Faking It

by Lotte Daley

  Eventually, we made it back to the car, and I checked the time on my watch. It was still only coming up for half past three. It felt like we’d been shopping for years. Thank heavens we had the spa to look forward to. I’d booked us in for an overnight stay from 5pm. On Sunday morning, we would enjoy treatments galore and I, for one, couldn’t wait.

  ‘Have you packed your swimming cossie, babe?’ I asked Danielle.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got my swim stuff with me. Are we having treatments tonight?’

  ‘No, we’re having them tomorrow. Tonight, we can swim and sit in the jacuzzi and enjoy a cool glass of champers before having one of those posh macrobiotic dinners.’

  ‘Macrobi what?’ she said, as we settled ourselves into the car. The engine turned on and the car shuddered.

  ‘Gwyneth Paltrow, Madonna and Jack were all big followers. It’s like, where you just eat grains and stuff like that, to aid your, um, what was it again? If I remember correctly, it’s to aid your physical, spiritual and planetary health.’

  ‘Sounds dire,’ Danielle said, with a look of sheer horror on her face. ‘And since when did Jack have a sense of his own spiritual well-being? Planetary health? He lives on Planet Idiot. Now, shall we get a McDonald’s on the way?’ she said, with a cheeky wink.

  ‘You should be more open-minded, give more things a try. If it’s good enough for Gwyneth, and God knows I’d love a belly like hers …’ I looked down at my little pot belly straining against the seat belt. I’d eaten far too many biscuits and drunk far too much wine the past couple of days. Emergency food and comfort crisp rations had bloated me up like a balloon. It was unfortunate for my waistline but fortunate for my taste buds that sweeties were my drug of choice for coping right now. Never mind, I had seen a glimpse of my new fabulous self just waiting to be uncovered and I would be damned if I let anyone sway me into a McDonald’s! No, must remain strong, smart girls eat salads, not processed food.

  ‘Hmm …’ Danielle said, unconvinced. She knew me too well. Maybe this time, as part of the brand-new me, I could resist the strawberry milkshakes and the barbecue sauce, maybe this time I could go to a drive-through and order that salad! Yes, a salad, that way I can sleep easy and not feel a fat dollop of guilt which I could very well do without right now, all things considered. Yes, I have made up my mind, leaves and tomatoes and mineral water for me. Must be perfect and thin for the world, especially Hanna et al. They’d have an absolute fit if they caught me in the vicinity of anything that wasn’t organic. We drove for a further half an hour before we were edging out of the city, such was the traffic. Like a beacon of dietary respite, a giant luminous M stood in the sky, calling us towards it. I swear I could already smell the satisfying aroma of delicious cheeseburgers.

  ‘Big Mac and large fries, strawberry milkshake and an apple pie to go please,’ Danielle instructs the drive-through person.

  Salad. Salad. Salad. Salad.

  ‘Sssss …’ I grapple with the word on the tip of my tongue. Danielle nods with her chin, raises her eyebrow. Time stands still for a second. The cashier chews gum. Danielle turns the music down as the car judders slightly. Thin, skinny me dances in my mind’s eye before being eclipsed by chubby me in a kaftan.

  ‘Same,’ I agree, before handing over a ten-pound note.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Wow, these towels are like snuggling up in giant teddy bears!’ Danielle’s shouts echoed from the bathroom. Steam rose up from under the door.

  ‘Why on earth are you having a bath when we’re going to be spending most of this morning in water?’ I yell back as I sit on the massive plush four-poster oak bed, filing my toenails. I have a pretty little jar of posh pink nail polish that I picked up from Harrods and forgot to mention on my list of things I bought. I fell in love with a pink moc-croc beauty bag and bought tons of expensive cosmetics. I couldn’t wait to add them to the collection of Chanel and Laura Mercier freebie make-up that Hanna had given me back at the ranch.

  ‘Phew!’ Danielle said, as she opened the door wearing the dressing gown, red in the face, her damp hair stuck to her skin. ‘Let’s get swimming, need to cool down now!’ She busied herself with her things, carefully unfolding a bikini and fresh towel.

  I looked out of the window at the breathtaking scenery. Lush green fields rolled for miles, birds twittered in the sky, the sun was out, again, not bad for UK weather, and the trees were swaying gently in the breeze. I could see a couple walking hand in hand across the green and felt a small stab in the heart, envious that it wasn’t me with the love of my life, whoever he may be. I had managed to only check my phone twice last night. Danielle made me leave it in the bedroom so I wasn’t distracted by it over dinner. Still, thoughts of Bailey and whether or not he’d call me, plus what I would say if he did call me, were the two main topics of conversation, aside from Jack and Jessica. We’d been assured that no one in the spa would see us. The pool had been closed off especially for our use all of last night, but we only had it for two hours this morning. The treatments were in private and the staff were under strict instructions not to breathe a word of my presence to anyone else, that is, if they knew who I was in the first place. They didn’t strike me as the type to be obsessed with celebrity trivia.

  ‘It’s crazy that we’re getting the whole pool and stuff to ourselves, isn’t it?’ I said to Danielle.

  ‘I know, anyone would think you were Jessica Hilson … Oh, um, I mean, babe …’ She looked at me, biting her lip. My stomach churned.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said through gritted teeth. She didn’t look convinced.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, breathing in deeply. ‘Jessica Hilson is a Hollywood Alister with pneumatic tits and my boyfriend on her arm. I’m just plain, old, boring Katie with the droopy boobs and a less than white smile. Urgh, I actually hate her,’ I said, throwing myself dramatically into the feathery pillows. I couldn’t wait to get my goose pillows on to my bed. Mmm, throwing myself dramatically on to them could become a regular occurrence in my house, whether I was heartbroken or not.

  ‘You’re far better than her,’ Danielle soothed, as she walked over to my side of the bed, sat down and stroked my hair off my cheek. My face was half wedged into the bouncy pillow, but I could see her concern from beneath my hair, and from the one eye I had open.

  ‘Shhanks,’ I said, with a mouth half hidden in pillow.

  ‘Right, come on, Katie, less dwelling, let’s go have a bit of “us” time,’ and with that she hooked her arm through mine and pulled me up and off the bed.

  ‘Fabulous, you look great, sweetie,’ she beamed.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, throwing my arms around her shoulders and kissing her on the cheek. ‘You’re the bestest friend a gal could have. Whatever would I do without you!’ I sank my face into her hair.

  ‘Shh, silly!’ she said, hugging me back. ‘That’s what friends are for.’

  We made our way down to the private lift dressed only in the fluffy robes. As we neared the still, quiet pool there was a wonderful smell of aromatherapy essences. Two buff-looking hotties stood to greet us. One held a bottle of champagne in his hands whilst the other held two crystal glasses. They edged towards us and popped them down on the table next to our two loungers.

  ‘Ahh, thank you,’ I giggled. ‘Isn’t it a bit Jeremy Kyle to be drinking at 10am?’ I said, turning to Danielle.

  ‘Only if it’s Special Brew on a park bench!’ she said, as we watched the waiter pour us some fizz.

  ‘Cheers, Katie!’ she said, raising her glass.

  ‘Cheers!’ I smiled back, clinking glasses. ‘To being there for each other,’ I said.

  Danielle winked back. ‘Last one in the pool loves Mick Hucknall!’ she said, plonking her glass down, disrobing and making for the water.

  ‘Urgh!!’ I shouted, as she dashed ahead of me.

  I squealed as I jumped feet first into the deepest part of the pool, sinking fast to the bottom and hearing the chimes of piano music from the underwater speakers. Fo
r a moment I was without a care in the world. I opened my eyes under the water, held my breath and looked around. All I could see were Danielle’s feet which looked as though they were peddling in slow motion, and all around her, nothing but blue water. It was heavenly. I was running out of air.

  ‘Boo!’ I said, as I emerged suddenly behind her, scaring her half to death.

  ‘I couldn’t see you!’ she wailed. ‘I thought you’d knocked yourself out! I was about to call one of those fit muscled waiter lifeguard types to rescue you!’

  ‘Mmm, shall I go knock myself out solely for that purpose?’ I smirked.

  ‘Stop it, you,’ she said, as she trod water beside me. We moved in circles, ducking and diving, swimming on our backs and mucking about before we swam over to the vibrating massage chairs and settled ourselves down. It was then that the conversation took the inevitable man turn …

  ‘I think I am going to end it with Stewart,’ Danielle says suddenly.

  ‘Has the crap sex finally got too much for you, darling?’ I joke, staring up at the ceiling which is dimly lit and covered in plants to give the look of a rainforest. She doesn’t respond so I turn to look at her and notice a small tear escape from her eye.

  ‘Babe,’ I say, suddenly sitting up, my legs over the edge of the massage chair. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s, it’s nothing,’ she sniffles. ‘I just don’t agree with his morals any more … and … I know you hate him and think he’s a creep, but it’s just …’

  ‘I don’t hate him, D,’ I say calmly. ‘I just hate that he’s married. I hate him in the same way you hate Jack. It’s just like you want what’s best for me, I want what’s best for you.’

  ‘I know, Katie, but you don’t always know what’s best for me,’ she says, kind of sharply.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, a bit perturbed. ‘Well, I try to imagine what’s best … but I guess, I’m not you, am I?’

  ‘No, you’re not. But all I can say is that I love him desperately. And I thought our love could conquer the differences we have in our views about the world, our core values, all that kind of thing, but lately, there’s like, been a major thing occur and I am trying to be supportive, but I’m just feeling so very torn.’ She sobs.

  ‘What is it?’ I probe gently. She turns to face me, and looks for a moment as though she is going to say something profound, but then thinks better of it.

  ‘Ah,’ she says, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s nothing, work stuff, you wouldn’t understand,’ she says, with such finality I don’t push for further information. What I have learnt over the years that Danielle Kingsley and I have been friends is that if she wants to tell you more, she will. She’s not like me. I’m the kind of girl who you’ll ask, ‘What’s wrong?’ and I’ll solemnly say, ‘It’s nothing,’ and look all moody and upset so that if you prod me a bit more and encourage it out of me, I would normally break and spill, even if it’s something I really don’t want you to know, like the time I caught crabs, I assumed, from a holiday fling in Ibiza. I was devastated, itching like crazy and humiliated to fuck, and after some gentle cajoling, I admitted it to Nicola Baxter. We’d gone out there together for our seventeenth birthday celebrations – born within a week of each other, lifelong friends until she blabbed to the press – and ever since, whenever we fell out, her parting shot was, ‘At least I never got crabs!’

  ‘Excuse me, ladies,’ a silken male voice says above us.

  We both turn our eyes skywards and for a minute, in my costume, I feel rather naked.

  ‘Hello?’ I say, surprised. A man in a penguin suit stands beside us with a white envelope in his hands. He extends it out to me.

  ‘I can’t,’ I say, ‘I’m soaked, I’ll get water on it. You read it,’ I direct him with my hand. Now I really feel like a celebrity!

  ‘Madame?’ he says, questioning me, eyebrows doing a little dance. Reminded me a bit of Aubrey and his techo brows.

  ‘It’s OK, go ahead.’

  It couldn’t be that bad, I thought to myself. Hardly like getting the results of your gynaecological examination in public.

  ‘Ahem,’ he said, clearing his throat. Danielle looked on with interest.

  ‘Katie, how lovely to see you again.’ See me again? What was he on about?

  ‘You are looking very well and I would like to offer to you, dinner, in The Dorchester, tonight.’

  ‘What the hell?’ I said. ‘Who can see me?’ I turned to Danielle and she simply shrugged her shoulders. Maybe it’s Bailey! I thought, excitement bubbling up inside my gut. My heart beat a little faster, the world looked a little brighter.

  ‘Please accept the champagne on me,’ the waiter finished.

  ‘So who’s it from?’ I asked.

  ‘Mr Matravers,’ he said, looking at me as though I was a total idiot.

  ‘Why would Fabio write me a note and send it all the way over to this secret spa, just to ask me to dinner?’

  ‘Who knows, but it is rather stalkerish, isn’t it?’ Danielle said gravely.

  ‘Madame, may I interject?’ penguin-suit man said.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, leaning towards him for a better listen.

  ‘Mr Matravers, he owns this spa, it is his gift to you. He will pick you up at 7pm prompt to take you to The Dorchester, should you wish to accept?’

  I looked at him blankly. Fabio owned the spa? Hanna had a fit at me for accepting his business card, she’d have kittens if she could see the events unfolding in front of us now. The penguin-suited waiter looked on expectantly.

  ‘What should I do?’ I hissed to Danielle. ‘Well … ?’ I said, expecting her to figure it all out for me. I had a man pyramid to contend with here.

  ‘Go,’ she said, emphatically.

  ‘What? Are you serious?’ I said to her, eyebrows furrowed.

  ‘What have you got to lose?’

  ‘Um … my sanity?’

  ‘Questionable …’

  ‘Shh! This is serious. This is Fabio Matravers, Jessica Hilson’s Fabio Matravers!’ I said.

  ‘Katie, I know. And, in my opinion, this is how it looks to an outsider.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘You’re not going to like this …’

  ‘So? Let me be the judge of that,’ I said, gulping.

  ‘OK, you said it …’ She turned to the waiter. ‘Hey, buddy, can you give us five minutes? Girl chat.’

  The waiter was looking all flustered by the sight of the pretty redhead winking at him, lying there in a bikini, legs up to her armpits. Danielle was a real stunner.

  ‘Sure!’ he said, edging away from us, near enough tripping over his feet, his eyes upon her magnificent chest.

  ‘Right, this is how it is,’ she says, matter-of-fact. ‘You will make a huge mistake going back to Jack.’

  ‘But I’m not … he doesn’t …’ I begin to explain that Jack hadn’t so much as texted me aside from the dumping text so why would he come back to me or even give me the opportunity to patch things up with him? Danielle puts her fingers up to her lips.

  ‘Shh. Don’t wanna hear it, my turn to speak, delivering tough love here, sweetie, digest … please.’

  ‘OK?’ I sigh quietly.

  ‘Jack Hunter is a cheating creep. He’s broken your heart. Don’t think I don’t know that you’re heartbroken, and you’re reaching out to Bailey as some kind of replacement.’

  ‘But!’ I begin to say.

  ‘Shut up, Katie!’ Danielle barks. ‘Bailey may not call you, and you have to just accept that.’

  Bloody hell, she was on some kind of mission this morning, but she was wrong. I liked Bailey for himself, OK, so I didn’t really know him as an actual person with a personality, he’s just a moody, delicious sex demon in the bedroom and has a chest you could bounce tiddlywinks off, so what? Give us time! It’s not even been forty-eight hours since the deed has been done, so really, let’s just put this into perspective. I smile sweetly back at Danielle, swallowing my thoughts.

  ‘Fabio, take it for w
hat it is … dinner with an attractive man who is clearly interested in you. And he’s rich. He’ll treat you like a princess. You are a princess to me, babe.’ Is she finished, I wonder? No, she’s still got that serious look on her face, it briefly softened on the last word she uttered but now, it seems as though she’s gearing up for more.

  ‘Jack is history, he’s moved on, you need to do the same. If Bailey was really interested, he’d have made contact by now and he wouldn’t have just had sex and done a runner. Seriously, that quick, the boy either has severe intimacy issues or … well, I don’t know what, but if I were you, I wouldn’t wait to find out.’

  ‘That’s your opinion? Jack is a wanker and Bailey’s probably one too?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, and upon noticing my forlorn face she adds, ‘But I’m sure he does like you, just, sometimes you have to put yourself first, if he ain’t doting on you, dump him. And let’s face it, the only one outta the three of them who’s put an iota of effort into getting to know you is one silver fox. So, go for dinner, see what he has to say for himself.’

  ‘I guess so …’ I begin. Maybe she’s right? Bailey hadn’t texted me or called. Jack has proposed to Jessica Hilson in the ridiculously named Mimi Sparkles Jungle Garden with a ring-shaped penny sweet. I guess that was kind of romantic … typical Jack, shirking on the cost. He can’t really be marrying her, can he? I totally needed to talk to Hanna, Richard, someone, anyone really who knew about these media stories, who really knew what was going on and would give me the truth. I was getting Hanna Frost withdrawal symptoms. No, not in a lesbian way, I meant, that I hadn’t heard from anyone at Poets Field PR since our horrible blowout on Friday when Hanna called me a ‘fucking liability’. What if they didn’t want to work with me any more on account of my stupidity? I thought long and hard. It took all of a minute before I was distracted by the man in the penguin suit. He wasn’t as attractive as the other two half-naked, muscle-bound waiters and he wasn’t carrying champagne.