About a Girl

Home > Literature > About a Girl > Page 30
About a Girl Page 30

by Lindsey Kelk


  ‘Really,’ he nodded, handing the dress to a practically vibrating Martha. ‘The look on her face, that’s what I was talking about earlier. And Janey would be furious if we didn’t include her favourite dress.’

  ‘She wouldn’t be mad that you’re letting someone else wear it?’

  ‘No, it’s right,’ he said, sounding very certain. ‘Janey wasn’t one to hide things away and hole them up. She wouldn’t want her things to be locked away and turning into rags; she’d want everyone to enjoy them. She’d want them to have a life.’

  ‘She’d want her things to have a life?’ I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows. ‘She wouldn’t want to hide them away? Maybe not just her things?’

  ‘Oh, very clever, young lady,’ he chuckled. ‘And yes, you’re right. Women usually are. The sooner you learn that, the better, Nicholas.’

  Nick gave him a nod and squeezed the hand that was still sitting lightly on my waist.

  ‘I needed a bit of time to think about things, and I’ve had that. I am still sad that Jane isn’t here any more – heartbroken really – but more than anything, I’m glad that I had her while I did. I’m glad we didn’t waste a minute.’ He stopped speaking as Martha popped out of the bathroom wearing the dress.

  The ivory fabric glowed against her dark skin and she’d pulled her hair up into a simple knot, letting strands fall down against her cheeks. She looked incredible. Al stepped back, took a proper look at her, then readjusted the slightly skewed neckline and offered his arm. Martha took it, smiling so broadly there was a good chance she’d been shooting up in the bathroom. I’d never seen anyone look so happy because of a dress. And I had been to a lot of weddings.

  ‘This will not be the first time anyone’s said this to you,’ Al said, giving a desperately weeping Kekipi a stern look, ‘but there isn’t enough time to waste in this life. So don’t.’

  ‘I’d better finish taking these pictures then,’ I said, purposefully obtuse.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The shoot didn’t take long. Martha and Al got on like a house on fire, and all remaining thoughts of her rubbish boyfriend were temporarily forgotten just as soon as Martha got a glimpse inside Jane Bennett’s fabled wardrobe. I left the two of them playing dress-up with Kekipi and went back to the cottage to work on the photos. As soon as I pulled them up on my laptop, I knew we’d done it. They looked amazing. Al looked happy and proud; Martha looked stunning in every shot. Each dress told a story, and happily, Nick now had those stories. And alongside the beautiful fashion pics, I’d pulled the photos I’d taken of Al on the beach. They were perfect. Honest, sweet and real. And not a ukulele in sight. Somehow, we’d pulled off the impossible. Before I could think better of it, I picked my favourites and emailed them to Agent Veronica. One job down.

  ‘While I’m dealing in miracles,’ I muttered, reaching for my phone. Reluctantly, the fucked-up phone dialled out, rang several times and eventually went through to voicemail. I cleared my throat and closed my eyes. I felt horrible. We’d never fought and gone so long without making up before. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t called me. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t called her. I had no idea what I was going to say.

  ‘Aims, it’s me,’ I started, not knowing where to go next. ‘I am a massive cock. I deserve to be punched in the boob and I love you very much. I’m sorry I’ve been so useless, I’m sorry I went complete batshit mental, and I’m sorry I’m not there when you need me. Hopefully you’re just down at G.A.Y. dancing on a table to Rhianna and not in the bottom of the Thames. I’ll be home Sunday evening, about five-ish. I’ll call you then? If you’re not dead?’ I paused, minimized the Photoshop window on my laptop screen and stared at the picture of me, Amy and Charlie that I used as my wallpaper. Weird. ‘So yeah, topline summary, I love you. I’m coming home. Vanessa’s probably going to kill me in my sleep, so if you don’t hear from me again—’

  Before I could finish my round-up, the call waiting tone chimed loudly in my ear.

  ‘Someone’s trying to call me and I’m hoping it’s you. So I’ll talk to you in a minute. Bye!’

  But I couldn’t talk to her because my phone was officially a piece of shit. I stabbed at the shattered screen again and again but it stubbornly refused to switch calls, and because I’d made such a beautiful modern artesque job of destroying the thing, I couldn’t even see for sure who it was that was calling.

  ‘I hate you, iPhone,’ I yelled, furious at being refused a chance to make things up with Amy properly. Voicemail messages always sounded hollow and worklike. No one left voicemails any more. Apart from me and whoever had just tried to call me, it seemed, as a green box flashed up underneath a criss-cross pattern of shattered glass announcing a voice message. Out of sheer perversity, I jabbed at the box and, lo and behold, it connected immediately.

  ‘Of course you did,’ I hissed, picking up my technological nemesis and holding it to me ear. ‘You little shit.’

  ‘Hello, um, Tess?’ Bugger me backwards, Bob, it was Charlie.

  ‘Yeah, just checking in. Again. Wanted to see if you’re all right or not, or talking to me again. Or not. I tried to call Amy, which was probably a mistake. She’s not very happy with me, but when is she? Anyway, um, I’ve got some news. My football team won on Wednesday night. That’s not the news, but, well, I suppose it is news …’

  He sounded so uncomfortable and so strange that I felt sick. I was doing this to him. Me not talking to him was making him sad. I’d spent ten years trying to make Charlie Wilder happy and now I was hurting him so much that he was making feeble jokey comments about his football team on my voicemail. ‘But call me back, yeah? Really need to talk to you. I know I’m a massive twat who doesn’t deserve a phone call even, but I, um, yeah, I really, really need to hear your voice.’

  It wasn’t a long message and it definitely wasn’t a coherent one, but it was enough to make me turn off my phone (after six attempts) and rest my head on my forearms. Silly me thinking everything would magically be sorted out by a half-decent photograph. Or several amazing photographs, if I was really going to toot my own horn. Eurgh.

  ‘Vanessa?’

  A quiet knock on the door announced my visitor before they spoke, so I knew it wasn’t Paige. Sniffing quickly and rubbing my face on my arm, I looked up, blinking into the daylight. Staring at a screen for so long had made me dizzy.

  ‘Kekipi.’ I tried to look pleased to see him, and not just because he had a picnic hamper in his hands. ‘How is the happy couple?’

  ‘I haven’t seen Mr Bennett happier for a very long time.’ He smiled right back at me. ‘They were still up to their eyeballs in haute couture when I left.’

  ‘Think they both needed a bit of a boost,’ I said, eyeing the picnic basket like the honey badger I was. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and now the nervous energy that had carried me through the morning was about to blow up into one giant fist of fury.

  ‘From the looks of things, so do you.’ He set the basket down on my couch and came closer, unwittingly risking life and limb. ‘Trouble in paradise?’

  ‘Trouble, definitely.’ I looked at my phone again, looked at the computer screen and yawned. It was all too much. ‘I’m really bloody hungry. What’s in the basket?’

  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. My nan would have been appalled.

  ‘Nothing to eat.’ Kekipi frowned and made straight for the kitchen. ‘I’ll make you a deal. You go and shower, shave, do whatever it is that girls do, and I’ll prepare something light and delicious.’’

  ‘Why do I have to shower to eat something light and delicious?’ I looked down and poked my soft belly gently. Maybe I had gained a couple of pounds while I’d been away, but still, insulting much?

  ‘Because I’m taking you somewhere special for dinner, and that picnic basket is full of things to make a woman beautiful,’ he said, turning to fix me with an unmistakeably judgemental eye. ‘Things that you do not currently own.’

  I w
ould have been offended, but he was quite right. I was still using the Nivea for Men I’d nicked from work because I hadn’t had time to go out and buy proper moisturizer. Anyone going through my toiletry bag would think it belonged to a travelling salesman. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

  ‘You will be a minimum of ten,’ he corrected. ‘Don’t wash your hair, I like it like that.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ I pushed myself up out of my chair and sloped into the bathroom, weak from lack of munchies and the tyranny of an impending gay makeover. Hopefully he wasn’t taking me to a live taping of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Or, actually, I hoped that he was.

  When Kekipi finally unveiled his handiwork, I gasped. His flair for the dramatic meant that he had covered every mirror in the cottage aside from the giant one in the bathroom, and I was forbidden to see myself until he was happy. And, scarily enough, when it came to make-up, this time what made him happy made me happy. My skin looked soft and airbrushed with a rosy pink glow rather than bronzed tiger stripes, my lips held just a whisper more than their natural colour, and, thanks to the very liberal usage of smokey eyeliner and individual false eyelashes that I was really, really looking forward to picking off when I got home from wherever we were going, my eyes looked enormous, but not creepy. I almost looked as pretty as him. ‘Thank you, lovely.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, tapping me on the nose with a powder puff. And his work was complete. ‘I used to do Jane’s make-up. When she wasn’t well enough to do it herself.’

  ‘Sounds like she was amazing.’ I returned his sad smile with one of my own and gave his knee a squeeze. ‘I wish I could have met her.’

  ‘She was incredible,’ he confirmed. ‘But she was also a massive ballbuster and had very little tolerance for anyone not doing as they were told. Unless you were Artie, of course. He could do no wrong.’

  ‘Is that why he and Al don’t get on?’ I had so many questions about the Bennetts; it was like stepping onto the set of a Hawaiian Dynasty. ‘Because she let him get away with murder?’

  ‘If he murdered someone, she would have buried the body and torn the tongues out of any witnesses,’ he replied. ‘There was nothing that boy could do that was less than perfect in her eyes. Sometimes that doesn’t sit well with both parents.’

  ‘Sad,’ I pouted, swinging my legs on the high stool. ‘I wish they could make up. Al’s so cool.’

  ‘He had his moments as well,’ Kekipi said with a satisfied sigh, hands on his hips. ‘But maybe they’ll make up now. Now Mr Bennett seems to have snapped out of his mood.’

  I nodded slowly, thinking about my mum. I hoped she was OK. I really had to call her when I got home. These things were never easy.

  ‘Shall we get you dressed?’ he asked, vanishing out of the front door and reappearing with a black garment bag. ‘I have something special for you.’

  ‘Ohhhh.’ I clapped my hands together and jumped off the stool, clipping my black fluffy towel to me by the power of my armpits. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t sit still while I did your make-up if I brought it in, so I left it out there,’ he said. ‘Mr Bennett picked it. I had the final say. And yes, before you ask, it will fit.’

  I pressed my hands over my mouth and tried not to cry as he pulled down the zip to reveal the red Valentino ballgown I’d been cooing over during the shoot. It really was remarkable. We’d had to pin it to Martha during the shoot, so there was a tiny sliver of a chance that Kekipi was right, that the dress would go on me. Jane Bennett had easily been as tall as I was, but we definitely did not share the same proportions. Her waist was offensively tiny and no amount of light and delicious food was going to change that.

  ‘What if I sit down and Hulk out?’ I whined as he pulled down the concealed zip in the back of the dress and beckoned for me to step into the skirt. ‘I’m deceptively fat. I get away with it because I’m tall.’

  ‘You are not fat,’ Kekipi snapped back. ‘Frickin’ women, always thinking they’re obese because they have an arse.’

  ‘Wasn’t thinking about my arse, actually,’ I said sulkily. ‘But thanks for the feedback.’

  ‘Shut up and put out your arms,’ he commanded. The dress felt surprisingly light and the skirt fell about my legs, fluttering lightly and demanding a twirl. I had to mentally staple my feet to the floor to stop myself from spinning. So this was how it felt to be a princess. Screw you, Kate, it was my time to shine. I felt absolutely beautiful. ‘And anyway, Jane wore this while she was pregnant with Artie. It’s empire line, so there’s plenty of room in the waist.’

  And suddenly I felt like a fatty again.

  But it didn’t matter. As soon as Kekipi parked me in front of the mirror, all was forgotten. If this was maternity wear, then someone needed to knock me up, pronto. The lipstick-red shade of the fabric made my lack of a tan an asset rather than an embarrassment, and the loose, soft waves that Kekipi had teased out of my hair made the whole thing look soft and romantic rather than uncomfortable and formal. I wasn’t afraid to move; I wasn’t scared I would rip it. We were a team ? the dress breathed when I did. Floor-length layers of red silk floated in front of me and a deep, sleeveless V-neck bodice flattered my boobs and cinched in my waist. And Kekipi was right. The high empire line waist wasn’t too tight, and more importantly, I could already tell it was going to allow for eating. Hurrah.

  ‘Oh God, you’ve got to take a picture of me in this,’ I said, not able to look away from the mirror. ‘My friend Amy will never believe it.’ Not that she’d called me back yet.

  ‘Done and done,’ he replied, hands on my shoulders. ‘I think you’re ready, Cinders. I need to get you to the ball.’

  ‘We’re going to a ball?’ I was utterly non-plussed.

  Kekipi shook his handsome head. ‘Not exactly, but you do have somewhere to be, and if I don’t get you there before midnight, Prince Charming will likely be pissed.’

  ‘My date isn’t with you?’

  ‘Honey, even dolled up like this, you’re just not my type.’ Kekipi took my hand and walked me to the front door. ‘You don’t need your shoes. Follow me, lover.’

  So transfixed was I by my own reflection that we were locked in the back of one of Al’s SUVs before I realized I had still not eaten anything, either light or delicious. I pressed a sad hand against my empty belly and sniffed. So this was how models stayed so skinny.

  No matter how pretty, graceful and grown-up I looked, when my stomach was rumbling, I was complaining. Kekipi fished around in the back of the SUV and managed to come up with two packets of biscuits wrapped in cellophane which I inhaled without bothering to ask where they had come from or how long they had been in the car. I did not care. I was so hungry. By the time the car rumbled to a halt, I was covered in very un-Valentino crumbs that Kekipi was obsessively picking off me in a very disgruntled manner.

  ‘I knew we shouldn’t have put you in something so elegant,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘There were some perfectly good mumus in that closet.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ I sang, hopped up on a tiny amount of sugar and arrival giddiness. I still had no idea where we were and Kekipi wasn’t parting with any details, but I’d deduced, from his Prince Charming comment, that Nick was most likely involved, and I couldn’t wait for him to see me in my dress. ‘Where are we?

  ‘You shut up,’ he snapped back, grumpy but smiling. ‘Get out of the car and you’ll see. Honestly, the things I do for love.’

  The driver opened my door before I had a chance to and I gave him as pretty a smile as I could manage, given that all I really wanted to do was jump up and down and do the Snoopy dance of joy. The entire afternoon had vanished in a vortex of photo editing, make-up application and mystery road trips and, wherever I was, the sun was setting, casting a pinkish orange glow through the low, lush trees that hung overhead. Somewhere nearby, I heard water running. It was all very familiar but not.

  ‘That way.’ Kekipi nodded towards a narrow sandy path leading into th
e trees. ‘I’ll see you later, princess.’

  ‘Am I being sacrificed to a giant monkey?’ I asked, my nervous energy turning into flat-out nerves. ‘Because no dress is worth that.’

  ‘Go away.’ He flicked a hand at me and hopped back into the car. ‘Call me when you’re engaged.’

  And just like magic, my nerves turned into complete and utter, all-consuming terror.

  ‘He’s joking,’ I whispered to my dress as I made my way down the path. ‘It’s just not a funny joke.’

  Somehow I managed to keep my feet moving one in front of the other. The sound of water changed from running to rushing, the smell of the frangipani flowers swam all around me, and as I peered between the trees, I started to see little tealights appear. At first it was just one or two grouped together on the left or right side of the path, but as the path turned into a stairway, the candles became more common. Each step was lit with three tiny white candles in little glass jars. One or two had already blown out, but it was still beautiful. Ever so slightly cheesy, but very, very beautiful. It took me too long to work out why the sound of the water was so familiar, and I was almost at the bottom of the steps before I saw the waterfall. Right where we had laid in the sand was Nick. The self-satisfied smile on his face melted away when he saw me.

  ‘Wow,’ he whistled.

  ‘Yeah,’ I exclaimed, hands above my head. ‘I know.’

  By the water, Nick, and presumably Kekipi, had set up a small round table that was covered in food and looked almost as good as my date. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and gave myself a moment to take it all in. The heavy scent of the flowers, the rush of water, all the little glowing candles and, in the middle of it all, the man who had done this, just for me. His hair was still a mess ? by now I’d realized it always was ? but his shirt and jeans were smart, and his eyes sparkled all the way across the beach. When he wasn’t looking smug, his smile was infectious, and I felt a happy grin spread across my own face. I couldn’t help but feel a little overdressed, compared with Nick’s ensemble, but at the same time, it was a very pretty dress. Probably not the best for swimming in, though. Probably ought to stay out of the water.

 

‹ Prev