‘And do you know whether Jasper will be your plus one yet? Only because the wedding planner needs to know for the seating arrangements.’
‘Yes, sorry, I keep meaning to ask him. When do you need to know by?’
‘Next couple of weeks?’
‘OK, ace. I’ll let you know.’
Lex ran a line through something in her notepad and nodded. ‘Hammy says Callum’s coming too by the way,’ she said. ‘So if Jasper can’t come at least you’ll have someone to flirt with.’
‘Lex, I think that ship—’
But she interrupted me and carried on. ‘And then we need to chat about the wedding weekend itself. I’m going home on the Tuesday from work. So when do you want to come? I realize it means taking time off work but I think there’ll be so much to do. I was thinking Thursday for you, maybe?’
‘Sure.’
Half an hour later, having discussed whether Lex should have her hair up or down, their honeymoon (to Bora Bora although Lex was worried about Zika) and whether she should buy white or pale blue bridal underwear, she sighed and put her pen down. ‘Just so much to do. I think I’m getting stress lines from it all, look at my forehead, look, here.’ She pointed to a place just above her right eyebrow. ‘Can you see that line? It’s new. I spotted it this morning while I was brushing my teeth. I think I might have Botox.’
I scrutinized her forehead. ‘Lex, there are 7-year-olds with more wrinkles than you. Don’t worry, everything will get done.’
She sighed again. ‘I hope so. How are you anyway? What’s happening?’
‘All good,’ I said. ‘Apart from taking Mum to her first chemo on Monday.’
‘Fuck,’ said Lex. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m the world’s worst friend. So sorry. How was it? How is she? How are you?’
‘Kind of grim. A room full of people hooked up to bags of poison, so I’ve been to cheerier places. But Mum was amazing. Didn’t stop talking throughout. Well, until I took her home, when she was pretty tired. So… yeah, now we just have to wait and see. Another chemo in a few weeks.’
‘How many has she got to have?’
‘Three in total, three weeks apart.’
Lex nodded.
I’d spoken to Mum earlier that day and she was fine. Surprisingly fine. Sleeping. Not sick. Checking her hairbrush every day for clumps but nothing yet.
‘How did we get to the point where we’re discussing your wedding and my mum’s chemo appointments?’ I said to Lex. ‘When did that happen? I mean, literally, when did that happen? Like, are we old enough?’
‘God knows,’ she replied. ‘Although we spent most of our twenties drunk, right? So it was probably around then.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Another bottle?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
Why did this feel like a big deal, I thought, lying on Jasper’s chest in my bed later that night. It’s not a big deal. It’s just someone asking someone else to a wedding. Not your own wedding. Someone else’s wedding. Get a grip.
‘I have a question,’ I said, tentatively.
‘Uh-oh,’ he replied. ‘Am I in trouble?’
‘No, but someone has a guilty conscience. Do you think you should be in trouble?’
‘Why do you think that I think that I’m in trouble?’
‘OK, stop it, forget the trouble thing,’ I said, laughing. ‘You’re not in trouble. I have a question.’
‘Which is?’
‘So you know I was talking to Lex this week about her wedding…’
‘Polly Spencer, are you about to propose to me?’
‘No!’ I slapped him on the chest. ‘Stop it. Concentrate.’
‘Good. Because when that moment comes I plan on doing the asking.’
I was momentarily stumped. ‘OKKKK, now I feel awkward. I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that…’
‘I don’t mean propose to you.’
‘Oh thanks! I mean… never mind… God, this is making it worse.’
‘Well, maybe I’ll propose to you.’
‘Stop it. Literally, stop it.’
‘You’re so easy to tease.’
‘Can we get back to the question?’
‘Instead of me talking about us getting married?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know you’re incredibly sexy when you get flustered,’ said Jasper, rolling over and pinning me underneath him.
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘OK. The question is, do you want to be my plus one for Lex’s wedding?’
He laughed. ‘That’s it?’
‘Yes!’
‘I’m quite disappointed you didn’t ask me to marry you now,’ he said, burying his head in my neck and kissing it.
‘Stop it. Honestly, it’s making me feel awkward.’
He looked up again and smiled. ‘’Course I will. I’d love to.’
‘Really?’
‘Really, truly, honestly,’ he said. ‘I do hope you’re wearing some sort of sensational bridesmaid dress.’
A couple of weeks later, I arrived at the studios in East London for the Celestia Smythe cover shoot and buzzed the intercom on a big black door beneath the railway arch.
‘Hi, I’m from Posh!,’ I said.
The door clicked and I pushed it open. There was a woman with a tattoo of the word ‘LIFE’ on her neck sitting at the reception desk.
‘Hiya,’ she said. ‘Studio three, up the stairs and along to the end.’
Upstairs in the studio, I found the photographer crouching down over her camera bags, then spotted Legs and Jeffrey, both standing near a rail of clothes. Another woman with bright red hair stood beside a nearby table, arranging make-up brushes and sponges. Rock music was playing in the background.
‘Morning,’ I said to no one in particular, heading immediately to pour myself a coffee from the table that was covered with croissants, fruit and juice.
‘Hello,’ said the photographer, standing up and coming over. She was wearing a tweed flat cap, with a tweed waistcoat over a black t-shirt. Black jeans. Doc Marten boots. Classic photographer.
‘Hi, I’m Polly,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘The writer.’
‘Kimiko,’ she said. ‘Great to meet you, I think this is going to be fab.’
‘Mmm,’ I said, my eyes falling on several stacked crates in the corner. Avocados. Five hundred avocados, which Enid had spent all week moaning about in the office. ‘Where am I going to get five hundred avocados? I can hardly nip down to Tesco and get them all there, can I? I ask you,’ and so on and so on.
‘Hi, I’m Rachel,’ said the lady arranging make-up brushes, walking over.
‘Rachel, hi, good to meet you,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘I’m just going to go and have a word with Legs. You’ve met her and Jeffrey?’ I asked, nodding in their direction.
‘Yes, absolutely. All friends.’
‘Great,’ I said again.
Legs, as usual, looked less cheerful than a thundercloud. ‘I do not think Chanel will be ’appy with this,’ she said, gesturing at the rail of clothes.
There were a dozen or so dresses strung along it. I reached out and touched a silver minidress with hundreds of feathers embroidered around the bottom. It looked like something a dancer would wear in Swan Lake.
‘Beautiful, eesn’t it?’ said Legs.
‘Mmm.’ I was trying to imagine wearing it. To the office? To nip to Barbara’s in the morning for some Special K?
‘Polly, good morning,’ said Jeffrey.
‘Hi, Jeff. How we doing?’
‘I think we’ll be all right. Look, what do you reckon?’
He unfurled a green bit of felt lying at his feet. It was the avocado fancy dress costume.
‘It’s going to look fabulous on the cover,’ he said.
Luckily I didn’t have a second to reply, because there was a sudden bang behind us as the door flung open and a woman in an enormous trilby walked in. The Honourable Celestia Smythe, I guessed.
‘Morning,’ came a r
ather high-pitched voice from underneath the hat.
‘Hello,’ I replied. ‘You must be Celestia?’
‘Yah, how do you do?’ she said, extending a small, pale hand for me to shake. She then took back the hand and removed the hat, shaking her head about as if auditioning for a shampoo advert. Her hair was as thick and shiny as Kate Middleton’s. Presumably all those avocados.
‘Let me introduce you to everyone,’ I said, waving my hand around the room.
‘This is Legs, our fashion director, who will be dressing you.’ Celestia stuck out her hand again. ‘How do you do?’ she repeated to Legs, who wordlessly shook Celestia’s hand.
‘And this is Jeffrey, our picture editor. He’s had a… brilliant, er, idea for today’s concept.’
‘Jeffrey, hi, how do you do?’ said Celestia.
‘I’m exceptionally well, thank you, Miss Smythe,’ said Jeffrey, before doing a little bow at her. ‘It is an honour to meet you.’
‘And this is Kimiko the photographer and Rachel the make-up artist.’
‘So exciting to meet you all,’ said Celestia, smiling around the room. She was even prettier in person, I had to admit. Lime-coloured eyes and the size of a woodland sprite. I could fit my hands around her waist, probably.
‘Shall we get going with hair and make-up?’ I said. ‘I thought I’d interview you while that was happening if you don’t mind?’
‘Sure,’ she said, eyelashes fluttering at me.
‘Oh sorry, do you want a coffee or anything? Or a croissant?’
She shuddered as if I’d asked whether she wanted to go Morris dancing. ‘Oh no, thank you. I’ve brought one of my avocado shakes with me.’
‘No probs,’ I said brightly. ‘I might just top my coffee up and then let’s get cracking.’
A few minutes later, she was sitting, eyes closed, on a swivel chair in front of Rachel, who was dabbing at her face with a sponge. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, phone beside me, recording.
‘You have lovely skin,’ Rachel said to Celestia.
‘Oh that’s kind of you,’ she replied. ‘It’s all the vitamin E.’
‘So, avocados,’ I said. ‘Tell me about them.’ It wasn’t much of an opening gambit but I reckoned if I warmed her up on avocados then I could go in and start asking about her love life.
‘Oh, well, I’ve always been a massive fan of them,’ said Celestia, ‘I’d always order them with my breakfast. Like, with poached eggs. You know?’
I nodded. ‘In cafés?’
‘Exactly!’ she said brightly.
‘But how did you come up with the idea for the book?’ I asked.
‘So I was in my favourite café on the King’s Road a few months ago talking to my friends about what I wanted to do once I’d left Edinburgh…’
‘Uni, right?’ I said. ‘Studying History of Art?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I love Dandy Warhol. But, anyway, I was in that café and I’d just eaten some eggs and avocados, and then I was scrolling through Instagram looking at loads of other pictures of eggs and avocados, and I just thought there was something in avocados. Like, they’re so popular nowadays, aren’t they?’
‘Mmm,’ I said, ‘Were you always good at cooking?’
‘God no,’ she said, waving a hand in the air. ‘The nanny always did that at home. But cooking with avocados is so easy. You literally just cut around them and remove the stone and then you can do all sorts with them.’
‘Right. So, what kind of recipes will be in the book? And, sorry, what’s it called?’
‘It’s called Green Goddess,’ Celestia replied. ‘Isn’t that clever? And there are all sorts of recipes I’ve made up in there. Avocado mousse, avocado tostadas, plain avocado and vinaigrette, stuffed avocado. Avocado brownies, avocado face masks…’
Rachel drew liner across one of her eyelids. ‘I’ll send you a signed copy when it’s out,’ she continued.
‘Oh, wonderful, thank you,’ I replied. Although I was fairly dubious about how wonderful this book would be. ‘Now, can I ask about what you do when you’re not thinking about avocados? Where you live, what you like doing in your spare time?’
‘OK, so I live at home still in Chelsea while I’m working on the book. It was just too much to move out and find my own place at the same time.’
‘Mmm…’
‘And I love spending time with my dog, he’s a pug. Called Pasta. And shopping. I love shopping. And breakfasts on the King’s Road obviously,’ she said.
‘And friends and…’ I paused ‘… maybe a boyfriend?’
‘So I hang out mostly with Gussy Mountbatten and Sally Battenberg, if you know them?’ She opened one eye and squinted at me. I knew them from our party pages, both daughters of dukes, both in line to the throne somehow. ‘And no boyfriend, no. I was dating Frank von Trapsburg at Edinburgh but he wasn’t The One.’
Kimiko interrupted at this point from across the studio, where she had been loading avocados into a free standing bath. ‘Rachel, how long do you reckon?’
Rachel stood up and looked at Celestia’s face. ‘Erm, ten minutes?’
‘And I need, maybe, fifteen to try some of thees dresses,’ said Legs, sitting beside the clothes rail.
‘Fab,’ said Kimiko.
Celestia was game when it came to lying in a bath of avocados, I had to admit. She stripped down to her knickers in front of us all – milky skin like Cleopatra, pert bottom like a peach – and happily stepped into the bath.
‘Oh my God, this is hilaaaaarious,’ she said, lying back as Kimiko and Jeffrey strategically placed more avocados around her, before Kimiko started taking shots of her while standing on a stepladder.
‘Chin up a bit, Celestia, that’s great,’ Kimiko said. Click, click, click. ‘Head to the left a bit.’ Click, click, click. ‘Rachel, can you just move that strand of hair from her face? Great, thanks.’ Click, click, click and so on.
Legs sat sulking by the clothing rail. ‘I promise we’ll get her in Chanel at some stage,’ I said to her. ‘Let’s just get the bath shots done and then we can have her in one of the dresses, juggling with the avocados or something.’
Legs rolled her eyes. ‘Karl will not like eet, but OK.’
It took six hours in all. Six hours. Four different shots. Celestia in the bath covered with avocados; Celestia in the feathery Chanel dress holding two avocados in front of her breasts; Celestia in the avocado fancy-dress costume wearing several strands of Chanel pearls; Celestia in a bouclé Chanel suit with mashed avocado all over her face. A lump of avocado fell on the suit’s collar which made Legs nearly explode in anger but I told her we’d dry-clean it and Chanel would never know.
‘That was so fun,’ said Celestia, standing in her knickers and a t-shirt by the clothes rail again.
‘It looked great,’ I said. ‘Thanks for being such a good sport. Where are you off to now?’
‘Oh, just going home and then I think I might go to yoga,’ she said, ‘I need to stretch.’ She bent over and touched the floor with her fingertips. Jeffrey went puce at this and quickly turned to face the back of the studio.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ said Legs, looking at me while folding a dress over her arm. ‘You seeing Jasper?’
‘Is that your boyfriend?’ said Celestia, standing up again and reaching her arms over her head.
‘Well, I’m not sure about boyfriend. But someone I’ve been seeing. But he lives in Yorkshire so it’s a bit, um, tricky during the week.’
Celestia frowned, her arms still stretched above her head in the air. ‘You don’t mean Jasper Milton?’
I look at her surprised. ‘Yep, how come? I mean, do you know him?’ ’Course she knew him, I then realized. All the aristocracy knew each other. They were basically all related to one another.
Celestia pulled her arms down again and shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t actually know him but my brother went to Eton with him. And I’ve always had such a crush on him. So how long have you been going o
ut?’
‘Er, a couple of months,’ I said. Standing in my saggy jeans and trainers beside a small, creamy-skinned nymph like Celestia while she asked about Jasper made me feel awkward. I felt like she was scrutinizing me, as if she was trying to work out why someone like Jasper would be dating me.
‘God, I’m jealous,’ she went on. ‘He’s dreamy. And funny. Jake always said he was funny.’
‘Mmm, he is,’ I said, quite wishing she’d get dressed and we could all go home. I was suddenly exhausted and wanted a bath. A hot bath filled with bubbles instead of avocados.
‘Well done you!’ she went on. ‘Do you just feel like the luckiest girl in the world?’
‘Sometimes,’ I said, trying to find an excuse to change the subject.
‘Legs,’ I called out, ‘do you know when the car is getting here?’
Legs looked up from layering Chanel dresses back into a gigantic trunk to cart back to the office. ‘Oui, I just got a message on my phone. Eet’s just arrived,’ she said.
‘Great,’ I replied. I didn’t want to go back to the office, but I could pretend I had to leave with Legs to escape the studio.
‘Hang on, let me just zip this up and we can go.’
‘So lovely to meet you,’ I said, turning to Celestia.
‘You too!’ she said, leaning forward and hugging me. ‘Maybe see you with Jasper sometime?’
Not if I could help it, I thought.
Emails flooded in all week from Willow about the arrangements for Bill’s surprise party. Finally, it was decided that everyone should be at his flat by 6.30 on Friday to hide themselves before Bill came home around seven o’clock.
‘What if he gets stuck in the office?’ someone had asked on an email chain of about forty people. I thought people who hit ‘Reply all’ on emails like this shouldn’t be allowed access to technology. Willow had replied saying she’d ‘made sure’ he would be leaving on time.
Joe had begun a separate email chain with me and Lex.
I bet she’s promised him a blow job when he gets home…
I replied, cautiously.
Guys, can we be suuuuuper careful none of us hits the wrong button and sends this back to Willow?
The Plus One Page 18
