by Jules Wake
‘You haven’t seen me with the customers yet.’
‘I don’t need to. They’re always right. Now, other things. You’ll need comfortable shoes. Much as I like those sexy mothers, you will die in the first shift.’ Siena extended her foot to admire her high-heeled ankle boots.
‘Thank you very much, I’m rather fond of them.’
‘I’m not surprised. They are serious fuck-me shoes, honey.’
‘Interview going well then.’ Jason’s dry voice interrupted.
‘Yup, I think we’re all concluded. Siena’s going to do a trial and we’ll take it from there.’
‘Thanks so much Will. I’m really grateful you’re giving me a chance.’
‘Don’t be too grateful. If you’re shit I’ll fire the socks off you. I need a waitress, you’re available and this side of acceptable on the eye, so you won’t frighten the customers away.’
She poked her tongue out at him with a grin. Reading between the lines, Will didn’t have any trouble recruiting staff. For all his denial, he was doing her or rather Jason a favour and she was going to pay them both back in spades. It would be fun working here, for all Will’s flirting and twinkling, she could tell he wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. She was going to be the best waitress he’d ever hired. She couldn’t afford to fail at this or let Jason down.
They discussed the finer details, starting date, pay rate and shift patterns. She could do this. She’d eaten in enough fine restaurants and been on the receiving end of some top end customer service, if there was one thing she did know, it was how to treat a customer. In fact the more she thought about it she thought this might suit her perfectly for the next few weeks.
‘You and Will seemed to get on,’ said Jason as they pulled away from the pub.
‘Yes, he’s lovely.’
‘A word of warning,’ Jason turned her way, ‘he’s a dreadful flirt and has no staying power when it comes to women. That’s partly why he needs a new waitress, the last one thought that because she was sleeping with him, she could take liberties.’
With a laugh she shook her head. ‘I don’t fancy Will in the least. He’s far too obvious. Give me some credit.’
Jason looked surprised. ‘Really?’
‘He’s got player written all over him. I might not be very experienced and have rubbish taste in men, but I’ve seen enough of them in action to know.’
‘As long as you realise that.’ He lapsed into silence. As the Land Rover picked up speed, the roar of the engine precluded conversation. Siena did wonder if that was why he drove it. It was still as messy as the day he’d picked her up.
‘Do you ever clean this car?’ she raised her voice.
‘Every now and then. When it gets really bad.’
‘But you’re so tidy in the house.’
‘I don’t have to live in this, it’s a work horse. Besides I’m always transporting stuff. It gets trashed every time I do have a clean out.’
She shifted her feet trying to find a clear space. Shoes. And her phone!
‘I don’t suppose you know where I can get my phone fixed?’
‘Sure, we can sort it today.’
‘And I need to get some shoes for the job and some clothes. Affordable ones. I don’t suppose you know where I could go?’
Jason glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. ‘That’s not my department at all. But I know someone who can help.’
Chapter 9
‘This is really nice of you,’ said Siena as they walked from Lisa’s battered little Mini towards the shopping centre.
‘Don’t be silly. Who doesn’t like shopping? Besides I need some stuff too.’
‘I thought you might mind, since Claire’s a friend of yours.’
‘Oh I heard. She caught you and Jason shopping for a phone the other night.’
‘There was nothing to catch,’ said Siena indignantly.
‘We all know that. Don’t worry. I don’t know why she thinks she has a chance with him. He’s always made it perfectly clear he is wedded to the brewery. That comes first.’
Siena was relieved. The encounter with Claire had been unpleasant, especially as the only reason Jason had had his arm around her was to help her walk on her sore feet.
Thankfully it hadn’t affected things with Lisa. Since the other girl had picked her up that morning, they’d hadn’t stopped talking. When Jason had texted her and explained Siena needed to go shopping, Lisa had immediately volunteered to pick her up.
Christmas had well and truly arrived in the shopping centre.
The walkways were bedecked in huge golden wreaths lit up with thousands of fairy lights and there was an indefinable buzz in the air. Siena felt a frisson of excitement. The department stores sparkled with glitter and colour and all the concessions were dressed up in their finery to celebrate the season.
‘I love Christmas shopping,’ said Lisa with a quick twirl, gracefully managing not to bump into any of the shoppers bustling past. Both their hands were filled with bags and balanced like panniers.
Siena felt a little flutter of regret.
‘Don’t you?’ asked Lisa when she didn’t respond.
‘Maman tends to do it for everyone.’ Siena let out a half laugh. ‘Even her own present.’ Every year without any apparent effort, Siena bought her mother a bottle of Miss Dior perfume.
‘All the presents are delivered, gift-wrapped. Maman has accounts at shops in Paris, so she places an order and has everything delivered.’
‘Wow that sounds … organised.’
‘She’s got it down to a fine art. A big bottle of Guerlain perfume for Agnes, the housekeeper. Smaller bottles of Nina Ricci for the two maids. Aged brandy for Jackson, the butler. A hamper for the chef. Table gifts for all the ladies,’ Siena paused not wanting to sound ungrateful, ‘and I usually get something from Tiffany.’
‘Lucky you. We do Secret Santa, that’s my favourite bit. My aunt pulls names out of a hat, or at least she says she does, and we have to buy our name a gift for under a fiver. It’s great fun as we all try to outdo each other in who can get the silliest, cleverest or most tasteless thing.’
‘Sounds fun,’ said Siena doubtfully; it was difficult to imagine that idea working among the multitude of guests that descended on the Chateau each year, business colleagues of Harry’s, Maman’s coterie of lunching ladies from the length and breadth of Europe and a few distant aged cousins.
‘It is. Everyone comes up with great ideas. I’ve got my cousin this year. I need some inspiration. We’ll pop in here.’
Lisa dragged her into John Lewis.
They wandered through the shelves, teeming with brightly coloured china, decorations, gift ideas punctuating their journey through the shop with, ‘Isn’t this gorgeous?’ ‘What about this?’ ‘I love that.’ ‘Isn’t this cute?’
Siena enjoyed herself even though she really didn’t have anyone to buy for except maybe Agnes, who didn’t like perfume. If Siena was going to buy something for Agnes, it would be a jigsaw puzzle of London. The housekeeper loved her puzzles.
‘So where do you want to go now?’ asked Lisa after they reached sensory overload.
She gave Lisa a rueful smile. ‘I need to go the cheapest place to buy a skirt, black tights and shoes, but really cheap.’ The hundred and seventy pounds in her bank account had to cover everything from now until she went home and she was determined to give Jason some money towards bills.
Lisa glanced pointedly at her Prada handbag and her Miu Miu boots. ‘You do?’
‘I do.’ She laughed at Lisa’s horrified face. ‘It’s a long story. My mother cancelled all my credit cards.’
‘Cancelled?’ Lisa’s finely plucked and pencilled eyebrows drew together in a frown, which barely wrinkled the perfect skin of her brow. ‘Can she do that? And why would she? Have you run up a really big bill?’
‘Yes she can and she has. She’s not very pleased with me.’
‘But, I don’t understand. Aren’t they your cards?’
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Siena flushed, feeling like a fish floundering on the beach, uncertain. ‘The accounts go to Maman.’
‘What and she pays them? Each month?’
Siena shrugged. ‘The accountant takes care of all that sort of thing.’
‘You have a credit card that … what? Gets paid for you? You’re kidding me. Seriously? You lucky cow.’ Lisa grinned. ‘Does your mum want to adopt me?’ Then she looked at Siena’s face. ‘So what did you do to make her cancel them? Something really bad? My mum used to ground me. And make me do all the ironing and washing for a week.’
‘Ugh. That would be bad.’ Siena pulled a face.
Lisa laughed and nudged her. ‘You’ve never touched the washing in your life, have you?’
Siena shook her head.
‘Shit, are you properly rich or something?’ Lisa’s round-eyed curiosity was innocent of malice or jealousy.
‘Or something, at the moment. I think I’m what you call broke currently but it’s only temporary.’
‘Yeah, your mum is bound to forgive you. Eventually.’ Lisa gave her a wicked wink.
‘Mmm,’ she replied. She didn’t have quite the same faith in her mother as Lisa. ‘So until I get paid my allowance,’ she laughed, ‘even then, I need to be careful with money.’
‘Don’t you worry. I’m an expert on cheap and cheerful.’ Lisa linked her arm through Siena’s. ‘What do we need? Black skirt? White shirt?’
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘and tights and shoes. I probably don’t have enough money.’
‘Don’t you worry, Auntie Lisa will sort you out. How much have you got?’
‘A hundred and seventy pounds.’
Lisa’s eyes widened. Her heart sank.
‘Isn’t that going to enough?’
‘Enough! Babe, you haven’t been to Primarni, have you?’ With a kind smile Lisa added, ‘Thought not. Come on.’
Thank God for Lisa. Without her, Siena wouldn’t have had a clue where to start. She didn’t recognise any of the brand names or clothing stores.
‘How about this one? It’s only nine ninety-nine,’ said Lisa holding up a black mini skirt. They were in a store called New Look. Siena couldn’t believe the prices. ‘What size are you? OMG you’re going to be an eight or something ridiculous. Look at you, you’re so skinny. You could be a model.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Siena laughed at Lisa’s enthusiastic admiration. ‘Have you been to the Paris shows? They are all size zero. I’m at least a size eight. None of the fashion houses even know what an eight is, let alone make samples that size.’
‘Siena,’ Lisa threw a hand on her hip and posed. ‘Do I look like I’ve ever been to Paris in my life, let alone a blinking fashion show? Do you really see people like Gwyneth Paltrow and Victoria Beckham in the front row?’
‘Yeah, they’re usually there.’ Siena shrugged. ‘I saw Kim Kardashian and Kanye at the shows in March.’
‘Seriously?’ Lisa looked impressed. ‘I don’t get it though.’ She scrunched up her pretty face. ‘I’ve seen some pictures on Pinterest. Those catwalk collections. Seriously? Who the hell would be seen dead in some of that stuff? And paying gazillions. Most of it looks completely ridiculous.’
Siena burst out laughing. ‘And you only see half of it. Some of it is crazy but that’s the whole thing. I want to train to be a fashion designer.’
‘Seriously? That’s so cool.’ Lisa looked wide-eyed. ‘Katie – remember her at the wine bar? – her mum’s sister works at the fashion school in London teaching students.’
Siena stopped dead and laid a hand on Lisa’s arm to stop her. ‘Do you know which one?’
‘I think it’s the London School of Fashion.’
‘That’s the one I really want to go to. I’ve been trying to speak someone there for the last week.’
‘You should speak to Katie. We always have Prosecco and film night when Tom’s playing away; you’ll have to come. In fact I’ll call her later. Although,’ she pulled a face, ‘I think a lot of it is bollocks if you ask me. I saw one picture, it looked like the model was wearing a lampshade with a huge great eyeball on her head. How’s that fashion?’
‘That’s the concept stuff, rather than ready-to-wear.’
‘Pardon? Can you say that in English?’ Lisa had already skittered off, and was rifling through a rail of clothes a few aisles along. ‘Isn’t everything ready to wear?’
‘They’re showing off their ideas and the styles.’ She followed Lisa. ‘Illustrating a type of neckline, the dress shape, the hemline, the fabrics, the colours, an idea. It’s more of a shop window than real clothes you can buy.’
‘Still all looks a bit pants to me.’
Siena pulled a shirt off the rack next to her. ‘Look.’ She pointed to the military style pockets on the front. ‘These pockets. Paris catwalk, the Josetti show, eight weeks ago. The whole show was off the scale. Pockets on everything and nothing. But the pockets themselves have taken off.’
‘Oooh I really like that. I’m going to try it on.’
‘Are you sure?’ Siena didn’t know how to tell her that both the colour and style were all wrong for her.
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It will look awful.’
Lisa giggled. ‘Tell me straight, why don’t you?’
Siena stood in front of her and assessed her.
‘You’ve got quite a petite frame.’ She picked up the shirt and held it up against her. ‘Look.’ She pulled the fabric along the shoulder line. ‘It’s far too wide here, it will make your arms look short as it will be too long in the sleeve. And see here?’ She pointed to the hem of the shirt. ‘See where it finishes, right at the top of your legs? Your widest part, so it emphasises that.’ Siena pursed her mouth and shook her head before proclaiming with great solemnity, ‘You will look,’ she paused, ‘like a pudding.’
Lisa burst out laughing. ‘A pudding? Charming.’
Siena grinned. ‘You don’t want to look like that, do you?’
‘No I ruddy well do not.’
Siena darted to a rail nearby and pulled out a hanger with more fitted style top. ‘This looks like Moschino, or a very near copy. You team that up with a pair of skinny jeans or those black harem pants over there, it will show off your waist and look fabulous.’
Lisa looked uncertain. ‘Not really me. I don’t like things with waists.’
‘You should. You have a fabulous waist. Wearing those long loose tops makes you look shapeless. A bit squat and square, when you’re not. I’d kill for a real waist. Look – ribs to hips, dead straight. I look like a boy.’
‘Squat and square, thanks.’ Lisa giggled. ‘And you do not look like a boy. What, a boy with boobs? You’ve got a great figure.’
‘So have you, you just aren’t showing it off to its best advantage. Let me show you.’
Siena took her time, gathering a selection of clothes so that she could demonstrate exactly what she meant, passing them over to Lisa, until the pile in the other girl’s arms was so big she could barely see where she was going.
‘Siena,’ she croaked in a muffled voice from behind the stack of outfits. ‘Do you think this is enough? They won’t let us take it all in.’
With a bit of smart talking, Siena persuaded the sales girl to bring in a rail and separated the clothes into batches of ten items which could be tried on one after the other.
‘Right, try the pocket shirt on with these black jeans and come out and show me.’
‘I thought you said—’ Lisa clutched the shirt, which she clearly had formed an attachment to.
‘I want to show you how bad it will look.’
When Lisa came out, Siena stood next to her in front of the mirror. ‘See,’ she pointed to the line where the shirt stopped, ‘thunder thighs.’
Lisa gasped.
‘They’re not at all, but that length accentuates them. And now look.’ She lifted the hem of the shirt a couple of inches and looked at Lisa in the reflection.
‘
You’re forgiven the mean comment.’ Lisa studied herself in the mirror. ‘Wow, yes. That’s amazing. I had no idea. What a difference. But you still didn’t have to say I had thunder thighs.’
Siena gave her a ruthless grin. ‘Yes I did. I said you had a waist, you can’t have everything. Tough love. Now try this top.’ Siena bundled Lisa back into a cubicle with the white Moschino copy. ‘Right. White top. Black jeans. I want to see you in them now.’
‘I had no idea you were going to be this bossy. It’s like fashion boot camp.’
‘You ain’t see nothin’ yet. And don’t moan so much. You’ve got your own personal Paris trained fashion guru and stylist.’
‘OMG. That looks fab. I never would have tried this on, and not with the jeans.’ Lisa twisted and turned in the mirror to catch every angle. She gave Siena the thumbs up. ‘I love it … what next?’
For the next half hour, she had Lisa in and out of a variety of outfits, and kept running back out into the shop to get additional garments. They started to attract quite an audience and then other girls in the changing room started asking for advice and the more delighted they seemed with Siena’s feedback, the bolder she became.
A very tall, skinny girl asked Siena’s view on a mini skirt.
‘God no, you really need a skirt which stops at the knee. You have lovely calves. That shorter length emphasises your spaghetti legs and your knees sort of bulge in the middle. Go find a longer skirt.’
The ruder she was, the more they asked her opinion.
‘That top is too low-cut. You look like a hooker.’
‘Too tight, you can see three bulges in your back. And your bra doesn’t fit properly.’
‘VPL, get the next size up and get some better knickers.’
No matter how brutal she was they all seemed to love it. At one point the manager of the store came into the changing room to see what the gathering crowd was up to.
‘Have you got a card or anything? I’d really like to speak to my boss about perhaps you coming in to do makeovers and be an in-store stylist.’
‘No, I—’
‘She’s having them printed, aren’t you?’ interrupted Lisa with a naughty wink behind the manager’s back.
