Filter This

by Sophie White

  She headed down the hall to the bathroom, feeling bad for thinking such a horrible thought. Marni should clean the flowers because minders are supposed to do a bit of housework, not as some kind of punishment for showing up and enchanting Georgie with her big Disney Princess eyes and endless time for playing unicorns and whatnot. Shelly tried to convince herself that she would love to be playing unicorns and sticking glitter to stuff all day long but she had to work – especially now that Dan was sleeping in the Seomra in the garden and their marriage appeared to be hanging in the balance.

  In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and ruminated on the weeks since their return from Ballinahagh House. She’d arrived home to an empty house and learned from her mother-in-law that Dan and Georgie had gone to stay in her in-laws’ holiday home in Sligo. Shelly was bereft. She had known in her heart that things hadn’t been right between them for some time, maybe even since Georgie’d been born, but she’d calmed herself with articles about marriages having fallow periods and had even begun to believe her own Instagram narrative. How could her marriage be in trouble? Sure, there was a picture of them kissing on holiday right there on the grid (never mind that picture was taken three years before and being rolled out now as ‘fresh’ content by Amy).

  She’d obviously worked hard to save face on her social channels, keeping up with her #spon commitments and doing posts that didn’t require her daughter or husband as props. Though there were only so many #metime #selfcare baths one could take to fill a feed. And with Dan’s words about her ‘sideshow of perfection’ echoing in her head, it had started to feel weird taking a bath for some me-time while Amy sat cross-legged on the floor, taking pics, horn-rimmed glasses pushed up on top of her head, and briefing her on forthcoming collaborations and updating her on what the other mumstagrammers were bringing out next. Podcasts, online stores, lifestyle magazines à la Oprah, a range of branded DIY tools, guest ‘curating’ the Aldi Special Buys, and on and on. Amy was adamant that the next SHELLY project be huge and, frankly, the thoughts of it all exhausted Shelly.

  Dan and Georgie had returned a week later and Shelly felt things settle into a new normal of separate beds and civility. It was not a normal that Shelly liked. She felt she hadn’t had a chance to get a handle on the situation – there’d been so much on. Just yesterday Amy had brought the presentation for Q2 2019 to Shelly’s dressing room during her nail appointment.

  ‘Introducing Shelly’s Grow and Glow Pregnancy Roadshow!’

  ‘No,’ Shelly had responded flatly and they’d been bickering about it ever since.

  Amy hadn’t seen Dan since the baby reveal had gone awry so it was easy for her to ignore that the SHELLY house of cards was dangerously close to collapsing. That very day they were about to attempt a subterfuge that went far beyond anything they’d ever tweaked in FaceFix. It was so bad Shelly felt another wave of nausea gathering pace just thinking about it. It was worse even than the time Shelly had posted a pic of a random baby she’d found on the internet when Baby Georgie was going through an unfortunate plain stretch as an infant.

  ‘Shel?’ Amy called from the other side of the door. ‘The Dans are here.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Shelly muttered, giving her clammy face a quick once-over in the mirror. ‘Is this too far?’ she asked her reflection. They were due at the Daddy Bears’ Picnic in an hour’s time and were in dire need of a ‘daddy’. Amy had lined up some Dan-a-likes for the Instagram coverage. Shelly felt deeply uneasy about the scheme but, as always, the SHELLY juggernaut was a law unto itself.

  Amy had been emphatic. ‘We cannot miss this, Shelly. I know you think you’re safe up on your pristine pedestal at the top of the Insta-mummy shit pile, but, believe me, there are about a million wannabes just dying to topple you and they’re not afraid to get a little dirty in the process. Ali Jones is going from strength to strength – people are loving her budding romance with that Sam guy, she’s playing the whole knocked-up angle remarkably well for an amateur and her body isn’t as wrecked as yours. When you two shit out these babies, she’ll be bouncing back a hell of a lot quicker, so the best you’ve got to work with here is consistency and class. Green, Hilliard and Mason are massive – we need to show them you’re bankable. And that means showing up with a daddy bear and doing your nice girl thing. This world is moving very fast, Shelly – we need to adapt to keep up. In a few months SHELLY could be considered the untouchable heritage brand of the mumstagrammer scene – the Dior to Ali’s Isabel Marant – or it could be old hat. It’s up to you.’

  Shelly agreed to the Dan-a-likes. And now they were streaming into the house like an odd parade of smart-casual clones. Shelly followed the identical haircuts as they made a left into the living room.

  There were six almost-Dans to choose from and Shelly found a mad thought stealing through her mind: I could just let Dan go and pay one of these guys by the hour forever. The convenience of the proposition was verging on tempting. She’d go on date nights not having to hide her social media updates. Bringing out the phone mid main course wouldn’t set off a tsunami of sighs and clipped words for the remainder of the evening. Almost Dan wouldn’t give a shit about her phone – he’d be too busy watching the clock, counting down till he could knock off and head back to his real life.

  ‘OK, fellas, line up.’ Amy was herding the men around, demanding they turn this way and that. ‘We need to get a read on what you’ll look like on the phone from a distance, so could everyone do that, please?’ Some of the Dans were looking a bit perplexed. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Amy called encouragingly. ‘Put your phones up to your ears. Good boys.’

  ‘What’s, eh, this gig for?’ asked one of the Dans, who was using his hand to mime a phone.

  ‘Confidential,’ snapped Amy, moving down the line, turning the Dans this way and that.

  Shelly hung back. She couldn’t bear to be too hands-on in this humiliating process. Amy joined her.

  ‘Chatty Dan’s talking into his hand,’ she remarked, arms crossed.

  ‘I can hear you,’ he huffed.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Amy called back. ‘He’s got a shitty attitude,’ she said to Shelly, making no effort to lower her voice. ‘And a flat ass.’

  Chatty Dan looked incensed.

  ‘We should wrap this up,’ muttered Shelly. ‘I vote second from the left.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Amy agreed. ‘His tan is actually a better match with yours, tonally speaking. I always thought Dan’s was a bit clashy. And he’s actually taking the fake phone conversation seriously.’

  Indeed, this Dan had gone quite method, channelling his inner Joaquin Phoenix for the assignment and conducting a heated conversation with his wallet. He concluded with the devastating parting words, ‘Well, I don’t care what you think, Mum,’ snapped the wallet shut flip-phone style and spun around with a flourish. ‘And … scene.’

  The other Dans grudgingly applauded and Amy immediately started shouting them down. ‘OK, thank you, gentlemen. We’re going with James Franco here but thanks for joining us today and I’ll notify you if we require a stand-in at any date in the future.’

  A stand-in for a stand-in, thought Shelly ruefully. What fresh hell is this?

  Of course, the way things were going with Dan it didn’t seem like such a remote possibility. They’d reached something of a détente regarding the @DivineDanDevine Insta-account. Shelly and Amy would be honouring any outstanding contracts previously agreed upon and then phasing the account out altogether. The Daddy Bears’ Picnic was a bit of a grey area as it wasn’t strictly #sponcon, but Amy was trying to close a big deal with Green, Hilliard and Mason and didn’t want to rock the boat by not showing up with the prerequisite daddy bear in tow.

  ‘What Dan doesn’t know, Dan doesn’t know!’ she had exclaimed as she tapped furiously on her laptop, loading the calendar with fictitious Dan Devine brand contracts. ‘So long as we lash them in and save the doc, we can keep brokering deals. If it comes to it, you can always argue in court that they’d bee
n agreed prior,’ she finished triumphantly.

  Shelly was verging on awed by the sheer commercialism of it. She knew it was gross to be continuing to milk Dan during this rocky patch, but on the other hand, they would resolve this soon enough and it’d be madness to throw away all that they’d built with @DivineDanDevine. Amy was right – as long as they could explain it down the line, there was no need to be rash.

  Shelly reflected on this as they gave the new Dan a spruce in the dressing room. Amanda, NDA signed in advance, was having trouble with the brief.

  ‘You want him to look like your Dan – why?’ She looked from Amy to Shelly to Almost Dan blankly.

  ‘The “why” is not important, Amanda.’ Amy was tapping the steel toes of her Doc Martens against the legs of the high stool she was perched on, illustrated legs crossed spaghetti-like. ‘Just give him a few more greys in the temples and darken the under-eye area – he’s supposed to be stressed at work.’

  ‘O-K.’ Amanda dusted Almost Dan’s hair with leave-in shampoo and began smudging bags under his eyes.

  Almost Dan peered over at Shelly. ‘So where’s this thing on, then? Is this how you usually get dates?’ He was smiling playfully. ‘I love you on Durty Aul’ Town.’

  Amy hopped down from the stool, yanked her glasses off her head and shoved her face right into Almost Dan’s, eyeballing him. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Eh, nothing.’ Almost Dan shifted awkwardly. ‘Just doing the small talk. First-date stuff,’ he added shyly.

  ‘This is not a first date, FFS! You’re already married.’ Amy was scathing.

  ‘We’re married?’ Both Almost Dan and Amanda looked stunned at this news.

  ‘Ugh, I’ll explain on the way after you’ve signed the confidentiality agreement. You done, Amanda?’

  Amanda gave Almost Dan a final once-over with a bit of powder and stepped back, looking concerned. ‘Yep, he’s good to go,’ she said quietly, biting her lip.

  ‘No need for that face, Mandy, it’s all under control.’ Amy gathered her various phones, checked Shelly’s face (‘More highlighter and concealer on the bags,’ she snapped) and began marching them out the door.

  The car journey was taken up with explaining Almost Dan’s role. As they neared Shanaghan House, Shelly pretended to be preoccupied with her Insta while Amy put Almost Dan through his paces.

  ‘What are you to be doing at all times at this event?’ she drilled.

  ‘Be on my phone,’ he said quickly, miming the phone using his wallet.

  ‘Use your actual phone,’ Amy barked.

  ‘Yep, sorry. Got it.’

  ‘What do you do if someone comes over to you at any point?’

  ‘I do the I’ll-be-off-in-two-seconds gesture,’ Almost Dan held up two fingers in the universal symbol, ‘then turn as if I’m talking and scurry away.’

  ‘OK, good. Maybe try not to scurry. Real Dan’s not a scurrier.’ Amy glanced at Shelly. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yep,’ Shelly lied. She was so nervous she felt paralysed. Was this madness? What if someone noticed? She tried to remember if any of the Insta-mums had ever met Dan in the flesh. Even if they hadn’t, just anyone getting close to this Dan could be a problem. Amanda’s skills did not lie in subtlety and Almost Dan’s face was looking a bit too made-up – was that highlighter on his cheeks?

  ‘It’s too late to worry now, Shelly,’ Amy answered her thoughts. ‘We’ll get in and get out. Quick distant photo op. Show face, but not too much. And we’re home free.’

  The taxi pulled into the car park of Shanaghan House. Straight away Linda of @LindasLittlePrecious (3,008 followers) was jogging alongside the car. ‘Shelly! Oh my gawd, it’s been forever!’

  ‘Get on the phone now,’ Amy scream-whispered at Dan while Shelly rolled down the window and offered Linda her hand, which Linda immediately clasped on to. ‘Dying to catch up.’

  ‘We’ll just park.’ Shelly smiled tensely, trying to let go. Linda’s grasp was strong but Shelly managed to shake her off, retract her hand inside the still-moving car and roll the window back up.

  ‘See you in there,’ Linda called, slightly winded from jogging.

  Once parked, Amy, spotting Shelly’s alarm, immediately began outlining a detailed plan. ‘Everyone calm down – that was an unexpected ambush there by Linda Whatever-her-name-is but soon as we’re in, it’ll be grand. Dan, your main objective is, at all times, to keep your distance. Skirt this perimeter fencing.’ Amy had brought up a schematic of the large country house and grounds on her iPad. ‘Stay on the phone, be low-key. Shelly, just do the “oh, Dan’s so in demand but he couldn’t miss this” line and move the convo on. Easy.’

  Amy consulted her phone. ‘OK, Marni and Georgie are arriving in three.’ Amy had brought in a separate-cars rule eighteen months ago when Georgie had had an unfortunate spill on a dress on loan from a boutique Shelly’d been working with. Shelly was always stressed that someone would spot them at one of these events doing the handover of the child. Some days she could reason herself out of it with a stern reminder that she was a working mother, ergo she had childcare. It just so happened that her work required occasional cameos from her daughter.

  ‘Muma! Muma, Muma, Muma!’ Georgie’s squeals pierced her rumination. Shelly slid out of the car and was nearly floored by the loving ferocity of the child’s greeting.

  ‘Muma, Muma.’ Georgie wrapped herself, koala-like, around Shelly’s leg and launched straight into the kind of high-pitched, meandering, occasionally surreal monologue that three-year-olds specialise in. ‘We went in the garden and I saw a budderfly bringing toast back to the babies at home. Then the budderfly made her babies babycinos and they all made cake. And then, and then,’ she was gasping out the words, trying to hold Shelly’s focus, ‘then Mammy bought me here …’

  ‘Marni,’ Shelly interrupted sharply. ‘It’s Marni, sweetie, not Mammy.’

  ‘Marni,’ Georgie said carefully then, losing her place in the spiel, noticed ‘Dan’, who’d just emerged from the car followed by Amy. ‘Who’s that? He looks like Dada.’

  ‘I am your dada,’ Almost Dan said cheerfully, to which Shelly and Amy hissed ‘Shhh’ in unison and Marni, having just ambled up behind Georgie, exclaimed, ‘What!’

  ‘Nothing, nothing,’ Amy said. She glared at Almost Dan, who made a big show of appearing to take a phone call, only serving to exacerbate the weirdness of the situation.

  ‘Georgie, please don’t run ahead like that – there could be cars, chérie,’ Marni admonished gently and Shelly tried not to think about the fact that the child immediately detached from her leg and relocated to the minder’s.

  The entrance to the Daddy Bears’ Picnic was mobbed with Insta-mums, PRs and a few sullen-looking photographers who’d drawn the short straw in terms of photocalls. Elsewhere in the city, models in bikinis were posing with outsized objects and here they were in a pit of screaming kids and their trussed-up mums and bored dads.

  Shelly steeled herself on the approach. Just past the imposing entrance to the main house was a photo area, an archway of cascading faux flowers under which arriving families were posing with a man in a bear costume before entering the manicured grounds of the house, where a marquee filled with picnic tables had been set up. Waiters circled bearing hot chocolates and Prosecco, while face-painting and games for the kids were in full swing.

  ‘Shelly!’ A pretty young woman with a severe bob was waving her over to the arch. ‘Holly from Green, Hilliard and Mason PR, welcome!’

  ‘Hi, Holly, so nice to see you again – you’re looking gorge. New hair?’ Shelly couldn’t remember ever having clapped eyes on Holly but this was generally a safe opener.

  ‘Aw, thanks. I was really unsure about it at first.’ Holly ran a hand self-consciously over her shiny mane.

  ‘No, it’s gorgeous on you!’

  ‘And this must be Georgie?’ Holly leaned down to admire the little girl’s cupcake-shaped tote bag. ‘Stylish just like her mammy.’

&nbs
p; ‘Her name’s Mar-ni,’ said Georgie, correcting her.

  ‘Ha, shhh,’ Amy interjected, stepping in front of the child. ‘You never know what they’re on about.’

  Holly smiled, straightening up. ‘Would you mind popping over to our teddy bear to do pics for the social pages – you and, of course, Mr Devine …?’ Holly was craning around Shelly to see ‘Dan’, who was lurking just behind and already on the phone. He was twisting this way and that in an effort to keep his face partially hidden – from the look on Holly’s face the effect was coming across more odd man than busy man.

  Amy quickly took control. ‘He’s on to Asia, huge deal going down, but he wouldn’t miss this for the world. We’ll get the pics snapped and obvi we’ll do lots of shouting about this gorgeous venue on the SHELLY profile and Dan’s and on @BabyGeorgieDevine, of course – the audience over there is solidly middle-income families, your target demographic.’

  As the photographer encouraged Georgie to smile for the camera – a born pro, she didn’t need much coaching – Shelly felt a bit more chill. As soon as they wrapped this bit up, Almost Dan could get on with keeping his distance.

  Behind the photographer, a small crowd was gathering. Anxiety tugged at Shelly but, she reminded herself, it wasn’t unusual – people flocked wherever she went. She’d be doing selfies for the next two hours if she didn’t have Amy here to do her bad-cop routine and usher people on. She waved to the women, to the visible delight of several.

  ‘Just a couple more, Shelly,’ called the snapper. ‘Can you get yer man there to turn around a bit more? I’m only getting profile.’

  ‘That’s his good side,’ Shelly joked to distract.

  On her right, the guy in the bear costume seemed to be saying something. ‘Hey, Justin, mate! How are ya? What’re you doing here? How’s the acting going?’

  Almost Dan, hearing his real name, put away the phone and gave the bear a friendly hug.