Alisha shrugged and held a dress up against herself. ‘Small by Hollywood standards.’
Mrs Lewis smiled at me. ‘How are you going to celebrate yours?’
‘Oh, nothing much. A few friends over. Sleepover maybe. No biggie,’ I said. Alisha glanced over when I said the word sleepover. Maybe I won’t invite her after all, I thought. She’ll think eight people is seriously small fry.
‘We’d love it if you and Pia were our guests,’ said Mrs Lewis.
Behind her, I saw Alisha’s expression harden. She dismissed the hovering assistant with a flick of her hand. ‘We’re done here,’ she said.
‘Um. I’ll ask Dad,’ I said. I didn’t want to go to the party knowing that we weren’t wanted, but Pia looked delighted by the invite.
‘That’d be fabbie dabbie doobie,’ she whispered.
The next few hours were a blur of shops with the same marble floor, the same lovely assistants, the same scented candles burning and the same way over the top price tags. Mrs Lewis, Pia and I watched Alisha try on a succession of wonderful dresses: silks, satins, voiles, lace. Prada, Dior, Chloe, Gianfranco Ferre, Dolce & Gabbana, Balmain – designers I’d heard of, some I hadn’t, but none of the dresses were right for Alisha. I could see that clearly and, by the growing look of frustration on her face, so could she.
By the time we got to a small boutique just off Sloane Street, Pia and I were getting bored and I was feeling like a hanger-on. It certainly wasn’t turning out to be as much fun as I’d imagined.
‘How about we try some stuff on?’ I suggested as Alisha took yet another stash of clothes into the changing area. ‘Or else what are we going to tell Flo? You know how she loves clothes. She’s so jealous we’ve been invited on this trip and if she finds out we didn’t even try anything on, she’ll be well disappointed.’
Pia nodded. ‘Do you think we could?’
‘Mrs Lewis, do you think we could try some clothes?’ I asked.
‘Sure you can, honey. Try what you like. In fact, I’m just going to go out for a short while, I saw some shoes earlier that are calling me back, so go right ahead. If you need anything, Sergei is over there.’
After she’d gone, we got straight on it.
‘Let’s pick one mad one,’ I said. We picked five outfits each and were soon having a great time seeing how they looked. Pia looked divine in a long floaty Olsen twin number. I tried a Stella MCartney dress which, although lovely, made me look like a tall stick insect. Next, Pia slipped on a strange blue dress with a ruffled petticoat poking out underneath the hem. We couldn’t stop laughing as she pranced around doing a mad ballet routine. I noticed Alisha watching us messing about, but when I glanced over at her, she quickly turned away. Sergei, on the other hand, appeared to be enjoying the show and cracked up. I chose a black leather warrior queen type dress and did some kung fu moves. Alisha rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. I didn’t care. She took a red silk dress into the changing room and when she came out, she studied her reflection for a while.
‘What do you think?’ she finally asked.
It was all wrong for her. She looked like a kid in her mum’s dress. I couldn’t hold back any longer and pulled a face.
‘Alisha, nothing you have tried on today has looked right,’ I said.
‘Oh, and you’re some kind of expert, are you?’ she said.
‘Actually, she knows a lot about fashion,’ Pia blurted out before I could defend myself. ‘Her mum used to be a personal shopper, so she grew up learning the rules.’
‘Which are?’
‘Wear the dress, don’t let the dress wear you,’ I said, quoting one of Mum’s favourites. ‘You want people to notice you, not just what you have on. And, of course, money can’t buy you style.’
Alisha looked at me as if I had sworn. ‘Is that right?’ she drawled.
Her attitude was beginning to annoy me. ‘It’s true. Um, like everyone knows that . . .’ I searched my mind for something clever to say then remembered what Aunt Maddie had said over breakfast back at my gran’s, ‘that the West is, er . . . is steeped in materialism. Having it all doesn’t make you happy. Some people have too much, in fact.’ Even as it came out of my mouth, I knew I was voicing Aunt Maddie’s ideas not my own. I would love to be stinking stonking rich, but I wanted to put Alisha in her place. I turned to Pia for agreement but from the look on her face, she clearly thought I’d gone too far.
Alisha laughed and flicked her hair. ‘Some people have too much? It’s true. And aren’t I lucky that I’m one of them?’
‘Er . . . not that I meant you, of course,’ I stuttered. ‘What I mean is . . . Oh, forget it. Listen. Do you know what kind of look you’re going for?’
She shrugged a shoulder. ‘I guess I’ll know it when I see it. I always had personal stylists back home, but now . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Why don’t you let us help you? Pia and me are well into fashion. Like, do you want to look like a princess, a fairy, a rock chick? Do you like vintage, boho, indie, retro, goth? What’s your style?’
Alisha shrugged the other shoulder. ‘Not sure any more. I feel like I’m changing, you know . . .’
‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And that’s great. You should never get stuck with one look that maybe worked once but not any more – plus our tastes change. So, OK. I’m going to be honest with you. That’s a lovely dress. The kind of dress a top actress would wear to the Oscars. A thirty-year-old actress. You’re going to be fifteen, right?’
Alisha nodded. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘Then I think you should go for something that suits your age. You’ve been trying all these faberoonie dresses but they’re all way too old for you.’
‘Excuse Jess,’ said Pia. ‘She sometimes speaks before she thinks. Don’t you, Jess?’
‘It’s OK,’ said Alisha. ‘Actually, I like people to be honest.’ She looked around at the assistants who were still hovering. ‘I don’t like people who suck up to me and I often feel that my mom’s dressing me in the kind of clothes that she likes, so I can appreciate what you’re saying. If my mom had her way, she’d have me looking like a Disney princess and that is, like, so last decade.’
‘What would you like to wear?’ asked Pia.
Alisha pulled a face and shrugged. ‘I don’t know any more. I feel like I’m . . . oh, never mind.’ She suddenly clamped up as if she was annoyed with herself for having spoken to us at all.
I looked her up and down. ‘You have great legs, Alisha. I think you should show them off. And I think . . . I think I saw a dress that would be perfect for you.’
I went back to the racks on the wall opposite, rummaged through and picked out a couple of dresses. I handed them to her.
‘Try these. Short and sassy. They’d look fab. A pair of killer heels and you’ll be the belle of the ball.’
She took the dresses and reappeared a couple of minutes later wearing a stunning, skin-tight black number with a glint of diamante in the fabric. Even she couldn’t resist a smile when she saw her reflection.
‘Wow!’ Pia exclaimed. ‘That’s more like it. Glam. Great cut. You look a million dollars.’
For the first time that day, Alisha smiled at us. ‘Well played, peeps.’
‘We’ll get you some shoes,’ I said. I was beginning to enjoy myself. ‘When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping! Yay.’
Alisha high-fived me and we giggled like old mates. It seemed like the ice queen had finally melted and, for the next half-hour, Pia and I raced around picking out dresses and accessories for Alisha. We chose some stunning outfits for her and, for a short while, we got a glimpse of the girl behind the snootiness.
‘We think we’ve found the perfect dress, Mrs Lewis,’ said Pia, when Alisha’s mum reappeared just as Alisha was retrying the first dress.
‘Alisha’s putting it on now,’ I said.
‘Thank God,’ she said, ‘because my feet are killing me. Come on then, Alisha. Let me see.’
When Alisha stepped out
of the changing room, Mrs Lewis’s face dropped.
Alisha did a twirl. ‘I just love this one, Mom. What do you think? Awesome, huh?’
Mrs Lewis shook her head. ‘No. No way, Alisha. It’s too short, too tight, too . . . everything.’
Alisha’s mouth tightened.
‘OK, let’s not decide just now,’ Mrs Lewis continued. ‘Let’s, er . . . I can have a few racks of dresses sent over and we’ll decide later.’
‘We’ll come and help you choose if you like,’ I offered.
Alisha ignored me and stomped back into the changing room. ‘Now I have a headache, my stress levels have just rocketed. It’s so unfair, Mom,’ she called through the curtain. ‘You never let me have what I want.’
When she reappeared, Mrs Lewis said that it was time we went home. As we were walking out, Pia spotted some tops at the front.
‘Hey, there’s that one we saw in Westfield,’ she said. She went over and pulled out the silver top that we had seen weeks ago.
‘Hey, yeah, that’s the one,’ I said. I held it up against myself. ‘Nice, huh?’
‘Are you going to buy it?’ Alisha asked.
I shook my head. ‘Duh. No way can I afford it.’
‘Then I’ll get it,’ she said. ‘OK, Mum?’
I couldn’t believe it. My top. I glanced at the price tag. £500. It wasn’t in the sale here. I was about to tell her she could get it cheaper at Westfield then I thought, Why should I? She’ll only think I’m a cheapskate.
Mrs Lewis sighed. ‘Sure, if you really like it, hon.’
Alisha looked over at the dress she had tried on. ‘I’d rather have the dress.’
‘No. It’s too revealing,’ said Mrs Lewis. ‘But you can have the top if you really like it.’
Alisha stuck out her bottom lip and surveyed the room. ‘This sucks,’ she said, ‘but if you’re not going to let me have the dress that I want then I should have this as compensation.’ She sounded so petulant. Suddenly she thrust the top back at her mother. ‘Actually, forget it. I’ve changed my mind. I’m done here.’ She glanced at me. ‘I don’t want a top that someone else has picked out.’ She looked around. ‘I don’t think this party’s going to happen.’
Pia and I glanced at one another. I couldn’t help thinking what a spoilt brat Alisha was and how rude she was being to her mother. There were times I had been rude to my mum too. Times I’d flounced off like a princess and taken my moods out on her but I’d always been aware of how tight the dosh situation was and would never have thrown a strop like Alisha. As I watched Mrs Lewis hand the top back to the assistant, I felt a familiar lump come into my throat.
‘I’d give anything to have even five minutes with my mum again,’ I said.
‘I know,’ whispered Pia, and she linked her arm through mine.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the car going home until Alisha suddenly turned to us. ‘I’ve been trying to think of a theme for my party and you’ve inspired one, Jess.’
‘Cool,’ I said. ‘What’s that?’
‘Princesses and Paupers. What do you think, Mom? Some people could come in gorgeous dresses, others could come in rags. Wouldn’t that be cool?’ she said, then gave me a challenging look.
‘Alisha, please!’ Mrs Lewis snapped. ‘Jess, Pia, I can only apologise.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Young lady, you and me are going to discuss your attitude when we get back.’
Alisha looked unmoved. She sat there looking smug. What she had said had hurt – and she knew it. But I wasn’t going to let her win.
‘We could come as we are, then,’ I said, and Pia burst out laughing.
‘Yeah, we can do the pauper thing to a T,’ she agreed.
‘And anyway,’ I added, as I remembered another of Aunt Maddie’s favourite lines, ‘everyone knows that money can’t buy you happiness.’
Mrs Lewis nodded. ‘Exactly,’ she said and looked pointedly at Alisha.
‘Pff,’ snorted Alisha. ‘Anyone who says that doesn’t know where to shop.’
She was so brazen but actually, having seen the lovely clothes that I had today, part of me had to agree.
I looked at her hard. She looked back. It was like one of those stand-offs you see in cowboy movies. Eyeball to eyeball. Eventually she looked away. We weren’t best buddies after the shopping session, we probably never would be, but I felt that she had gained some grudging respect for me. She had seen that Pia and I weren’t losers who could be walked over, nor were we going to suck up to her.
When we got out of the car, Alisha stomped off towards the lift then suddenly turned and came back. ‘Hey, you said that your mom used to work as a personal shopper, right?’
I nodded.
‘Have her come and see us,’ she said, then turned to her mother. ‘That would be OK, wouldn’t it?’
‘No, actually it won’t be—’ I started.
‘Oh, don’t sweat it. She’ll get well paid.’
‘Money can’t get you everything,’ I said quietly as Pia instinctively moved closer to me as though to protect me.
Alisha flicked her hair back. ‘I think you’ll find that it can. Right, Mom?’
Pia linked my arm. ‘Mrs Hall died nine months ago,’ she said.
Mrs Lewis looked aghast. ‘Oh Jess, honey. I am so sorry. I . . . we didn’t know.’
Alisha’s face went blank: it registered no emotion, not embarrassment, not regret. ‘This is so messed up,’ she said. She crossed Reception to the lift. The doors opened and she stepped in without waiting for her mother.
14
Unexpected Visitor
When I got home from the shopping trip I went straight into the kitchen to get a drink. I felt mad at Alisha for lording it over us, waving her status around. She was so stuck up, like she thought she was better than us. I hated her. And the way she had demanded that my mum should go and be her personal shopper! I wouldn’t have let Mum go even if she had been alive. She’d have deserved better than being a servant for Princess Alisha. I felt tears threatening. I am not going to let someone like her get to me, I thought. She’s so not worth it. I don’t even like her! She can take her swanky designer dresses and shove them up her bum, for all I care.
I glanced out of the window and almost jumped out of my skin. A face was staring in at me. A very strange-looking face. Furry and flat, like someone had whacked it with a frying pan. It belonged to a white long-haired cat with enormous eyes. Persian, I thought. The cat tapped on the window with a paw and looked at me beseechingly. Adorable.
‘Oh my God, you must be lost, baby,’ I said, and I crossed the kitchen to open the window. In a flash, the cat was inside and leapt gracefully down onto the floor. It wound itself around my ankles, tail up in the air, and purred loudly. I picked it up and saw that there was a collar around its neck and a brass tag with a name engraved on it: Chu.
‘Hello, Chu,’ I said. ‘I wonder if you’re called that because you sneeze a lot. Ah chu!’
I heard someone come in the front door and Charlie appeared in the kitchen moments later.
He looked at the cat and then at me. ‘Jess, are you insane? Where did you get that? Dad’ll kill you!’
‘The cat was at the window when I got home,’ I said. ‘He’s not mine. He must have wandered in from somewhere. I think he’s hungry.’ I looked in the cupboards, found a sachet of Dave’s cat food that had been left behind and put some in a bowl for Chu. He devoured it as if he’d never eaten before in his life, then looked at me expectantly.
‘You can’t keep him,’ said Charlie.
I knelt on the floor and stroked Chu. ‘I know that – I’m not stupid – but we can’t leave him, either. It’s freezing outside and it looks like it’s going to rain. We’ll tell Dad.’
Charlie went to the fridge, picked out a small bottle of berry smoothie and glugged it down. ‘I’ll go and find him,’ he said, when he’d finished. ‘You look after the cat.’
I took Chu over to the sofa in the sitting area, where he
lay on his back and I tickled his tummy. ‘Maybe fate sent you to me,’ I said to him as he continued to purr loudly and nuzzle my hand. ‘You’re a nice boy, aren’t you?’
Ten minutes later, Charlie arrived back with Dad, who looked harassed.
‘I didn’t steal him or anything,’ I said. ‘He must be lost. He just came here.’
Dad sighed heavily. ‘Thank God. He belongs to the Mori family. Apparently he got out when there was a delivery.’
‘The people who live upstairs?’
Dad nodded, while Charlie looked at me with sympathy.
‘But I thought there was a no pet rule,’ I said.
Dad looked embarrassed. ‘For us, yes. Er . . . not for them. I . . . I’m sorry, Jess.’
I felt a ball of anger build inside me. ‘That’s so not fair,’ I said as Chu hopped onto my knee, put his paws up on my chest and rubbed his nose against mine.
Dad nodded, looking around the room as if he wanted to escape.
‘What about Mr Knight? He won’t like it,’ I said.
Dad sat on the sofa and stroked Chu. ‘One set of rules for us, another for them. The residents can do what they like. The family have been frantic. They thought they’d lost him. We’ve had everybody out all afternoon looking for him. I was so worried that he might have strayed onto the road and been run over. Of course I’d have been held responsible.’
‘Are you going to take him back?’
‘I have to, Jess. I’ll go and give Mr Mori a call now. He’ll be very relieved. His daughter Sakura has been really upset.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I said.
Dad put his hand out and touched my arm. I flinched away. ‘I know, Jess,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t seem fair, does it?’ He looked tired and, for a moment, I regretted having reacted the way I did. Dad sat back for a moment and laid his head against the top of the sofa. ‘Before I go, how’s your day been, Jess? How was your shopping trip?’
‘Yeah,’ said Charlie. ‘Did you get me anything?’
‘Nothing my pocket money would stretch to. Nothing under five hundred quid. Er . . . did anyone call when I was out?’
‘Only someone for me,’ said Charlie. I felt disappointed. I’d hoped that Tom might have phoned.
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