- •I type a full stop, take a sip of coffee, and turn to the second page of the press release.
- •Extract 2
- •Extract 3
- •I should say something. I should say, “Janice, I don’t fancy Tom. He’s too tall and his breath smells.” But how on earth can I say that?
- •Extract 4
- •I’m absolutely stunned. I’ve never seen anything like this at a press conference. Never!
- •I head toward the back to get another cup of coffee, and find Elly standing by the coffee table. Excellent. I haven’t seen Elly for ages.
- •I’m sorry, but I can’t go and sit back down there. I have to hear about this.
- •Extract 5
- •I stare at him blankly.
- •I have never before worked so hard on an article. Never.
- •I can’t do this. I can’t speak to Luke Brandon. My questions are jotted down on a piece of paper in front of me, but as I stare at them, I’m not reading them.
- •I’ll show Alicia, I think fiercely. I’ll show them all, Luke Brandon included. Show them that I, Rebecca Bloomwood, am not a joke.
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •It’s basically my idea of heaven.
- •I close my eyes and, after a few seconds, feel a cool, creamy liquid being massaged into my face. It’s the most delicious sensation in the world. I could sit here all day.
- •I almost want to laugh at the incongruity of it. What’s she doing here? What’s Alicia Bitch Long-legs doing here, for God’s sake?
- •Is that me? Oh God, I don’t want to be a leading industry expert. I want to go home and watch reruns of The Simpsons.
- •I look around for support and see Rory gazing blankly at me.
- •I watch in a daze as he picks his way across the cable strewn floor toward the exit, half wishing he would look back.
- •Extract 8
- •Extract 2
- •Extract 3
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •I’ll just have a really quick look.
- •I mean, what is wrong with these people? Are they complete philistines?
- •Extract 6
- •It’s only as we're approaching a department entitled ‘Gift Wrapping’ that I realize what’s going on. When I said ‘gift’, she must have thought I meant it was an actual–
- •I take the card from her, and as I read, my skin starts to prickle with excitement.
- •Extract 7
- •I stare at him, agog.
- •I can’t tell him I’ve actually got three. And two on hold at Barneys.
- •Extract 2
- •I wish bridesmaids got to say something. It wouldn’t have to be anything very much. Just a quick ‘Yes’ or ‘I do’.
- •I’ve always been a teeny bit awkward around Tarquin. But now I see him with Suze – married to Suze – the awkwardness seems to melt away.
- •Extract 3
- •I glance into the mirror, feeling quite grown-up and proud of myself. For once in my life I’m not rushing. I’m not getting overexcited.
- •I remember that cake. The icing was lurid green and the lawnmower was made out of a painted matchbox. You could still see ‘Swan’ through the green.
- •I have never worn anything less flattering in my life.
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •I’ll be a grown-up, go along to the cake studio and break the news to her face to face.
- •I had no idea wedding cakes could be anything like this. I flip through, slightly dazedly, looking at cake after spectacular cake.
- •I can see Alicia’s brain working hard.
- •I can see Robyn and Antoine exchanging looks, and I’m dying to ask them what they think of Alicia. But... It wouldn’t be becoming in a bride-to-be.
- •If I’m really honest, hand on heart – I feel exactly like someone who’s going to have a huge, luxurious wedding at the Plaza.
- •I put the invitation into my bag and snap the clasp shut, feeling slightly sick.
- •I look at him, my attention finally caught.
- •Extract 8
- •I stare at him in utter stupefaction. What does he think he’s doing?
- •I stare at him in horror.
- •I follow his gaze, and see Danny’s brother Randall walking across the floor towards us.
- •Extract 9
- •I stare at her, momentarily halted.
- •I stare at the page, my heart pounding. It’s a typed sheet, headed terms of agreement. I look straight down to the dotted line at the bottom – and there’s my signature.
- •I haven’t said a word about anything to Luke. In The Realistic Bride it says the way to stop your fiance getting bored with wedding details is to feed them to him on a need-to-know basis.
- •I feel a stab of shock.
- •Extract 10
- •I put the phone down and smile at Robyn, who’s wearing a bright pink suit and a headset and carrying a walkie-talkie.
- •In fact, it’s completely true. I’m beyond nervous. Either everything goes to plan and this all works out. Or it doesn’t and it’s a complete disaster. There’s not much I can do about it.
- •I’ve never seen a wedding dress like it. It’s a work of art.
- •Extract 11
- •I reach out and hug her tightly.
- •I can't move. I can't breathe. I need my fairy godmothers, quick.
- •I don’t believe it. It’s Luke.
- •Extract 12
- •I feel a huge spasm of nerves as I see the familiar sign. We’re nearly there.
- •I’m getting married. I’m really getting married.
- •I freeze in terror, one foot inside the car. What’s happened? Who’s found out? What do they know?
- •I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.
- •I feel a spasm of nerves inside. Here it comes. The last bit of my plan. The very last cherry on top of the cake.
- •Extract 2
- •Extract 3
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •Extract 8
- •Extract 9
- •Extract 10
- •Extract 11
- •I’m fantastically well-organised, basically. And very self-disciplined. The early bird catches the modeling contracts, after all.
- •Extract 13
- •I am such a deluded moron.
- •Extract 2
- •I draw myself up short with a jolt. “I’m sorry,” I say, and exhale sharply. “You don’t want to hear all this.”
- •Extract 3
- •I bet they do.
- •I was so totally mortified, I never told anyone. Especially not Mum and Dad.
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •I don’t think so.
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles comfortably down on the rug. He was supposed to be rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. Slowly I sink down beside him.
- •I stare at her blankly. Since when have Kerry and I ever socialized together?
- •Extract 8
- •I am never visiting a zoo again.
- •Revenge is Sweet (by c. Fremlin)
- •It worked like a dream, exactly as she’d planned.
- •The Way up to Heaven (by r. Dahl)
- •For Services Rendered (by j. Deaver)
- •I can help you and you can help me...
- •I can help you and you can help me...
- •Makeover (by b. Callahan)
- •Interrupting her in mid sob, Monty said, “Hold on there, Steph. Gotta pay our bills. Time for a commercial.”
I stare at her blankly. Since when have Kerry and I ever socialized together?
“Emma and I are practically sisters, of course,” she adds sweetly, putting her arm round me.
“I’m sure she’s told you.”
“Oh, she told me a few things,” says Jack, his expression unreadable. He takes a bite of roast chicken and starts to chew it.
“We grew up together, we shared everything.” Kerry gives me a squeeze and I try to smile, but her perfume is nearly choking me.
“Isn’t that nice!” says Mum in pleasure. “I wish I had a camera.”
Jack doesn’t reply. He’s just giving Kerry this long, appraising look.
“We couldn’t be closer!” Kerry’s smile grows even more ingratiating. She’s squeezing me so hard, her talons are digging into my flesh. “Could we, Ems?”
“Er, no,” I say at last. “No, we couldn’t.”
Jack’s still chewing his chicken. He swallows it, then looks up.
“So, I guess that must have been a pretty tough decision for you when you had to turn Emma down,” he says conversationally to Kerry. “You two being so close, and all.”
“Turn her down?” Kerry gives a tinkling laugh. “I don’t know what on earth you–”
“That time she applied for work experience in your firm and you turned her down,” says Jack pleasantly, and takes another bite of chicken.
I can’t quite move.
That was a secret. That was supposed to be a secret.
“What?” says Dad, half laughing. “Emma applied to Kerry?”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about!” says Kerry, going a little pink.
“I think I have this right,” says Jack, chewing. “She offered to work for no money… but you still said no.” He looks perplexed for a moment. “Interesting decision.”
Very slowly, Mum and Dad’s expressions are changing.
“But of course, fortunate for us here at the Panther Corporation,” Jack adds cheerfully. “We’re very glad Emma didn’t make a career in the travel industry. So I guess I have to thank you, Kerry! As one business-owner to another.” He smiles at her. “You did us a big favour.”
Extract 8
I crane my neck so I can see over everyone’s heads, and my eyes focus on the screen – and there he is. Sitting on a chair in a studio, in jeans and a white T-shirt. There’s a bright blue backdrop and the words ‘Business Inspirations’ behind him, and two smart-looking interviewers sitting opposite him.
There he is. The man I love.
“What have they asked him so far?” I murmur to Artemis.
“They’re talking to him about how he works. His inspirations, his partnership with Pete Laidler, stuff like that.”
“Sssh!” says someone else.
“Of course it was tough after Pete died,” Jack’s saying. “It was tough for all of us. But recently…” He pauses. “Recently my life has turned around and I’m finding inspiration again. I’m enjoying it again.”
A small tingle runs over me.
He has to be referring to me. He has to be. I’ve turned his life around! Oh my God. That’s even more romantic than ‘I was gripped’.
“You’ve already expanded into the sports drinks market,” the male interviewer is saying. “Now I believe you’re looking to expand into the women’s market.”
“What?”
There’s a frisson around the room, and people start turning their heads.
“We’re going into the women’s market?”
“Since when?”
“I knew, actually,” Artemis is saying smugly. “Quite a few people have known for a while–”
Gosh, this is quite exciting. A new venture!
“Can you give us any further details about that?” the male interviewer is saying. “Will this be a soft drink marketed at women?”
“It’s very early stages,” says Jack. “But we’re planning an entire line. A drink, clothing, a fragrance. We have a strong creative vision.” He smiles at the man. “We’re excited.”
“So, what’s your target market this time?” asks the man, consulting his notes. “Are you aiming at sportswomen?”
“Not at all,” says Jack. “We’re aiming at… the girl on the street.”
“The ‘girl on the street’?” The female interviewer sits up, looking slightly affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean? Who is this girl on the street?”
“She’s twenty-something,” says Jack after a pause. “She works in an office, takes the tube to work, goes out in the evenings and comes home on the night bus… just an ordinary, nothing-special girl.”
“There are thousands of them,” puts in the man with a smile.
“But the Panther brand has always been associated with men,” chips in the woman, looking sceptical. “With competition. With masculine values. Do you really think you can make the switch to the female market?”
“We’ve done research,” says Jack pleasantly. “We feel we know our market.”
“Research!” she scoffs. “Isn’t this just another case of men telling women what they want?”
“I don’t believe so,” says Jack, still pleasantly, but I can see a slight flicker of annoyance pass across his face.
“Plenty of companies have tried to switch markets without success. How do you know you won’t just be another one of them?”
“I’m confident,” says Jack.
God, why is she being so aggressive? I think indignantly. Of course Jack knows what he’s doing!
“You round up a load of women in some focus group and ask them a few questions! How does that tell you anything?”
“That’s only a small part of the picture, I can assure you,” says Jack evenly.
“Oh, come on,” the woman says, leaning back and folding her arms. “Can a company like Panther – can a man like you – really tap into the psyche of, as you put it, an ordinary, nothing-special girl?”
“Yes. I can!” Jack meets her gaze square-on. “I know this girl.”
“You know her?” The woman raises her eyebrows.
“I know who this girl is,” says Jack. “I know what her tastes are; what colours she likes. I know what she eats, I know what she drinks. I know what she wants out of life. She’s size twelve but she’d like to be size ten. She…” he spreads his arms as though searching for inspiration.
“She eats Cheerios for breakfast and dips Flakes in her cappuccinos.”
I look in surprise at my hand, holding a Flake. I was about to dip it into my coffee. And… I had Cheerios this morning.
“We’re surrounded these days by images of perfect, glossy people,” Jack is saying with animation. “But this girl is real. She has bad hair days, and good hair days. She wears G-strings even though she finds them uncomfortable. She writes out exercise routines, then ignores them. She pretends to read business journals but hides celebrity magazines inside them.”
I stare blankly at the television screen.
Just… hang on a minute. This all sounds a bit familiar.
“That’s exactly what you do, Emma,” says Artemis. “I’ve seen your copy of OK! inside Marketing Week.” She turns to me with a mocking laugh and her gaze lands on my Flake.
“She loves clothes but she’s not a fashion victim,” Jack is saying on screen. “She’ll wear, maybe, a pair of jeans…”
Artemis stares in disbelief at my Levis.
“… and a flower in her hair…”
Dazedly I lift a hand and touch the fabric rose in my hair.
He can’t–
He can’t be talking about–
“Oh… my… God,” says Artemis slowly.
“What?” says Caroline, next to her. She follows Artemis’s gaze, and her expression changes.
“Oh my God! Emma! It’s you!”
A few people start nudging each other and turning to look at me.
“She reads fifteen horoscopes every day and chooses the one she likes best…” Jack’s voice is saying.
“It is you! It’s exactly you!”
“… she scans the back of highbrow books and pretends she’s read them…”
“I knew you hadn’t read Great Expectations!” says Artemis triumphantly.
“… she adores sweet sherry…”
“Sweet sherry?” says Nick, turning in horror. “You cannot be serious.”
“It’s Emma!” I can hear people saying on the other side of the room. “It’s Emma Corrigan!”
“Emma?” says Katie, looking straight at me in disbelief. “But… but…”
“It’s not Emma!” says Connor all of a sudden, with a laugh. He’s standing over on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. “Don’t be ridiculous! Emma’s size eight, for a start. Not size twelve!”
“Size eight?” says Artemis with a snort of laughter.
“Size eight!” Caroline giggles. “That’s a good one!”
“Aren’t you size eight?” Connor looks at me bewilderedly. “But you said…”
“I… I know I did.” I swallow, my face like a furnace. “But I was… I was…”
“Do you really buy all your clothes from thrift shops and pretend they’re new?” says Caroline, looking up with interest from the screen.
“No!” I say defensively. “I mean, yes, maybe… sometimes…”
“She weighs 135 pounds, but pretends she weighs 125,” Jack's voice is saying.
What? What?
My entire body contracts in shock.
“I do not!” I yell in outrage at the screen. “I do not weigh anything like 135 pounds! I weigh… about… 128… and a half…” I tail off as the entire room turns to stare at me.
“… hates crochet…”
There’s an almighty gasp from across the room.
“You hate crochet?” comes Katie’s disbelieving voice.
“No!” I say, swivelling in horror. “That’s wrong! I love crochet! You know I love crochet.”
But Katie is stalking furiously out of the room.
“She cries when she hears the Carpenters,” Jack’s voice is saying on the screen. “She loves Abba but she can’t stand jazz…”
Oh no. Oh no oh no…
Connor is staring at me as though I have personally driven a stake through his heart.
“You can’t stand… jazz?”
***
It’s like one of those dreams where everyone can see your underwear and you want to run but you can’t. I can’t tear myself away. All I can do is stare ahead in agony as Jack’s voice continues inexorably.
All my secrets. All my personal, private secrets. Revealed on television. I’m in such a state of shock, I’m not even taking them all in.
“She wears lucky underwear on first dates… she borrows designer shoes from her flatmate and passes them off as her own… pretends to kick-box… confused about religion… worries that her breasts are too small…”
I close my eyes, unable to bear it. My breasts. He mentioned my breasts. On television.
“When she goes out, she can play sophisticated, but on her bed…”
I’m suddenly faint with fear.
No. No. Please not this. Please, please…
“… she has a Barbie bedcover.”
A huge roar of laughter goes round the room, and I bury my face in my hands. I am beyond mortification. No-one was supposed to know about my Barbie bedcover. No-one.
I feel like throwing myself at the television. Draping my arms over it. Stopping him.
But it wouldn’t do any good, would it? A million TVs are on, in a million homes. People, everywhere, are watching.
“She believes in love and romance. She believes her life is one day going to be transformed into something wonderful and exciting. She has hopes and fears and worries, just like anyone. Sometimes she feels frightened.” He pauses, and adds in a softer voice, “Sometimes she feels unloved. Sometimes she feels she will never gain approval from those people who are most important to her.”
As I stare at Jack’s warm, serious face on the screen, I feel my eyes stinging slightly.
“But she’s brave and goodhearted and faces her life head on…” He shakes his head dazedly and smiles at the interviewer. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened there. I guess I got a little carried away. Could we–” His voice is abruptly cut off by the interviewer.
Carried away.
He got a little carried away.
This is like saying Hitler was a tad aggressive.
“Jack Harper, many thanks for talking to us,” the interviewer starts saying. “Next week, we’ll be chatting to the charismatic king of motivational videos, Ernie Powers. Meanwhile, many thanks again to…”
Everyone stares at the screen as she finishes her spiel and the programme’s music starts. Then someone leans forward and switches the television off.
For a few seconds the entire room is silent. Everyone is gaping at me, as though they’re expecting me to make a speech, or do a little dance or something. Some faces are sympathetic, some are curious, some are gleeful and some are just Jeez-am-I-glad-I’m-not-you.
Now I know exactly how zoo animals feel.