by Jenny Colgan
‘If you like, you can tell me all about it.’
Carena glanced at Philly. ‘Shall we?’
‘Oh, do,’ said Philly. ‘It’s genius. I can’t believe it worked.’
‘I know,’ said Carena.
I picked up my teaspoon. It was, literally, quite greasy.
‘Well, you’ve heard of that book called The Rules?’ started Philly.
‘From, like years and years ago?’ I said. ‘Like the nineties or something? And you’re just meant to never answer the phone.’
‘Oh, it’s a bit more than that,’ said Carena.
‘This is genius,’ said Philly. ‘Let’s see . . . a man is desperate to sleep with you. What do you do?’
I thought about Rufus in the bedroom then banished it from my head. It hadn’t been his finest arena, to be sure.
‘I do not know,’ I answered truthfully.
‘You don’t sleep with him!’ said Philly.
‘You haven’t slept with him?’ I said, looking at Carena, who looked like the cat who’d got the cream. ‘But you slept with half the Klosters Olympic team.’
Her face fell. ‘We all have a past, Sophie.’
‘You really haven’t slept with him? But remember the yacht crew in Antigua?’
‘I don’t really miss you that much as a friend,’ grumbled Carena.
‘Does he think you’re a virgin?’
‘He really is desperate,’ said Philly.
‘Let me see,’ I said.
Faux-reluctantly, Carena lifted her elegantly manicured hand from underneath the rickety Formica table. It didn’t look like it belonged there, but sure enough, on her fourth finger was a huge, huge, huge diamond.
‘Shit.’ I whistled. ‘He really is desperate.’
And I wondered if this was the right time to tell her that after the spanking he was a tad . . .
Ah, she’d find out soon enough.
‘So we wanted to see you were OK,’ said Philly, leaning over and fixing me with a limpid gaze designed to express sincerity and caring. ‘After everything that’s happened . . .’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ I said, stirring my tea. I’d started taking sugar - the boys always made it really sweet - and without noticing dropped a couple of cubes in my glass. The girls simultaneously winced.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Carena. ‘Sugar! It’s . . . sugar . . . it’s . . .’
‘Delicious,’ I said. ‘Want some?’
‘You’ve changed,’ said Philly.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have.’
Philly leaned forwards. ‘You know, there’s one thing I wanted to suggest,’ she said.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Have you thought about the Priory?’ she said. She and Carena glanced at each other.
‘What are you talking about?’ I said. ‘I don’t need the Priory. I need a job that pays more than minimum wage!’
‘Do you think you’re in denial?’ said Philly, looking pointedly at my tea.
‘Do you think I’m addicted to sugar?’ I asked.
She shrugged. ‘You know, people go in for all sorts of reasons, ’ said Carena. ‘Exhaustion, stress - your father’s death may be making you depressed.’
I knew it. They’ve always wanted to get inside the Priory in case there’s anyone famous in there.
‘You think?’ I said. ‘You think my father’s sudden death might be making me sad?’
‘Maybe you feel guilty about it,’ said Philly.
That took the wind out of my sails a bit. Without knowing she’d hit the nail completely on the head. Of course I felt guilty. If I’d answered my phone . . . If I’d been at home . . . If I’d gone to be with him . . . If I’d looked after him before . . . If I’d been the kind of daughter he deserved, after working hard all his life. Of course I felt fucking guilty.
‘I feel sad,’ I said emphatically. ‘That’s exactly how I should feel. I don’t need to give someone lots of money I don’t have to recognise the fact that I’m sad. I’d need a mental hospital if I wasn’t sad.’
‘Of course,’ said Philly. ‘But, you know. The Priory is practically a luxury hotel. The perfect retreat to bring your body and soul back together.’
‘Why don’t you go then?’ I said. ‘Oh, no . . . you said you need a soul.’
Then it struck me. ‘Are you doing their PR by any chance?’
‘Um, maybe.’ Philly forgot herself for a moment, then put her serious face back on.
Right, that’s enough. I stood up.
‘I think you need to throw off your sadness,’ said Carena. ‘Buy a beautiful new dress. Go dancing. Lose some weight.’
Well, there’s nothing like being told to lose some weight to help you throw off your sadness.
‘You’re not listening, are you?’ I said. ‘I don’t have any money. I’m living on nothing. That’s why I’ve got a job. Why do you even think I’m down here?’
Carena looked around. ‘Oh, I thought you’d picked up a funky five-thousand-square-foot warehouse somewhere. Have they frozen your allowance whilst they work out the lawyer’s fees?’
‘Well, kind of,’ I said. ‘I don’t get it for six months. Well, four months now. I had to go and get a real job and things.’
Carena’s eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding?’ she said. ‘A job? No allowance?’
‘Nope.’
‘Oh my God. I can’t imagine.’
Philly rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, you know, some people do live without trust funds.’ She paused. ‘Not me, obviously, couldn’t do without mine . . .’
‘It’s not that bad,’ I said. Here was genuine sympathy at last.
‘Tell Gail to just bloody well sort it out!’ said Carena. ‘Or borrow my lawyer and sue her to hell and back.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That’s a genuinely kind offer. But it’s probably easier just to wait.’
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ said Philly. ‘What’s it like being poor? Tell us all about it.’
And she sat forward, perfectly painted mouth slightly open, desperate for squalid details. Carena too. Her gaze had caught my bra strap. I don’t know how you wash bras - you don’t put them in the machine, do you? I needed to call Esperanza again. So I’d just been letting them get a bit grubby.
‘What’s your flat like?’ said Philly, prompting me. And I was about to tell her.
Maybe make light of it, tell a few jokes . . . or just dissolve into tears and admit it was awful, everything was shit and please, please, could they like me again and could I stay in Carena’s guest suite? I felt I’d done my best to be strong about everything that had happened but now, I was sure if I abased myself enough and begged they would let me back in. OK, they’d patronise me for a bit, try to lend me clothes and things, but eventually it would all be forgotten and the remaining months would pass and I’d get at my money and all would be forgiven and forgotten and I could go back to normal. All I needed to do was eat a bit of humble pie now . . . tell them how dreadful everything was . . . tell them how unhappy I was and throw myself on their mercy. How hard could it be? Then everything could go back to normal . . .
I opened my mouth to start my tale of woe when the café bell tinged for people coming in.
‘Hey!’ said the man behind the counter. ‘So good to see my favourite boys today.’
‘Good to see you too, Avi,’ said a familiar, drawling voice. ‘Why, hello. Is that Cinders? On one of her posh lunches out? Sex in the Shitty?’
It was Cal, with Wolverine in tow.
Cal immediately clocked the talent at the table - Carena of course, blonde and gorgeous, Philly, putting the effort in - and his expression turned wolfish.
‘So what’s all this then?’
I suddenly felt really gratified that I was living with a hot guy. Nobody had to know how.
‘Oh, hello, mucky pup,’ I said, as if I was so unbelievably casual about seeing him I’d hardly noticed he was there. ‘This is my flatmate, Cal. Carena and Philly were just having to h
ead off, I think.’
‘No, we’re fine,’ said Philly hurriedly. ‘Not all of us have to go to work in the morning.’
‘Quite right too,’ said Cal, smiling and showing his lovely teeth. ‘I wondered where Sophie had been hiding her friends. No wonder she was trying to keep them out of our way.’
I muttered something.
‘Would you like to sit and join us?’ asked Philly.
‘Would love to, darling, but we’re having tea on the run.’ He winked at her. ‘The kiln waits for no man. But Sophie’s invited you to our party on Saturday, right?’
‘You’re having a party?’ said Philly to me. This obviously didn’t quite dwell with her image of me as a depression-laden Priory case. Wolverine had moved closer to her and seemed to be trying to sniff her neck.
‘Oh, it’s just for a few friends,’ I said, feeling embarrassed, but quite pleased at the same time.
‘And you weren’t going to invite us?’
I arched an eyebrow and she retreated.
‘You should both come,’ said Cal sincerely, ‘beautiful women are always welcome.’ Carena batted her huge eyelashes at him. Hey, don’t start this again, I thought crossly.
‘Hey, Sophs,’ Cal said suddenly. ‘Are you done here? Come outside, I want to ask you something.’
My heart beat a bit faster. Ooh. And this was a perfect time to make an exit. Suddenly I didn’t feel the urge to confess everything and beg to come back at all. Suddenly, having mysterious gorgeous bad boys drag me out of coffee shops didn’t seem like such a bad way to live, particularly compared to someone else’s charity.
‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘It was lovely to see you guys. Thanks for checking up on me!’
Phillly eyed me like I’d just gotten away with something. ‘I still really think you should come to the Priory with us.’
‘The Priory?’ said Cal. ‘What on earth are you talking about? She’s not going to the Priory! We need her here with us!’
He didn’t add, ‘Because she scours out the loo and washes our stinkables,’ and I was eternally grateful.
‘I’ll see you,’ I said. Then, my heart feeling lighter than it had in absolutely ages, I bounced up from the table and marched out the door, Wolverine following at my heels like a bodyguard.
Oh, wow, that felt good.
‘Thanks,’ I said to Cal.
‘Who were those terrifying things?’ he asked. ‘You looked like a dog that was about to get beaten round the head.’
‘They’re my friends,’ I said. ‘Or, at least, they used to be.’
Cal gave me a long look. ‘What on earth happened to you?’ he said.
‘Nothing,’ I said shortly. Then, ‘Why did you invite them to the party?’
‘I said they looked frightening,’ said Cal. ‘I didn’t say they didn’t look hot. Especially the blonde girl; yowza.’
Talk about giving out mixed signals. ‘What did you want to talk about?’ I said a touch sulkily. He obviously wasn’t about to beg me to go out with him if he was mentioning Carena.
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Cal. ‘Now this party’s really shaping up, I wanted to ask you - could you bring some girls along?’
‘Like those girls you just asked?’ I said.
‘Oh, no, that was just reflex,’ said Cal. ‘No, some girls. You know. Like the girls you work with girls. Dolly birds. Hot pop popsies.’
‘Glamour models.’
‘Yes, well, whatever they like to be called. Like you said. Can you bring some? There’s lots of lonely boys out there.’
‘Not you, then,’ I said.
‘No, of course not me. But look at Wolverine.’
Wolverine gave out a little howl.
‘And even Eck. The ladies like him, but he’s always getting his worried look on and scaring them off. Even James spends too much time crawling through mud.’
‘So you want me to procure some totty?’ I said.
‘Uh, yes. That’s it. Totty procurement patrol. Think you’re up to it?’
‘I think you’re a disgusting, sexist disgrace to pigs,’ I said, my perky mood evaporating instantly. ‘Why don’t you just hire a bunch of hookers?’
Cal looked genuinely wounded. ‘Oh, come on Tinsel tits. It’s just for fun.’
‘Well maybe not all girls want fun. Or like being talked about like that.’
Cal rolled his eyes. ‘Sorry, sorry. I should have known you were going lezzer from the trackie bottoms.’
‘I’m not going lezzer,’ I said, making a mental note to change my trousers. ‘And even if I was it would be none of your business. I just don’t like you talking like that.’
Cal raised his eyebrows and turned to go. ‘OK. Well, if you ever meet any girls who look like they might enjoy, you know, parties, and fun, it’d be nice if you could ask them because we know lots of guys, and sometimes guys and girls quite enjoy mixing together in social situations. But if this offends your high moral principles, don’t.’
And he gave me a look and headed off.
I was fuming. Horrible sexist pig! Arsehole!
At the junction he turned back, and my traitorous heart leapt a little.
‘Oh!’
‘What?’ I said crossly.
‘And we need more kitchen cleaner!’
I stomped into the studio ninety minutes late. Julius was standing there pointedly squatting at the foot of a well-endowed brunette, pretending to fix a light but looking up her skirt a bit. She was chewing gum loudly and looking unimpressed.
‘Is this part of it, right? ’Cause my geography teacher used to do this all the time. Drop a pencil, and—’
‘No!’ said Julius, puffing a bit and straightening up. ‘Oh, hello,’ he said to me. ‘Decided to grace us with your presence, have you? What happened, are you moonlighting for Harpers and Queen?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s you. I’m really sorry. I got delayed.’
‘Well, this isn’t Mayfair,’ said Julius. ‘I’m not running this place as a loss-leader, OK? I didn’t hire you to hang around and look glamorous.’ He eyed me up and down. ‘Didn’t you used to look glamorous?’
‘Never mind about that now,’ I said, going over to the new girl. She really did look young.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Are you new?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Yeah.’ She looked up at me suddenly. ‘It’s like my first modelling job, innit! Isn’t there, like champagne and stuff?’
‘If you’re Kate Moss,’ grunted Julius, moving some more lights back. ‘And you, darlin’, are no Kate Moss.’
‘Well, I’ve got tits for a start,’ said the girl, whose name was apparently Delilah. She was eighteen years old, and didn’t seem to be as phased by getting her breasts out for the first time in front of complete strangers, as I might have been.
‘I can get you some tea,’ I offered.
‘Neh,’ she said. ‘I’ve decided I’m going to start as I mean to go on. Champagne or nuffink.’
Julius and I looked at each other.
‘Nothing then,’ we chorused.
Delilah scowled. ‘OK then. Tea.’
Actually, she proved to be pretty good. What the papers want is, obviously, a pair of massive jugs, which she certainly had, but they also like a pretty face and a nice smile, as if to say, ‘Don’t worry, dirty old man, I’m loving this! It’s great!’ Delilah, for all her sullen attitude (and fair enough, she’d been hanging about in a draughty studio whilst Julius grubbed around her for an hour waiting for me), could turn it on when she had to, and it was looking to be a good session. The ‘twins’, who’d become extremely popular, were coming in at lunchtime, to shoot again. They were through to the last thousand for a new reality show and, despite being sworn to secrecy, were wildly excited about it.
Delilah watched them, wide-eyed as they bustled in. Kelly was wearing a flamingo pink boa round her neck and a pink PVC mini. Grace was wearing the same, but in baby blue.
‘I can’t believe you took the pink again,’ Grac
e was complaining as they clip-clopped in. ‘You always do that.’
‘I do not,’ said Kelly. ‘It’s not my fault pink suits my complexion whereas yours is more . . . bluey grey.’