by Shari Low
‘Yes, thanks, Aunt Carly,’ she raised her head from her phone, but I couldn’t see her eyes for her sun specs. I wasn’t going to push it for now, but she was on my radar and I was going to make sure she was ok… whether she liked it or not.
The rest of the afternoon passed in lazy luxury, and the sun was dropping slightly when I heard a warm, ‘Hi, ladies,’ and Sam wandered out from the house. Before I was even conscious of doing it, I’d casually grabbed my towel and covered my cellulite.
‘I saw that,’ Carol whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
‘Shut it,’ I replied, with ominous menace, before having a paradigm shift as I turned to greet our host. ‘Hey, you,’ I chirped, definitely not noticing that he could have stepped off the set of Top Gun, with that tight white T-shirt and those Rayban Aviators. Definitely not noticing. Not a bit. ‘I didn’t realise you were home.’
‘Just got back. The meeting with the casting agents ran over.’
He kicked off his shoes.
‘You look exhausted, son. Why don’t you get yer kit off and get in the pool? I’ll loan you my swan,’ Val offered generously, overlooking the fact that the floating bird actually belonged to the newly established Republic Of Sam.
‘Only if you promise not to objectify me,’ Sam teased her.
Val shook her head. ‘Sorry, I can’t make promises.’
We were still laughing when I spotted a new arrival and my heart stopped. If I thought for one second that I had the necessary flexibility, I’d have put my head between my knees and hyperventilated. Estelle Conran had just left the building and was heading straight for us.
What about my preparation time? I was about to meet this goddess, and I had a puce face, wet hair, a swimsuit that gave me the contours of a melon and I was numb from the knees down. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
‘Well, that’s an entrance,’ Carol murmured.
She wasn’t wrong. Estelle’s long baby-blonde hair flowing behind her, she catwalk-swaggered across the lawn in tiny Daisy Duke shorts, a bikini top and flip-flops, with a gold chain that wrapped around her neck and then somehow draped down between her perfect breasts and across her waist. I’d have had to remortgage my house to buy a chain that covered the same distance on me.
‘Hi, baby,’ she purred to Sam, who suddenly had a slight flush to his cheeks. No wonder. This woman set the pulses racing on most of the male population of the planet. I’d googled her last night, out of curiosity, not jealousy – at least, that’s what I told myself. Estelle Conran, twenty-eight, size zero, earned over three million pounds last year, one of the hottest stars on the planet.
‘Just remember, it’s all fake,’ Carol murmured.
Ah yes, the most important bit. Carol and I had thoroughly dissected every photo of her online and although she appeared to be a natural beauty, her early photos suggested she’d had a nose job, a chin implant, breast augmentation, Botox, hair extensions, and a Brazilian butt lift. I preferred not to think about what she did to show off the last one.
Sam jumped up and kissed her, his surprise obvious. ‘Babe! I thought you weren’t arriving until tonight?’ There was more than twenty years age difference between her and Sam, so he was old enough to be her father. A ‘real hot, muscular, mega successful, wealthy, lovely, sweet, my ex-boyfriend’ father.
‘We wrapped early. I was missing you and thought I’d surprise you, baby,’ she drawled in a Steel Magnolias Southern accent, before kissing him again, and holding the suction for longer this time.
Over at the glass doors, I saw Arnie pop his head out to check on developments. I caught his rueful expression and the shake of his head as he saw Estelle. I could be interpreting it wrong, but I got the distinct impression that he wasn’t impressed. Excellent.
Meanwhile, were we invisible? Only, common manners would dictate that the other people present in the immediate vicinity would also be acknowledged. Or was I just being pedantic and judgemental?
My eyes flicked to Val and I saw she was right there with me, sporting the ‘one raised eyebrow of disapproval’ that she used to pull out of her disciplinary armour when she caught us drinking in pubs as teenagers, right before she called us by our full names and ordered us home.
‘Carly Cooper, Kate Wilkes, Carol Sweeney, Jess Latham, Sarah Moore,’ she’d spit through gritted teeth when she found us hiding from her in the toilets of the Dog and Kilt. ‘Get up that road and don’t dare stop off for a kebab on the way or I’ll march you to your doors and your mothers will hear about this.’
We’d beg her not to tell them and promise it wouldn’t happen again. Until the next time.
Good luck to Estelle Conran if she got on the wrong side of Val. The thought made me smile, and Estelle, who’d finally uncoupled herself from Sam, mistook it for a friendly welcome.
‘Hi,’ she said, walking towards me, arms outstretched. ‘You must be Val.’
‘Ouch,’ Carol said under her breath. She really needed to stop with the running commentary.
Behind Estelle, I saw Sam close his eyes in what could only be mortification. His current babe had just mistaken me for a lady who was, although admittedly a fine figure of a woman, well over a decade older than me, with a penchant for matching accessories.
‘No, I’m Carly,’ I corrected her breezily, as if it were a perfectly understandable error.
Her eyes swivelled back to Sam, then back to me, then back to Sam. It was like Wimbledon without the tennis balls, but she made her point. You? With him? Really?
She made a recovery that was valiant, but way too late. ‘Oh, I’ve heard so much about you. You and Sam have quite the history. Welcome to our home.’
Our home? The hackles on the back of my neck stood to attention. If she whipped off those Daisy Dukes and peed in the pool, she couldn’t mark her territory any clearer. Her home? I’d been coming here since she was… was… actually, probably since she was still playing with her Barbies. Too late, I realised that thought didn’t make me feel any better.
‘Delighted to be here. Aren’t we, ladies?’ I said, calling in my cavalry.
Carol immediately took aim and fired a perfectly aimed torpedo of passive aggression. ‘So great to meet you! I’m such a huge fan,’ she enthused, sounding absolutely 100 per cent authentic. Even I was almost fooled as she moved forward for a hug, completely ignoring Estelle’s top-to-toe scan of Carol’s killer body. ‘I absolutely loved you as Harlequin. You were fabulous.’
Estelle’s sharp intake of breath almost pinged her body chain. ‘That… wasn’t… me. That was Margot Robbie.’
‘Oh. Right. Well, she was great. Have you met her?’
Ding ding, round two. Current score, one point each.
Sam stepped in, obviously unable to bear the tension of the unfolding drama. And this was a guy who’d produced at least three movies in which the future of mankind was almost wiped out by alien invasions, terrorist plots or natural disasters.
‘Babe, this is Val,’ he said, steering her towards my aunt, who politely shook her hand and said it was lovely to meet her. She was never one to show her cards too soon, but I knew what she was thinking. ‘And that’s Toni over there.’
Over on the terrace, Toni responded by raising her head from her phone and giving a subdued wave.
‘So, tell me again, how long are you here for?’ Was it me, or did Estelle sound like she was one of those pageant queens who wanted to cure disease and end world poverty, right after she’d done a twirl in her swimsuit and belted out ‘The Greatest Love of All’ in the talent round? Maybe just me.
‘Three weeks. But Val says she’s claiming political asylum, so we might be here longer,’ I replied, wondering if she’d get the joke and go up in my estimations.
She didn’t.
Instead, she wound her arm around Sam’s waist and gave him a squeeze.
‘Well, we’re thrilled to have you here. I’m so glad we wrapped early and I’m going to be around this week. It’s going to be s
o great to get to know Sam’s old friends.’
There was an emphasis on the ‘old’ and I heard a sharp intake of breath from Carol.
Ding ding, round three.
And I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be over until there was a knockout.
15
Sam’s Pool, Eleven Days Later
Love Is A Losing Game – Amy Winehouse
‘Ever wish you had a great big catapult?’ I murmured to no one in particular. The four of us were baking to the consistency of pies in the mid-morning sun, although, as always, Val had plastered us all with factor 100, before we settled in for another hard day of doing nothing much at Sam’s pool.
Carol dipped her chin and peered over her sunglasses, her gaze following mine to the same destination on the other side of the water, where Estelle was lying on a double lounger with Sam, alternating between running her fingers up and down his torso and gently stroking his thigh. ‘I do,’ Carol agreed. ‘Although, I think a missile would just bounce off that arse. You might want to be a bit more imaginative. Tamper with her Botox or something like that.’
I savoured that thought for a moment. Estelle had been here for the last week and a half and I wanted to suggest that her next cosmetic op be one that would surgically remove her from Sam’s side.
Val rolled over on to her back and yawned contentedly. ‘I’m in too. I’ll hide the body.’
I appreciated the support. Estelle had made it perfectly clear how she felt about us by being sugary sweet when Sam was around and ignoring us when he wasn’t. I’d only had one private moment with her, and it had pretty much cemented our feelings for each other.
I’d wandered into the kitchen for a drink a couple of days before, and she was already there, making some kind of green concoction in her Nutri Bullet. I didn’t want to tell her we’d been using that to make cocktails since we got there. Saved all that shaking palaver. ‘I’m so glad I finally got to meet you,’ she said, with such transparent disdain that I truly wondered how she managed to make a career as an actress.
‘Me too,’ I replied, channelling my very best Meryl Streep.
That could have been it. We could just have left it there, retreated gracefully, fully aware of where we stood with each other without a single honest word spoken. But no.
‘You know, I’ve been meaning to say,’ she began in that faux-friendly, I’m-here-for-you tone that was drenched in condescension.
‘If you ever decide to get in shape, I could hook you up with our trainer. And I’ve got some great people who can work miracles with aging skin too. I saw some photos from, like, decades ago, when you were with Sam, and it must be so hard to feel good about yourself when you’re not at your best any more.’
Ouch. My gaze met hers. She was still going for innocent sweetness, but her eyes were hard as flint and told me everything I needed to know. She was sending a message. And I was hearing it loud and clear. In my mind, her internal organs were now swishing around in that Nutri Bullet. My inner bitch, retired for almost as long as my skin care regime, dusted herself off and entered the fight.
‘Thank you, Estelle, that’s so kind. But you know, all that superficial stuff means nothing to me. I think it’s a bit desperate actually,’ I said, feigning nonchalance. Her eyes were darkening with every word. ‘I’d much rather spend my life laughing with good people and enjoying every day. That’s why I’ve got such great friends. But you know, if you ever want to spend some time with some real women, the kind who lift each other up and have wisdom and depth, let me know. I can hook you up, sweetie.’
With that, I gave her my very best grin, then sauntered out, head held high. I could feel each dagger as it entered my back, but I relished them. I saw her. She saw me. Checkmate.
Her response had been to ignore us at all costs, while attaching herself to Sam at every possible opportunity. Our response had been to act smiley and friendly, while plotting her demise from the other side of the pool.
At the end of our row of loungers, lying on her back, Toni listened to our conversation, shaking her head. ‘You lot are brutal.’
Carol shifted her gaze to her daughter. ‘That’s what friends are for. All for one and one for all.’ She turned back to me. ‘Whose slogan was that?’
‘The Three Musketeers.’
‘Oh. I thought it was Bananarama.’
I inserted that in the packed-out drawer in my cerebral filing cabinet entitled, ‘No Way Did Carol Just Say That’.
She followed it up with a low, throaty groan. ‘I can’t believe we’re leaving today. These two weeks have gone so quickly. I’m not ready for it to be over.’
‘I’m not ready for you to go either. It’s been so good,’ I told her, meaning every word.
Carol Sweeney, now Cooper, had been my friend since we were six years old and we’d been through brilliant highs and awful lows. The last two weeks had definitely been a high, and having Val and Toni with us had made it even better.
For Val’s sake, we’d set ourselves the target of doing one touristy thing every second day, with alternate days at the beach or pool. There had been the obligatory tour of the stars’ homes, although I’m fairly sure the bloke doing the driving just pointed at random houses and lied about the occupants. Either that or Tom Cruise really did live in a Beverly Hills mansion with Eddie Murphy on one side, and Tommy Lee from Motley Crew on the other. On another day, we did the Hollywood Walk Of Fame and then Arnie drove us to a vantage point that was as close as we could get to the Hollywood sign. We spent a day at the beach in Malibu and a night on Santa Monica pier. Sam took us to the lot at Paramount Studios and gave us a tour of some iconic sets. We satisfied Carol’s lust for designer shopping by wandering up and down Rodeo Drive a couple of afternoons, and Toni’s more moderate shopping budget with brunch and a wander round H&M at The Grove on Sunday morning. The Rodeo Drive excursions were great for my bank balance because none of the shops sold anything over a size fourteen, so my purse stayed in my bag. We did the Getty Museum and Lake Hollywood. And we ate at the Cheesecake Factory (my choice), Nobu (Carol’s pick) and Sur, as featured in the reality show, Vanderpump Rules (that one was Toni, and she spent the whole time snapping photos and posting them on her social media). The rest of our waking days were pretty much spent by the pool, either toasting in the sun during the day, or chatting around Sam’s huge outdoor fire at night. It was like having our own private resort, one with a host who stayed very firmly in the background.
Sam had joined us on a couple of the outings, but he generally worked during the day, ate with us on a couple of the evenings, then had an early night with Estelle because they got up every morning at 5 a.m. to do a dawn fitness session with their personal trainer. On at least two of the mornings, the rest of us were just heading to bed after another night of chat around the fire, when Sam and Estelle were up and preparing their pre-workout vitamin shakes.
The whole dynamic between us and them was very… civilised. Yep, that was the word. Superficial, too. One of the things I’d been so excited about was spending time with Sam, yet I’d barely seen him and, when I did, Estelle was usually hanging off him, making sure she gave us no space. No one-on-one time for us, no relaxed conversations, no private moments. God, she was good.
I didn’t blame her, not really. The guy was a catch and she was clearly just protecting her interests. Not that she had anything to worry about. I’d pretty much convinced myself that any spark I’d felt with Sam on that first day had purely been a figment of my imagination, brought on by jet lag and the shock of being here. Since then we’d been… friendly. Normal. Just exactly the way we’d been for years. And, given how he was allowing his limpet – sorry, girlfriend – to run her manicure through the hairs on his chest, that was exactly the way he wanted to keep it.
I should be happy for him. And I told myself that if Estelle was an absolute sweetheart, then I would be. I’d be thrilled. Maybe. But the fact that she was pretty much holding Sam hostage didn’t help. And the fac
t that he was letting her made it even worse. His priorities were so clear, Val could see them with her huge shades on.
Carol’s phone and my phone buzzed at exactly the same moment, with an incoming text to the group chat that I’d had with the girls since the beginning of time.
Kate: Holy shit, this plane has Wi-Fi!
Kate and Jess were currently midway over the Atlantic on the way here, swapping with Carol and Toni who were leaving today.
Jess: Just found a website for people who want to join the mile-high club. Glad I wore matching knickers and bra.
* * *
Kate: Eeeew, gross. Now I won’t be able to pee until we land.
* * *
Me: Jess, those toilets are way too small for sex. You’ll pull a muscle.
* * *
Jess: Eh, that’s the point.
* * *
Kate: I’m asking the flight crew for restraints. She’ll never escape them.
‘They do know that they’re sitting next to each other and could just have this conversation face to face?’ Carol observed.
‘Not as much fun though,’ I said, laughing. I couldn’t wait until the others got here. I was just gutted that Carol and Toni wouldn’t be here at the same time.
‘S’pose I’d better go pack,’ Carol said with a sigh, pushing herself up and stretching in the sun, like a goddess from a shampoo commercial.
Estelle picked that exact moment to straddle Sam, blocking his view.
‘Christ on a bike,’ Val whistled, spotting the reaction. ‘I’m off for some ice cream before that girl starts dry-humping him. It would put me right off my raspberry ripple.’
With that, she was up and gone, leaving Toni and I alone for the first time in days.