We’re friends because our fathers play tennis together. When they realised that they both had daughters the same age, that was it: scheduled play dates and forced friendship. In this world, everything in your life is planned for you for the benefit of family wealth and appearances.
“Arewe best friends, Lauren?” I question her, feeling pretty annoyed with her actions.
She looks at me and places her hand over her heart like the victim of a crime. “Wow, catty! Of course we are.”
“You haven’t been to visit me, or text or called me to see how I am since I’ve been off work,” I remark.
“Oh, Harri, you’re so dramatic. I’ve been busy. I had a shoot at Venice Beach, then I was visiting my family in Houston. Mommy had a dinner with the Miss Universe winners, so I attended that. I’ve had brand deals and all sorts. It’s actually been rather stressful, and you haven’t text me, asking how I am.”
She’s got me there. I haven’t. She’s exceptionally good at twisting words to fit her narrative. Learnt from her father no doubt. You’ve got to be good to cover up all your oil spills into the ocean.
My shoulders drop as she has me dead to rights. Annoyingly. I try to play it off. Sometimes it’s better to just let things go, right? “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just been a bit rough.”
“It’s OK, I forgive you. Just stop being such a boring bitch and get back to being the Harri we love.” She laughs.
She turns her attention to the assistants and pays for her shopping on her father’s credit card again. Lauren’s parents pay for Lauren’s love through unlimited American Express. They always have. She most definitely has complex parental issues which might explain why she’s so cold to everyone around her. Martin carries the bags to the car and one of the shop assistants helps her with her coat.
“Anyway, darling, it’s been great, but I have a dinner date, so need to go home to change. I’ll see you at the charity ball. Please wear something fabulous, and some Spanx.” She laughs and waves her hand to gesture for Martin to open the car door for her. “Want us to drop you home? The weather looks ghastly.”
I linger back from the car. “Actually, I might shop a little longer.” And any more time with Lauren may turn me into a homicidal maniac.
She shrugs and air kisses my cheeks before getting straight onto her phone and sliding back into the back of her blacked-out Range Rover. Martin drives off down the puddled tarmac and out of sight.
The rain is still lightly coming down from the grey clouds above. I don’t have an umbrella with me or a coat, but the cool air feels nice on my skin. I start walking. I walk down towards the Thames and follow it on a path home. The city is still busy but with the downcast weather it’s quieter than usual. I take my time, taking in what surrounds me as I walk. The sound of the river rushing downstream, the slow breeze through the orange and brown leaves in the trees and the sound of birds in song. It’s beautiful. I’m a good hour away from the apartment but wearing trainers means I can actually enjoy it. A luxury I haven’t let myself afford before.
Two
I stand looking at myself in the full-length mirror in our walk-in wardrobe. Piles of dresses surround my feet from where I’ve tried on nearly everything I own on. I’ve settled on a full-length silk black dress with a pearl necklace and matching earrings, my hair in an updo with a few loose curls falling down my shoulders. Greg walks in behind me, carefully stepping over the trail of clothing destruction I’ve left behind. He meets my eyes through the mirror.
“Sorry about the mess. I didn’t know what to wear.” I bite my lip still unsure on my choice of dress.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll get Marcy to clean it up.”
Marcy is our cleaner. She’s worked for Greg’s family for years, so as soon as we bought this apartment, he ensured she was able to clean for us as well as his family.
“It’s fine, I’ll sort it out. It’s not poor Marcy’s job to pick up my mess.”
He rolls his eyes and places his hands around my waist.
“She’s a cleaner, Harri. It’s what she’s paid to do.” He kisses my neck and moves his hands around my waist feeling the silk fabric with his fingertips. “It’s so good to see you looking more like yourself.”
He buries his head into my neck, kissing me. I may look like who he thinks I am, but I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my life. He lifts his head to meet my gaze.
“Everything OK? You feel stiff as a board.” I can feel his annoyance through his gaze.
“I’m fine.” I clear my throat and turn to face him. “I guess I’m just nervous. It’s been a while since we’ve been to an event.”
He smiles and breathes out, relieved no doubt. “You’ll be fine, you’ll soon pick it up. I was worried you were having second thoughts of going.” He laughs then moves in front of me to use the mirror himself.
I am. I want to tear this dress off and get into my pyjamas and snuggle up in bed and watch endless Netflix shows, but it’s obvious that isn’t a choice and my feelings on the matter, don’t matter.
“It’s time we get back to normal, don’t you think? Get this wedding out the way, I’ll take over my father’s business, you start designing dresses for London fashion week, become the power couple we’ve always wanted…” He slicks back his hair and adjusts his cufflinks.
“Is that what you’ve always wanted?” I ask.
He turns to me, puzzled by my question. “Of course it is. It’s our birthright, Harri. People like us are destined for wonderful things and we have the opportunity to do so.”
“Don’t you ever think about just getting away from this though? Not being consumed by money and looking the best. I don’t know… sometimes I think there’s more to this.”
