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Maybe quite nice to date a fellow Cornishman?
And you know I believe in the universe, so maybe the whole Kynance Cove thing is A SIGN!
Would you be able to see him when you get back to London?
Helen:He actually lives in London most of the time. Just doing some charity work down here
#swoon.
Sophie:Even more perfect then! So whatcha wearing?
Send pics xx
Elle:You can’t go wrong with the black halterneck, skinnies and those ankle boots!
Helen:Maybe a bit much for Cornwall.
But don’t worry I’ll send options.
Thanks for the support!
LU guys xx
Chapter 4
The easiest way Helen could describe what she looked like, would be to say that she didn’t look like anyone at all. She certainly didn’t have a celebrity lookalike. She had never once in her life had someone run up to her and gush, ‘Has anyone ever told you? You look just like …!’
With medium-length, thick, brown hair, pale blue eyes, and pear-shaped hips, she looked like an English woman in her early thirties, maybe twenty-eight on a good day. She emphatically did not look like someone you would cast in a movie or who you would see on a catwalk.
She was not attractive, beautiful or striking. At best, she was cute, or pretty – and that was fine by her. She could rest safe in the knowledge that she was never being judged positively or negatively because of her looks: she just was.
Helen actually thought there was a lot to be said for not standing out; it meant you didn’t get picked to star in the school play, and could hang out towards the back of the chorus, safe from scrutiny. You weren’t disliked for being either too attractive or unattractive; women who had never met you didn’t cling protectively to their boyfriends in your presence, and whilst Helen had still had a few sleazy comments in her time, she didn’t feel like a magnet for them. She actually quite liked the fact that if they were ever on a night out, men would flock towards Elle, and she could avoid the awkwardness of flirting. Being really ‘hot’ seemed like a lot of pressure: a lot of spin classes, balayage highlights, and time spent on Instagram.
She was about to go out on a very important first date though. A first date … how long had it been? Well, you couldn’t really count that French guy who had weirded her out by asking her why she was still single. So, it had been, well, at least a few months? She couldn’t even say she was rusty, more like she was never polished. She’d never felt beautiful, or powerful, or adored on a date. Dates with Jonathan frequently didn’t happen, or involved him needling her about past boyfriends, future career plans, and if she really thought the dress she was wearing was appropriate. In hindsight, they felt more like an intense interview process than a romance, one that had perfectly tapped into her desire to please everyone, and made her jump through hoop after hoop in the hopes he would fall as madly in love with her as she had done with him. Tomorrow would be different. She would be herself, but a polished, grown-up, (whisper it) sexy version of herself that Brody would fall head over heels in love with. If it was meant to be of course; you couldn’t force these things.
Helen picked up a simple black vest and folded it away again. Having packed to visit her parents she had precisely no clothes that were date worthy: the halterneck Elle had mentioned was hanging safely in her wardrobe in London, and had been trumped by a selection of oversized pastel sweaters and three pairs of leggings.
She sent a picture of herself in cropped skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder knit to Queens xoxo.
Sophie:I like that jumper on you!
Elle:Cream is a nice and girlfriend-y colour … but are you sure about the Converse?!
Sophie:Ofc @Elle would never be caught dead in Converse ;-)
Elle:Just not my style @Sophie
Babe wear whatever makes you feel confident: it’s *just* a first date!
‘Sis, you ready to go?’ Henry was outside her door again.
Despite being four years her junior, he was one of the only members of her family to understand the concept of tact. He never burst through her door uninvited, and instead dutifully knocked every time he wanted to speak to her. He had always been the steadier one of them both. Helen was aware that she had a tendency towards being a little anxious; Henry, on the other hand, had rock-like qualities. He said very little, but always turned up on time, often just where you needed him to be. It was no surprise to Helen that he had found a nice girlfriend who doted on him.
Helen was due to meet her later today; she could tell Henry was quite taken with Nessy because he wouldn’t be introducing her over a family dinner otherwise. He was a true stoic and the total opposite of a guy like Jonathan, who’d been all talk and no action. Or if there were actions, they didn’t mean anything, and if they did mean something, it was always the total opposite of what you thought they meant.
She remembered how Jonathan had once invited her to see Cirque du Soleil. He told her to dress up, and she had spent nearly £300 she didn’t have on a new beige mac for the occasion. She felt like this was Jonathan’s way of showing her off and taking a big step towards being officially his girlfriend. Only later on did it transpire that she was in fact not the first person he’d invited, that he’d won the tickets in a raffle and his gesture had a lot more to do with his inability to go to any event alone, than his feelings towards her …
‘Yep, yep – coming!’ Helen yelled back through the door. After a second glance in the mirror, she put down her Converse trainers and grabbed her black ankle books instead.
