Court Out - By Elle Wynne Page 0,27
jewellers, force him to hand over his credit card and have him wait at the altar with my father holding him at gunpoint. Not that I’m desperate to get married or anything, but I would have liked to think it was at least a vague possibility.
Sebastian and I met just over three years ago in Selfridges. Can you imagine a more perfect setting? I was perched on a stool trying to decide between two divine pairs of shoes: a pair of patent nude courts with a bow detail and chunky heel from Chloe and a killer pair of pointy black sling backs with a needle thin five inch heel from Alexander McQueen. With one of each pair on each foot I stood up to admire my feet in a nearby mirror.
Whilst I couldn’t strictly afford either pair, I’d had a particularly stressful day and it was either footwear or cake.
As I started to strut towards the mirror I realised that the heel on the Chloe shoe was a good inch shorter than that on my other foot. All too late, I felt my ankle twist over on itself and almost in slow motion, felt myself tipping to my right. To my credit, I remained calm, accepting my fate and waiting for the inevitable pain when I collided with whatever display I was near to. Just as I’d resigned myself to another week of bruises, I felt something interfere with my progress towards the ground. I looked, confused, up to see that a very tall man had managed to catch me about a foot above an angular display unit. Late twenties and wearing an exquisitely cut Paul Smith suit, he smiled down at me.
“Was that a swoon?” he asked, holding me in something similar to a ballroom ‘dip’.
“No, I was throwing myself at you,” I replied, righting myself to an upright position. I balanced on the chunky heel and took a better look at him. Well over six feet tall, with thick dark hair and sparkling green eyes, he wasn’t what I would consider my usual ‘type’ but I was intrigued.
“So do you normally hang around the women’s shoe department waiting for damsels in distress?” I asked, taking hold of his arm to steady myself.
“Yep, nine to five. It’s a legitimate source of income.”
“And do you get much business? Wait, you mean I have to pay you for this?”
“Oh I think you’ll find my rates are quite competitive. I’m sure I have a business card in here somewhere.”
He put his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a divine black Mulberry wallet. When I saw it I swear I fell in love at that moment. He opened it and handed me an eggshell business card with neat black writing on it.
‘Sebastian Reid, Director’
Below that was the name of his company and his contact details.
“So let me get this right,” I ask, studying the small print. “An architect that specialises in rescuing females suffering with shopping related mishaps?”
“Well..” he paused, looking amusedly at me “Not exactly. Tell you what, I’ll waive the fee in lieu of a drink.”
I considered this for a split second. I should stress that I didn’t normally pick up random men in the footwear department.
“Before I agree, can you please tell me what you, a lone male is doing looking at ladies shoes?”
“Well, I do have a certain predilection for strappy heels,” he mused.
After silently praying that he wasn’t some kind of weirdo with a foot fetish, I had realised he was potentially too good to be true. Just as I was about to write the encounter off as yet another random encounter with someone certifiable, he laughed.
“It’s my sister’s birthday next week and she’s very specific about what she wants.”
His hand returned to his inside pocket and he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper torn from a fashion magazine. He unfolded it and showed me a photograph of strangely familiar looking shoes. I laughed and pointed to my right foot.
“These what you looking for?”
He stared at my feet for a few seconds before meeting my gaze again, looking troubled.
“Yes, but aren’t shoes generally supposed to match?”
I was about to explain when his face creased into a smile and I realised he was joking. I punched him softly on the arm, nearly losing my balance again in the process. He held my elbow until I righted myself. I looked around.
“As long as she’s not the same size as me, I’ll grab an assistant and you can