Forty 2 Days (The Billionaire Banker) by Georgia le Carre Read Free Book Online Page B

has very beautiful tiled baths.’
    ‘ It has.’  
    He puts a hand out and touches my cheekbones.  ‘You have lost weight.  A fringe alone will be too harsh.  I will feather your hair from your mouth onwards to return that lost softness.’
    And he does.  
    Fleur gives the jeweled pins to the girl who takes over the job of drying my hair and instructs the girl to put my hair up. ‘But no hairspray,’ she says and winks at me.  ‘Men don’t like hard hair.’
    The girl is finished and I am a marvelously different.  
    It is also time for Fleur to say goodbye.  I feel almost tearful.  She is the only one who seems to be on my side, rooting for me.  She kisses me on the cheeks.  ‘All will be well.  Just be yourself and nothing can be more beautiful.’
     
    Back at the waxing salon I learn that Rosa has moved back to Spain. A stout German woman with reddened hands and nails bitten to the quick takes me into the treatment room.  There is no talk about jam sandwiches consumed in front of the TV or a clever son who is in art school, only a silent, ruthless dedication to bald skin.  Gertrude strips every single hair from my body.  When I am all over a sharp shade of red and the last offensive hair is gone she heaves a large of sigh of satisfaction.  Unlike Rosa she does not offer to do my eyebrows for free.  That was from another time. When life was generous to me.
    My nails are too short for a French manicure.  The girl asks me if I would like acrylic nails and for a moment I am tempted—I have never had them and they seem rather fun—but then I think of accidentally scratching Sorab’s tender skin while I am changing his nappy and I refuse.  She waves towards a shelf full of nail varnish.
    ‘ Choose your color.’
    ‘ White,’ I say.  ‘I will have the white nail polish.’
    In the car I admire my nails, how pretty and clean they look.  ‘Tom,’ I say. ‘If you give me the key to the apartment you can drop me off at my place, and I’ll take a cab later to the apartment.’
    ‘ Oh no, Miss Bloom that would be more than my job’s worth.  I got an ear bashing for dropping you off at the shops the last time.  I can take you to your place and wait downstairs until you are ready to go to the apartment.’
    He drops me off at the entrance and parks by the dark staircase to wait for my return.  

Seven
    B illie is sitting at our dining table when I enter.  The baby’s basket is sitting on the table beside her.  Surrounded by pens, watercolors, and crayons, she is bent over a large sketchpad in deep concentration.  Hair is falling over her forehead and I feel a great surge of love for her.  She looks up and smiles.
    ‘ Wow! That’s a seriously cool hairstyle,’ she exclaims, and springing up comes to hold my hand and twirl me around.  
    ‘ So you like it?’ I probe, self-consciously touching my fringe.
    ‘ Yeah,’ she says emphatically.  ‘If he won’t have you, I will.’
    I laugh and go towards the basket.  ‘Is he asleep?’
    ‘ Nope.’
    Sorab is waving his little arms.  I reach into the basket and lift him into my arms.  He is wearing something Billie designed and made from scratch, a bright red and yellow romper suit with big blue cloth buttons that look like flowers.
    ‘ Hello, darling,’ I say, my face creasing into the first joy-filled smile since I left the house.
    He stares at me with his intense blue eyes for a few seconds before he breaks into one of his deliciously toothless grins.
    Over my shoulder Billie says, ‘Shame he will have to grow up to be a man.’
    I turn around and look at her meaningfully.
    ‘ What?’ she asks.
    ‘ Your dad’s a man.’
    ‘ That remains to be seen,’ she says, and moving towards her drawings, says, ‘Come and see this.’  I follow her around the table.  I put Sorab into the crook of my arm to get a better view of her work.  She has drawn a girl’s dress.  It is not in the usual pale pink normally reserved for baby