by Helen Eve
‘She’s not relevant to you.’ My mother tried to turn my head gently away, just as she did when we passed homeless people on the street.
I might have let her, except that, as Romy vanished back into the depths of her car, her legs protruding indecorously before she emerged for a final time, she was joined by a dark-haired boy. He stroked her rabbit before slinging an arm around her shoulders, and her sulky face transformed, like storm clouds receding. She looked at the boy exactly as I imagined I’d look at him if he ever put his arm around me.
‘How did that happen?’ asked Libby, as if witnessing an injustice of epic proportions. ‘Her? With him?’
‘Do you know him?’ I adopted a casual tone.
‘That’s Jack Lawrence,’ said Libby. ‘Of the Goring Lawrences. They own half of Oxfordshire. I expect you’ve heard of them?’
I had, because the only book my mother had ever read to me was Debrett’s. Stella and I had been a more captive audience than Syrena, who had recently shredded a section into a nest for her pet mouse.
The straps of a baby seat were no deterrent to a proficient escapologist – I knew this to my cost – and, during this conversation, Syrena had climbed into Stella’s lap to peer out of the window.
‘Rabbit,’ she said.
‘No,’ Seraphina and I said in unison.
Romy was laughing now, as happy as she’d previously been angry, and Jack had joined in. I was still watching them when the car door slammed.
‘Where are your sisters?’ Libby abandoned her note-taking in confusion.
* * *
‘Do I have to join you for breakfast?’ Romy brings me back to the present, her voice as objectionable as Syrena’s erstwhile chant of Romyromyromyromy.
‘I suppose so,’ I sigh as we approach the cafeteria. ‘Although you should sign a confidentiality agreement first. I’ll have Libby draw one up for you.’
‘What?’ She’s staring in disbelief. ‘Confidentiality about you?’
‘Our table is the nerve centre of the entire school. Can you imagine the damage that could be done if you started carrying state secrets back to the general population? It would be like…’ I search for an example, shaking my head as she starts talking about water gates. ‘No, something really bad. Like the theft of Liz Hurley’s holiday photographs.’
‘I was a Starlet for five years,’ she says. ‘I know every single one of your secrets.’
You most certainly do not. ‘You’re an outsider now, and you’ll be treated as such.’
‘Why do you think you hold all the cards?’ she asks. She’s always been resilient – a trait I once almost admired. ‘Wait until you try and spin this to your ladies-in-waiting. They might throw you out and force you to make your own way on Temperley High’s mean streets with only me for company.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You do,’ she presses. ‘You loved Lady and the Tramp.’
Talking to Romy – just being near her – puts me in a state of irritation. ‘How could they throw me out? I am the Starlets.’
‘That’s an interesting theory,’ she considers. ‘Yet they left you in mortal danger last night, trapped in a fire; every last one of them, even Cassidy, who’s supposed to be the nice one, and Libby, who’s allegedly your most loyal servant. And the worst thing is, they didn’t even notice.’
‘It was a simple error,’ I clarify, ‘with no bearing on my currency as a Starlet. Why are you picking a fight? Your life will be even harder if we’re all against you.’
She laughs. ‘You won’t tell them the truth about this.’
‘Of course I will! What else can I do? Announce that I’ve allowed you to rejoin us?’
‘You’ll lose face if you admit that you got caught when they all escaped. Facing a punishment, like a civilian, surely isn’t the public image you want to project?’
I think this over.
‘But then, perhaps you do have to come clean,’ Romy muses. ‘Because otherwise you have to pretend that you’ve joined the Student Council of your own volition. They’d drop you in a second. They’d probably have you burned at the stake.’
‘What don’t you understand?’ I ask. ‘I’m the heart and soul of the Starlets. Without me they would cease to exist. They’d stop being alive. I could do anything – anything – and they’d stand by me. Their support of me is as ingrained as their love of Chanel.’
‘When will you learn that each of them has every bit the game plan you do?’ she says. ‘They’re just cleverer about hiding it.’
We’re now only feet away from the Starlet table, where Libby and Phoebe are audibly vying to be centre of attention.
‘They seem to have no trouble existing without you,’ smirks Romy. ‘Have they noticed you’re missing?’
‘Shut up,’ I mutter. ‘Let me handle this, or I’ll make it more painful for you.’
‘They’re palazzo pants all over again,’ Phoebe is saying as she recalibrates her frittata. She takes pride in ordering the highest-calorie menu item, as if we don’t notice that all she does is move it around her plate in circles before giving it a dignified burial under her napkin. ‘They’ll be out of style by the time they’ve even been delivered. Not to mention that they’ll make your legs look stumpy.’
‘You’re wrong.’ Libby jabs a manicured finger at a Vanity Fair spread on green slingbacks and tries to hide her hurt at this jibe. ‘They’re totally flattering, and this time next week you’ll be eating your words. If not your breakfast.’
‘It’s not bad hair, exactly,’ Cassidy concedes in a separate conversation with Madison. ‘It’s just a bit unexpected, because of the crimping. I can see where she was going with it.’
‘Yes, so can I,’ says Madison. ‘1998, at the latest.’
They all look up as I approach, smiling before they see who’s behind me.
Chapter Twelve
Romy
Phoebe’s mouth drops open. Cassidy looks scared. Libby flips through the day planner as though this is an appointment she’s somehow overlooked. Madison adopts the aggressive position usually reserved for predatory Stripes. And Siena, who’s moving her lips silently as if she’s counting down from ten, slips into her seat before motioning me into my own. As composed as ever, she smiles measuredly at each of them in turn.
‘What’s going on?’ she asks. ‘And Libby, Phoebe’s right. Those shoes are heinous.’
‘As your breakfast companion appears to have crawled here from the underworld,’ Libby says icily, ‘I don’t quite see why you’re criticizing my appearance.’
I raise an eyebrow at Siena to provoke her into continuing. As much as she wants to tell the truth about her punishment, as much as she likes to believe that the Starlets love her unconditionally, she’d never disclose something as undignified as being left prisoner in the tower, like a child forgotten at nursery school. And as Madison whispers to Phoebe and they both laugh, and Cassidy makes some encouraging noises about Libby’s horrible shoes while the latter continues to glare, I know Siena understands the only way to retain her power.
‘Romy should be made answerable for what she did last year,’ Siena announces. ‘She’ll be joining us for a trial period of rehabilitation, to prove she’s truly sorry.’
‘Are you truly sorry?’ asks Cassidy.
‘Truly,’ I lie. You can rejoin the Council, I remind myself.
‘You’re not falling for this?’ Phoebe asks the others in disbelief. ‘I don’t believe her for a second. She’s up to something.’
‘What could I possibly be up to?’ I ask.
Phoebe frowns, unable to come up with anything plausible. ‘Just … something.’
‘You invited her back without a consultation?’ Madison asks incredulously.
Siena once told me that she was taught as a child to hold a smile for up to six minutes without it wavering or looking fake. At the time I was baffled by her pride in this, but now I can see that it’s an invaluable skill.
‘C
onsider this your consultation,’ she trills pleasantly through gritted teeth.
‘This is unbelievable.’ Libby shakes her head. ‘Do you know that my scar still aches on cold days? My doctor said I could have died, or suffered a permanently reshaped hairline. I can’t accept this decision, Siena. It’s Romy or me.’
Madison, Phoebe and Cassidy look worriedly at Siena, while she darts a glance at me. I should have predicted this, and I can certainly predict Siena’s reaction.
‘The truth is…’ she begins, right on cue. Losing Libby is unthinkable to her to the extent that she might as well be expelled anyway.
I interrupt before she gets any further. ‘The truth is that you can’t keep the sixth Starlet place open any longer.’
Siena glares, but the others are listening to me.
‘I can see why you haven’t replaced me,’ I say. ‘To make girls competitive and feel a futile sense of hope. Etcetera. But now it looks as if you can’t fill the space. It looks as if no one wants to join you. It makes you look –’ I pause for effect – ‘undesirable.’
‘That’s insane,’ bristles Phoebe.
‘It’s true,’ I say. ‘I heard some Fifth Formers talking about it.’
Libby’s head snaps up. ‘Which Fifth Formers?’ She narrows her eyes in a way that makes me fear for their safety.
‘I’m not good with names,’ I say. ‘But that empty seat is damaging your reputation.’
‘We can fill it with anyone we like,’ blusters Phoebe. ‘It doesn’t have to be you.’
‘Who else is there?’ Siena rallies. ‘The longer we wait, the more we risk lowering our standards. And wouldn’t we all like to put our unfortunate history with Romy to bed?’
I nod. ‘Readmitting me would make you look forgiving. You’d get to show your ultimate supremacy. Not to mention that it might help me forget last night’s fire.’
Libby is apparently wondering whether to admit that she knows the door only opens from the outside, and that she therefore deliberately imprisoned me in a burning tower. ‘How did you get out?’ she asks finally.
‘I just did,’ I say. ‘Don’t look so disappointed, all of you: anyone would think you actually wanted me to die in there. Don’t you know that a murder conviction could seriously harm your university chances?’
Everyone stares at their plates, but I detect an unwilling admiration that could work in my favour.
‘Romy has an interesting skill set,’ Siena puts in. ‘We could use her this term, if she puts it to good use.’
‘You’ll have to change,’ says Madison. ‘A new wardrobe isn’t even a drop in the ocean. We have rules. Rules that matter.’
‘I know you do,’ I say irritably. ‘I’ve heard them many times.’
‘So … you aren’t in any trouble for last night?’ asks Libby tentatively.
‘No, but I can predict that we’ll all be in trouble if Mrs Denbigh finds out the truth. Don’t you agree?’
Libby stares, and then the unthinkable happens. She pulls out the spare chair for me, and once again we’re six.
‘What really happened to your Tarot cards?’ asks Madison. ‘They can’t have just disappeared.’
‘I don’t care, as long as they’re far away from me,’ I say. ‘I never want to experience another psychic reading again.’
* * *
I brought the cards with me to Temperley High in my first term as a small rebellion that my father would hate. I’d found them as I filled my arms with my mother’s dresses and necklaces, books and magazine cuttings, and anything and everything else that I could carry.
Yet I bitterly regretted my decision when they spilled from my pocket as I slammed the car door on that first day. I scrabbled for them, muttering in embarrassment as I straightened up and almost knocked over two little girls, identical with their long fair hair, round blue eyes and perfectly serious expressions.
‘Rabbit,’ said the younger girl, pointing to the bundle in my arms.
‘Do you want to stroke her?’ I asked reluctantly.
‘No,’ said the elder girl, keeping tight hold of her sister. ‘I mean – Syrena doesn’t always understand how.’
‘It’s okay.’ I felt a curious kinship towards Syrena, accustomed as I was to being told no. ‘Do it like this.’
Syrena copied me, running her hand up and down the length of the rabbit’s back.
‘Stella,’ came a voice from behind them, and I stood up as the elder girl turned. This third girl was probably my age, but otherwise looked exactly the same as her sisters.
Jack was waiting for me to catch him up. My heart sank as he looked at the eldest girl, looked away, and looked again. Then he raised an eyebrow at me.
‘Your boyfriend’s waiting for you,’ Stella told me. Her tone was pitying.
Jack watched Siena, and she watched him. Syrena stopped stroking the rabbit and turned between them.
I stepped deliberately forward, blocking Jack and Siena’s view of each other under the guise of moving a suitcase. ‘Yes, my boyfriend is waiting,’ I reinforced. ‘For me.’
Siena looked amused. ‘Why do you have two names on your suitcase?’ she asked.
Your name is Roma, Dad had told me as he’d painted my name on my case.
My name is not Roma, I’d argued, adding the word ROMY to the other side in black gloss, so large that it could be read from Italy, let alone across a crowded car park. Siena was looking at the ROMA side, so I turned it around.
‘I prefer Romy,’ I told her.
She smiled. ‘That’s a shame. I’m Siena, and I thought we had something in common.’
Stella started to smile at Siena, but I got the full force of it as she plucked a card from the pack in my hands and laughed.
‘You’re good at that,’ she said, showing it to Siena before handing it back to me.
I looked at it only once they’d all gone: the Star card lit translucent in the emerging sun.
Chapter Thirteen
Siena
Romy is fidgeting and looking at her watch. ‘Do you have somewhere to be?’ I ask, trying to convey that, if she does, it had better be important.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says insincerely. ‘I’d love to stay and hear more stories about bad hair…’
‘It’s not bad hair,’ interrupts Madison, sounding annoyed. ‘It’s unexpected.’
‘Where do you have to be?’ asks Libby. ‘You can’t just flit in and out of debates without due regard.’
‘I didn’t realize that this was a debate,’ Romy says. ‘I’ll have to reacclimatize.’
‘You certainly will,’ says Libby weightily. ‘We haven’t touched on half the topics up for discussion today.’
‘So…’ Romy prompts. ‘What are they?’
There’s a silence. ‘You heard about Libby’s shoes?’ Cassidy says finally.
‘Our thoughts on the re-emergence of feathered hair?’ ventures Madison.
‘We haven’t even considered what to wear to tennis practice,’ Phoebe adds.
‘Wow,’ says Romy. ‘So your days are still action-packed. I wonder how I’ll catch up on all I’ve missed.’
‘Just go,’ I sigh. ‘We’ll work on your attitude later.’
‘Some warning would have been nice.’ Libby turns on me the instant Romy leaves the table. ‘You know I hate to be unprepared. My life coach says surprises are very bad for my mental balance.’
‘Yesterday you complained that life had become predictable,’ I remind her. ‘Now we have a new toy.’
‘But Romy?’ she moans. ‘Did it have to be Romy?’
‘You know what they say about keeping one’s enemies close.’
‘I agree with that,’ says Phoebe authoritatively. ‘Romy learned from the very best, after all, and she could form a splinter group or something. She knows too much.’
I nod sagely. ‘It’s important not only to contain her, but to keep a close eye on all areas of the school until we’re sure she’s not going to start any trouble. That
’s why I’ve decided to take a big hit for the team.’
I take a deep breath before my second revelation. ‘I’ve joined the Student Council.’
They all disintegrate into shock again, and I worry that Cassidy might faint. Madison fans her with a napkin without taking her eyes off me.
‘I think I misheard you,’ says Libby weakly. ‘We’ve suffered so much turmoil that we’re delirious.’
Phoebe giggles. ‘Stop it, Siena. You’re freaking me out. Have you been at Jack’s mother’s lithium again?’
‘I’ve joined the Council,’ I repeat forcefully. ‘With Romy a Starlet and a Council member, I need to move in parallel. With her at the helm, the Council could actually become influential.’
‘This is so unselfish of you, Siena,’ says Cassidy in admiration. ‘Do you really think the Council is a threat to us?’
‘This is a vulnerable and testing time,’ I say. ‘Next year is our last, and other students are already thinking about their legacies. We’ve been at the top since we were Shells, but we’ve never been threatened by opposition. We should be ready for a challenge.’
‘But you shouldn’t be fighting on the front line!’ Libby protests. ‘I’ll join the Council.’
‘You’re busy with my English coursework,’ I say regretfully. ‘And you have a severe head injury. It’s only right that I shoulder some of the burden. This challenge will make us all better Starlets.’
Madison nods thoughtfully. ‘We’re so lucky to have you, Siena.’
Libby can’t contest the seriousness of her injury, and gradually we drift into other conversations. I allow myself a secret smile as I wonder why I was so worried. It’s typical of Romy to try and ruin my day like this. Now in one fell swoop she’s back under control, and it seems crazy to think that it could have been otherwise.