Read Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend Online

Authors: Jenny Colgan

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend (22 page)

BOOK: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
11.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
 
‘Yes,’ she said. She looked like a very well made-up fox. ‘Why don’t we go inside and discuss it?’
 
I didn’t want to say it was because inside smelled like a wet dog’s kennel.
 
‘Out here is fine,’ I said.
 
Her face took on the fakest expression of mock concern I’d ever seen in my life, and I know Carena Sutherland.
 
‘Now, Sophie . . . you know you’ve been through a few tough times recently.’
 
‘I’m fine,’ I said automatically.
 
‘And we wanted to run a very sympathetic piece . . . about how you’ve been affected by your new life.’
 
‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘If I wanted the publicity I’d have an agent, like everyone else.’
 
‘It’s not for publicity,’ Flick said, trying to open up her tiny tiny eyes to look like she was being sincere. ‘It’s about human interest and understanding.’
 
And I’ve had a cheese sandwich made out of the moon.
 
‘No thanks,’ I said. The photographer was still snapping away; I was very conscious of my unwashed hair, greasy pull-over, tear-stained grey, shagged-all-night face.
 
‘Something terrible has happened to me. And I don’t want to talk to you. Goodbye.’
 
‘But we’ve come all this way on a Sunday,’ wailed Flick, her fake sweet expression dropping like she’d thrown it on the floor.
 
‘The Old Kent Road is very central actually,’ I replied, closed the door and went back inside.
 
‘Who was it?’ said Cal.
 
‘Oh, nothing. Work. They’re a double D down for tomorrow.’
 
‘And they wanted you to stand in, what?’ said James excitedly.
 
‘No,’ I said.
 
‘Not fair,’ said James. ‘Cal’s seen them.’
 
 
 
After hours of tossing and turning on my narrow single bed, sleep finally crept up on me, but my nightmares were back with a vengeance that night. My dad was shouting out to me, and I was spinning around in a nightclub till I started to fall deeper and deeper down through the floor.
 
I was in hell. I was in jail. There was nowhere left to fall. There was nothing of my old life left to grieve, because it was all gone.
 
I was woken by a heavy banging on the door.
 
‘Sophie! Sophie?’
 
‘Unf?’ I grumped. It was the boys, all roaring like elephants.
 
‘What is it?’
 
‘Look, look!’
 
I blearily focused. Eck was holding up a copy of the
Daily Post
. Emblazoned above the headline (something about immigrants affecting house prices) was a gruesomely hideous picture of me, all lank hair and treble chin, like Britney Spears at a custody hearing.
 
POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL! ran the strapline. FROM IT GIRL TO BEDSIT GIRL.
 
I rubbed my eyes. That was quick. ‘What the hell?’
 
‘Why didn’t you tell us you were famous?’ said James. ‘Gosh!’
 
‘I’m not famous,’ I said, my heart pounding.
 
‘You are now,’ drawled Cal. ‘Here you are, darling, I’ve made you some tea.’
 
‘Do you want some tea?’ Eck said at the same time. ‘Oh.’
 
Without waiting for an invitation they all came into my room and sat down on my bed as, hands shaking, I turned to the middle pages. There I was - on the left a picture of me at some charity ball last year, wearing a red Gharani Strok number. I was so slim! I’d completely forgotten; I must have got used to the new me. That girl didn’t look like me at all. I was flashing lovely white teeth and looked like I was having a fabulous time, wherever I was.
 
On the right was me yesterday. You wouldn’t have known it was the same person. My hair was a complete disgrace, my skin covered in a rash - a snogging rash, though it could have been anything. I was clearly at least a stone heavier, and wearing the daggiest clothes imaginable.
 
Once the toast of Mayfair’s super-set
, ran the introduction,
Sophie Chesterton now scavenges a living from the fringes of porn, and squats in a derelict flat.
 
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ said James. ‘I mean, we pay rent.’
 
‘That makes it worse,’ I murmured, my heart pounding.
 
Her father was implicated in the great banking runs of 2008 and, after his untimely death several months ago, it is reported that he has left the family with huge debts. So what now for the poor little rich girl who once had the world at her feet? Her former best friend, Carena
 
Sutherland, is now set to marry one of London’s most eligible bachelors, the Right Hon Rufus Foxwell-Brown in society’s wedding of the year. But Sophie has been cast out of her fast-living set . . .’
 
 
‘No wonder you didn’t want to bring any girls to the party,’ said Cal.
 
‘No, that was still because you were disgusting about it,’ I said faintly.
 
‘I feel sorry for her really,’ said erstwhile friend Philly Thompson (twenty-six)
. ‘Ha,’ I said. ‘That’ll get her to stop telling everyone she’s twenty-two’. ‘
She always wanted to fit in. But now we know it was all a sham.’
Hang on, I thought. That was YOU.
 
Sophie was a familiar face on Bond Street, flashing Daddy’s black American Express card and attending lavish product launches and parties. Now her highlighted hair is dull and matted and her
. . .
 
 
That was it. That was enough. They could slag me off to the high heavens, but when they got started on my hair . . . I got up, went through to the bathroom and threw up. It took a while.
 
When I finally came back, the others were staring at me like I’d just beamed down from another planet.
 
‘You’re a
celebrity
,’ said James, using the same tone of voice in which he might have said, ‘You’re a
hermaphrodite
.’
 
‘Now she is,’ said Cal.
 
I bowed my head. ‘Some bad stuff happened to me.’
 
Eck came over. ‘What?’
 
‘Things . . .’
 
‘So are you rich?’ said James.
 
‘No, that’s the point,’ said Eck. ‘She used to be and now she isn’t. Right?’ He leant over and said, ‘You’ll get it back. Don’t worry. Those bastards.’ Which made me feel a teeny, teeny bit better.
 
‘What’s it like being rich?’ said James.
 
‘James,’ said Cal. ‘Shut up.’
 
‘Just asking.’
 
We all sat around in silence. I could tell they were a bit stunned.
 
‘I mean, you’re obviously posh,’ said Eck.
 
‘Yes, but there’s posh and fake posh,’ said Cal. ‘I thought you might be that.’
 
‘Thanks very much,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t posh, I was rich. There’s a difference.’
 
‘The fact that you know there’s a difference makes you a bit posh,’ he shot back. ‘God. Did you think you were just going to be slumming it with us, then you’d find some rich guy and head off again?’
 
I looked down. ‘I thought I’d get the money back.’
 
Cal shrugged. ‘Typical bourgeois scum behaviour. It makes me feel really dirty and used. And normally I like feeling like that. A little real-world vacation from the -’ he read from out the paper - ‘
glamorous Kensington town house and luxury holiday villa in Majorca
.’
 
‘The villa isn’t that nice,’ I said reflectively.
 
‘No,’ said James. ‘I’ve heard that about luxury holiday villas.’
 
We lapsed back into silence. I knew it. This was why I’d never said. It was as if a barrier had opened up between us. Now I wasn’t Sophie their flatmate. It was as if I’d perpetrated some sort of fraud, pretending to be something I wasn’t - i.e. a normal person - but now, with everything that had happened to me I was a normal person who was somehow looking down my nose at them. Which I wasn’t. Well, maybe at Wolverine, a bit.
 
‘I’d better get to work,’ I mumbled. Nobody said anything. They were all still looking at me like I came from Mars. Then, when I was at the door, Eck said, ‘So, when you cleaned our toilet . . . was that the first time you’d ever cleaned a toilet, ever?’
 
I stared him straight in the face. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, it was.’
 
‘Well, that’s something,’ said Cal encouragingly. ‘We all just thought you were a lunatic.’
 
 
I knew within ten seconds that Julius had seen the paper. Then I heard the twins squeal and realised that they’d seen it too.
 
‘That’s
you
??’ said Grace. She was wearing lime green feathers.
 
‘What
are
you wearing?’
 
‘It’s
Burlesque
. Like Dita Von Teese, innit?’
 
I absolutely would never had said how much she didn’t look like Dita Von Teese.
 
‘So you’re rich and that?’ went on Grace. ‘I’d never have guessed.’
 
‘That’s because you don’t pay attention,’ said Kelly. ‘Delilah told us about all her clothes, remember? So you’re an idiot.’
 
‘Oh, stop being immature,’ said Grace.
 
‘Just because I’m younger than you.’
 
‘Uh, yes, well, it doesn’t matter,’ I said. I was back in my tracksuit bottoms. After dressing up on Saturday night it felt like all I deserved. Saturday felt like a long time ago, even though it was still making me yawn.
 
Julius looked at me for a long time. ‘You didn’t tell them about me, did you?’
 
‘You’ve read the piece. Does it mention you?’
 
‘No. Well, only that you used to hang around top photographic studios.’
 
‘Oh Jules,’ I said, sadly, wondering if he was going to sack me again. ‘Let’s pretend I still do.’
 
Julius looked at me for a long time. Then he handed me a camera. ‘On you go then.’
 
‘What do you mean?’
 
‘Well, if you’re grafting for a living, you might as well make a start. Why don’t you take the twin’s first set? I’ll take a set too, and we’ll see how they do.’
 
He started snapping. Kelly started rubbing the feathers between her legs like she was vigorously towelling herself dry. And I, highly excited, started lining up shots.
 
‘Is that what Dita Von Teese does?’ Kelly asked.
 
‘Kind of,’ I said. ‘But bend down a little . . . and smile. A bit cheeky. That’s it. You’ve got it.’
 
And I let the camera click.
 
 
 
When I went to the caff at lunchtime, I could see the well-thumbed paper lying open on one of the tables, they slipped an extra slice of bacon in my roll and the friendly server said, ‘I am very sorry for you to lose everything.’
 
‘Thanks,’ I said, genuinely grateful for a bit of well-meant sympathy.
BOOK: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
11.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

My Immortal Assassin by Carolyn Jewel
A Reluctant Queen by Wolf, Joan
A Bride for Donnigan by Janette Oke
Texas Rose by Marie Ferrarella
Caught Out in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho