by Hannah Doyle
I appreciate that it’s now short notice, but would you still be free for this shoot? I’ve attached a call sheet with dates and details. . . the shoot’s taking place here in Denmark and we will pay competitive rates for your services.
I look forward to hearing from you.
De bedste ønsker
Mads
Shut. The. Front. Door.
HOW GREAT is this email? Jump like my website! We all know ‘embellishing’ a CV means making stuff up and while I might not have any training either, at least I didn’t lie about it! And now I’ve got the job! My fingers are dancing as I open the call sheet. Location: Copenhagen. A three-day shoot. They’ll pay my travel expenses and, wait, WTF? That day rate cannot be right. A quick bit of (admittedly shoddy) maths in my head confirms that one day with these guys is what I earn per week with Violet. Three days is nearly a month’s salary!
I type back an exuberant acceptance, setting aside fears of how I’ll actually get the time off. Violet’s already a bit peeved about the days with Dave and I’m going to need a full five for the new shoot. But she’s at a wedding with Chip this weekend and hopefully in a good mood so I fire off a quick email and keep everything crossed.
Fresh from a (thankfully clothed) yoga class, Mum bundles me into a cuddle while I marvel at her never-ending supply of athleisure. This woman has more pairs of leggings than a sport-loving millipede.
‘Are you staying?’ she asks when she spots my overnight bag.
‘If that’s okay? Sorry, I should have checked if you had plans. I was in a bit of a tizz earlier.’
Mum holds me at arm’s length and examines my face with concern.
‘Of course it’s okay! Are you okay?’
‘I’m more than okay Mum! I’ve got so much to tell you.’
‘Sounds exciting. Let me shower off and then you can tell me all about it.’
I’m sat cross-legged on the floor by Mum’s newly sawn-off dining table. Apparently Tiger has been reading up about something called ‘re-wilding’, which seems to mean that chairs are out.
‘He says that we need to be getting back to our early human roots. Neanderthals didn’t have sofas, Jasmine! We’re slowly getting rid of lots of furniture. He cut the table legs off so we can eat from the floor.’
‘Sounds weird Mum,’ I say, readjusting the cross of my legs until it feels less like I’ve got wooden floorboards poking into my bones. Between big mouthfuls of my favourite ever Mum Meal (homemade lasagne with garlic bread YAAASSSS!) we chat about Tiger and then she raises a knowing eyebrow as I explain just how good the date with Charlie was. I had literally zero expectations for a date set up by my own mother and I realise now that I did her a massive disservice. There’s no one who knows me better. I can’t actually believe that I thought she’d hook me up with a guy who wasn’t my type. Or, I should say, my new type. Charlie would have scored a one (at a push) on my old type on paper and yet we had The Best time.
‘I’m so pleased,’ she grins, spooning some salad onto my almost empty plate and quietly muttering about my five-a-day. ‘And even more pleased to hear about a shoot in Copenhagen. I am just so proud of you.’
I spot the tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes and look away. If Mum starts to cry, I start to cry. It’s some kind of unwritten rule which I put down to our genes. You wouldn’t believe how hard I had to fight back my own tears when Mum was recovering from what happened with Dad. I’d hold her in my arms, shush her tears away and only let my own spill when I was by myself. It’s not that I couldn’t cry in front of her. On the contrary, she encouraged me to show my emotions to her. I just knew, at that time, that I had to be strong for the both of us.
‘And what about Ben?’ she asks.
‘Actually Charlie said some interesting stuff about his ex, they’d been friends before they got together. But I’m still not sure Mum. I think I need to see Ben again but it’s the weekend so obviously he’s got a busy shagging schedule to tend to.’ Blurgh.
‘So the trip was useful in more ways than one?’
‘There’s no need to look quite so smug!’ I smile, watching Mum slice another piece of garlic baguette.
‘Have you told Mila yet? I bet she’ll be thrilled to hear your good news, especially after her troubles with Mike recently.’
I stop chewing. ‘What troubles with Mike?’
Mum pauses in her tracks, her eyes widening.
‘Mum, what troubles is Mila having with Mike? She hasn’t told me about them.’
Mum sits down, rubbing her hands along her forest fern apron.
‘I’m sorry Jasmine, I assumed she’d have told you. I really shouldn’t have said anything.’
I fidget uncomfortably on the floor. Has Mila been confiding in Mum? Why couldn’t she come to me if she had things on her mind? And more importantly what’s going on with her and Mike? The feeling that I’ve let my best friend down when she needs me, for whatever that reason may be, is painful.
‘Is she okay? We texted just the other day when I got back from Edinburgh. . .’ I pull out my phone and scroll through our conversation. It’s a mix of me talking about my dates, me scoring my dates, her cheering me on, or us discussing what food we should eat on our next night out.
I look up from my phone, my face falling. ‘Fuck. (Sorry Mum.) I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I haven’t thought to check in with her properly. Is that why she’s been talking to you?’
‘Mila and I have always been close darling, you know that. But yes, recently she has been confiding in me more.’
‘Oh god. I haven’t been there for her!’
‘In many ways you have, and she knows that you have a lot on your plate at the moment. . .’
‘But it sounds like something serious is going on with Mike and I haven’t even picked up on it. I just assumed. . .’
‘You have always thought that Mila’s life was perfect, Jazzy. She comes across as extremely confident and like she has her life sorted, everyone can see that. I think recently she’s been having a bit of a wobble and she didn’t want to burden you with it.’
‘Shit. I’ve been banging on about myself the entire time! Now that I think about it, there have been a couple of times when I’ve asked about Mike and she’s brushed my question aside. I am the worst for letting her do that, why didn’t I push her?’
Mum rubs my hand. ‘It’s not the end of the world darling. But perhaps it is time that you stopped seeing Mila’s life as blissfully happy. She’s human, just like the rest of us, and right now I think she could use a snuggle from her best friend.’
Hitching my kit bag further up my shoulder, I turn my face to the sun. Today I’m going to get shiz done! It’s the start of a brand new week and rather than feeling like I wanted to burrow myself under my duvet until Monday is over, I woke up full of energy. I’ve a budget-friendly surprise in mind for Mila and as I munched my Weetabix this morning, I started hatching a plan on how to deal with Violet. I even decided to walk to her flat, upping my step count and saving some money in the process. Can I get a hell yeah?
So, here’s what I’m thinking. Violet is not going to be happy when I explain that my holiday request is for a shoot in Denmark, but it’s the most incredible opportunity and Violet saying no is not an option. My first idea was to stage a fake kidnapping and have Violet locked up for the entire week I need to be away, but that seemed a smidge extreme. The second was to see if Chip could whisk her away for a break but I already tried calling him and he’s not answering. Which leaves me with option three.
It’s the most sensible, adult approach of the lot. No kidnapping. No coercing. Just. . . telling the truth. Tell her how much it means to me. Try to appeal to her. . . kind side? The thought makes me chuckle. So maybe not Violet’s kind side. But she has been quite thoughtful at times recently and I’m convinced that she’s not all monster. Maybe just ninety-seven per cent. Feeling fired up, I let myself into Violet’s flat and prepare to blurt out my mission statement.
‘Emmy!’ Violet’s best friend is standing in the hallway. I love Emmy. ‘We haven’t hung out since Cannes! I didn’t expect to see you today. . . Are we shooting together?’
I checked our shared work calendar last night before I went to bed, though it’s not unlike Violet to pull a surprise on me last minute.
A tiny frown is etched across Emmy’s exquisite face. She’s also wearing all-black. Emmy never wears black. Her spirit animal is a mermaid with a tail made of rainbows. ‘Violet called me in a frenzy last night. She was in tears when she asked me to come over and said I should pack only black things because we’re in mourning. It’s Chip.’
‘Is he DEAD?’ I gasp, definitely not feeling slightly miffed that my Option Two is now out the window, because that would be awful of me.
Emmy shakes her head. ‘No. It’s worse. He’s been cheating on Violet and they split up at the wedding this weekend.’
So, not actually worse than him being dead then.
There is a black veil across Violet’s face. Underneath, her skin looks almost translucent without the usual CC / BB / WTF cream. She’s wearing a floaty black maxi with billowing sleeves – the kind of thing I’d accidentally trap in car doors or drag through my dinner – and some black Chanel pumps. Violet sighs at me and glides through to her kitchen. Emmy and I exchange glances and follow suit.
I decide to make a round of teas (builders for me, matcha for the bloggers) and set the drinks down on the kitchen island. Under Violet’s veil (and once we’ve all gotten over the fact that she’s wearing a veil in tribute to her late relationship) I can see deep purple bags under her swollen eyes and I’m overcome by a strange sensation. I actually feel sorry for Violet, like I want to bundle her into my arms for a snuggle.
‘It turns out that Chip was shagging that girl he got papped with when we were in Switzerland. And a whole heap of other girls, too. Basically every time I was away he was busy taking his pants down. Urgh. And do you want to know the worst bit of it? He actually wore pants! Like a tiny boy child. They were white and tight and everything. . .’ Violet starts to sob.
I try not to scrunch my face up. Chip’s underwear of choice is white boy pants. Who knew?
‘Actually no, his ridiculous children’s underwear isn’t the main problem. Do you know how I found out? Stupid sodding Allegra. She’s the worst bit. She’s been jealous of our relationship from the start so I knew something was up when she just “popped over” for a chat at the wedding reception on Saturday. Allegra never pops anywhere. To make matters worse, she had that new Balenciaga bag I’ve been dying to get my hands on,’ Violet clenches her fists in a blind rage before refocusing. ‘I didn’t think we started filming the new series until later this week but then the camera crew were setting up in a corner of the marquee and focusing on Allegra and me. I went along with it, because obviously I was so happy when they asked me to be a full-time member of Totally Toffs and I wanted to get my first scene just right.’ Violet got the good news a couple of weeks back and she’s been even more incredibly. . . Violet ever since. #Grittingteeth. ‘Thankfully I’d been for a blow-dry that morning so my hair was looking fabulous. But I had no idea it was going to be so savage. . .’
Violet lets out a hiccough-cry. I fish around in my bag and pull out an emergency bag of Maltesers, sliding them in front of her. She pops one in her mouth and carries on.
‘So then stupid sodding Allegra was pretending to be my best friend as soon as the cameras rolled and then she announced that she heard “from a friend” that Chip had been cheating. Stupid sodding Allegra doesn’t even have any friends! I got a bit upset and when I managed a quiet word with Steve, the scriptwriter, he confirmed that everything she said was true. Literally none of it was scripted. Even the bit where Allegra told me that Chip had been boffing that girl in my bed. MY BED!!!’
Damn that’s nasty.
Even beautiful, calm Emmy has wrinkled up her perfect nose.
‘I feel like such an idiot! I knew going on the show would open me up to difficult stuff but I thought I’d just end up arguing with some people. I thought Chip and I were solid!’ Violet’s properly crying now and Emmy tries to feed tissues up through her veil.
‘And do you want to know the worst bit?’
‘I thought we’d already had the worst bit?’ Emmy’s confused. ‘Chip’s underpants? No, wait, it was stupid sodding Allegra. Hang on, no, was the worst bit her Balenciaga bag?’
‘It’s all of those things. . . and more,’ Violet says darkly. ‘The Influencer of the Year Awards are coming up and Chip was going to be my plus one. I’m up for the top award and now I’m going to have to go solo!’
‘I’ll be there, Vi,’ Emmy attempts to rally. She’s up for vlogger of the year, btw, and I think she’s a shoe-in.
‘I know,’ Violet gives a tiny smile. ‘But I wanted my celebrity boyfriend on my arm! I had it all planned out. Jasmine was going to capture every moment, from us getting ready together to our first steps on the red carpet as a couple. It was going to be our first public event together. A huge deal! I could already see us splashed across the magazine websites the next morning! We were going to be the new Harry and Meghan! Only Chip isn’t a red head. He’s tall, dark and handsome. . . just my type.’
As her sobs subside, she sips at her tea.
‘You know Chip didn’t like matcha?’ she eventually says with a small smile.
‘What an idiot,’ I rally.
‘That’s the spirit!’ chimes in Emmy, today’s hot pink hair falling over her eyes in her enthusiasm. ‘You know what we should do? List all of his failings. That will make you feel better. So far we’ve got his awful underpants and the fact that he doesn’t drink matcha. Fool. What else?’
Violet looks up to the ceiling.
Then she stares up there a bit more.
And a bit more.
‘Violet?’ I nudge.
‘He. . . Didn’t. . . Have. . . Any. . . Other. . . Failings,’ she sobs.
‘That can’t be right.’
‘But he didn’t! He was literally my perfect guy. He was just my type. He ticked absolutely every single box and now he’s g–g–gone. . .’
Suddenly my mind’s taken me back to that flight to Cannes, when Violet listed her type on paper and it was a carbon copy of mine, only with fitter, more idiot guys. I remember thinking hot damn, I have the same type as my bat-shit boss? Back then, Mila had only just demanded suggested that I throw out my rulebook and I was all LOL good one, like I’ll have the time for dating this summer, let alone guys I don’t actually fancy. And yet here I am, having been on five dates with ‘different’ boys. And sure, some of them have been bad. Even though I loved date three with Al Fresco Alessandro, I do not like how he now thinks I’m a crazy attention seeker. And Too Much Thierry had such potential as date number one until he turned into a lech. But though date two, Pie with my IT Guy, didn’t get my temperature soaring Arnie has helped me in so many ways since then. Real Talk with Ralph was quite the sizzler and an eye opener, too, and whenever I think of the weekend with number five, Charlie the Courageous, a huge smile spreads across my face. Watching Violet right now has made me stop and really appreciate this man mission of mine. Because sure, I haven’t found ‘The One’, but also sure, I haven’t felt like Violet looks in a long time. The thought pulls me up.
‘Violet, do you think your type might be the problem here?’ I suggest. ‘Only, I had this exact conversation with my friend Mila a while back. Do you remember when I got dumped by James on the London Eye?’
She turns to me, lifting her veil ever so slowly.
‘Well, I wonder whether it would be worth you thinking outside the box when it comes to your next boyfriend. That’s what I’ve been doing and it’s actually been pretty freeing. It’s awful to be dumped and I feel so sorry for you, so I thought. . .’
‘Jasmine,’ Violet cuts me short. ‘The minute I need to take advice from you is the minute I call it quits and turn into a hermit, thank
you very much. Firstly, I did not get dumped. Chip and I decided to consciously uncouple after a heart-to-heart at the wedding this weekend. So please, don’t do me the disservice of thinking that you and I are alike. Or, worse still, that you can give me advice. Because we’re not and you can’t.’
I’m so in shock that I’m just staring at her with my mouth hanging open.
‘Violet, come on, there’s no need to be mean,’ says Emmy.
But Violet is warming to her subject. ‘To think,’ she snorts. ‘Me taking man advice from you? You shuffle from one shit romance to the next. I’d laugh if I didn’t feel a tiny bit sorry for you.’
Why is she doing this again? It felt like we’d found more of a balance since she was super rude in Italy and there have been times when I’ve actually enjoyed hanging out with Violet lately. I look down at my feet. Things haven’t changed at all. She’s still vicious and I’m still at the brunt of it. I think about Charlie and that moment he realised he had to quit his job and follow his dreams. I wish I had his self-belief.
‘I’m just trying to say that it might help to stop being so focused on your “type”.’
‘Thanks ever so for the pearls of wisdom, but I don’t need any help in this department. Especially not from you.’
Remain calm.
‘I’m sorry you’re going through a tough time. Maybe you could take the morning off? There’s plenty for me to be getting on with.’
‘Great idea, Jasmine,’ Emmy says. ‘There’s that new breakfast place in town that we should totally get to before everyone else!’
Violet’s face softens and my heart starts to pump a little less loudly. I think the situation is diffused. Emmy mouths the words ‘are you okay?’ at me as she steers Violet out of the house and I give her a shrug.
‘Oh, before you go, could you approve that leave I requested please Violet?’ I ask, crossing my fingers behind the back. Not sure why I thought now was a good time to bring this up but I really do need to know.
