Catwalk Queen

by Cathy Hopkins

  I turned to the second message, which was from Keira. Probably thanking me for the introduction, I thought as the page opened. Keira had clearly had a great time. Alisha had been true to her word and did what she could to make Keira welcome so I’d told my jealousy to go away and joined in the banter.

  I read the first lines of the message.

  Dear Jess

  It’s a drag that I have to write this but you’ve brought it on yourself with your selfish attitude. Our recent meetings haven’t gone well. I think the reason is because we never really got on when we were in junior school and possibly won’t ever because you play mind games and always like to be in control of what’s happening.

  I reread the first lines and felt myself tense.

  I’m not happy to be back in London but it’s a big place so hopefully I won’t ever bump into you again. The competition might have been a problem but you said you’re dropping out so that should solve that. You might not have got through anyway because anyone can see that you’re not serious about it. You may have thought I was mean to have said that you haven’t got what it takes to go on with the competition but I felt I had to tell the truth when you asked.

  I thought I’d give you a chance and see how things went after our first meeting outside your school, you blatantly brushed me off. And then when I came to your house you made no effort to really welcome me or offer me any of the takeaway you’d just had nor let me get in with your friends. I could tell that you didn’t really want me there. I think it’s best that we don’t see each other again. I didn’t trust you back when we were at junior school and I don’t trust you or your smiley face and act now. I don’t think you have changed at all or grown as a person.

  I left my bottle of elderflower at your house and there was about half left so I’d like it back at some point. We don’t all have rich friends to give us freshly squeezed juices.

  Also, there was some strong chemistry between me and JJ. You probably sensed it so I wanted to add that when he asks me over, I I really don’t want to bump into you at the same time.

  I felt as if someone had poured cold water over me. I read the message again then burst into tears.

  9

  The Hunt for Juice

  ‘Do NOT write back,’ said Pia when I called her soon after I’d seen Kiera’s message. ‘She’s clearly bonkers. Do NOT engage.’

  ‘But I feel I need to explain—’

  ‘Exactly. That’s what she wants. She wants to get a reaction from you but believe me, it will be the wrong reaction in her book. Promise me, you won’t write back.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Promise,’ Pia insisted.

  ‘I promise.’

  As I snuggled down to try and sleep later that night, my mind kept going over and over Keira’s message. Was any of what she’d accused me of true? Had I been mean to her? Had I blatantly brushed her off? Did I play mind games? It was true that we’d never really got on but neither of us had actually come out and said it. Some things are best left unspoken, Mum always used to say, and if you haven’t got something nice to say, then don’t say it.

  Despite what Pia had said, I felt I had to reply. That was another thing Mum had drummed into me – it was rude not to say anything when someone sent a letter, a message or a gift, or made a phone call. ‘Nothing worse than people who just leave you in the air or treat you as if you’re invisible,’ she’d say. I decided I’d apologise for having upset Keira and say that wasn’t my intention. It was true that I hadn’t wanted her to come around when she did. I didn’t want to share my new life with her. She was right to have picked up on that and although she felt that I wasn’t honest in sharing all my feelings, I decided that I would stick with Mum’s philosophy and not voice them. I switched on my computer and went to Facebook to read the message again. I saw that there was a new one from her.

  L the elderflower juice that I left at your place on the porch outside my house as I don’t want to come and collect it. You could ask Charlie to leave it as I don’t want to see you. Keira

  Blimey, I thought. And she thought I was controlling. She still owes me six quid too from the day she asked me to buy her sandwich!

  I put my dressing gown on and slipped downstairs. Dad was in the kitchen at the table with a cheese sandwich in front of him. He’d taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, a sure sign that at last, he’d clocked off for the day. People say I look more like Dad than Mum. We have the same dark hair and blue eyes and nose. He used to tease me that I had his nose and should give it back because he couldn’t smell without it.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart, you’re up late.’

  I looked at his sandwich. ‘You ought to eat properly,’ I said. He often got in late and grabbed something quick from the fridge. ‘You’re supposed to have five a day for good health.’ We’d had a lesson in nutrition at school last week – all about eating five portions of fruit and vegetables a day.

  He laughed and for a moment looked like a naughty boy who’d just had a telling-off. ‘I know, I know. Can’t sleep?’

  ‘I was thirsty,’ I said.

  ‘Me too,’ said Dad and he pointed at an empty glass in front of him. ‘Where did we get the elder-flower juice from? It was delicious.’

  ‘No!’ I cried. ‘Dad, you didn’t drink all of it, did you?’

  ‘Yes. Why? What’ve I done? It was in the fridge.’

  ‘It wasn’t ours,’ I said.

  ‘Then whose is it and what is it doing in our fridge?’

  I felt sick. What if I didn’t return the elderflower? Would Keira think it was a mind game or that I’d deliberately drunk it to upset her? I had to find a similar bottle so that I could return it.

  Dad looked at me with concern. ‘Jess, what’s the matter?’

  I couldn’t tell him. It would sound so stupid. He’d never understand. ‘Nothing. Nothing,’ I said and turned to go back up the stairs.

  ‘You didn’t get a drink. Didn’t you want something?’ Dad called after me.

  ‘I did but you’ve just drunk it all.’

  ‘The elderflower? You just said it wasn’t ours for drinking. Oh I see. You wanted it.’

  ‘Yes. No. It wasn’t ours, Dad. I didn’t want it for me. Oh . . . you’ll never understand!’

  I felt so confused and I could see I’d upset Dad now. He looked bewildered. Part of me wanted him to give me a big hug and tell me it was all right. I was all right and not the way Keira saw me. Another part felt cross that he’d drunk the juice, but then why shouldn’t he? He was right. It was in our fridge. How could he possibly have known that Keira wanted it back?

  I went to my room where Dave, my cat, was lying on the end of the bed. He opened a sleepy eye.

  ‘It’s all right for you, matey,’ I said. ‘Not a care in the world. If I die, I want to come back as a cat!’

  ‘Meow,’ said Dave and as I plonked myself on the bed, he got up to nuzzle my hand as if he understood completely and was letting me know that he was on my side.

  On Sunday, I got up early and went to the local shop. They didn’t sell elderflower juice. I even tried Harrods food hall but although they sold a whole range of juices, they didn’t sell the brand that Keira had brought round.

  I went home and looked it up on the internet in the hope that I could find where it was sold locally but no luck. This is mad, I thought after an hour, so despite Pia’s advice, I’m just going to come clean with Keira.

  Dear Keira, I’m sorry that we didn’t get on and I am sorry if I upset you, it was never my intention. I will respect your wish and not contact you again. I am very sorry that I can’t return your juice as my dad came home, saw it in the fridge, thought it was ours and drank it. I did try and find another bottle the same but couldn’t, then I remembered that you borrowed six pounds from me the day you forgot your purse so if you keep that, then we should be square. Hope that’s all right with you. Good luck with the rest of the competition, Love Jess.

  I deleted the love. We
weren’t close. I didn’t love her.

  I wrote, with best wishes. I deleted that too. It sounded too formal.

  In the end, I put an X after Jess and pressed reply.

  A message came back almost instantly.

  I didn’t realise you were keeping a list of what I owed you. Forget about the juice. I think you’re very sad and stingy and hope you feel better soon.

  She didn’t even sign her name, never mind love, best wishes or an X. She written that I should forget about the juice as if it was me who’d made a thing of it.

  I felt I couldn’t do anything right.

  10

  Round Two

  At school on Monday, the teen model competition was once more the talk of the corridors. Everyone wanted to know all about it. What Tanisha had said, what she wore, what was next. Janie Tonkin even wanted to do a piece on Flo and me for the school magazine because we were the only two still in. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that whatever happened, I wasn’t going any further, partly because I didn’t want to stand in front of the judges again and partly because I didn’t want to see Keira if both of us got through to the next round. At assembly, I glanced around. It was weird. There were some seriously amazing-looking girls at our school. Not conventionally pretty like girls in magazines but with their own beauty and sense of style, like Tamara Quinlan in Lower Sixth. She was big and sassy and a laugh a minute. Everyone loved her, boys especially, but she wouldn’t even have got through round one of Catwalk Teen Queen because she was size sixteen. Carrie Barker. A tiny girl with a face so pretty, I liked just looking at her. She’d never have got through either because she was four foot ten. So many girls, interesting-looking girls, all shapes, all sizes. None of them would have made it because they didn’t fit the criteria.

  As I was coming out of assembly, Mrs Callaghan, our headmistress, called me over.

  ‘Jess,’ she said. ‘I hear you’ve entered a modelling competition?’

  I nodded and wondered if she was going to tell me to drop it because of the coming exams.

  ‘Excellent, in that case, you’re just the man for the job. And Florence of course. I’ve got a project for you. At the end of term, we want to stage our own modelling show. Not a competition, just a show to raise funds. With your experience, you’d be the perfect people to organise it. What do you think?’

  ‘I . . .’ I knew Mrs Callaghan well enough to know that an enquiry like that didn’t mean, could you help? It meant, you will help. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Pick a theme. Pick your team. We’ll talk later.’ And off she went, leaving me in a panic. Theme? Team? Where would I start? We’d have to pick models. Oh crap, I thought. Everyone will want to be in it and we’ll alienate anyone who is picked. We’ll be the most unpopular girls in school!

  In the evening as I was getting home from school, I saw Tanisha get out of a car at the front. She saw me and waved for me to stop. A couple of men that were passing did a double take when they saw her. As always she looked stunning, in a black leather mac, knee-high suede boots which made her legs look endless and her dark hair cascading down her back.

  ‘Hey, Jess, how’s it going?’ she said as she came close.

  ‘Er. Good.’

  ‘Did you enjoy the session on Saturday?’

  ‘I . . . oh yes,’ I lied. Keira was so right. I wasn’t an honest person. But the teen competition was Tanisha’s thing, I couldn’t tell her that I was finding it really uncomfortable. For the hundredth time that week, I wished Mum was around to talk it over with. She’d have been able to tell me how to deal with it all.

  ‘You’ll be hearing the day after tomorrow,’ she said then she winked. ‘I think you’re in with a good chance, Jess. A very good chance. You made the judges laugh and we’re looking for personality as well as looks.’

  ‘Hun-neugh,’ I said. I was surprised. I thought I’d blown it with the judges completely.

  Tanisha looked at me. ‘Hun-neugh?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s gobbledy-gook for that’s great.’

  Tanisha cracked up. ‘Hah! Say, do you want to come up and see what I’ve done with my apartment?’

  Now that I didn’t have to lie about. ‘Me? You bet!’

  ‘Got five minutes now?’

  I nodded. She indicated that I should follow her into reception, and into the lift.

  ‘I’ve got to host a modelling show,’ I blurted as we stepped inside. ‘For school, end-of-term, fundraiser kind of thing.’

  ‘So you’re after my job?’ Tanisha asked with a smile.

  ‘Oh no! My headmistress asked me because she thinks I’ve got the experience now that I’ve entered your competition. As if.’

  ‘It will be good experience, Jess. You’ll learn a lot and if you do the show at school right, you’ll have a lot of fun. Hard work but fun. Just ask me if you need any advice.’

  ‘I will. I have to pick a theme of sorts and I haven’t even begun to think about it yet.’

  ‘Get a good team behind you for starters,’ said Tanisha as we stepped out of the lift on to her floor and made our way down the plush carpeted corridor to her apartment.

  ‘I’ve seen a few of the apartments,’ I said as she let me in. ‘They’re all so different.’

  ‘I have a few homes around the world,’ said Tanisha. ‘They’re all so different too.’

  ‘Really? Where?’

  ‘A beach apartment in LA. It’s all wood and seaside colours, you know? Blue and sand. I have a penthouse in the village in New York that’s traditional, big sofas, old paintings, and I have a little chill-out place in St Lucia and now this is home too. My designer did all my places but I told him to go for gold with this one.’

  She beckoned me inside. ‘Have a look around and I’ll fix us a juice. Do you like fresh orange?’

  ‘Love it,’ I said. I couldn’t believe my luck. I was in Tanisha’s apartment, she was chatting away to me like we were best buddies and she’d given me permission to have a nose around. I couldn’t wait to tell Meg, Flo and Pia. Her apartment was lovely. Parquet floors, sumptuous gold velvet sofas in her living room, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows that all the apartments at the back had and a sliding door that opened out onto a terrace with views over the park. The gilt furniture and mirrors that Pia and I had seen when she first moved in had been strategically placed and gave the place an opulent look. I loved the way that every room ran into the next through tall folding wooden doors. There was a king-size ivory sleigh bed with a gold silk spread in a spacious bedroom with a dressing room off one side and an enormous en-suite sand-coloured marble bathroom on the other. In every room were life-size glossy photos of various front covers that Tanisha had done: Vogue, Harper’s, Tatler. At the front was a mirrored room with gym equipment with Tanisha’s Grammy awards on one wall and a ton of others lining the wall opposite. It was the perfect pop diva’s flat and like all the apartments, it smelt wonderful, like an ocean breeze.

  ‘Like it?’ asked Tanisha when I went to join her in the kitchen, which was cosier than some of the others I’d seen as the décor she’d chosen was oak and a honey-coloured granite.

  ‘Love it. What’s it like for you travelling all the time?’

  Tanisha sighed and smiled. ‘It’s part of the job. I’m one of the lucky ones though. I can afford to get a place like this and make it home. It wasn’t such fun in the beginning. Believe me, the allure of staying in hotels, no matter how fancy, wears thin after a while and yeah, I get lonely sometimes, that’s the price I pay, but hey, it’s the life I chose and I ain’t complaining.’ She handed me my juice. ‘And I miss my mom.’

  She looked sad. ‘Me too,’ I said.

  ‘You do? I thought you lived in the block. Where is she?’

  ‘She died just over a year ago . . .’ I felt myself fill up with tears. ‘I . . . I’m so sorry. I don’t usually cry about it. I—’

  Tanisha came round the breakfast bar and gave me a hug. ‘Hey, you cry all you want, hon. I lost my dad a few
years back and just when you think you’re OK, it jumps out at you like a big ole tiger who’s been waiting in the bush.’

  I sniffed back my tears. ‘I wish she was round to talk to.’

  ‘So who was that lady you left with after the competition?’

  ‘Oh, she’s my aunt Maddie. Mum’s sister.’

  ‘So it’s just you and your daddy?’

  I nodded. ‘And my brother Charlie.’ I suddenly had the most brilliant idea! Dad and Tanisha. It was about time he had a girlfriend. All he ever did was work, work, work and he wasn’t bad-looking when he made an effort. ‘Do you want to come by and meet him properly one night?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said then laughed. ‘Say, you’re not going to try and fix me up, are you?’

  I laughed, a bit too hysterically. ‘Me? No! As if!’

  Luckily my phone beeped that I had a text before Tanisha noticed that I was blushing as well. It was Dad asking where I was.

  ‘I’d better go, Tanisha. Dad just texted that my gran’s arrived so I should make a move. Thanks for the juice.’

  ‘Anytime, hon,’ she said. ‘Nice talking to you. You have a nice time with your family now.’

  As I made my way downstairs, I thought about how normal she seemed, behind the diva persona, and I could see that she would get lonely sometimes being on her own – her apartment so quiet and neat in comparison to the lived-in feel at the Lewises’. I wished I could have talked to her honestly about the competition and Keira but I felt that would be unfair, like being a snitch, and I didn’t want Tanisha thinking that I was telling tales on other contestants to gain an advantage.

  But oh God, what now? I asked my reflection in the lift’s mirrored interior. Tanisha had indicated that I’d got through to the next round and after our conversation, my excuses for backing out seemed hollow. Mum, what would you tell me to do? I don’t want to be the type of person who doesn’t see things through but I don’t want to see Kiera either.