Chapter Text
Breath in, breath out. You can do this Catherine. You have done it before. Dozens of times. Most of those drunk. Granted. But that was then. Focus on now. You are going to do this. You will conquer it like you conquered the drink. Slowly. Inch by Inch.
That sounded vaguely indecent...
Back to now, Catherine. It will be fine. You have made your decision. Nothing to fear. It is just Jackson. You have known him for over twenty years. He will not hurt you. You will not hurt him. And you will not, under no circumstances, lose your composure. It will be fine. Better than fine. It will be life-shattering. That may have been slightly overstated. Let's settle for memorable.
If only she could calm herself, get dressed, and step away from this damned mirror.
This was the fourth outfit that she tried, and still wasn't convinced. There really was nothing wrong with it. That was the problem. Nothing wrong, but not enough right.
If she was honest, for the first time in decades, she missed her old wardrobe, and if she was completely honest, her old body too.
Standing there naked, she recognised that it was not that bad. Not for someone approaching sixty. Her stomach was still fairly flat, even if she was fifteen pounds heavier than what she would have found comfortable at thirty. Her legs were still acceptable, attractive even. Her arse had started to fall, but a good pair of knickers would hide it. Even though nothing turned on a man faster than the lack of them. Her arms had started to show signs of age too, but nothing a short sleeve couldn't cover.
Her breasts, however, had lost the battle with gravity years ago. A bra was a must. Though she took guilty pleasure in the three cup sizes she had won since the 90's, and in the way a certain boss of hers still let his eyes loiter just for a second too long.
The hair was unfixable. Tonight at least. She could dye it, she had thought about it more than once over the last decade, and inexorably come to the conclusion that the only one who would possibly notice would be Jackson, and the commentary that would ensue would make it not worth the effort. Ironic really.
Her biggest peeve still was the wrinkles that now inhabited her face. She told herself that ageing was a privilege that she had fought for with tooth and nail. However, vanity was a hard beast to appease, and she had had oceans of it. She had walked into rooms and made every single man turn their head. At the time, the attention had been almost as addictive as the bottle.
And now she only wanted one man's attention, and she wasn't entirely sure she could get it.
Stopping her pity party in front of the mirror, she decided that blue was the colour to go with. It brought out her eyes and made her skin look brighter.
She did not have any lingerie. She had had no need for it for a long time. The nice lace bra that she bought on a whim will have to sustain her self-esteem. Over it, she could go with a patterned baby blue dress. Acceptable...or....No. She will go with the other blue dress. The one that, when she turned, showed the best of her legs. It framed her body in a way that always held Jackson's gaze. Not enough to be noticeable by the others. But enough to make her a little nervous. Enough to cause her to tug at the dress, like an habit. Enough to make her feel...
Warm.
Never mind. She was digressing.
Back to the matter at hand. No makeup. No need to look desperate. But something would have to be done with the hair.
Her usual hairstyle was functional. It made her look polished- well polished enough for Slough House- and kept the hair out of her eyes. It was hardly attractive, though, quite the opposite in fact. Which was her other reason to wear it. Fewer creeps bothering her on the bus.
Now, over the years, he had not seemed to care much about her hair. Except for the two times that he had seen it down. Both times, his control had faltered. Maybe enough to further her plan. Maybe it had just been the novelty, or maybe just the circumstances.
The first time had been when he had come to get her at her flat, back when the Park was trying to pin Hassan's kidnapping on them. He had been surprised, and the first thing that he had done was give her a once-over, before catching himself and looking away. It is possible, though, that he may have been more concerned with whether she was wearing a bra or not.
The second was when he had “rescued” her from her kidnappers. She is fairly sure that he hasn't forgiven himself for that one. The only time that he hadn't been able to keep his hands to himself. He had grabbed her by the waist and the small of her back while hiding her in that closet. That same night, he had broken almost all of what was left of her heart.
So she supposed that they were even.
Lace bra. Blue dress. No makeup. Hair down. Black heels, of course.
She opened the drawer looking for the comb, and at the very back she saw some perfume, a true relic of her past. Yes, that will do nicely, a different kind of liquid courage. Just in case she got cold feet. Which she would not. The decision was made, she reminded herself as she put it on and walked towards the door.
That was it, she said tonight her self-imposed celibacy would end. Tonight, this twenty some year old dance between them was ending one way or another. Tonight she was pushing his hand. Tonight, she was fucking Jackson Lamb.