by Lotte Daley
FACEBOOK: Nicola Baxter has accepted your friend request.
[email protected]: HIGHLIGHTS PURRRLEASE!
Do YOU Want To Perform Better In Bed? You Can with COCK-A-RAMA!
[email protected]: Lunch in London Baby!
Fuck off! I hissed under my breath. I didn’t open it, not right now. First I wanted to find out what Nicola Baxter’s problem was. She was being ultra bitch blast from the past and I had no reason at all to explain her behaviour. I mean, OK I nicked a lipstick in Boots and blamed it on her back when we were thirteen, yes I might have snogged Barry Wilmslow in year eight, deliberately, knowing she fancied him, but come off it, this was like donkey’s years ago and we’d had tons of fun times since then, including Ibiza for our joint seventeenth, despite the crabs incident, which in the end came from the hotel’s dirty towels, not from a boy because neither of us pulled on that holiday, on account of having extreme sunburn. Mum was right, in a way. Although we didn’t get lobsters, we certainly looked like them. Still. We were friends, weren’t we? But then again, after finding out about Danielle’s odious actions, could I really be sure of any loyalty, love or honesty? I clicked on her page.
Nicola is … in the Cow’s Hoof beer garden with the gang.
Hmm. The gang. I suppose she’s referring to the rest of the village idiots. I flicked on to Info. So, she’s in a relationship with Jamie Entwhistle. Hmm, he was a geek at school, wonder what he’s like now? He wore jar-bottomed glasses if I remember correctly and was obsessed with Star Trek. Nice choice. Mind you, seems as though they’re all stable and happy in love and stuff, judging by the number of photographs of everyone arm-in-arm, having a laugh. Yeah, the men were ugly. But who was uglier? Them, or Jack and Danielle? Sure, Jack and Danielle looked stylish and pretty, but they were black on the inside, they had to be, for what they’d done to me. I fought back tears and, in my anger, wrote Nicola Baxter an email through Facebook, containing a piece of my mind.
Dear Nicola, Delete, delete it out, way too formal.
Nicola … No no no no no, too accusatory, need to lull her in.
Hey Nicola, Yes, good start, not too horrible or scary, she’ll keep reading.
Thanks for telling the fucking world about my crabs, you double crossing cow!
Can’t help myself … this anger has to go somewhere!
Thankfully I have decent PR who contained that bit of nasty, horrible information that wasn’t, for the record, entirely true anyway. I mean, the hotel admitted it was the towels and it’s not like I could pull any boys with your bright red face shining out in the club like a radioactive beacon of light. God. Ever heard of colour correction foundation? So, yeah, anyway, I mean, I know we had our differences and all that, but seriously, Nicola, why on earth do you want to cause me pain? Don’t you think I have been through enough humiliation lately? Some friend you are, Nicola Baxter!
Send.
There, that’s Nicola dealt with, now on to Danielle …
‘Katie!’ Hanna shrieked from the hallway. Great … they’re back.
Danielle would have to wait.
‘Darling, we have vodka, tonic and nibbles!’ Hanna continued.
‘Are you OK up there?’ Pippa joined in.
I said nothing. Let ’em stew, I was in no mood to be courteous. I looked towards my computer, logged off and walked to the top of the stairs, straightening my dress as I went. My beautiful, gorgeous dress. Seemed to be the only true thing around at the moment. Least I knew my dress wasn’t a big, fat, fake phoney!
‘Is she, you know, into the glamour of celebrity suicide?’ I could hear the distinct whinny of Frenella. Where had she come from? I wondered.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Hanna hissed. ‘She’s just, you know, had to cope with seeing Jack pawing her best friend. The Little Miss Perfect best friend Danielle who actually was a female snake in the grass, albeit in a very nice tailored suit.’
‘She was a snake, wasn’t she?’ Frenella mused. ‘Didn’t see that coming. You’re right, though. About the suit. Did you see those sexylicious Glads she had on that time? Stunning.’ She nods knowingly at Pippa who stands at the bottom, shuffling on her sensible heels.
‘Darling?’ Hanna calls, with a note of concern for my well-being in her voice.
‘Girls!’ I say, bright and smiley at the top of the stairs. I edge my way down.
‘Frenella, I am peachy, Pippa, thanks for telling me, and Hanna, you have nibbles?’
They all nod in unison and smile perfect, bright, flashy smiles. Except Pippa. Her teeth are normal, the odd crooked one here, a coffee-stained one there.
‘Great then, so who’s drinking?’ I say as we all get comfortable around the breakfast bar.
‘Well, we thought you could do with some company, you know, considering …’ Hanna trails off. She tinkles her bright pink nails on the kitchen counter.
‘Ooh, your nails are to die for!’ I exclaim. Well, if you can’t beat ’em …
‘Yes, darling, they are, would you like a little mani/pedi before we go out?’
‘Um, yes and go out, where, what? Like this?’ I said, totally forgetting I actually looked pretty hot, despite the emotional pain that must have been etched across my face … and then I remembered … I’d had Botox! This meant my face didn’t move! Hurrah! No one knew my inner turmoil! No wonder I thought I looked remarkably composed for someone who feels as though she’s from one of those chav magazines about best friends running off with husbands and boyfriends turning into women. I held out my hands for Frenella, who had already unpacked her nail bar in anticipation of me saying yes. She was beginning to know me too well.
‘We need some music,’ Hanna said, wandering around my living room, playing with the remote. She flicked through the channels on my television. ‘Jesus, Katie, how big is your television?’ she said.
‘Jack’s idea. He wanted it to be big. Bigger the better, he said.’
‘What was up with him?’ Frenella quipped. ‘Couldn’t afford a sports car so had to have the biggest telly instead, to help him deal with his small willy?’ she giggled.
‘Something like that,’ I said. I didn’t stick up for him. I was past caring about Jack Hunter and his torrid love life. Or his penis. Honestly, I was totally over it, him, her, them, the whole lot of them. Even Bailey. Who even though he had run out to catch me the other night, still hadn’t bothered to call me, or turn up here or anything. So that says it all really, doesn’t it? I remembered this bit of advice I got from a random bloke outside a club one night, where I was once again crying over some guy treating me like shit. I sobbed into my handbag, mascara dancing down my face, lips chapped from the cold. It was always cold.
‘You know what, if a man wants to contact you, he will.’
‘But what if like, his computer is down …’
‘He’ll find one.’
‘Or his phone’s run out of battery and he’s gone to a party on a mountain so even if he had a battery he couldn’t get a signal, could he, you know …’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Commitment issues.’
‘Rubbish.’
Crestfallen, I looked at my shoeless feet, grubby and bloated.
‘Listen up, if a man wants you, he’ll let you know and he’ll find a way. And if he doesn’t, then discard him, forget it, and move on to one who does.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, mentally recounting the times boys had told me they’d had no signal, no battery, computer crashed. Oh God, I’d been had, multiple times, and not in a fun way.
‘So, if he doesn’t call me?’
‘I think you know the answer to that, girly,’ he said, puffing smoke into the dark night. ‘Always make yourself a little bit unavailable, hold something back …’ he said and then he drifted like an archangel on acid (this was the late nineties) into the night, never to be seen again. I hadn’t heeded his advice. Stupid girl that I was, when a man appeared he was always ‘different’ to the last one, or anyone else’s man exp
erience that there ever was in the history of love civilization. You know it, I know it. The difference is, we’re always going to make excuses, no matter what.
Eventually Hanna settled on Heat radio and we got in a happy mood. Well, I was getting happier with every empty glass of vodka tonic that was topped up by a concerned-looking Pippa Strong.
‘Everything OK?’ I nodded to her.
‘Yeah, it’s just I don’t really have anything to wear, you know. I may have to go home and change.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Pippa,’ Hanna said in her evil, caustic, you’re sooo below me tone that she normally used on me. ‘You’re fine as you are, besides, we’ve got VIP.’
I looked at Pippa’s shape. She was bigger than me. What a feat in the world of media, this woman was at least an eighteen. There was nothing here I could lend her. I was only in a slinky Donna Karan, slashed-to-the-navel J-Lo dress thanks to the heartbreak diet. I’d shed half a stone, perhaps a bit more. Just as well, because magic pants totally didn’t go with this outfit. I’d also been banned from carbs. Maybe that had something to do with it? I thought, admiring my slimline physique.
‘We’re going to Mahiki tonight,’ Hanna announced, sipping her vodka.
‘Mahiki?’ I exclaimed. ‘Isn’t that where, you know, royalty and really mega famous movie stars go?’
‘Yes, Katie, and you know something? You will fit in like a dream!’ She smiled warmly at me.
‘Oooh!’ she said, grabbing her massive Hermès tote in pale turquoise. ‘I nearly forgot, your official copy of Sizzle Stars. What do you think!’ she passed it towards me, jubilant.
‘Oh, I’ve already seen it,’ I said.
‘Oh really?’ she said.
‘Richard brought it earlier. I love it. It’s great, isn’t it?’ I said, looking into Frenella’s eyes and smiling. ‘You write well, I came across really good, thanks.’
‘No problem.’ She smiled back.
‘Well,’ Hanna said, still smiling. ‘That’s perfectly OK as long as you’re happy with it and you are, so that’s just fabulous.’ She took another sip of her drink. ‘Can I smoke in here?’
‘Sure,’ I replied, ‘if you open the window. Grum, my cat, he’s not a fan.’ I smiled. My nails were in desperate need of fillers, thank heavens for Frenella and her vanity case.
‘Shouldn’t take too long tonight, Katie, only the tips need sorting,’ she said, furrowing her brows and concentrating hard.
‘So what happened with Brett?’
‘Brad?’
‘Was it Brad?’
‘Not sure if it was actually, come to think of it!’ Frenella giggled.
‘Whatever,’ I said, wafting my freshly painted hand under a little plug-in UV lamp to dry it off.
‘He was a good kisser,’ she said, coquettishly.
‘And the rest!’ I squealed. This vodka was really making me feel good!
‘Shut up!’ she joked with me. ‘Get outta here!’
‘How big was it?!’ I laughed.
‘Not telling,’ she said. ‘My lips are sealed.’
‘Oh, go on …’ I nudged her with my foot. ‘Tell me!’
‘OK …’ she giggled, ‘it was this big!’ she said, holding her hands a ridiculously large length apart.
‘You get outta here!’ I said, laughing.
‘Seriously,’ she confirmed, pushing her hands into a willy-shape. ‘It was mammoth, massive, the biggest, like, ever invented.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said dismissively, let her have her fun.
‘He was actually, you know,’ she said, quieter this time.
‘Sure he was,’ I replied.
‘Look,’ she said, producing her phone and scrolling down the pictures. ‘See!’ she said, smirking, handing the phone to Pippa first who went beetroot red.
‘Oh, my!’ she said, shuffling on her seat.
‘No way!’ I breathed. She was right, it was an incredible appendage.
‘I wouldn’t have believed it myself unless I’d seen it with my very own eyes,’ Hanna chipped in, smoking in the corner whilst applying fresh make-up in her compact mirror.
‘There’s a bigger mirror in the hallway, Hanna, if you want to use that one,’ I pointed in the direction of the mirror.
‘Bigger!’ Frenella sniggered.
‘Shh!’
‘Was he a porn star, then?’ Pippa queried, nibbling on peanuts.
‘Nah. I totally told him that he should be one, though, he was like, stoked about it. We couldn’t have sex, though, unfortunately.’
‘Why not!’ I squealed. ‘You’d have to, those don’t come along often, men like that, good looking, ones who have the, uh, no pun intended here, whole package!’
‘Katie, that was the problem. Did you see the size of him? Both in his height and in his trousers. And have you seen the size of me? I’m like five foot nothing, if that.’
‘I see,’ I said, wafting my other hand.
‘We’re done here, just let ’em dry,’ Frenella continued. ‘I didn’t want to fuck him in the toilets, no way, and I wasn’t taking him back to my house, my boyfriend was home.’
‘Your boyfriend!’ I whistled in surprise. ‘You’re a disgrace!’ I joked. Although I totally meant it. There I was warming to her, beginning to like her, finding common ground and it turns out she’s as duplicitous as the rest. I smiled a fake smile and thanked Aubrey from afar for giving me the ability not to give anything away with my facial expressions. Botox, the potion of choice for faking a friendship!
‘Enough about this stuff, honestly, Frenella, learn some decorum,’ Hanna said, laughing under her breath.
‘Decora what?’ Frenella said, genuinely flummoxed.
‘Nothing,’ Hanna sighed. She looked resplendent in a bright red dress. Her heels were sky high. Frenella had on a little electric-blue boob-tube dress and with me in my salmon pink we looked hot to trot. The only problem was Pippa Strong. Her big nose and frizzy curls and frumpy dress were so totally not West End Girl material. I actually felt a bit smug. Now I understood what Aubrey, Hanna and the like got out of feeling this way about others who had on the wrong shoes. I felt better than her. Instantly I pieced together outfits in my wardrobe that I had been given for free by Tom Theodore etc. and imagined how Pippa Strong would look should she be given a makeover. She could be the journalist version of Susan Boyle!
‘Katie?’ Hanna said, walking over as though the length of my wooden flooring from one end of the kitchen to the other was a catwalk runway in Milan.
She laid a hand on my shoulder.
‘I saw the photographs and I just wanted to say, I wish I had known sooner so we could have talked about this, you know, in only the way good friends can …’ she drifted off. ‘I hope you now see just how much of a friend I have been to you.’ She paused for effect. ‘And I know you think I am mean to you and unnecessarily so sometimes, but honest to God, it’s because I saw the potential in you and to be frank, I want you to be a ball-busting babe yourself. Fuck Jack Hunter, from what I’ve heard he’s useless in the sack anyway, like finding a needle in a haystack …’
We all giggled. Vodka shot out of my nose.
‘That’s like the oldest put-down in the book, isn’t it?’ I said as I wiped my nose clean. ‘Boyfriend dumps you, he’s rubbish in bed, small knob anyway,’ I trailed off. ‘But seriously, he was and, you know, I can’t tell you how disappointed I was but, you know, in the end it didn’t matter, we learnt how to do it right, for us both …’ I blushed. This wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to be having with Hanna, Pippa and Frenella. They just giggled with me. There was such a good happy vibe in this room, despite the day’s events, I couldn’t help but imagine my troubles marooned on a desert island, never ever to be touched on again.
‘That’s it!’ I said, raising a glass. ‘No one is going to double-cross me, humiliate me, break my heart, spirit or anything else for that matter!’ I wobbled my glass against the others as we all clinked for the toast.
‘And Danielle is a rubbish friend,’ Hanna said, coming over and giving me a hug. ‘I always knew it, but I didn’t want to say anything. I knew how much you loved her.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, hugging her back. Maybe I had it wrong all along, maybe with all of Danielle’s subtle put-downs of Jack, of my new Stranna hat by Malene Birger that she accused of being from Primark. Then she was pushing me into the arms of Fabio, perhaps she was in cahoots with the press! That’s how those photos of me with Fabio got out! Yes, on page six and seven of Jack Hunter’s ‘Exclusive’ with Oh Yay! there were grainy pictures of me walking into The Dorchester with Fabio, emerging from The Dorchester, coming out of the spa, and one of the back of my head with what looked like Fabio kissing me, which was actually the nose-bashing moment.
Fuck! That could be the reason Bailey didn’t call or come over! He’ll have read Oh Yay! today and he’ll have jumped to the same conclusions as the rest of the celebrity gossip-reading planet. I must tell him, clear it all up with him, soon. But not tonight, tonight …
‘Tonight’s all about the girls!’ Hanna said, laughing. She raised her glass again. ‘It’s about having some fun, looking gorgeous and forgetting all about our troubles!’
‘YEAH!’ we all said in unison. ‘FUCK MEN!’
‘That too!’ giggled Frenella.
‘Shut it, potty mouth!’ Hanna nudged her. Pippa smiled as she stuffed her gob with more peanuts.
‘Right, well, I’ve texted my driver, he’s on his way and in ten minutes, ladies, we’ll be cruising down the West End ready for a night of intense action-packed glamour!’
‘Awesome … so, who’s your driver?’ I queried, hoping it was Bailey, but then kinda hoping it wasn’t Bailey, because then I’d have to talk to him or ignore him and things will get even more mega complicated and, arghh, not tonight. I sighed.