Miss Manners (28 page)

Pinkie narrowed her eyes at me, as if remembering something she
’d forgotten.

‘
Play the video,’ she ordered the technician.

Th
e technician, who was wide-eyed and blatantly enjoying the cat fight, did as he was told. A few seconds later, there was a blown-up image of me entering the staffroom as Bunny Simpkins, and leaving the staffroom as Anna Borgström.

I suddenly felt nauseous. There was no way I could get out of this one.

‘YOU! Pinkie cried, running towards me, only to be restrained by security. ‘I knew I recognised you! I knew it!
You
stole my diary! Give it back! Give me back my diary, Phoenix!’

I tried to calm down, but it was no use. I couldn
’t contain myself any longer. I was on the verge of breaking.

Now
, the problem with lies is that, unlike spots, they don’t get better the longer you leave them. They get worse. A lot worse.

‘
Firstly,’ I finally snapped, my heart beating faster than the speed of light as I turned to face the judging panel, ‘my name isn’t Phoenix Valentine. It’s Anna Borgström. And yes, I did it. I stole Pinkie’s diary. But only after Pinkie provoked me into losing my temper at Riverstones, which resulted in me losing my job, my car
and
my money. Naturally, I wanted revenge. So, at the time, it seemed like a good idea to steal her diary, then start a blog revealing all her dirty little secrets to the entire world. But then I found out that she’d be entering Miss Manners, so I decided to write an article and send it off to
Couture
. Anyway, it turns out
Couture
actually liked the article, so, after accepting me onto their internship programme, they assigned me with the task of entering and
winning
Miss Manners.’

I broke off for a moment, searching frantically for Tara and Felicity in the audience.

‘Except,’ I continued, ‘I was
so
caught up in winning the contest that I forgot all about my friends. As a result, I managed to let down my best friend, Tara, and steal my friend Felicity’s fashion project. I didn’t make the Cleopatra dress. Felicity Diamond did. I mean, how could I possibly make a dress
this
beautiful in less than twenty-four hours? I’ve never even made a sock, let alone a dress! And the one dress I did attempt to make made me look like a Heffalump!’

I paused to take a breath,
then looked out to the audience.

‘
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,’ I recited. ‘You know, now I truly understand what Shakespeare meant. I mean, look at this place.’ I gestured all around the auditorium. ‘It’s all fake. Fake, fake, fake!’ I was so shaken and stirred, I would have dwarfed a Martini.

‘
Fake hair!’ I ripped out the hair extensions in my hair, then threw them on the floor. ‘Fake lashes!’ I ripped out my false eyelashes, then flicked them. ‘Fake shoes!’ I threw off my heels. ‘Fake nails!’ I tried to rip out the false nails, but they were stuck on too tightly.

‘
And all because I ignored the best piece of advice I have ever received: stay true to yourself. If only I’d listened to Mojo, then maybe, just maybe, I would have risen like the Phoenix, instead of falling like Icarus. In fact, I’m a Phoenix that’s just eaten its own wings!’

I swallowed hard, wishing I were someplace else.

‘I mean, I don’t give a flying monkeys about ladies’ day at Royal Ascot, or being à la mode,
or sniffing tea, or which spoon to use for soup, or listing all the peers of the realm, or six sleek swans swimming swiftly southwards. But I do give a flying monkeys about family and friends. The things that are
real
. The things that
really
matter.’

As I took a moment to catch my breath, I noticed the entire auditorium was stunned into silence.

‘I’ve learned that you can’t lead your life in tunnel vision, ignoring those who care about you. I mean, I just hope it isn’t too late to salvage not just one, but two friendships I value most.’

As I turned to exit, I
looked back at Pinkie. ‘Oh, and Pinkie, don’t worry, I’ll give you back your diary tomorrow. But in the meantime, I just want to remind you that Richard Curtis did
not
write
Twelfth Night
!’

‘
What about my reward?’ Sophie mumbled to Pinkie, shooting her an evil sideways glance like a hungry viper.

‘
Oh, shut up!’ Pinkie snorted.

I turned to face Sophie.
‘You know, I’ve read about girls like you on the back of toilet doors,’ I said, trying to modulate my voice.

Then, barefoot
and breathless, I turned towards stage left and exited.

As soon as I stepped backstage, away from prying eyes, I ran as fast as I could towards the dressing room, sat down in front of the light
-bulb-lined mirror and burst into tears.

28

Win Some, Lose Some

It was the first time I’d properly cried in a long time. An accumulation of stress, anger and frustration had finally been unleashed with vengeance. Everything I’d been working towards over the past two weeks had suddenly gone in a flash. It had all disappeared quicker than Usain Bolt on steroids. And all thanks to one girl – Sophie Brown.

Twenty
minutes of tears and snot later, I looked at myself in the mirror, at the person I had become. My carefully applied make-up was now Courtney Love on a bender, and my smooth sixties backcomb was an Amy Winehouse rat’s nest. I looked like that anti-binge-drinking ad.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and in came Murphy uninvited, smiling mysteriously.

‘Anna Borgström.’ He smirked knowingly. ‘I knew it was you! Riverstones pink Easter Bunny. Fight with Pinkie. And, luckily, all the PR has paid off. Tomorrow, your name will be splashed all over the red tops.’

What? Wait a minute. What did he mean by that?

‘So, what you’re saying is that you knew who I was all along? And that’s why you chose to focus all the PR on me instead of the other girls?’

‘
Precisely,’ he replied calmly. ‘It was all planned.’

I couldn
’t believe what I was hearing. I had been used. I had been yet another pawn in Murphy’s never-ending game of chess.

‘
I can’t believe this.’ I was close to hyperventilating again, after spending so much time trying to calm myself down. ‘You used me! You used me to make money!’

‘
Welcome to the world of PR,’ he said.

‘
You can’t do that,’ I screamed. ‘It’s... it’s illegal!’

‘
Not since you entered the academy. You are now public property. So I’m afraid you’d better get used to it.’

‘
You’re not my fairy godfather,’ I spat angrily. ‘You’re the Devil!’

‘
Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way,’ he simpered.

‘
Get out!’ I bawled tearfully. ‘GET OUT!’

‘
You should be thanking me,’ he replied uneasily. ‘Millions of girls would give an arm and a leg to be in your position right now. I mean, come on, you’re famous!’

‘
GET OUT!’ I repeated, trying to hold back the tears.

Murphy shook his head,
then exited reluctantly.

I locked the door, changed back into my clothes, then slipped Felicity
’s dresses onto individual hangers. Just as I was about to leave, there was another knock on the door.

‘
Who is it?’ I asked cautiously, hoping it wasn’t Murphy.

‘
It’s me, Brian. Can I come in?’

‘
Go away!’

But, Brian being Brian, he ignored me and entered anyway.

‘Look, I know you’re upset,’ he said reassuringly. ‘But believe me, it’ll all blow over faster than you can say Miss Manners. Flash in the pan.’

I remained silent, gazing at my feet.

More like out of the frying pan and into the fire
, I thought to myself.

‘
Look, I know how you feel,’ he comforted me.

I turned to face him, red hot anger boiling up my insides.
‘No, no you don’t. I mean, you don’t know what it feels like to lose your job, your car, your money, let down your best friend, steal from your housemate, and be made to look like a fool in front of the entire nation. The past always catches up with you. And now I have to pay the ultimate price.’

‘
The past may catch up, but the future will always win,’ he asserted, walking towards me. ‘You have to see this as an opportunity, not a failure. And, if it’s any consolation, I thought you were brilliant up there.’

But it didn
’t matter what Brian was saying to me. I just wasn’t in the right state of mind to take any of it in. All I wanted to do was go home and cry myself to sleep.

‘
Look, I have to go,’ I mumbled as I walked past him, the dresses draped neatly over my arm.

‘
But you’re always
going
. You can’t keep running away,’ he said, stopping me in my tracks.

I looked at him for a moment, my mind numb.
‘Yes, I can.’

And before Brian had anything more to say, I was out the door.

When I arrived home, nobody was in. So, I wrote a note of apology addressed to both Tara and Felicity then placed it on top of Felicity’s dresses along with the flowers I’d arranged that night as a peace offering. Then I went to my room and instead of crying myself to sleep, I decided to update my blog, which proved to be just the remedy I needed. It felt so good to get it all off my chest, and it was a whole lot more cathartic. And besides, I don’t think I had any more tears left in me after all that crying in the dressing room.

It was around
twelve-thirty when I heard the front door open. I switched off the beside lamp and pretended to be asleep, like all those times I used to secretly play the Game Boy under my bed covers as a kid, then pretend to be asleep when my parents came into my room.

SUNDAY, 1st MAY

The next morning, I was mercilessly awoken at 9 a.m. by the ringing of my phone. I checked the caller ID. It was Murphy. What did Murphy want so early in the morning? After a few more rings, I picked up.

‘
Anna? Are you there?’ He sounded chirpier than Timmy Mallett during a game of Whack-a-Mole.

‘
Hmm,’ I mumbled, regretting picking up the phone.

‘
Have you seen the papers yet?’

‘
No,’ I managed to say.

‘
You’re everywhere!
Daily Mirror
,
The Mail on Sunday
,
Sunday Express
,
The Sun Sunday
– you name it.’

The Sunday Times
? I joked to myself.

‘
And, do you want to know the best part?’ he chirped.

‘
No,’ I croaked, considering cutting him off.

‘
BBC Three producers are interested in making a documentary about the story, and they want to interview you. Oh, and those Felicity Diamond dresses you wore are already being copied by all the big retailers. It’s commercial gold!’

I wasn
’t in the mood to listen to Murphy.

‘
Goodbye, Murphy,’ I said, then hung up.

I attempted to return to whatever dream I was having, but it was too late. I had left that place between sleeping and waking. I was now simply awake.

I dragged myself into the living room, noticing the dresses were gone and the flowers had been placed in the middle of the table, which was reassuring considering I’d expected them to be thrown in the bin, doused in petrol, then set alight.

But where w
ere Tara and Felicity?

I wanted to apologise to them both face to face. To explain that I wasn
’t myself lately, I was somebody else. I was Phoenix Valentine. Selfish, arrogant, dishonest and deceitful. Now that Miss Manners was finally out of my hair, I wanted to be Anna Borgström. You know, wearing big knickers, rolling about on wheelies, Bollywood nights, swapping quotes of the day, and googling random words like poo.

Anyway, in the meantime, I decided to lounge about and watch a bit of TV to clear my mind. Except as soon as I switched on the TV, I was assaulted with various images of myself going a bit mental on the stage last night after each newscaster
’s report.

‘Phoenix Valentine, real name Anna Borgström, has been revealed as the diary thief live to the nation at the Miss Manners contest last night.

Over the past two weeks, Pinkie Mortimer has launched a Who Stole Pinkie
’s Diary campaign to catch the culprit, which has proved to be a game of Guess Who? As a result, it has sparked a great deal of interest amongst the bloggerati.

The
diary thief’s identity has been the subject of speculation, including Genevieve de la Croix amongst other names.

Pinkie released a statement today, saying,
‘I knew I recognised Phoenix from somewhere. I’m just glad the thief’s finally been caught red-handed. Now I’m focusing on various other projects, which I look forward to promoting in the near future.’

I clicked the remote and puffed out as I sank into the sofa. Okay, so I couldn’t watch TV. I decided to go for a walk instead. I needed to get some milk anyway. I headed to the local newsagent’s. But as I went to pay for the milk, Anil, the shopkeeper, stalled the transaction.

‘
Anna,’ he crooned. ‘Anna Borgström. You are famous! You are on the TV and in all the papers!’ He rushed off and grabbed copies of various newspapers, then read out each headline like a newscaster. ‘Phoenix on Fire,
Daily Mirror
,’ he said, before adding, ‘Phoenix, the Diary thief,
Sunday Express
. Diary Thief Revealed,
Sun on Sunday
.’

As Anil continued to read the headlines, I contemplat
ed discarding the milk carton and doing a runner out of the shop.

‘
Can I have your autograph, Miss Anna?’ Anil asked, his face lighting up like a firework display.

‘
Autograph? But I thought everyone used chip and pin nowadays.’ I half smirked, paid for the milk, then signed a little illegible squiggle on his receipt book anyway.

As I stepped outside the shop, my phone rang.

It was Brian.

‘
Hey, Anna. How are you feeling?’

I felt a stirring in my tummy. It was so good to hear his soothing voice.

‘Like a shed head,’ I murmured. ‘Why?’

‘
I just wondered if you wanted to come over in a bit?’

‘
Wouldn’t my presence devalue your property?’

Brian laughed.
‘Come on, let’s hang out. Forget everything and watch a movie or something.’

‘
A movie? I don’t know.’ I mock-hesitated.

‘
Oh, come on.’ There was a short pause. ‘I have a surprise!’

‘
A surprise? Oh, all right then,’ I agreed, because I always did like a Kinder Surprise.

‘
In that case, I’ll see you in a bit.’

As I took the Tube from Camden Town to Green Park, I was met with butt loads of unwelcome stares from commuters. Like a gorilla, I don
’t react very well to being stared at. It makes me angry and aggressive, like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. So I put on my you-come-anywhere-near-me-and-I’ll-throttle-you face and hoped that would be enough to deter anyone.

It didn
’t.

A girl in her teens approached me as I was passing the barriers.

‘Aren’t you Phoenix Valentine?’

‘
No, sorry,’ I said, which was true. I was Anna Borgström. But as I attempted to walk on, she followed me.

‘
Yes, you are,’ she insisted. ‘You’re the one who stole Pinkie’s diary!’

I decided that the best thing to do at that moment in time was to pretend someone was ringing me.

‘Excuse me.’ I gestured towards my phone. ‘Sorry. I’ve got to take this call.’

‘
But it isn’t ringing,’ the girl said, staring at me in confusion.

‘
It’s on silent,’ I said, then took the fake call.

It worked. I
’d actually managed to shake her off and get on with my journey. I didn’t want to play the fame game.

I eventually arrived at Fairfax Manor. But when I knocked this time, it wasn
’t Giles who answered. It was Brian himself.

‘
Hey, Anna. Come in,’ he said with a smile, as if he’d just discovered the lost cities of gold. I followed him into one of the living rooms to find Tara and Felicity sitting on the Chesterfield.

As I walked in, they both stood up.

‘Surprise!’ they both beamed in unison.

‘
Huh? Wait, does this mean I’m forgiven?’ I asked, slightly worried about the whole set-up, not to mention Brian’s sneaky involvement.

Felicity looked at Tara, then stepped forward
, poker-faced. ‘Yes, but only on one condition,’ she said, then paused. ‘You have to wear the dresses for my graduate show next month. I’ve been selected amongst the top forty to showcase my designs! There are going to be industry recruiters, fashion buyers and the press!’ Felicity jumped up and down on the spot, holding both my hands and simmering with excitement. ‘Plus, there’s a one thousand pound cash prize for the winner!’