Winter rolled her eyes. Olivia was bouncing with enthusiasm. Winter wished she could feel just a fraction of excitement for the night ahead. It would certainly make it go faster.
She walked into one of the changing rooms fitted in the closet and drew the curtains. She saw her reflection; saw how tired she looked from today’s efforts. She pulled off the dress she was wearing now and began putting on the other dress of a golden yellow fading into white, not bothering to check the label of the designer she would have to meet later. She saw it glisten in the light above and thought tonight the effect would be dazzling.
She messed up her hair once more and checked her reflection, pleased with how she looked. Although her lips looked bare. Maybe she would put some red lipstick on.
As she rooted in the make up bag on one of the shelves, her phone went off. She stopped looking for lipstick and instead turned her attention to her phone. It was Connor.
“Still up for tonight?” The message read.
Winter text back, confirming the time to meet her. Her parents didn’t know she had invited a boy to the party. They would be even more surprised to find out she had invited a boy.
The doorbell rang downstairs and Winter thought it would be the people from OK! Magazine. Although it did seem pretty early for them to be arriving. She heard the closet door open and her dad announced Missy’s arrival.
“Hello, Missy,” Olivia said. “Winter is just getting changed. It’s good you’re here. Vogue is on their way.”
Winter applied the red lipstick slowly, trying to extend the time she would have free of Missy Founder.
“Winter, are you almost ready?” Olivia asked. The doorbell rang downstairs and Olivia gasped. “They’re here! Girls, I will leave you be! Come and join us in an hour for the OK! shoot!”
“We will, Olivia,” Missy said, so sickly sweet it made Winter want to retch.
Winter heard Olivia leave. She saw a hand reach for the curtain separating her and Missy and watched as it was yanked back. Winter saw Missy in the reflection of the mirror before turning around to face her.
Missy’s long brown hair was wavy and set around her shoulders. She was wearing a French dress with inspiration drawn from 18th century French fashion and Marie Antoinette. Winter thought she looked slightly maid like, but the dress had been made a little more modern with light pink fish net tights and a hint of lingerie on show.
“You look pretty,” Missy said. Winter even thought she sounded genuine.
“You too,” Winter said out of politeness.
The closet door opened and in walked three people in their late twenties, all elaborately dressed. A man was carrying a camera, a woman carrying lights and another man carrying notes. Winter recognised them from previous parties, although they had never spoken.
“What beautiful girls!” The man carrying notes said. “Set up the lights and lets get this shoot started.”
The man with the notes was the interviewer, while the woman with the lights didn’t really talk much. As the cameraman directed Winter and Missy, telling them where to sit, how to sit and the expressions to cast, the man with the notes began asking questions.
“Hope you don’t mind. We’re filming this. Now, Winter, this is your home, and your parents are notorious for their luxurious parties they throw!” The man said, every word seemed overly emphasised. “Do you enjoy being at the centre of such parties?”
Winter would have liked to say no. She would have liked to explain she hated it, that her parents were so absorbed in this lifestyle that they never took into account what she wanted, or realised what they were doing to their relationship with their daughter. Instead, she told lies as if she had rehearsed them.
“It’s brilliant to see such talent, both established and rising in my home,” Winter said, aware that Missy was smiling and pretending to be part of the conversation as the camera man snapped away with another camera intended for photographs only. “It’s always a pleasure to see my parents develop their bonds with hard working people all over the world.”
The man with the notes nodded. Winter noticed that the woman with the lights was now recording this on an MP3 recorder.
“And Missy, do you benefit from such parties?”
Missy nodded.
“Oh, yes, these parties not only help Winter’s parents network, but they help me and my family network, too,” Missy explained. “They help me bond with people, meet people and find new jobs that I just love to do.”
The interviewer nodded thoughtfully, as if Missy had just said something extremely important.
“Now, Winter, it’s common knowledge you are notorious for your bad party ways. People think you need help. Will you be laying off the booze tonight?”
Missy laughed and the camera snapped a photo. Winter noticed the camera filming them zoom in slowly towards her.
“I’m just here to have a good time and see what is next for me, career wise.” Winter nodded.
“And will you be refraining from breaking Missy’s nose again?”
The air was temporarily frosty as the memory of that night came back to them. Winter had had enough of Missy embarrassing her. She had snapped, in front of strategically placed photographers, and punched Missy straight in the nose. It had broken on impact, but as soon as the bandages were off Missy had had it fixed.
Missy flicked her hair, washing off the memory with a shrug of her shoulders.
“We’ve gotten past that terrible time,” Missy said sincerely. “I’ve been helping Winter get off the booze…” She leant forward, and the three reporters did the same. Missy whispered. “And the drugs.” Flash of camera. Gasp. Scribbling of pen on paper. “That night was a bad night for Winter, but now she is on the mend.”
Missy turned a fake smile to Winter. The look told Winter that if she was going to be embarrassed, she would bring Winter down, too.
“Now, you both look lovely, who are you wearing?”
Winter let Missy discuss her French inspired dress, while she turned to the mirror to fix her hair. The cameraman snapped away, taking enough photos to fill a thousand magazines. Winter hoped this was over soon.
“And you, Winter? Who are you wearing?”
Winter cast around for what to say.
“Well, I can’t reveal that just yet, although by the time this report goes up you can find out yourself. However, tonight I will be having a photo-op and a quick press conference with the designer, who designed this dress especially for me.”
The man with the notes turned to the woman recording sound.
“Did you hear that? Get Don on the phone! Tell him we need him here now with press. We need to get this story tonight. Exclusive to Vogue!”
Missy scowled. She was not happy that Winter had turned a positive light back on herself.
The interview seemed to be over, because the man with the notes packed them away and picked up the camera left to film. He began taking different shots of Missy applying make up, Winter puffing up her already messy hair. He took close up shots of her dress, her shoes, the different designer labels hung up all around them.
“Can you two mess with each others hair?” The cameraman asked.
Winter didn’t miss the grimace from Missy, but she did as she was told. Winter felt awkward as she began touching Missy’s hair and the cameraman took photos. When it was done, Missy was biting her tongue to stop moaning about how Winter had messed her hair up.
“I think we’ve got everything,” the cameraman said. A look from the interviewer.
“Cool,” the interviewing man said. “Tonight, we’ll be around to take photos of the latest fashions and get this interview with Winter and her anonymous designer, then it will be up online in the next week.”
Winter nodded, pretending to show interest. Just then they heard the doorbell downstairs ring.
“That must be OK! Magazine!” Missy smiled and she hurried out of the room to greet them.
Winter left the closet with the Vogue workers. She he
ard the cameraman and the woman talking about something that had happened in London.
“Whole street, murdered, and warnings have been put out now…” The man was saying. “It’s pretty worrying.”
“They’re vague warnings, though,” the woman reasoned. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Before Winter could find out more, Olivia had grabbed her and dragged her into the room where the main party would be happening. There was a much more elaborate set up.
Four lights were set up on each corner of the dance floor. There were ten people in total; two reporters, two people holding boom poles, two camerawomen, two photographers and a stylist. Nathan was already dressed in a charcoal grey suit. Missy was in conversation with the reporters, while one of the camerawomen filmed the whole thing. The second camera was turned to Winter as she approached.
“You look pretty, Winter!” The woman behind the camera said.
“Thank you,”
The photographers were taking photographs of all of the decorations, including the fliers Winter had hung up. Nathan seemed to be pleased by this.
The interviewers were now more concerned in talking to Nathan and Olivia, so Winter and Missy found themselves stood around a lot. Every now and then the photographers would ask the girls to pretend to be busy setting up, which they did. They were also asked to take friendly photos together, which they did, both giving an Oscar worthy performance that they really liked each other. When they were left alone, Missy began to talk.
“I’ve got my boyfriend coming tonight,” Missy boasted. “He’s a model. Upcoming, you probably haven’t heard of him. He’s just signed a multimillion deal with Calvin Klein to model their suits. Can you believe that?”
Winter didn’t reply. She didn’t want to give Missy the satisfaction.
“He’s so cute, as well. Well, he’d have to be, wouldn’t he? Being a model and all that. He’s so edgy, too! He’s done some pretty crazy things. I think in the next year you’ll be hearing about us a lot.”
Winter shrugged.
“And what about you, Winter?” Missy asked. “Have you got anyone coming? Any friends?”
Missy laughed. She was always making fun of the fact Winter didn’t truly have any friends. The only friends she had were ones forced upon her by her parents, Missy for example, and none of them liked each other. Missy didn’t even have friends, though she would never admit it.
“Actually, someone I’ve been seeing is coming,” Winter told Missy, and she was pleased to see the smile fade from her face.
“You’re seeing someone?” Missy said incredulously. “Are you serious?”
Winter nodded.
“He’s coming here tonight. We haven’t been seeing each other long, but he’s a really nice guy.”
She didn’t really know that. He was still a virtual stranger. But Missy didn’t need to know that.
“Well.” Missy rolled her eyes, regaining her personality. “It won’t last.”
Winter didn’t say anything. Instead, she asked something else.
“Have you heard anything about an attack on London?”
Missy stared at her. “You’re so weird.”
Winter took that as a no.
Chapter Three
It was time for the party to take place. Guests and press began arriving in groups, some of them carrying expensive party gifts, until finally the house was swarming. Security stood guard outside, while the gates at the bottom of the lane kept opening and closing as more guests arrived. Some people were even forced to queue to get inside.
Winter had made sure she put distance between everyone. It was almost ten thirty, and she would be leaving soon to meet Connor at the bottom of the lane. Winter hoped he had the decency to dress smart, because her parents would not agree with someone turning up in casual clothing.
Winter had been told to put on high heels, but now her parents were engrossed in networking, she had swapped those high heels for comfortable, red Converse shoes. The designer of her dress had yet to arrive, and she apprehensively sipped her alcoholic drink as she awaited the press conference to begin. The press were all too busy photographing the numerous celebrities showing up unannounced and even uninvited. Her parents didn’t mind, though. They loved a scene.
TV screens had been pulled into the house and left in every room and left to display her parent’s logo, so it was one huge product placement. If a photograph didn’t have her parents’ logo in it, it would be rare, and therefore worth a lot in Winter’s books.
Already a very famous model had spewed up the drink she had drunk all night over the new floor, while Nathan Smith insisted it was fine. It was made fine by the fact that there had been photographers all around and some very strategically placed fliers, bearing the family logo.
Missy had soon deserted Winter to join her so-called friends, boasting about her model boyfriend who had shown up and melted Winter’s heart. He was dashingly handsome and she did feel a little envious.
Winter climbed the steps, the music from the room just as loud upstairs from the many fitted speakers. She saw Missy at the end of the hallway being photographed with her boyfriend and decided it was best to go back downstairs. She made her way down, poured herself a drink, and tried to work out where she could go and remain undisturbed.
Winter thought the balcony would be a good place. She walked into the main room, the music loud, and was stopped by Olivia, who pulled her over to a small and well-lit podium where a tall, thin man stood. He took in Winter and smiled as she approached.
“This is Geoffrey Shards,” Olivia said. “He designed your dress.”
Olivia left Winter with the designer, who leant towards her. He smelt of expensive aftershave.
“I’ll talk about the dress, you just smile and wave,” Geoffrey said kindly. “I promise you can leave soon.”
Winter just nodded. She fixed a smile upon her face, spotting Missy, her boyfriend and her friends heading out towards the balcony. The press were all gathered in front of her, taking photographs and aiming microphones in their direction. Winter spotted the reporters from Vogue, failing to hide their bitter disappointment at missing out on an exclusive.
Winter struggled to hear Geoffrey describe the dress and why he had designed it for her especially. Something about innocence, body figure and individuality came to Winter but the rest was drowned out by the music. The press took more photos, their flashes blinding, before Geoffrey patted Winter on the shoulder to signal she could go.
She said goodbye to Geoffrey, picked up another drink, saw a camera man take a photo and quickly moved away, wondering what bullshit report would be in the papers the next morning about her.
As Winter walked, she spotted her parents and gave them a wide berth, so she wouldn’t be dragged somewhere else to do something of no interest to her. She didn’t feel remotely drunk and felt like to survive this night she had to be. But she should at least be relatively sober when she met Connor.
She hurried past the dance floor with its pulsating lights, yellow, green, red, blue. Everybody on it was tipsy or drunk, spilling drink onto the new floor. She climbed the steps, moving past people who were either sat down trying to sober up or were passed out. The balcony doors were already open, she walked out onto the black marble floor and into fresh air. Her phone went off and she saw a message from Connor, explaining he would be there in five minutes. She felt herself smiling as she stood at the railings and looked down into the garden where more mellow partygoers were talking.
Winter looked behind her and saw that under the decking, cast in red light, were shadows of people. She didn’t need to imagine what was going on down there. She didn’t even notice Missy and her friends up on top of the decking until they called her.
Winter turned to see Perkins, a posh boy from a private school who lived just up the lane with his famous model mother and his banker father, beckoning for her to come up on the decking. With everybody’s eyes on her, Winter had no choice.
>
With forced spirit she left the balcony and made her way up the wooden steps to the top of the plant infested decking.
“This is my boyfriend, Conrad!” Missy introduced the model, and Winter tried to keep herself composed.
“Nice to meet you,” Winter said casually.
“Great party, Winter,” Amanda, a blonde girl said. She was the less rich of all of them and always reminded of it. “You wanna do some coke?”
Winter blinked, not sure if she heard properly. Missy was giggling, her eyes wide. Her boyfriend had white traces of powder around his nose.
“Yeah, come on, Winter.” Perkins grinned. “It’ll loosen you up a bit!”
Winter was pushed forwards and a table came into view. Drinks had been moved aside to make room for five lines of white powder, rolled up notes of money next to it.
Conrad picked up one of the notes and handed it to her. “Just sniff.”
Amanda was taking photos off her phone.
“I don’t think so,” Winter said. She dropped the note to the floor.
Missy giggled. “You’re so boring, Winter! Tell her she’s boring.”
“You’re so boring!” Amanda called, before turning away to one of the lines on the table. When she pulled back, her face tipped to the sky, one of the lines was gone. Everyone around them but Winter cheered.
“You want to be careful, Missy,” Winter warned. “There are photographers all around. You don’t want to be photographed doing this. Especially with Conrad in tow.”
“I’ve been photographed doing it a load of times,” Conrad boasted, as if it was something to be proud of. Missy sure thought it was. “I make sure they never post it.”
“But there’s people here with cameras, they can easily post it anywhere,”
“If they did that, I’d kill them.”
Missy gripped Winter’s arm. “Relax! It’s fine!”
Winter tore her eyes away from the table lined with drugs, and could see the gates below and part of the town. It looked busy with swarming people, but she couldn’t make out anything but black shapes.
Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning Page 4
