- •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 have never before worked so hard on an article. Never.
Mind you, I’ve never before been asked to write one so quickly. At Successful Saving, we get a whole month to write our articles – and we complain about that. When Eric Foreman said, “Can you do it by tomorrow?” I thought he was joking at first. I jauntily replied, “Of course!” and nearly added, “In fact, I’ll have it with you in five minutes’ time!” Then, just in time, I realized he was serious. Crikey.
So I’m round at Martin and Janice’s first thing the next morning with a Dictaphone, writing down exactly all the information on their investment and trying to get in lots of heart-wrenching details as advised by Eric.
“We need human interest,” he told me over the phone. “None of your dull financial reporting here. Make us feel sorry for them. Make us weep. A hard-working, ordinary couple, who thought they could rely on a few savings to see them through their old age. Ripped off bу the fat cats. What kind of house do these people live in?”
“Ahmm... a four-bedroom detached house in Surrey.”
“Well, for Christ’s sake don’t put that in!” he boomed. “I want honest, poor, and proud. Never demanded, penny off the state, saved to provide for themselves. Trusted a respectable financial institution. And ail it did was kick them in the face.” He paused, and it sound as if he might be picking his teeth. “That kind of thing. Think you can manage it?”
“I... ahm... yes! Of course!” I stuttered.
Oh God, I thought as I put down the phone. What have I got myself into?
But it’s too late to change my mind now. So the next thing is to persuade Janice and Martin that they don’t mind appearing in The Daily World. The trouble is, it’s not exactly The Financial Times, is it? Or even the normal Times. (Still, it could be a lot worse. It could be The Sun – and they’d end up sandwiched between a topless model and a blurred paparazzi shot of Posh Spice.)
Luckily, however, they’re so bowled over that I’m making all this effort on their behalf, they don’t seem to care which newspaper I’m writing for. And when they hear that a photographer’s coming over at midday to take their picture, you’d think the queen was coming to visit.
“My hair!” says Janice in dismay, staring into the mirror. “Have I time to get Maureen in to give me a blow-dry?”
“Not really. And it looks lovely,” I say reassuringly. “Anyway, they want you as natural as possible. Just honest, ordinary people.” I glance around the living room, trying to pick up poignant details to put into my article.
An anniversary card from their son stands proudly on the well-polished mantelpiece. But there will be no celebration this year for Martin and Janice Webster.
“I must phone Phyllis!” says Janice. “She won’t believe it!”
“You weren’t ever a soldier, or anything?” I say thoughtfully to Martin. “Or a... a fireman? Anything like that. Before you became a travel agent.”
“Not really, love,” says Martin, wrinkling his brow. “Just the Cadets at school.”
“Oh, right,” I say, brightening. “That might do.”
Martin Webster fingers the Cadet badge he was so proud to wear as a youth. His life has been one of hard work and service for others. Now, in his retirement years, he should be enjoying the rewards he deserves.
But the fat cats have conned him out of his nest egg. Daily World asks...
“I’ve photocopied all the documents for you,” says Martin. “All the paperwork. I don’t know if it’ll be any use…”
“Oh thanks,” I say, taking the pile of pages from him. “I’ll have a good read through these.”
When honest Martin Webster received a letter from Flagstaff Life, inviting him to switch investment funds, he trusted the money men to know what was best for him.
Two weeks later he discovered they had tricked him out of a £20,000 windfall.
“My wife is ill as a result of all this,” he said, “I’m so worried.”
Hmm.
“Janice?” I say, looking up casually. “Do you feel all right? Not... unwell, or anything?”
“A bit nervous, to be honest, dear,” she says, looking round from the mirror. “I’m never very good at having my picture taken.”
“My nerves are shot to pieces,” said Mrs. Webster in a ragged voice. “I’ve never felt so betrayed in all my life.”
“Well, I think I’ve got enough now,” I say, getting up and switching off my Dictaphone. “I might have to slightly digress from what’s on the tape – just to make the story work. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not!” says Janice. “You write what like, Becky! We trust you.”
I look at her soft, friendly face and feel a sudden shot of determination. This time I’ll get it right.
“So what happens now?” says Martin.
“I’ll have to go and talk to Flagstaff Life,” I say. “Get them to give their defense.”
“What defense?” says Martin. “There is no defense for what they did to us!”
I grin at him. “Exactly.”
I’m full of happy adrenaline. All I need to do is get a quote from Flagstaff Life, and I can start writing piece. I haven’t got long: it needs to be finished by two o’clock if it’s going to make tomorrow’s edition. Why has work never seemed so exciting before?
Briskly I reach for the phone and dial Flagstaff number – only to be told by the switchboard operator that all press inquiries are dealt with out of house. She gives me a number, which seems rather familiar, and I frown at it for a moment, then punch it in.
“Hello,” says a smooth voice. “Brandon Communications.”
Of course. Suddenly I feel a bit shaky. The word Brandon has hit me right in the stomach like a punch. I’d forgotten all about Luke Brandon.
But it’s OK – I don’t have to speak to him personally, do I?
“Hi!” I say. “It’s Rebecca Bloomwood here. Ermm... just wanted to talk to somebody about Flagstaff Life.”
“Let me check...” says the voice. “Yes, that’s Luke Brandon’s client. I’ll just put you through to his assistant...” And the voice disappears before I can say anything.
Oh God.