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“Yes…” Gemma said, unsure why she was feeling quite so nervous.

“Well, I think I know exactly how you have to spend it.”

CHAPTER 75

Sophie had written Gemma a list of places to go and things she needed to do in Chelmsford, the first of which was a bikini wax.

“I really don’t need to do that,” she had said when her friend proposed the notion.

“I’m sure something like that doesn’t matter.”

“When did you last have it done?” Sophie asked.

“Really, I don’t want to.”

“Exactly, years. It doesn’t have to be full-on, just a little tidy-up. You wouldn’t go years without getting your haircut and dyed, would you? So why is this any different? I’ve booked you into the place I like in Chelmsford. You’ve got an appointment at 10:30. Don’t miss it. It’s under my name.”

Gemma realised there was no getting out of it then, and that wasn’t the only plan Sophie had in mind. “It’s also only a two-minute walk away from the really fancy underwear shop. And don’t try telling me you already have something suitable because I know it’ll be a lie.”

This time, Gemma didn’t argue. She couldn’t remember the last time she had purchased any underwear, and it was safeto say what she had was for comfort and practicality, not for romantic evenings.

“Make sure you get remeasured,” Sophie said. “I bet you haven’t had that done in years. You’ll have changed size, you know. They know what they’re doing. Just let them.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, if you’re struggling to decide which looks best, send me photos. I have excellent taste.”

There was no way Gemma was going to be sending photos of her in a lingerie dressing room to anyone, even Sophie, but she would do the other suggestions her friend had made. Even if Kent wasn’t in the picture, it wouldn’t do her any harm to spend a day on self-care for once.

At eight-fifty, Gemma caught the bus to Chelmsford, intent on exposing parts of her body that had not seen daylight for years to complete strangers. She could have driven and had done so plenty of times in the past, but she always got stressed at the roundabouts, and she was already nervous enough without adding a disastrous drive to the situation. Taking the bus definitely seemed like the better option.

The shopping actually went better than expected. There was a stunning display of bras and camisoles in all different shapes and sizes, and other than a bit of readjusting, Gemma was left mostly to herself. The main shock to the system came when she needed to pay.

“A hundred and twenty for two bras and three pairs of knickers?” she said, a wave of nausea sweeping through her.

“Well, underwear like this is an investment,” the woman said. “You look after it properly and it will be good for years. And, judging by the specimens you are currently wearing, you need this,” she said.

Gemma tried to ignore the insult, paid her money, and then headed to the dreaded wax appointment.

“If you got this done more often, it wouldn’t be so painful,” the woman said.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Gemma replied as she clenched her jaw and squeezed her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She would not be doing this regularly, she decided. In fact, there was a good chance she would never be doing it again. Kent liked her for her personality, her kindness, and who she was as a human, not for how little hair remained on her nether regions.

After what felt like an eternity, the woman looked up and smiled. “Right, all done,” she said, “unless you were after any more treatment?”

“No,” Gemma said, shaking her head. “No, I’m good. What I’m after right now is a drink.”

CHAPTER 76

As much as Gemma felt like she deserved an alcoholic beverage when she went to Chelmsford, there was only one place she ever went for lunch—a small café on one of the back roads. The owner, Melissa, bought the place around the same time as Gemma had started work in Maldon. Although it was smaller than the Waterfront Café, they served a similar range of food. The pair would often talk business—from suppliers to rising costs and everything else in between, though Gemma couldn’t recall the last time she had visited.

She walked up the stone steps, ready to fill Melissa in on all her developments, only to stop in her tracks. Through the window, she could see a man with a measuring tape wandering around inside. Exactly the same way as the man had done at her cafe the day before. In fact, it was the same man.

Gemma watched on as he appeared to finish up. When he’d packed away his measuring tape, he moved across to Melissa, shook her hand, and left, practically opening the door into Gemma as he went.

“Hi,” she said, feeling the need to speak. “I didn’t expect to find you here too.”

The man looked at Gemma with a blank expression before he snorted and carried on past her. Annoyance roiled through her. She didn’t care how fantastic his interior design was; she was not letting Kent employ someone that rude to do work at their cafe.