Blondetourage (12 page)

'Er, Elli?'

'Oh, sorry,' I say, tuning back into the real
world. 'Just daydreaming. Um, I don't really
know Madame Morel. I just sort of called in a few
favours.' I don't go into the details of how I hassled
six or seven people incessantly for days on end
to get an appointment with Madame Morel, the
world famous perfumer.

Romy laughs. 'I'm sorry, Elli, but I have to say
it – you're fourteen, right? What kind of favours
can you be calling in at fourteen?'

I pause for a second or two. 'Well, if I told you,
I'd have to kill you.'

Now Romy really laughs. 'I love it! You know,
at your age, the only favours I could have asked for
were for friends to braid my hair, or to lend me
some elastics for my braces because I'd run out.'

'You had braces?' I perk up at this.

'Sure. I was hideous. I even had headgear.'

For some strange reason, that makes me feel so
much better. Perhaps there is hope for me. I may
blossom yet.

'So, what kind of tea should we have?' Romy
continues. 'It's all a bit confusing.'

'It says there are thirty kinds!' I say, looking at
the menu. 'I think I'm just going to opt for the
house blend – the orange pekoe. It says it's their
specialty.'

'Sounds like a good idea. I've heard you can
get some wrapped up to take home with you, too.
Remind me to order some for JJ. And should we
order the high tea for everyone? No champagne
for me – I'm still taking medication. And none for
you – I'm sure you're not even supposed to be out
and about as it is, are you?'

'Um, yes and no.' I quickly take great interest in
the spear-toting bronze statue that's standing next
to me.

'Elli ...'

I look back at Romy. 'I'm supposed to be at
the dentist. I had to put on quite a show. A lot of
groaning and holding my jaw.'

Romy's mouth twists as she tries not to laugh
again. 'Naughty girl. You will make up the lessons,
though?'

I nod. 'Don't worry, Melinda will make sure of
that.'

'Good. Oh, look, there she is. Madame Morel?'
Romy waves. 'We're over here.'

I'd been kind of worried that Madame Morel
would be super scary and that she'd pull the same
'stupid Romy' line that Romy's obviously been
receiving all day, but it turns out she's really
lovely. She doesn't even know who Romy is,
which is fantastic, because everything is then
about Romy and her future, rather than what
she's done in the past. I like Madame Morel as
soon as I set eyes on her. She's absolutely tiny
and about the same width as she is high. She
has the softest voice, with the most gorgeous
French accent and shoes that honestly look like
they should be on a doll's feet, they're that small.
She couldn't be scary if she tried. Over the most
scrumptious finger sandwiches, fresh scones with
clotted cream and blackberry and strawberry
jams, French pastries and pot after pot after pot of
tea, Madame Morel takes us through her career,
the kind of careers that are available today, and
study options for Romy. Romy sits forward on
her ottoman, her leg outstretched, and drinks the
information in as happily as she drinks her tea.
I listen in more than happily, eating plate after
plate of everything (our waitress keeps on refilling)
and downing cup after cup of tea until my
stomach is swimming.

When I can't possibly fit another drop of tea in,
I sit back and try not to fall asleep in my chair. It
isn't for quite a while that I remember I'm supposed
to be watching the time and sit up with a bit of
a jolt. We've been here two hours already, which
means I've been away from the house for almost
three. Yikes! Quickly, I text JJ and Melinda to let
them know I'm on my way. I really don't want
them calling the dentist's office where I've already
cancelled my appointment.

'Sorry to interrupt,' I say. 'But I have to get
going. Everyone will be wondering where I am.'

And even though I say time and time again that
they shouldn't end their meeting, both Madame
Morel and Romy insist that they both really need
to get moving as well. After Romy settles the bill,
we leave Madame Morel at the elevators so she
can return to her room and Romy and I hobble
and too-much-tea waddle our way outside to find
Romy's car. As we exit through the front doors,
I frown, thinking it seems awfully bright outside
and it isn't for a second or two that I realise it's not
the sun flashing in my eyes, it's cameras. Multiple
cameras.

'Romy! Romy!' several photographers call out
at once. 'Romy! Over here. Here! Romy! Is it
true? Are you leaving
Rich Girls
?'
I find myself being bustled inside the waiting
car and zooming off before I have a chance to
blink, let alone belt up. 'What ...?' I start. When
I finally regain some kind of composure, I find
Romy sitting beside me, looking at me, frowning
as well.

'Elli, did you tell anyone about any of this?'

'No!' I sit up in my seat. 'Of course not! I
wouldn't do that!'

Romy keeps on looking at me.

'It's in my best interest not to anyway, isn't it?
I mean, I'm supposed to be at the dentist.' I'm
thankful they didn't seem interested in me, only in
Romy. Considering I'm not meant to be here and
all.

Romy's frown remains. 'But how did they
know? I haven't told anyone where I was going
to be this afternoon. And afternoon tea at the
Dorchester – it's a little obscure, isn't it?' She shifts
in her seat, trying to get into a more comfortable
position with her leg.

'Um, Romy ...' I say, looking down at her cast.
'I think I might know how you got found out.'

Romy follows my gaze. 'Oh. I'm so stupid.
Of course. Anyone could have seen me going in.
And there are always journalists in and out of here
interviewing people, I'm sure. Sorry, Elli. I didn't
mean to sound like I doubted you.'

I shrug. 'That's okay. But how did they know
you've thought about leaving? Did you hear that?'

Romy's expression turns serious. 'It's true, I've
thought a lot about it lately, but I'm contracted for
another whole year, not just this season. Things
would have to be unbearable for me to leave. Don't
worry about it, though, I'm sure it was nothing.
The press always thinks one of us is leaving, or that
we're fighting, or stealing each other's boyfriends.
I'm not going anywhere. Not today, anyway.'

'Oh ...' I say, slowly. And then I try not to
grin, because what Romy's just said – it's like I've
just been handed a year's security. I look out the
window of the car as it stops and starts in the steadily
building afternoon traffic and continue to try and
hide that smile. A year's security. How strange that
I didn't really want JJ to take this job and now
everything inside me doesn't want to leave. I don't
think I realised how lonely I was doing the Frau
Braun thing. I don't think I realised how much
I would love being around people my own age,
even if they are as annoying as Ashleigh. And JJ
seems pretty happy, too, despite Anouschka's food
demands. Still, there are always demands in her
line of work. She's used to that.

'What are you grinning about?' Romy asks me.

Busted. 'Um, I was just thinking that JJ's really
liking this job.'

'I don't think Anouschka's been too awful.'

I don't reply to this.

Romy sighs. 'She's not a bad person, you know,
Elli. She's just a bit ... prickly on the outside. Like
a porcupine. But she's always been a good friend to
me. A true friend.'

I keep looking at Romy, not quite knowing
what to say.

Eventually, Romy gives up. 'You don't believe
me, do you? No one ever does. Anouschka ...
how can I explain it? She comes from this very
strange family. It's chock full of men, they're all
very business oriented and absolutely everything
revolves around their company. Anouschka would
rather die than go into the family business, I think.
They don't understand the whole socialite thing,
but really, when you look into it, Anouschka is
way smarter than her five brothers. They think
they're ever so clever with their fancy-pants MBAs,
but when you look at how Anouschka works on a
marketing level, she's developed whole new ways
of selling things. She's miles ahead of them all.'

I don't understand. 'What do you mean? Like
selling handbags and things?' I shift around in my
seat so I'm facing Romy better.

Romy shakes her head. 'Sort of, but it's more
complex. I saw someone speak about it once – a
marketing guru. It was really fascinating. What
Anouschka does, apparently they call it "linking".
You see, she never talks about herself, but links her
name to clothes, clubs, handbags, or whatever it is
someone wants her to sell. And because she doesn't
talk about herself, but is intriguing for who she is
and what she says, she gets more publicity, which
makes her more famous. It's kind of like she's a
living billboard. It's really very interesting when
you take it down to a marketing level.'

I pause to digest this. A living billboard. That
really
is
kind of interesting. 'So if she talked about
herself, no one would want to know about her?'

Romy nods. 'That's the clincher. If she talked
about herself, the media would switch off. Let me
give you an example. Okay, so Anouschka has
been paid to publicise a restaurant. If she simply
told as many journalists as she could that that
restaurant was great, they'd probably be wary of
mentioning it. It looks like free publicity. But if
she "accidentally" spills a glass of soda on herself
at that restaurant and makes a huge fuss, well, look
at that. The name of the restaurant happens to get
mentioned all over the world the next day. It costs
a lot less than advertising, believe me.'

'Wow,' I say, as I take this all in. That makes a
lot of sense. A whole lot of sense. After all, imagine
how much it would cost that restaurant to advertise
in all those papers all over the world. Millions
of dollars, probably. But by paying Anouschka
a smaller sum, they get mentioned all the same.

There's something I still don't get, though. 'But
what's the point of it all, where Anouschka's
concerned? I mean, she doesn't really
do
anything,
or
make
anything, does she? If what you're saying
is true, she's kind of just like a famous fancy coat hanger.'

'That's true. And there's not a lot of point to
being famous for the sake of being famous. But it
does mean she gets a lot of offers to do things she
might want to do.'

'Like TV shows and things?'

'I suppose so.'

'But does she want to do them? Is she really
happy?'

Now it's Romy who pauses. 'Only Anouschka
can answer that.'

I guess that's true. But there's something bothering
me. 'I don't get it. You guys are both really
smart. Why do you do this?'

Romy shrugs slightly. 'Well ... that's a good
question. At the start I thought it could just be a
job. Every job has its benefits and its disadvantages,
doesn't it?'

I nod, agreeing with her.

'But it turns out it isn't that way at all. The fame
thing – either you're into it or you're not. If you're
into it, you have to be into it every minute of the
day. It takes a lot of upkeep. If you're not, you're
better off well away from it doing your own thing.
It seems that I'm not into it. And I want more than
just a job. I want to do something I really love.'

'Like Madame Morel. And JJ,' I say encouragingly.

Romy gives me a curious look. 'Yes.' She laughs
again now. 'Why am I telling you all of this? And
what am I doing with you? You know something?
You should be a therapist when you finish school.
There's something about you that makes people
unburden their soul.'

'That's too bad, because it's not going to happen.
I'm going to be a vet.'

'You already know what you want to do?'
Romy looks surprised.

'I've always wanted to be a vet.'

Now Romy takes a deep breath. 'Maybe that's
what it is – you know what you want and you're
going to go out and get it. Believe me, it's not
something you see all that often. It's quite appealing.
Well, here we are ...'

Henry pulls over outside the house and I realise
I've forgotten to ask him to drop me around the
corner. Oops. Hopefully everyone will be busy
inside. And if they see us, I'll just say Romy saw
me walking along the footpath and picked me up.

It takes us a few minutes of crutch hopping and
step negotiating to get inside and it's only when
I've said goodbye to Romy and am about to walk
into the study that I remember my 'sore' tooth. I
stop for a second and pinch my cheek, so it looks a
little bit red.

'Hi,' I mumble out of the corner of my mouth
as I step inside the room.

'Hello, Elli. How's the tooth going?' Melinda
asks, as everyone stares at me.

'Better thanks.'

'That's good to hear. Are you feeling okay?
Ready to join us for Geography?'

I'm never ready to join in where Geography's
concerned. 'Sure.'

Melinda tells me which page everyone's up to
and I take my place next to George. Fluffy immediately
races over from where he's obviously been
hiding behind the curtain and jumps into my lap.

'He's been waiting for you to get back,' George
tells me. 'Hey, did Romy give you a lift?' She gives
me a funny look.

Geez, you can't get away with anything around
here. I'm surprised we don't have set hours for
breathing. 'Just from the corner. I, um, got the
houses mixed up and got dropped off up the street.
She saw me walking.' I can't look at George as I
say the words and instead focus on opening my
textbook to the right page and readjusting Fluffy
in my lap.

'Ashleigh saw you from the window.' George
gestures.

'Oh.' I glance over at her, expecting death stares
that tell me I've been trampling on her 'they're
my Rich Girls' territory. But, strangely, she
doesn't seem at all interested that I've spent any
time with Romy. Instead, she's quite busy reading
her textbook. On the other side of her, Rhys
catches my eye and gives me a 'You okay?' look.
I smile tightly and nod, 'Yes'. Bleh. I hate lying to
everyone. But it's okay if it's for a good cause. Isn't
it? At least I hope so.