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CHAPTER ONE
Phoebe
Standing outside the school gates, waiting to pick my godchildren up, I take a glance around and notice the obvious stares and dirty looks from the other mums. God, it’s like being the new kid at school again. This time though, instead of shying away from everyone and becoming a wallflower, I shake my hair out, give a scathing look their way and wave at some of them. Let them figure out why and how I know some. And why I’m not acknowledging the rest.
My mother would tell me to ‘kill them with kindness.’ And I would add ‘until you can kill them for real,’ she never appreciates that. Obviously I’m joking.
Maybe. Sometimes?
Oh come on, these people should know better. We aren’t kids anymore. We’re grown-arse women. We all know the importance of being nice. How kindness is what everyone deserves. I bet these women shooting me daggers and looking me up and down with a sneer are the same ones posting meme after meme on social media about kindness and beingnice. Making room at their high end, bougie tables. Bunch of hypocrites.
But man do they have nice handbags. They must’ve sold their souls for them though. Or other body parts, if you get my drift. I know I shouldn’t be so judgemental, especially when I’m preaching about kindness, but I’ve heard so many stories from Lola, my bestie, about these women. How they’ve made her feel like shit because she hasn’t conformed to be a stepford wife like they all are. She hasn’t botoxed her face or plumped her lips up so much she looks like an incredibly smooth looking duck. She doesn’t dress in the latest trends and designers or flaunt her wealth like the rest of them.
Lola is humble. She grew up in a normal household where her parents worked to provide for them all. She isn’t a trust fund baby and she definitely didn’t marry Dan for his money. In fact she was pleasantly surprised when she found out just how much his computer programming company was actually worth. But that’s Lola. She’s as sweet as she is naive. These women have been using her for target practice and I’m dishing out a little karmic retribution today on her behalf.
The school gates open and I stride inside. Confidence oozes from my pores as my long brown hair flows behind my back. I raise one of my bad bitch brows as I walk past a pack of them, saying a silent thank you for my perfectly applied makeup, courtesy of the very nice lady on the MAC counter—who also taught me that phrase and whom I gave an obscene tip to. I told you, I’m a lady on a mission today.
I swing my borrowed Hermes bag onto my shoulder and adjust my overly large sunglasses on my face. Ivy’s Louboutin heels that I snagged off her for today's outing click on the pavement and I stifle my grimace as each step causes my toes to throb even more. I scream wealth. And I’m hoping my completelack of interest in any of them will make them curious about me even more.
They don’t know I’m Lola’s bestie. They have no idea I have about twenty-five quid in the bank until payday. It’s all about the illusion. Let them see me and wonder who the hell I am. And if the opportunity arises, I might just take down the alpha dog. Make her pay for treating my bestie as anything less than she deserves.
Instead of being fearless and not giving a fuck, Lola internalises every glance, whisper, and head shake. It feeds every negative feeling she has about herself. And the one thing I can’t cope with is someone making my bestie doubt how phenomenal she is.
I was seven years old when we moved next door to her and her family. She was a little tiny thing, all teeth and smiles, and she made me feel better about leaving my old school and home behind.
“Hi, I’m Lola, what’s your name?” The little blonde girl bounds over to me as I cling to my mum’s legs.
“Lola, now give them time to breathe.” A kind looking man strides over to us and smiles as he holds his hand out to my mum. “Hi, there. I’m Reg Camden, and this little bundle of energy is my daughter, Lola. Looks like we’re neighbours. Pleasure to meet you.”
My mum extends her hand and smiles. She introduces herself and me, striking up an easy conversation with Lola’s dad. I’m still clinging to her leg when the most beautiful woman walks out from behind their house. She smiles at me and the kindness she exudes makes me feel at ease instantly.
Lola steps forward and grabs my hand. “That’s my mum. Oh, and my sister, Ivy. And that doof over there, the one who thinks he’s too cool for everything, that’s my brother, FreddieBear. He doesn’t like to be called that.” She cups her mouth and whispers to me, “It’s why I do it even more.”
She giggles and I smile as I bring my eyes up to look at the people she pointed out to me. My mum is busy talking to Lola’s parents as Ivy slowly walks toward us. I smile shyly and look over to where she said her brother was. My eyes meet his blue ones. Our gazes lock together for a second and then he frowns, pushes off the wall and walks into his house.
That was the first time I saw my first crush, but not the last time he’d walk away from me frowning. It seemed to be his default setting when it came to me and his sisters.
But Ivy and Lola became firm favourites of mine, as did her parents Reg and Carol. They became my second parents and the girls were the sisters I never had. Ivy moved away for uni and now for her job but we still chat all the time, but Lola, she lives around the corner from me, and we’re in each other's pockets all the time. This is why I’m here. She’s going away for the weekend with Dan.
And I’m picking her beautiful children up and dropping them to Mr. Frowny face.
Why he couldn’t take the time out of his busy schedule to do it is beyond me, but I don’t begrudge spending time with Scarlet and DJ. Lola and Dan have done the best jobs raising their kids, and because of their awesome parents, their kids are awesome too.
This is another reason I’m pissed at these plastic women and their bitchy ways. Lola is amazing. She needs to be bloody celebrated. Not knocked down because they can see her beauty shining through and are jealous that she doesn’t ‘need’ the things they do to be considered beautiful. Jealous that she has the real deal when it comes to her loving husband Dan, not just a show romance whilst he’s bonking his secretary on the side.
Waiting at the allotted space for DJ to come out, I tilt my head and turn my nose up at a particularly nasty looking woman—the alpha bitch.
“Hi there, are you new here? I love your Birkin.” Alpha lady smiles boldly at me and her followers grin maniacally behind her.
I flip my hair from my shoulder, lower my glasses and sneer, “Is that last season’s Chanel? Interesting.” I push my glasses back up my nose, and sniff haughtily in the air.
I smile at the lady next to her, tilting my head ever so slightly toward her feet. “I love those shoes, by the way.” She blushes and smiles back. Divide and conquer my friends.
I turn my back to them but not before seeing the affronted and miserable look on Alpha’s plastic face. HA! Take that, bitch. You mess with my bestie, you mess with me.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the smile on my face when I see her followers take a step away from her. Like the stink from having last year's bag will infiltrate them too. What a bunch of superficial losers. I can’t wait to go home, take this slap off my face and put a pair of flat shoes on. My feet are killing me in these contraptions, but I’m grateful for the loaner from Ivy, even if she is a size smaller than me.
Kids start to file out of the building and I spot DJ running toward me excitedly. “Auntie Phoebe, you look diffewent.”
