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“Love you too, Elle.”
After a fun morning making several batches of Nigella’s puddini bonbons for Elle’s family (and squirrelling some away for myself), I have an amazing nap in my fluffy cloud bed, then enjoy a long hot bath and an early chicken parmigiana dinner cooked by Elle. She feels guilty for going away, and even though she knows it’s my idea of hell, she still invited me to go with her another six times today. I think she’s worried I’ll starve to death in her absence, hence cooking my favourite meal tonight.
“God that was amazing,” I groan, releasing the button on my jeans. “I hope they give me a one-piece to wear tonight to hide this food baby.”
“What time do you need to leave?” Elle asks me.
“The bus is in forty minutes. It takes almost an hour to get down to the docks, and then there’s a bit of a walk at the other end – as you know.”
“Well, I was thinking. Why don’t I drive you there tonight?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You could leave a lot later, we can say a final goodbye. Listen to some tunes on the way. I could do your makeup for you before you go.”
“If you’re sure,” I say, because I know that in reality, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
Once Elle’s decided something, everyone else had better fall into line and let it happen. Like when she decided me and her brother would make the perfect couple. She railroaded us into spending so much time together that it was inevitable something would eventually happen. Her dream of her making me her sister was short lived though when that relationship crashed and burned in spectacular fashion when I fucked up one half ofthe only two good things going for me in my life. Elle and her brother. I almost lost Elle over it too. Not a situation I wish to repeat any time soon. So if it makes her happy, she can dress me up and chauffeur me around. Feed me and clothe me and mother me. Because Lord knows I owe that girl more than I could ever repay her.
“Yay!” She squeals, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started.”
She drags me from the dining table and through to her bedroom where her walk-in closet is looking decidedly empty. She shoves me onto the seat at her dressing table and begins to rifle through her vast makeup collection, pulling out various lotions, potions and products. Before I can even blink, I’m wearing gold gel under eye patches and she’s slathering vitamin E face base all over my skin. It smells amazing.
“What look are we going for?” she asks. “I’ll do your hair while that cream works its magic.”
For some reason, my cheeks heat at the thought of telling Elle how they dress me at the club. “Umm, anything will do. Fairly natural, really.”
“Nonsense! It’s a sex club.” She whispers the word ’sex’ like she’s going to hell just for saying the word and I have to fight not to laugh. “Let’s go super sexy.”
“Elle no.”
“Sultry, not slutty,” she promises.
“Fine,” I sigh.
“Oh yay! Do you have a uniform?” I shake my head no. “What colour are you wearing tonight?”
“Probably pale blue.”
She wrinkles her nose up. “Blue? That’s not very…sexy-clubby.”
“It’s Christmas themed.”
“So why not red and green?”
“Because it’s tasteful, not tacky.”
“Oooh, tell me about the decor then!”
While Elle gets to work on my hair and face, I give her minimal details about the decor and various rooms I saw on my tour with North. She asks way too many questions, too curious for her own good, and I manage to avoid most of them.
When she’s satisfied with her handiwork, she sends me to my room to get changed, refusing to let me see the finished effect until I’m dressed. I walk back into her room in my jeans, pumps and a jumper and she scowls at me.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“Because it’s cold out?” I reply, being deliberately obtuse.
“Get changed.”
