Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning

by Strange, J. S.

  Winter decided to keep her eye out on the news for any suspicious articles; sudden deaths, cannibal murderers. Were they all supposed to wait for The Dead Years to start before something was done, or were they going to be moved along before it happened? Winter saw the dilemma people were facing. If it was true, then moving somewhere else would have been a good idea, but who was to say where you moved was safe, too? If you moved, and the story was all hearsay, well you had lost everything. Your home, your job, your lifestyle. It made sense that nothing was being confirmed or announced. It would probably cause unnecessary uproar.

  It took twenty minutes on average to walk from the town to the private lane where she lived, but today she got there in fifteen. The lane was blocked off by a gate, which could only be opened with a pass. Winter dug in her pocket and pulled out the pass, swiping it on the black box until the gates began opening slowly, clanging and groaning as they moved.

  Winter thought the whole idea of this gate was pointless. You could have already sneaked in a whole army by the time it took for them to fully open. The gates separating the houses were a little better, but anyone could vault the walls.

  There were seven houses up this lane, all of which were owned by the rich and heavily protected with CCTV, alarms and the odd security guard. Every house had a pool outside, which could hardly ever be used because of the cold weather. One pool, however, had been fitted with heaters, and that pool was the envy of the neighbourhood.

  Winter lived just up from one light pink house where Missy Founder lived. As Winter walked past, she heard her name called. Looking up, she spotted Missy Founder sat up on her balcony, which overlooked the lane perfectly.

  “Where have you been?” Missy asked, standing up and leaning on the railing of the balcony. Winter found herself wishing the balcony would break and Missy would fall to her death. Harsh, but possible.

  “Just getting cups for the party,” Winter said, making her way up the lane. But Missy stopped her from going any further.

  “I can’t wait for the party! I’ll be over in an hour, you know. You better get ready soon!”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing the Vogue feature with you. They want to put you in a good light, make it look like you have friends. Ha! If they can do that, they may as well be wise old Gandalf!”

  “Do you mean Gandhi?”

  “Bless you.” Missy flicked her hair. “We will definitely have to get you a date.”

  “I’ve already got one,” Winter called, hurrying away before Missy could chat to her more.

  Winter rounded the corner of the lane, checking in a mirror mounted on a wall that no car was on its way down. She scanned her pass on the gate outside her home, twisted bars sitting upon splintered wooden beams, and she watched as it opened a little more smoothly than the gates at the bottom of the lane. She walked over stone floor, past plants her mother had planted years ago and left to die, and walked up stone steps to the front lawn. A pool to Winter’s left was occupied by Olivia.

  “Did you get the cups?” Olivia called as Winter walked to the front door.

  Winter just waved before walking into the front hallway. It was wide, the floor wooden, the steps leading upstairs straight in front of her before breaking apart to join a wooden balcony leading to bedrooms. Winter turned left into the open plan kitchen and living room area, where white marble floor had been fitted and was the reason for the party. The room was dazzling white with black leather furniture. A wide screen TV had been fitted at the end of the room in front of the leather black sofas but was easily viewable from the round table in the kitchen. Nathan Smith was spread out on the sofa, enjoying a TV show about gardening. He never did the gardening himself, but he picked up tips and wrote them down so he could tell their gardener later. White carpeted steps in the corner of the room led up to grand floors with more bedrooms, wide glass doors that slid open to allow you access to a balcony and a DJ booth that was used regularly.

  “Did you get the cups?” Nathan asked, hearing Winter set a bag down on the kitchen table. He didn’t even turn to look at her.

  “Yes, I did. I thought you and mum would be busy planning the party.”

  “We are,” Nathan said, absorbed in the gardening show.

  “Sure,” Winter muttered.

  She walked up the carpeted steps and pushed open the glass doors, stepping out onto black marble floor, and onto the balcony. A glass fence to stop anyone from falling over surrounded the balcony. At the one side, decking had been set up and filled with various plants. Below this decking were black leather seats and a black table where people could gather and talk. It was always popular at parties; set in a red glow, it was common to see people all over each other.

  From this balcony, Winter could see the sloping lane she had just walked up. She could just about see the tops of the gates. She could see into the courtyards of the houses below her, and she made out Missy lounging on a sun bed on her balcony, while her horses popped their heads through their pink stable doors. She could hear her own mother, Olivia, singing along to music around the corner, but all she could see from this balcony was a bank of her own grounds. She was in complete privacy here.

  Winter sat in one of the beanbag seats on the luxurious balcony, which were placed near gas heaters for cold nights. The beanbags were a fire hazard, but her parents insisted they stay where they were. Winter leant back and enjoyed the sun above her, trying to forget her worries about The Dead Years and trying to forget her dread of the looming party.

  * * *

  It was a few hours before anyone was due to arrive. The Smith family were gathered in the living room. Winter sat on a separate sofa away from her parents, all of them watching the latest episode of EastEnders, which they had recorded on their Sky+ box. Olivia was soaking her feet in warm, bubbled water, while Nathan was leafing through the guest list.

  “Antonia said she will be arriving a little late,” Nathan said vaguely.

  “And is Kate coming?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes, Kate will be on time.” Nathan nodded.

  “Will there be photographers? Did you book them?”

  “Yes, they’ll be here an hour early.” Nathan glared at Winter. “So make sure you’re dressed and ready. They want to photograph the whole thing for a feature in OK! Magazine. Go and get ready now!”

  “Really?” Winter asked. “You’re getting this featured in a magazine?”

  “Don’t act so surprised, Winter.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “We have to promote the new jewellery line, you know.”

  “I thought it was for the new floor.”

  “That’s why the press from Ideal Home are coming. With them photographing our new floor, we get bombarded with deals, sponsorships and money.” Nathan reminded her.

  Kat Moon screamed something at Roxy Mitchell on the TV. Winter turned her attention to that, but when Nathan spoke again she was forced to listen.

  “You’ll have to wear something designer, Winter,” Nathan said. “I mean, we can’t have you wearing what you normally wear.”

  “What’s wrong with what I normally wear?”

  “Nothing, honey,” Olivia said, adding powder to the water she had her feet in. “It’s just, well, this is an up state party. There is a designer dress upstairs. Go put that on, darling.”

  “Mum, you know full well that stuff happens here you really don’t want to happen,” At the last party a top model had been photographed having sex, and the photo had gone viral online before legal action was taken. Somehow, her parents had managed to get royalties by claiming there was a logo of theirs in the background of the photo. They had made sure to increase their branded logo around their house, so almost every photo had it in the background.

  “Well, the main thing is networking,” Nathan said. “Fred is coming all the way from India…”

  “No way!” Olivia gasped. “Why on earth is he travelling all this way?”

  “Said he wants to start an exclusive line at his shop with us
,” Nathan said with glee. “Looks like the deal is pretty much in the bag, you know!”

  Winter saw how pleased her parents were, and they had every right to be. They had been broke, living in a small, cold shack in North Wales and using candles instead of electricity. They had been so poor; they could hardly afford bread and milk. It had been tough times, and her parents had worked hard to get their money. However, obtaining money had changed them.

  “Who’s Fred?” Winter asked.

  “Never you mind!” Nathan said. “Stay away from him.”

  “I’ll be with Missy anyway,” Winter muttered.

  “Oh, good!” Olivia smiled. “Oh, isn’t that brilliant! She’ll be photographed so much, you’ll get to be in the papers and earn a bit of money yourself! Oh, that’s wonderful. You’ll have to definitely get your hair done! Oh, I shall call the hairdressers now! There is a lovely cut that would really suit you!”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Winter quickly said. “They can’t come at such short notice.”

  “Come on, Winter, you look like you’ve been electrocuted.” Olivia sighed, her enthusiasm gone. “And do you really think I haven’t booked stylists?”

  Winter messed up her hair even more, in an act of defiance.

  “You know this hair gets us in the magazines,” Winter said quickly. If there was a way to make your argument stronger, it was to back it up with attention from the press. “If I cut it, we wouldn’t be getting as much attention as we’d like, you know that.”

  “But if you cut it, there would be loads of attention! Especially if it was debuted at the party,” Olivia urged.

  “Yeah, for that one day only. But they talk about my hair all the time. It’s all part of how deranged I am, isn’t it?”

  Olivia bit her lip. She was torn between the branding of Winter Smith and the commercial Winter Smith.

  Nathan laughed a cold, empty bark. “I do worry for you, Winter. You do seem to be in another world.”

  “You do, too, dad.” Winter said coldly.

  “What celebrities are coming?” Olivia asked.

  Nathan consulted the list.

  “Kate Moss, possibly Paris, and a select few cast members from BBC dramas…er…there’s The Wanted, two of the One Direction guys are confirmed…”

  “Brilliant!” Olivia smiled. “That’s enough to get people talking, right? Maybe we could pay them to do something awful in front of a logo, so we can get the money again.”

  Winter couldn’t believe her parents planned these things.

  “Try not to embarrass us, Winter,” Olivia quickly said. “We don’t need more reason for people to believe you are troubled and weird.”

  “I thought you liked having stories like that about?” Winter challenged.

  “Well, we’d prefer it if this party was all good.”

  Winter held in a laugh. She knew her parents wanted the stories to be as scandalous as possible. The worse the story the better the publicity. After all, they had cashed in on what had happened when Winter was fourteen.

  “We need to set everything up,” Nathan said. “Maybe we can invite Missy over a bit early. She could even be part of the Vogue feature.”

  “I’m already ahead of you, Nathan! I’ve contacted Vogue, and they love the idea of featuring Missy, too! They think it’ll look great for them both that they’re such good friends.” Olivia squealed. “They’re going to be the country’s sweethearts in no time!”

  “I’d rather not.” Winter sighed.

  “Tough,” Nathan said. “It’s about time you started earning money, girl. If you’re not going to look for a job in the modelling industry, you can be a socialite by trade.”

  “Are you an idiot?” Winter asked. She was beginning to find this conversation dull. “Being a socialite isn’t a job.”

  “It’s a good money earner!” Olivia said sternly. “So if you want to be something to be proud of, you should start putting more effort into it.”

  “It doesn’t require effort, mum.” Winter snapped. She stood up and she was pleased to see her parents look taken aback. “Let me know when you’ve come back down to earth and reality, please.”

  As Winter stormed away, she heard Nathan mutter, “That girl is trouble,” and felt like throwing one of the new glasses at his head.

  * * *

  Winter was sorting through her CD collection when her mother entered her room, draped in a silk dress that hugged her figure and a white, silk shawl around her shoulders. Her hair was tied up on top of her head in a bow, a few strands hanging purposely loose. Olivia Smith looked like Winter. She had the same, frizzy blonde hair that was controlled better than Winter controlled hers. She had the same green eyes. She had the same figure.

  “Come on, up you get,” Olivia snapped. She did not have the same personality earlier. Her enthusiasm was now replaced by stress. “We need to get this place decorated! The party is an hour away!”

  “What’s the time?” Winter asked.

  “Eight thirty five. Get dressed. I’ve laid out your pre-party outfit. Then help us decorate.”

  “Pre-party? Why do I need a pre-party outfit?”

  “Because you do!” Olivia shouted. Obviously the stress before the party had started to kick in.

  She stomped out of Winter’s room. Winter bit her lip to stop herself from cursing and put a CD into her CD player. She let the punk guitar riffs from X-Ray Spex wash over her, and smiled knowing her parents wouldn’t be thrilled to hear such music coming from her room.

  She spotted her dress hung up on the door. It was glittery and white, silk and very tight. She struggled to put it on but once snapped to her frame she had to pull it in different directions to feel more comfortable. It was almost like lycra.

  She messed up her hair and applied a light touch of foundation. She looked classically beautiful.

  “WINTER!” Olivia screamed from downstairs. “Are you awake!?”

  “YES!” It would be a long couple of hours. She regretfully turned off the music and left her room.

  She strode downstairs and got to work straight away. She was handed circular fliers with her parent’s business logo on by her dad, and told to hang them up everywhere.

  “There needs to be at least five in every room,” Nathan ordered. “Six wouldn’t hurt. Keep them out of reach of people and drinks, because we don’t want them ruined, but place them at the right angle so they appear in almost every photo. Make sure you consider the lighting! Don’t put them near windows or anything like that. You can also peel off the fliers if you want to reveal a sticky back. Stick some of them to doors and toilets, if you can.”

  Winter did as she was told. She started downstairs, hanging up six fliers in every room, placing them at different angles, not really considering lighting and just avoiding the windows all together. She put them on the back of chairs, on the toilet seat, on the shower walls, on the floors – but not the new one – on tables and on the railings out on the balcony. Once that was done, she was handed more stickers displaying her parent’s logo, smaller this time.

  “Stick these to our cups,” Olivia ordered, before sweeping off to hang up lights in the living room.

  Winter saw the table full of glass cups and plastic cups and let out a groan. She got to the mundane job of peeling the stickers, placing them on the cups and moving on to the next one. It took her an hour and a half, her parents ushering her to speed up each time they walked through the living room.

  The main party would take place where the new floor had been installed. The sofas were moved into a back room and locked away, to reveal a dance floor fitted with lights underneath. Winter finished the cups when a moving service that had been hired was pulling in cannons.

  “What are those?” Winter asked her mum.

  “They will fire confetti over the crowd,” Olivia said proudly. “They go up by the DJ booth.”

  The movers began carrying the heavy canons up towards the DJ booth, with no help from Nathan or Olivia. Winter was ab
out to offer her help, but her dad turned to her and told her to get to work on the playlist.

  “No rock music or old songs,” Nathan warned.

  Winter downloaded every song that had been in the charts the past month. She added memorable songs already downloaded, and created a new playlist on Olivia’s iPod. The DJ was never allowed to control the music himself. He was just there for show. Once that was done, Winter went back downstairs. She was surprised to see it was quarter to nine already.

  “It won’t be long before they’re here!” Olivia exclaimed. “Winter, you need to start getting ready! We all do!”

  Winter felt a little resentful that she had to change out of the ‘pre-party’ dress her mother had ordered her to wear. She had grown to like it.

  The movers had fitted everything: the canons, a disco ball, lights, photo booths, a bar and speakers in every room so people could enjoy the music where ever they were. The place was almost ready. All they needed was their staff and guests.

  Winter was ushered upstairs by her mother. She was taken into their walk-in closet and Olivia fiddled around with clothes before dragging out a golden yellow dress that blended in with white. It was similar to the one Winter had on now. The same material, thin, tight, but it was more revealing. It hung from one shoulder only, and stopped halfway down Winter’s thighs. It was casually glamorous, with glitter somehow woven into the material itself.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Olivia asked. “We’ve got this exclusive. Designed just for you! I’m so proud of it! The designer will be here tonight, and will want you to pose with it with him, maybe say a few words on it! Oh, isn’t it a wonderful surprise?”

  Winter didn’t hate it. Compared to other clothes she had been forced to wear she thought it was quite nice. The dress she was wearing now had become bearable. Winter thought it suited her. She smiled and took the dress off her mother.

  “Well, hurry up! You need to get into that before Teen Vogue gets here!”