Anxiety Girl: Meet Sadie Valentine...

by Lacey London

  At just five feet tall, Piper really is a storm in a teacup. Her larger than life, high-maintenance personality is a little shocking considering her petite appearance. With golden skin, tumbling black locks and a pout fuller than Irina Shayk, she is everything you would imagine a Cheshire princess to be. Don’t be fooled though, her butter wouldn’t melt exterior is not a reflection of what lies beneath.

  Piper is famed in the village for not pulling any punches and saying exactly what is on her mind, even if she knows it’s going to hurt someone’s feelings. Some would describe her as ruthless, but she prefers honest and real. Even after a few years of friendship, I’m still not sure what side of the fence I sit on.

  Thankfully, Ivy and Zara aren’t quite so scary, although they’re just as beautiful. Twin sisters of an American couple from London, Ivy and Zara made the move up to Cheshire after appearing on a reality TV show. Said TV show led to Ivy having a short-term relationship with a member of the City football team. A few months later, Zara followed suit in search of a sports star of her own. Much to Ivy’s dismay, her footballer beau soon decided that he hadn’t had enough of the single life and ended their whirlwind relationship no sooner than it began. These days, the three of them put all their efforts into trying to catch the eye of a millionaire, or in Piper’s case, a billionaire.

  Attempting to scratch my nose with paint-covered fingers, I curse under my breath as a blob of grey lands on my dungarees. I know an artist painting in dungarees is such a terrible cliché, but it has become my uniform. My denim dungarees and faded Oasis t-shirt are the two things I just can’t seem to work without.

  Abandoning my brush, I tiptoe across the cold tiles and into the kitchen. With Aldo at work I have the whole apartment to myself, which is something I am still a little uneasy with. Sometimes I crave solitude, but once I am alone with my thoughts, I get this sense of nervousness that makes me uncomfortable. It’s like I need to know there’s someone else other than me in the vicinity. Not necessarily to talk to, just knowing that they are there is enough.

  The sun peeps out from behind the layer of grey cloud, shining a bright light into the apartment. Stepping towards the windows, I close my eyes and enjoy the blissful sensation of warmth on my skin. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear I was on a beach somewhere. As much as I love Alderley Edge, I would give anything to live by the ocean. I’ve always loved to be in water, it’s where I feel the most at peace with myself. I blame it on my star sign, Pisces. Some people don’t believe in astrology, but with me it is right on the money.

  Before I can stop it, my brain flits to the last time I was at the seaside and my heart pangs with longing. It has been two months since my breakup with Spencer and even though I’ve been bleeding inside ever since, I’ve never once allowed the pain to spill out. A part of me believes that if I can hold it together until the memory fades, then it never really happened. I don’t just mean the breakup. I mean all of it. Brighton, the broken promises and the meaningless engagement. Not allowing myself to cry about things has made me question if it is fiction or reality. As time passes, I genuinely struggle to separate what actually happened from the film reel I’ve built up in my mind.

  Piper thought Spencer was a horrendous idea from the second she laid eyes on him. Once she discovered he wasn’t set to inherit a fortune and didn’t have some genius invention up his sleeve that was about to earn him a million, she wrote him off immediately. Her attitude towards Spencer has made it a little easier to get over him. The absence of the dreaded breakup questions regarding how I am coping has enabled me to keep a stiff upper lip.

  Ivy and Zara have been a little more sympathetic, but even they couldn’t fathom how I could be so consumed by someone that I had known for such a short space of time. I don’t expect them to understand as I still don’t understand it myself. What was it about him that made me forget reality existed? How did he make me believe in fairy tales and happily ever after? He was just a guy like any other. Two arms, two legs and one heart. Looking back, I find it hard to accept that Spencer had a heart. If he did he wouldn’t have treated me so cruelly.

  Almost unbelievably, Aldo loved Spencer as much as I did. From the second they were introduced they became the best of friends. Unlike the girls, Aldo believed that Spencer and I were destined to be together, which meant a lot when you consider he doesn’t believe in soulmates. He won’t admit it, but I know the breakup hurt him almost as much as it hurt me. Regardless of what kind of relationship you have with a person, when trust is broken it’s a pain that just can’t be explained.

  Dragging myself away from the window, I exhale loudly and wander across the open living area. Sometimes I wonder if Aldo and I really need a place so big. I often consider downsizing and pocketing the cash, but the view from up here is so spectacular that I don’t think I could ever leave it. You’re probably thinking that keeping an apartment solely for the view is a little silly, but that view has pulled me through some pretty tough times in the past. It’s like no matter what’s going on in my life, the trees are always there, standing proud and tall as they wrap their protective arms around the building.

  Suddenly remembering I sold some pieces yesterday, I dig out my mobile to text my mum. As my fingers tap the keyboard, I find myself wondering why I bother striving for her approval. She has made it quite clear over the years that she thinks my career is a joke. She hasn’t ever used that word, but she certainly doesn’t hold back when sharing her thoughts on my choice of occupation. I try not to take it to heart, but it still hurts when your own mother disapproves of the one thing you’re passionate about.

  Deciding to contact her anyway, I let out a sigh and hit send. Selling a few paintings isn’t going to fix our relationship, but one thing I’ve learned is that you only fail when you stop trying…

  Chapter 4

  Pulling up outside Precious, I swing my car into the last remaining space and turn off the engine. As usual, the road is starting to fill up with clusters of photographers, each one snapping away at the fleet of super cars across the street. Not giving them a second glance, I throw open the door and make my way inside.

  Nestled between a prestigious wine bar and a fabulous Greek restaurant, Precious is the bar of choice for Cheshire’s social butterflies. With its glamorous, rococo interior, it really is the best place to showcase my work. The imposing chandelier hangs beautifully in the centre of the room, flooding the dark bar with light. Scanning the area, I take a seat at one of the plush booths and look around for the manager. In true Patrick style, the music is already playing and the tables are dressed for service, despite the fact they don’t open for another couple of hours.

  Hearing footsteps behind me, I spin around in my seat to see Patrick striding out of the kitchen.

  ‘Sadie! What a fabulous outfit!’ Holding out his arms, he envelopes me in a bear hug. ‘So… arty!’ Smoothing down his black shirt, he sits down opposite me. ‘And I just love the paint splatter. Great touch!’

  I’ve always liked Patrick. Always smiling, always immaculately dressed and always the perfect gentleman. Taking a cheque from his shirt pocket, he places it face down on the table and runs over to the bar. I watch him use various bottles to create two elaborate cocktails and give him a quick round of applause.

  ‘Alcohol free, before you protest.’ Patrick grins and clinks his glass against mine.

  Eyeing up the vivid concoction, I take a sip and nod in approval. ‘Very nice. What’s the occasion?’

  Patrick’s smile falters for a moment as he looks down at the cheque and slides it across the table.

  ‘I don’t quite know how to say this…’ His cheeks flush violently and I shoot him a questioning glance. ‘Kieran and I have been talking and I’m afraid we can’t display your work here anymore.’

  I pause with my lips clamped around the straw and frown. ‘I’m sorry?’ I mumble, thinking that I’ve misheard him.

  He bites his lip and frowns apologetically. ‘Kieran thinks it l
owers the tone of the premises.’

  My jaw drops open and I stare at him in shock. ‘Lowers the tone?’ I repeat, suddenly feeling a little sick. ‘Since when?’

  Patrick looks so flustered that I actually feel sorry for him. ‘We hired an interior designer and they came up with a whole bunch of new ideas. Removing the artwork was the first thing on their list.’ Patrick reaches over and places a sympathetic hand on my arm. ‘This isn’t personal. I do hope you understand.’

  Trying to regain the use of my tongue, I lick my lips and nod slowly. ‘It’s fine. You have to do what’s best for your business.’

  I attempt a small smile, but inside I feel completely thrown. Even though I’ve been going through a dry patch lately, I had a good thing going here.

  ‘I really hope this isn’t going to affect our friendship?’ Patrick looks at me nervously and squirms in his seat.

  ‘No, of course not!’ I take another sip of my cocktail and try to keep my voice light. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Thank God!’ Patrick breathes a sigh of relief and laughs dramatically. ‘I was so worried about having this conversation with you. I haven’t slept a wink all night!’

  I let out a tiny laugh and shake my head. It’s not the end of the world, is it? In business, you have to make decisions that are going to upset other people, but if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.

  ‘It’s fine, Patrick. Honestly, I completely understand.’ I stir my straw around the glass and try to think of it practically. ‘I guess I should head home and call around some other venues…’

  ‘No need!’ He reaches into his pocket and holds up a list of phone numbers. ‘I felt so bad about the whole situation, so I pulled a few strings and these have all agreed to talk with you.’

  Feeling genuinely touched by his act of kindness, I lean across the table and take the note from him. ‘You didn’t have to do that, Patrick. Thank you so much.’

  ‘It was the least I could do.’ He waves off my gratitude and motions to the bar. ‘Now, can I get you another drink?’

  Shaking my head in response, I push away my glass and slide off my seat. ‘I better get going. Thank you, Patrick and I don’t just mean for the cheque. You’ve been really good to me over the past few years. I won’t forget it.’

  Patrick’s bottom lip trembles ever so slightly and he throws his arms around my neck. Squeezing tightly, he plants a kiss on my forehead and points to the paintings on the wall. ‘You get yourself home. I’ll run the remaining pieces over to your place whenever you’re ready.’

  Thanking him once again, I grab my car keys and head for the door. The sun shines in my eyes as a fleet of teenage girls run past, waving their cameras in the air excitedly. Their high-pitched squeals are contagious as they race along the road, leaving a cloud of perfume in their wake. When I first moved into the village, bumping into celebrities gave me such a buzz, but just like anything else, it becomes the norm after a while.

  Beeping open the car, I fire up the engine and pull out onto the open road. The cosmopolitan lane is lined with more bars, restaurants and boutique shops than you could ever imagine. I don’t think I will ever tire of this place. Whether you want to kick back with a coffee or join the socialites with a glass of bubbles, Alderley Edge has something for everyone. With the paparazzi on every corner, I sometimes forget that I’m in such a rural location, but as soon as I leave the main strip and enter the rolling, country roads there’s no denying where I am.

  Brown leaves fall onto the windscreen as I speed along the road. Craning my neck, I look up at the trees overhead as they entwine their branches together in a warm embrace. Despite the unfortunate situation with Precious, I feel surprisingly positive. Maybe I will strike an amazing deal with one of these other venues and look back on this as the best thing that ever happened to me. Twisting from left to right, I find myself dreaming about selling hundreds of pieces and finally making my mother proud of me.

  I’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s given me that look. You know the one. The look that says, I’m constantly disappointed in you, but I’m tired of saying it. I’m just going to stare at you with a saddened look in my eye and hope that you get the message. My heart sinks as I realise that I have to tell her about Patrick dropping my work. She will only find out from someone else and give me an even harder time about it. This is a small village and people talk.

  Deciding to call through Patrick’s list the minute I get home, I flick on the radio and stare at the road ahead. My eyes trace the curvature of the lane as I follow the familiar route that has become so dear to me. Even after all these years, I still can’t believe that I live here. I, Sadie Valentine, girl from the estate, now lives in the eye-wateringly expensive Golden Triangle. With footballers for neighbours and champagne chilling in my fridge, you would think I’d been born into this privileged lifestyle, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  You see, my mum was just a teenager when she fell pregnant with me. The only daughter to an alcoholic father and a sick mother, she wasn’t exactly given the best start in life. Her first encounter with a boy left her sixteen and pregnant. My heart pangs when I think of just how hard it must have been for her. Fleeing her family home, she chose to live with her cousin and raise me alone when the boy inevitably disappeared from the scene.

  Needless to say, I’ve never known my biological father and the many boyfriends my mum acquired over the years showed little interest in me. Until recently, I didn’t put much thought into who my real dad is, but when Spencer proposed, I developed this overwhelming urge to discover who I really was. I realise that putting a face to the name won’t change who I am as a person, but something inside has a craving to know whose genes I am made up of.

  My mother has always been completely against the idea. The first and last time I asked about him, she burst into tears and threw a piece of paper at me with a name hastily scribbled in the corner. That same piece of paper resides in my purse today. Neatly folded between the many bank cards and my driving license, I haven’t dared to look at it in years. I can still picture her face, screwed up with disgust as she launched it at me in a fit of rage. Don’t you dare come crying to me when he breaks your heart like he did mine. Secretly, I always thought she was incredibly dramatic over the situation. They were just a couple of kids who didn’t understand what they were getting themselves into.

  Despite her insistence that he isn’t worth knowing, I can’t help but think she’s wrong. Time changes people. People change people. For all we know he has regretted walking away every single day of his life. Maybe he’s spent the last twenty-five years wondering about the little girl he left behind. I’ve never told anyone this before, but I have this secret fantasy that he knows who I am and has been watching me from afar. Almost like a guardian angel. The idea of him looking out for me is a lot easier to swallow than thinking he hasn’t ever given me a second thought.

  Coming to a stop at my building, I pull on the handbrake and wait for the gates to open. Feeling a tear slip down my cheek, I furiously bat it away and fix my face in the rear-view mirror, all thoughts of what and who I am concealed behind a strained smile.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Just answer it…’ Picking up his bottle of Evian, Aldo grabs his cigarettes and heads for the balcony. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

  Looking down at the vibrating handset, I feel my stomach flip. When I arrived home earlier, I poured myself a coffee and settled down to find a new venue to host my work. My optimistic attitude soon deteriorated when I crossed the last name off Patrick’s list. It turns out that I had a great deal with Patrick. Not only did Precious advertise my pieces for free, they only took a measly ten percent from the sale price. The only other establishment who showed an interest demanded at least half of the profits.

  Aldo has spent the last hour attempting to convince me that something will come up, but inside I feel devastated. An ear-bashing from my mum is the last thing I need right
now. Feeling totally dejected, I take a deep breath and jab at the screen until it springs to life.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ Stretching out on the couch, I brace myself for what I am about to hear.

  ‘Hi, Mum?’ She repeats sarcastically, the sound of her voice immediately grating on me. ‘You always sound so bloody miserable, Sadie!’

  Choosing to ignore her, I run my thumb over my finger tattoo. ‘How are you?’

  ‘She’s great!’ Mick’s voice comes down the line, making my skin itch with repulsion.

  ‘Am I on speakerphone?’ I ask, scowling in annoyance. ‘Why am I on speakerphone?’

  ‘I’m painting my nails!’ She trills, laughing as Mick starts to sing in the background. ‘Anyway, I just called to let you know that we’re going away for a while…’

  ‘You’ve only just come back from Thailand.’ My nose screws up as I recall the many sozzled photos from Bangkok. ‘Where are you going this time?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business, Sadie!’ Mick shouts, clearly intoxicated. ‘Where and when we choose to go on holiday is nothing to do with…’

  ‘Mick!’ My mum hisses, her voice muffled as she covers the receiver. ‘Just ignore him. We’re going to Dubai for a month. The weather’s starting to turn and we don’t want to be around to see the trees go bare.’

  ‘You don’t need to justify it to me. Like Mick said, it’s none of my business…’ I smile at Aldo as he steps back inside the apartment.

  She laughs and attempts to conceal the awkwardness with a cough. ‘Anyway, where have you been hiding? I can’t remember the last time I saw you!’

  The fact my mother and I haven’t bothered to pay one another a visit in almost eight weeks when we live just a ten-minute drive apart speaks volumes about the state of our relationship.