. Suddenly I rued my life and its aimlessness, and my lack of any real ambition. I’d always felt that I was above being interested in money, that I was
worth more
than that. But now I fantasised about being able to just stroll into a place like this and pluck anything I liked from the rails and just buy it, and I thought how sweet money must taste, sometimes.
    I looked at Tatiana. Tatiana acted as if money could buy her anything, and I wondered if by introducing me to Lulu she felt that I would owe her, that I would be at her bidding. Even buying me lunch, I had to admit, gave her some kind of hold over me. Money complicated things. I wished I’d insisted on paying my own share of the bill, but it was too late now.
    Nothing was concluded, but Lulu took my number and told me she’d be in touch. As I shook her hand, she asked Tatiana if she’d like to stay for a pot of tea, and I was grateful to have the opportunity to slip away alone. Thanking them both, I headed out and then along the street. At the end of it, I crossed the main road and followed signs to Holland Park. Walking, I thought, would clear my head.
    When I got there, I felt instantly soothed by the patches of woodland and especially by the serene Japanese garden with its waterfall and koi carp. For a while I was able to just sit still and let my thoughts and emotions wash through me like water. Accepting them but paying them little heed allowed them, I discovered, to flow on and then out of me. I realised with shock that I never sat still and quiet like this. For so long, my life had been about noise and running around, clamour and movement. I’d been like a whirlwind in human form. Everything always had to be busy and complicated and loud. Or so I thought. For the first time I got an inkling that things didn’t have to be that way in order to have value. For the first time I realised that I was looking for peace. The thought made me cry.
    When I was done crying, I stood up and walked home. It was quite a way, and much of it was uphill, but it felt good, both on my leg muscles and on my mind. It was only when I got home and played the message on my machine that I remembered what I’d done before I went to the park – the lunch with Tatiana, and before that the dinner party at Kyle’s. Suddenly real life came flooding back in in all its unfathomable complexity.
    For a moment I thought it might be Lulu, offering me the job. But it wasn’t.
    ‘Rochelle,’ came the familiar saccharine voice. ‘It’s Tats. I know this is short notice again, and I’m sure you’re sick of me already.
But
… some friends are having a party at that new hotel on Park Lane.’ She paused, clearly for effect. ‘Well, they own it actually.’ She