Each decoration told a story, like the ‘angels’ that I’d made in junior school in art class – they looked more like worms with wings but Gran had never minded. She liked the sentimentality of them. Various other angels that had been added over the years: a punk one that Charlie had made in art class, a rag doll cherub that Mum had seen in Liberty’s and hadn’t been able to resist, plus a collection of stars in different sizes and styles.
We didn’t choose one for the top of the tree, we usually put them all on. Less is more was never an attitude that Mum believed in at Christmas. I liked both approaches, the posh and elegant at Porchester and the funky chaos at Gran’s. My purple ribbons would be just fine on there along with everything else.
‘So, where’s the tree, Gran?’ I asked.
‘Ah. Yes. That. I have something to tell you,’ said Gran. She looked nervous and Gran was usually Queen of Calm. She didn’t look her seventy years of age. She always dressed beautifully in layers of colourful bohemian clothes and devore scarves and her white hair was cut into an immaculate bob. Today, though, even her hair looked dishevelled.
‘Has something happened?’ I asked. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Sit down both of you,’ she said.
I felt a flutter of anxiety. In the past, the words, ‘sit down both of you,’ had always come before bad news.
‘What is it, Gran?’ asked Charlie, who looked as worried as I was.
‘Nothing bad,’ said Gran. ‘Not at all. No. It’s just I’ve . . . I’ve had an invite, or at least not an invite, someone has dropped out, a bunch from my art class are going, only five days and now there’s a place but—’
‘What, Gran? Dropped out of what?’ I asked.
‘Sorry,’ said Gran. ‘I’m rambling, aren’t I? Florence. I’m talking about Florence, in Italy. Remember my friend Lily?’
Charlie and I nodded.
‘Well, she was going to Florence on an art trip over Christmas. A bunch of them have booked an apartment in a palazzo. I could show you on the Net, fabulous and the views out of the window, well . . . Anyway, there’s to be a workshop at the Uffizi gallery. Life drawing. They’d asked if I wanted to go but I couldn’t afford that kind of money. Anyway, Lily’s had to drop out. Her husband’s not well and she’s offered me the place. It’s all been paid for and she won’t take anything – just doesn’t want to see it go to waste. Christmas present, she said. I won’t go if you two don’t want me to. I said I had to talk to you first.’
‘You must go, Gran,’ said Charlie immediately. ‘Of course you must.’
‘Over Christmas?’ I asked.
Gran nodded and looked for my reaction. I swallowed, then smiled and nodded. ‘Course you must.’ I knew how much it would mean to her. Apart from her family, painting is her life. She’s good at it too. She does watercolours and some portraiture in pastels. She’s had exhibitions. People buy her work. A chance to go and study at the Uffizi would be a dream come true for her.
She came and sat on the sofa between Charlie and me and put her arms around both of us. She smelt of baking and roses. ‘Are you sure? I’ve been agonising about it, I mean it’s Christmas and . . .’
She didn’t need to say any more. She was asking us to do Christmas without her as well as Mum. I couldn’t help it but the idea filled me with dread. Granddad had died a few years ago so Gran hadn’t just lost a daughter recently, she’d lost her husband too. I knew I should do anything to make her happy – just like I knew she’d do for me.
My hopes for Christmas were once again disappearing in front of my eyes but I was determined not to let Gran know. If she got the slightest inkling that I was unhappy about the trip, she’d refuse to go.
‘Actually, Gran, it’s a bit of a relief because Charlie and I felt bad about deserting Dad. He has to work but I think he’d like it if we were there so at least he could pop in on his breaks and be with us some of the time. It’s our first Christmas with him and we felt bad about leaving him, didn’t we, Chaz? We can make the mews house look amazing. No. I think it’s worked out for the best all around.’
Over Gran’s shoulder, Charlie winked at me. That was me, good girl, brave girl, only inside, I felt the opposite. I felt raw. Yet again, life wasn’t working out how I imagined it should. I’d like to have cuddled up to Gran and her safe, familiar scent and held on to her like a five-year-old but I also knew that I mustn’t let her know that. I didn’t want to spoil her special trip by acting like a baby.
At least there’s some time with JJ to look forward to, I told myself as I felt a dark cloud descending. I mustn’t give in to doom and gloom. Mum always said that, in life, it’s not what happens to you that makes your experience of it, it’s how you respond and react to events that determines whether a time is good or bad. You can choose. I will be happy, I decided. I choose to be happy. I do.
Knickers, followed another thought.
I am soooooo not happy, agreed another part of me.
Not listening, not listening, I told myself.
‘Are you OK, Jess?’ asked Gran.
I nodded and smiled. ‘Just remembering something Mum used to say,’ I said.
‘And what was that?’ asked Gran.
‘Oh, something about choosing, um, choosing to be happy . . . which is why you must go, Gran. I think if Mum was here now, she’d say go for it. I know she would.’
Gran nodded. ‘I think she would too. She was always a game girl, my Eleanor. Always up for an adventure.’
‘Exactly,’ I said. I knew Gran was right. I could almost hear Mum saying, ‘Let her go, Jess.’ I’d just have to make my own adventure here in London without Gran.
5
‘Porchester Park’s like a blooming ghost town,’ said Pia as we got ready at my house to go up to Alisha’s. It was a couple of nights after Gran had told me her news.
‘I know. What’s happened to everyone?’ I asked. ‘I thought this was going to be the place to be when people started arriving back.’
‘All off to their holiday homes – skiing in France, Switzerland, North America or catching some sun in the Caribbean, Thailand or India.’
‘Where do you think we should go, dwarlings?’ asked Flo. ‘Cabin in the snowy mountains, beach house by the sea—’
‘Or Primark down the mall?’ Meg interrupted.
‘I think one should stay in London this year. Jetting off is so last decade, don’t you think?’ Pia replied in her posh Queen’s voice.
‘Deffo,’ I said, copying her in my own posh voice as I attempted to straighten my hair with my GHDs. ‘It’s so common to travel when everyone else does, one thinks. But the Lewises will be here, won’t they? I bet they’ll make their apartment look fabbie and festive.’
‘Actually, I’ll be away,’ said Flo. ‘My family are going up to Scotland to see my grandparents.’
I sighed. ‘Cross another one off the list, Pia,’ I said. ‘I suppose you’ll be leaving us too, Meg?’
Meg looked sheepish. ‘Actually, we were supposed to be staying in London but my granddad’s not been well, so last night Mum said we’re all off to Cornwall.’
‘Blimey! I was joking!’ I looked over at Pia. ‘Please, please don’t you tell me you’re leaving.’
Pia grinned. ‘No getting rid of me, matey.’
‘Phew,’ I said, although part of me knew that Pia had already gone in one way. She’d be hanging out with Henry more than me. Still, at least there would be JJ and Alisha.
I was making a special effort with my appearance before going upstairs in case JJ was there. Last time I’d seen him outside, I was freezing with a red nose. Not my best look. The only other times he saw me were when we swam together in the spa but then I’d be in my cossie with my hair scraped back. Also not my best look. Staff and their families aren’t supposed to swim in the spa but I am allowed because when JJ had found out that I was a good swimmer, he had asked that I pace him. Permission had been granted straight away. What a resident wants, a resident gets in this
place. Dad’s motto is ‘if a resident wants something and we haven’t got it, we’ll have it in twenty-four hours.’
‘Working the system,’ Charlie had commented when I told him. So far it had been great, apart from the fact that JJ never saw me dressed up. I wanted him to see me looking good.
‘Alisha said she’d had some feedback from her mates in the States for our boy study,’ I said as I applied a slick of lip gloss.
‘Yeah,’ said Pia. ‘She’s really got into it. When we first met her, I thought she was so confident and must have had loads of boyfriends and experience. It was nice to find out that she’s just like us.’
‘Me too,’ said Meg, who was sitting on my bed and had adopted the yoga Lotus position much to Dave’s bemusement. He kept trying to climb into her lap but couldn’t get comfortable because of her upturned feet. ‘Just shows you can’t assume anything by appearances, doesn’t it?’
‘We meet boys at school but she’s home-schooled so where would she meet anyone she fancies?’ said Pia. ‘She can’t go and hang out at the mall or the movies like we would. Everywhere she goes, her minder goes too. It must be hard for her.’
‘I’d swap,’ said Flo, as she fastened a silver Alice band in her hair. ‘Ready, everyone?’
I nodded. ‘JJ, prepare to fall under my spell,’ I said to my reflection.
Pia laughed, stood up and did a cheerleader type dance. ‘Go, Jess. Go, Jess. GO JESS, GO!’
I picked up my pillow and bopped her over the head with it. Violence is the only way to deal with Pia when she’s having a manic attack.
The reception area twinkled festively as we passed through. To the left, on the mantelpiece over the fireplace, was a lush white bower hung with crystal icicles and white snowflakes, to the right, in an enormous frosted vase, were silver branches and around the hearth were candles which smelt of amber, orange and cinnamon. Jo Malone. They always were at Number 1.
‘It’s a shame there aren’t going to be many people around to appreciate it,’ I said as we stood and gazed at the scene for a few moments.
‘We appreciate it,’ said Meg. ‘Stuff the richies.’
I laughed. She was right. Why was I worrying about who wasn’t there to see it when I was?
Alisha came out to meet us in the hall of the Lewises’ apartment and whisked us up to her bedroom before we had a chance to see how they’d decorated for Christmas. I didn’t mind though, I love Alisha’s bedroom. It’s almost as big as the whole ground floor of our house and is decorated in shades of gold and ivory. On the wall above her bed is a larger than life portrait of her. It was taken by the famous Italian photographer, Alonzo de Cosima, and shows her in profile looking down at something in her lap. She looks so peaceful and thoughtful in it and it’s beautifully lit, as if she’s sitting by a window with the late afternoon sunshine pouring in and turning her skin to dark honey. She also has her own bathroom to the left and walk-in dressing room to the right. I tried not to be jealous the first time I saw it but it was hard not to be when I saw that she had a whole wall just for her shoes. She has every pair of Converse in every pattern and shade that they’ve ever made. On the other three walls, her clothes are hung according to colour: blue, black, white, red, pink. It’s awesome. I have a tiny wardrobe from Ikea in the corner of my room and my clothes are shoved in there in an untidy mess. I dream of having a room like Alisha’s where everything looks like it has just come back from the dry cleaners. Which it probably has.
‘Been shopping?’ asked Flo.
I followed Flo’s gaze and saw that along one side of the room were designer carrier bags and a stack of parcels wrapped beautifully in expensive-looking paper with perfect ribbons and flowers. I spied some of the labels: Chanel, Cartier, Jo Malone, Tiffany, Gucci.
Alisha nodded. ‘Presents. I got something for all of you.’
I glanced at Pia and she raised an eyebrow. I knew she got what I was thinking, what could we get for our rich mate that she couldn’t buy a million of herself? I couldn’t give her another music CD so what could I get her that would be special? The sort of things that the girls and I bought each other would seem pathetic to JJ and Alisha – a bar of strawberry-scented soap from the market just didn’t measure up to Chanel or Dior, a pretty hair clip from Accessorise wasn’t the same as one from Gucci or Prada.
I went and sat on the velvet chaise longue near the window and looked out. I would have to think of something original to give her, but what?
Way down below, I could see the homeless man in his usual doorway. He’d made an effort for Christmas and was wearing a Santa hat. Weird, I thought, here’s me up on top of the world in this luxury apartment, a place where the decorations in reception cost thousands and there’s that man down there with nothing but a cardboard box. The thought made me feel really uncomfortable.
‘So, peeps, down to business,’ said Alisha. ‘My friends in LA have been brill at getting back with answers to your questions, Jess. They want your results too. Seems you’re not the only girl out there who feels she has a lot to learn.’
‘Cool,’ I said. ‘Maybe I should publish my findings as a book for other unfortunate girls! We could call it, How to Be a Winner in Love or something like that.’
‘Good idea,’ said Alisha. ‘A friend of my dad’s owns a publishing house in New York. I could take it to him.’
I’d been joking but I was learning fast that with the Lewis family and their connections, anything was possible. Visions of a glamorous launch party flooded my brain. Book signings. My face up on billboards over London, New York, Hong Kong. Talk shows. Jess Hall – boy expert. I could be an international celebrity and the paparazzi would be after me as much as the Porchester Park A-listers.
‘Dad might not let me though,’ said Alisha with a sigh. ‘Probably not right for his image to have a daughter pushing a book on how to get a boy. Sometimes being me sucks. Everything I do, I have to think how it might reflect back on Dad.’
‘Ditto,’ I said.
Alisha gave me a quizzical look.
‘Not your dad, dozo,’ I said. ‘Mine. Since we moved here, I have to be ultra well-behaved in case I do anything that reflects badly on Porchester Park.’
‘She had to give up being a pole dancer and a drug dealer,’ said Pia in a solemn voice.
Alisha laughed. ‘Me too,’ she said and joined the palm of her hands in the prayer position. ‘Now I’m as pure as snow. Sadly always was. I’ve never had the chance to really misbehave. If I tried, there would always be someone watching me – like a minder.’
‘I have a feeling that Riko Mori feels like that,’ I said. ‘I saw her checking out the exits the other day.’
‘Yeah,’ said Alisha. ‘To us, a day just cruising the shops without anyone chaperoning us would be heaven. Maybe she’s lonely, like I was when I first got here. If all her mates are at school, who’s she supposed to hang out with over the holidays?’
‘I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe we should include her when we do things?’ I said.
‘I would, but she’s not very friendly,’ said Alisha. ‘I saw her in the lobby the other day and tried to start a conversation but she wasn’t interested.’
Pia shrugged. ‘Maybe she was fed up. Holidays without a mate are no fun at all. Maybe she’ll have some insight about boys to share. She looks pretty cool. I bet she’s sussed about them. We should ask her.’
‘What did your friends in the States say, Alisha?’ I asked.
Alisha got up and went to her computer. ‘Lots,’ she said as she found the page she wanted. ‘Casey says that you just have to be yourself with them. She asked her brother what he thought and he said he likes girls who are natural and don’t try too hard.’
‘Easier said than done,’ I said. ‘I agree with her but if I like a boy, I go stupid and although I’d like to be myself, I can’t be, I get nervous and act like I have no brain.’
‘That’s because you don’t,’ said Pia.
I ignored her.
‘You have to chill,’ said Alisha. ‘Remember, boys can get nervous too, so they might not even notice that you’re ill at ease.’
‘I guess,’ I said and I told myself that if I saw JJ later, I would relax and be myself.
‘What none of you realise,’ said Pia, ‘is that we are girls. That alone is enough for most boys. Show a bit of cleavage, have shiny hair, smell lovely and they are putty in your hands.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t want a boy to like me because of my body or my looks. I want a boy to like me for me,’ said Meg.
‘Pia’s right though,’ I said. ‘I read somewhere that boys are primarily visual. If they like what they see, then they’ll make an effort to get to know you.’
‘That’s so shallow,’ said Meg.
‘Not really. We’re the same, aren’t we?’ I asked. ‘Like, would you snog Jacob West?’ Meg pulled a face. ‘Exactly. And he’s really a nice guy so why don’t you get to know him. He can’t help the fact he looks like a potato with ears.’
Alisha cracked up laughing. ‘I think Jess is right. We have to make the effort, girls. Lure them in by being bee-ootiful. Any girl can be with a good haircut, a bit of lip gloss and a pair of great shades.’
‘Easy for you with a hairdresser, manicurist and stylist on hand – not to mention wardrobes of designer clothes,’ I said.
‘Money can’t buy style, guys. Some girls I knew back home had a ton of money but never looked the biz. Other girls looked great because they had attitude and confidence.’
‘That’s true,’ said Pia and she lay back on the bed Cleopatra-style. ‘I don’t have the dosh but I do know how to put together a look.’ She did too. She had a great eye for colour and knew how to finish an outfit off with the right jewellery.
‘Style can’t always be bought,’ I said. ‘It’s being creative. I love what Riko wears, it’s insane but it works.’
‘It works because she works it. She’s confident. I know this sounds all LA-speak again,’ said Alisha and she stuck her tongue out at me, ‘but tough, I’m gonna say it anyway, it’s not just the clothes, it’s attitude. If you walk tall and are confident, people will respond to that. Act like a loser and put that out and people will pick up on it. Why wouldn’t they?’
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