‘I saw this thing on TV and it said you should confront your stalkers. Apparently it freaks them out.’
‘I did confront her.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told her to piss off.’
‘You obviously weren’t scary enough. Let me try.’ Without waiting for Sally’s response, Sarah shouted over to Maura, ‘Hey, stalker lady, why don’t you leave my friend alone?’
Maura looked taken aback.
‘Come on over here, if you’re so brave,’ Sarah goaded her. The people at the tables beside them were staring at her now.
Maura clambered down from her bar stool and strode over. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, you little brat? Judging by that dress you’re barely wearing, you’re obviously a slut as well.’
Sarah snorted. ‘Dude, if you had my legs instead of those fat stumps you’d be wearing this dress. And f.y.i., your ex, Simon, is way into Sally. He went surfing in January to impress her. I mean, come on, game over. She’s a top chick and, let’s face it, he’s never going to go back to you. Like, hello? You can’t screw around and expect your husband to stay with you. If Bobby cheated on me I’d dump him like a hot potato and screw his best friend. You got away very lightly. So, why don’t you, like, get some therapy, deal with your shit and move on with your life?’
‘You little –’
‘Hello! I am so not finished. In case you missed it, your ex is in love with Sally. Seriously, you need to sort yourself out or you’ll end up like my sister in a clinic full of wackos. What are you going to do? Stalk Sally for another few months and watch your ex fall more in love with her?’
‘How dare you?’
‘Lips moving, still talking!’ Sarah said. ‘You need to find yourself a new man. You’re not bad-looking, and if you tone down the psycho behaviour I’m sure you’ll meet someone. My granddad is, like, a hundred and twenty and he’s going out with a thirty-eight-year-old. So it’s never too late. But you need to start pumping your energy into meeting a new man, not stalking women. There’s bound to be some dude out there who likes crazy women.’
The manager came over. ‘Ladies, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re disturbing the other customers.’
‘We’re going.’ Sally put cash on the table and picked up her bag.
‘You haven’t heard the last of me,’ Maura shouted, blocking their way.
‘What’s wrong with you? You’re just like my sister. He’s not into you. It’s over, accept it, get over it and MOVE ON!’ Sarah shouted into Maura’s face. Then, to the other lunchers, she added, ‘And for anyone else out there who’s hanging on to some pathetic fantasy of getting back with an ex-boyfriend who is seeing someone else – let me save you months of psychotic behaviour. HE’S NOT COMING BACK. FORGET ABOUT HIM BECAUSE, BELIEVE ME, LADIES, HE’S NOT THINKING ABOUT YOU.’
‘That’s enough advice for one day.’ Sally pushed past Maura and hauled Sarah out of the restaurant.
46
Ali was due to have a weigh-in a few days after Emily’s death. I was worried sick that she’d have regressed and lost weight. On the morning of her assessment, I paced up and down. When the phone rang, I was almost afraid to pick it up.
‘Hello.’
‘Mum!’ Ali sounded breathless. ‘I did it, Mum! I did it. I’m six stone six. I’m off bed-rest. I just walked back to my room all by myself. God, it feels brilliant. I don’t need to be wheeled around any more and I can eat with the other girls in the canteen now.’
My knees buckled. Thank God. She sounded so excited. I hadn’t heard her so animated in a long time. I wanted to weep with relief. ‘Ali, that’s the best news I’ve ever heard. Well done.’
‘I know. I can’t believe it,’ Ali said, and then added sadly, ‘I wish Emily was here – she’s the first person I wanted to tell.’
‘I’m sure she’s cheering you on wherever she is.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Hang on, your dad wants a word,’ I said, handing the phone to Paul.
‘Did I hear correctly? You’re off that bloody bed? Brilliant. Well done, Ali. Your mum’s on cloud nine. We’re so pleased for you. You’ll be out of there and back home in no time. Keep it up – we can’t wait to have you with us again.’
While Paul continued to congratulate Ali, I filled Sarah in. Paul then handed her the phone. ‘Seriously, you’d think they’d just won the bloody lotto. I got so excited when I walked into the room to find Mum actually looking happy for the first time in for ever. I was sure we’d won the Euro millions, but she told me she was thrilled because you’d put on, like, two pounds or something and now you can walk instead of being wheeled around and stuck in bed like an old person. And there I was thinking we were going to be travelling by private jet and spending our summers in St Tropez with all the other loaded people. Anyway, I’m glad for you – it must be nice to be able to move around without being escorted everywhere like someone on Death Row.’
Then, whispering, she added, ‘You should see Mum and Dad – they are so over the moon. I’ve never seen them like this. So, keep it up, because it’s actually really nice to see them happy again. I totally milked it and just asked Mum if I could go to a slumber party in Tia’s house and she said yes! You know what she’s like normally – she never lets us stay the night in other people’s houses. Hang on, Charlie wants to talk to you so I’d better go. Don’t let the freaks in there get you down. Ciao!’
‘She’s going to a sleepover?’ Paul asked.
‘She deserves a break. All this has affected her, too. Let her have some fun.’
‘OK, but it’d better not be a mixed slumber party,’ Paul warned.
‘She swore it’s only girls.’
We could hear Charlie on the phone telling Ali he hadn’t seen Paul and me so happy since the day she was born, but Sarah overheard him.
‘I have feelings too, Charlie,’ she shouted. ‘What about when I was born?’
‘All right,’ Charlie said to her. ‘It’s the happiest I’ve seen your parents since both you and Ali were born. Jesus, you’ve been very touchy since the play.’
‘I’m tired of being relegated to second position,’ Sarah grumbled. ‘I’m standing my ground from now on.’
‘God help us all.’ Paul sighed.
‘Sorry about that, Ali.’ Charlie walked out of the room with the phone. ‘It’s impossible to get any privacy in this house – there’s always someone lurking behind you. Anyway, we’re all thrilled here about your great news. It must feel wonderful to be off that bloody bed and walking around. Keep eating your meals and we’ll have you home before you know it. I miss you. You’re the only sane one in this house. All right, pet, ’bye for now.’
After Ali’s call, I felt genuinely positive about her recovery for the first time. A weight had lifted off my shoulders. Not the whole weight, but a chunk of it, and it felt wonderful.
The next morning I bounded into work full of enthusiasm and focus, ready for Annabelle Collins’s sweet-sixteen extravaganza. The party was our biggest commission to date and her father, Paddy, had given us an unlimited budget to create a party his daughter would never forget.
Annabelle had demanded the Moulin Rouge theme. But, as she had explained to us, ‘I’m not talking about a few feathers and some guys on stilts, I’m talking can-can dancers, trapeze artists, chandeliers, red velvet curtains and a really hot outfit for me to wear for my grand entrance. I have to look incredible. I want everyone to be blown away. I want a choreographer to teach me the can-can, but the dancers have to make me look good, so they’ll have to be in the background. The spotlight has to be on me, not them.’
‘Do you dance much?’ I asked, somehow doubting that this chubby girl did anything but sit on a couch. She could have been quite attractive but it was hard to tell under all the add-ons. Her hair was dyed white-blonde with lots of long extensions. She was an orange shade of dark brown from too much fake tan. She had long acrylic nails and very heavy black eye makeup.
The overall effect was startling.
‘Oh, yeah, I’m a really good dancer – all my friends are always saying I’m like Beyoncé when I dance.’ Annabelle stood up and shook her hips to demonstrate her agility.
It looked more like a wobble than a shake, but we weren’t going to tell her that.
‘With natural talent like that you’ll have no problem doing the can-can. I know a very good choreographer who can help you,’ Sally lied. In all our years of business we had never been asked to teach anyone how to dance.
‘Annabelle is very keen to have a corset-style dress made. Can you recommend a good dressmaker?’ Wendy Collins asked. ‘Someone who specializes in corsetry.’
‘Absolutely, no problem. I have an excellent lady who has helped us in the past.’ I reckoned Madame Sophie would find something suitably sexy for Annabelle.
‘I don’t want some old woman who thinks sexy is a skirt to the knee. I want a corset and hot pants,’ Annabelle told us.
‘Darling, I think hot pants are too much. Why don’t you get a little ra-ra skirt to go with the corset?’ Wendy suggested.
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ I said, looking at Annabelle’s chunky legs. Hot pants were not created for girls like her.
‘Mum! I said I want hot pants and Dad said I could have whatever I wanted.’
‘Fine.’ Wendy gave in. Her daughter was clearly used to getting her own way all the time. She didn’t seem to have the energy to put up a fight.
‘Would you like a band or a DJ? Or both?’ Sally asked.
‘Duh, both, obviously. I want a big orchestra-type band at first for my entrance, and then I want DJ Rock Thejoint.’
Sally jotted down these details.
‘We’d like to have the party at home in the garden, so could you organize for a marquee? Something with real glass windows and doors – not the plastic ones,’ Wendy said. ‘And nice toilets with someone to keep them clean throughout the night.’
‘And a makeup artist and hairdresser to fix us up whenever we need it,’ Annabelle added.
‘Of course, no problem.’ I tried not to smile. This party was going to provide us with a big pay cheque.
‘And I don’t want some crappy little marquee – I want a two-tiered one. I want a stage for me to dance on and stairs to make my entrance down so everyone can see me.’
Sally noted all of this in her book – with a large ‘PITA’ down the side of the page – our code for ‘Pain In The Arse’.
Over the last few weeks, while I was busy with Ali, Sally had sourced the marquee, which was being imported from England, a choreographer, can-can dancers, aerial artists and all the trimmings and supplies we needed to dress the tables and marquee. The invitations had been hand-delivered to each of the hundred and thirty guests by two acrobats on stilts. They were little windmills that opened up to the music of Lady Marmalade and invited the guests to an unforgettable night at the Moulin Rouge. We enclosed a copy of the menu, which we had expanded so that everyone could choose a beef, fish, vegetarian, vegan, or coeliac option and enclose it with their RSVP.
Apparently no one was unable to attend.
We ran into a problem when the DJ refused to play a sixteen-year-old birthday party. He said it was demeaning to his artistry. We begged, pleaded and tried bribing him but he wouldn’t budge. Eventually we got another DJ who was supposed to be almost as good. But Annabelle freaked when we broke the news to her.
‘That’s it, the party’s ruined. I’m cancelling it. It’s over. I’ve told everyone that DJ Rock Thejoint is playing. I’m not being humiliated. You said you could get him. You’re crap party planners – I knew I should have gone with Partypeople. They did Zoe’s party and it was amazing.’
‘Annabelle, I can assure you we did everything to get him to come but he won’t budge.’ Sally tried not to lose her temper.
‘The other DJ, Rhapsodie, is supposed to be brilliant. My sixteen-year-old loves him,’ I said. Sarah had said he was cool, and I knew she had a good handle on what was cool and what was not.
‘Are you deaf? I don’t want him. I want DJ Rock Thejoint,’ she screeched. ‘You’ve ruined my life.’ She stormed out as we sat in silence with her mother.
‘There must be something you can do,’ Wendy said. ‘We have to get this DJ. He’s all she’s talked about for months.’
‘Honestly, Wendy, we’ve tried everything,’ I assured her.
‘Let me call Paddy and see if he has any ideas,’ Wendy said, dialling his number and filling him in. Paddy came on the loudspeaker. ‘It’s like this, ladies, if Annabelle wants this guy she gets him or I’m going to have to listen to her moaning for six months. What’s his fee?’
‘Six thousand for three hours,’ Sally informed him.
‘To spin a few records? Jesus, I’ll take it up myself.’ Paddy snorted.
‘He’s considered one of the best in the world,’ Wendy piped up. ‘And Annabelle is distraught.’
‘Fine, double his rate. Tell him we’ll pick him up in my private jet from wherever he is and drop him back in the morning. Set him up in the presidential suite at the Four Seasons and throw in a couple of bottles of Cristal – isn’t that what all these guys drink? If he still says no, triple his fee.’
Amazingly, DJ Rock Thejoint decided that twelve thousand euros for three hours’ work wasn’t so demeaning after all.
With only a few days to go the choreographer had called to say that Annabelle, a.k.a. Beyoncé, had two left feet and was impossible to teach. Sally voted that I go down and try to help sort it out. ‘You’ve got teenagers, you know how to handle them. I’ll stay here and finalize the food with Helen.’
I had to pick Sarah up from school on the way to the dance studio. ‘I just have to pop in here to sort out a problem with work. Do you want to stay in the car or come in?’ I asked her.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Annabelle Collins is trying to learn a dance routine for her grand entrance and apparently it’s not going very well.’
‘Oh, God, what a loser. Everyone who knows her says she’s a total pain. She loves herself and thinks just because her dad is loaded that makes her cool. Bobby sees her at Christmas parties and stuff because their dads are friendly. Even he said she’s a pain and he never gives out about people. He lost the invitation, so he told me to tell you he’s not going. He can’t stand her.’
‘Well, he’s the only person who isn’t. I agree, she does seem to be very spoilt but remember that she’s a client, so no comments – even under your breath. OK?’
‘As if.’
Sarah and I arrived in to see Annabelle thumping around the place, out of time with everyone else.
‘She’s the worst case I’ve seen,’ Janice, the choreographer, whispered. ‘I’ve simplified the dance to six moves but she still can’t get it. Along with being a spoilt brat, she’s thick too.’
Sarah grinned. ‘I can’t wait to tell Bobby about this.’
‘Go over there, sit down and don’t open your mouth,’ I warned her.
Wendy Collins was sitting in the corner of the studio, encouraging Annabelle.
‘You nearly had it there. That was much better,’ she lied to her daughter.
The can-can dancers went one way and Annabelle went the other. She stomped over to Janice. ‘I’m sick of this stupid dance. You’re making it too hard for me. Your steps are really difficult, I can’t remember them all. Why can’t you make it easy?’
‘There are six simple steps to remember and then repeat. It doesn’t get any easier than this. You just need to stop staring at yourself in the mirror and concentrate,’ Janice snapped.
‘That’s it. You’re fired. How dare you speak to me like that? Mum! I want a new dance teacher.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ I said firmly. ‘Janice is the top choreographer in the country. You’re lucky to have her. Now, why don’t you take a break and cool down?’
Annabelle went over to her mother and took out a bottle of Coke. Lookin
g up, she saw Sarah. ‘What are you doing here?’
I walked over. ‘This is my daughter Sarah, Sarah, this is Annabelle.’
‘Hi, how are you?’ Sarah was at her most polite.
‘That’s a Hodder College uniform, right?’ Annabelle asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you know Bobby Masterson-Brown?’
‘I do, actually.’
Annabelle flicked her hair. ‘I know him really well. Our dads are, like, best friends. He’s always over in the house.’
‘Really? Wow. He’s kind of cute.’ Sarah reeled her in.
‘Kind of? He’s totally gorgeous. Apparently he’s going out with this girl in his class who’s not even that good-looking but thinks she’s a goddess.’
‘I actually know her and she’s really hot. Loads of guys in school fancy her.’ Sarah flicked her hair and eyeballed Annabelle, who remained oblivious.
‘Well, my friend Amber saw them together and said she wasn’t good-looking and that she was all over Bobby like a rash and he was, like, trying to get away from her.’
‘Where was this?’
‘After one of his rugby matches.’
‘OK – we need to get back to practice now,’ I said, knowing Sarah was about to reach boiling point.
Ignoring me completely, Sarah said, ‘I see them together every day and he is all over her. He’s totally into her.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Annabelle took a sip of her Coke. ‘Anyway, nothing will come of it. My dad and Bobby’s dad always said we’d end up marrying each other because then the two fortunes would be combined and we’d be, like, the richest people in the country.’
‘Do you honestly think he fancies you?’
Annabelle smiled. ‘Well, yeah, but he’s too shy to do anything about it. I’m going to have to make the first move. I’ve invited him to my party so you never know, it could be, like, fate.’
‘Oh, really? Is he actually going to your party?’
‘Hello! Everyone’s coming. No one would miss it. It’s going to be incredible. I have loads of people in school following me around begging me to invite them.’
Pieces of My Heart Page 33
