Chapter 12
I drifted through the day, my mind full of images of me and Ellie, best friends and models, together with Olivia, our second-best friend in the whole world. Work was a doddle; I sorted out the different nail stickers and painted the mannequins’ nails in all my favourite designs at the nail salon. I had a sticky toffee bun and cherry scone at Jerry’s, I sipped a coke float at the restaurant afterwards. I collected my money and counted it eagerly, knowing that Jay would be meeting me there ten minutes later.
“Hi!” a deep soft voice said from behind me.
I spun round on my heel and looked at Jay expectantly.
“Hello,” I answered, yawning. “You got my text then?” I added sarcastically.
“Hey!” He took a step back, looking hurt. I blushed a bright pink and stepped towards him, yanking his arm apologetically.
“Sorry, Jay, it’s nothing,” I mumbled, looking at his suit and shiny shoes in bewilderment. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”
He smiled again in his friendly way and led me to a secluded table. “Here, darling,” he laughed, “what would you like?”
I decided on a Crunchie bar sundae and white wine, while he chose a Valentine Surprise and a half-pint.
“It’s not Valentine’s day!”
“So? We’re out on a date, are we not?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s spring! After Valentine’s day. You’ll have to wait … eleven months. Can you do that?”
“Be quiet!”
“No!” I laughed, teasing him again.
We sat there together for about an hour, holding hands over the table. He had soft, tanned hands that held my hand in his like it meant the world to him.
We shared our sundaes. That was why he had got the Valentine Surprise!
“Oh, Sapphire, America!” he suddenly burst out, looking stricken.
“Yeah,” I said wistfully. “I wish you could come, but you can’t. I can’t pay for you and Olivia, Jay. Sorry. I might be able to pay for you to fly over after the first two weeks, though.”
“Why after two weeks?”
“Because …” I told him all about wanting to be a model, and my dreams and desires.
“So who’s your prince then?” he demanded, looking away.
“What? Are you talking of my future husband? Honestly! Don’t you know who I would choose, for God’s sake?” I said scornfully. “You!”
“Me?” he asked, his face lighting up as if he had been lit by a match.
The next week flew by. Nothing much happened. Sylvie still worked in the bakery, and brought home a few delicious treats each night for me. I saw her at Jerry’s, of course, but then I went out after that while she tidied or cleaned the house, made dinner or went out shopping.
“Chloe’s coming round today,” Sylvie reminded me on Sunday morning. I had remembered, but Sylvie wasn’t making it possible to forget for one second.
“Ah! The house! Tidy it before Chloe comes!” she would mutter to herself as she ate her breakfast hurriedly.
“Do the bedrooms!” she would remind herself as she washed the dirty dishes at the sink.
“Sweep the kitchen! Make sure the dining room is clean,” she would mutter, rushing around the house mechanically, like a clockwork doll.
“The bathroom – I forgot! Help, Sapphire, help!” she cried as she finally moved on to the bedrooms, tired and coated in a thin coating of dust after dealing with the living room.
“OK, calm down!” I came down the frost-covered garden, which still had dew on the glades of grass from the early morning.
Taking the brush and opening the one small window, I laboured around the bathroom, polishing the freezing tiles underfoot quickly, scrubbing the bath, bleaching the toilet, washing the taps and desperately failing to scrape away the gathering grime in the cracks of the wall panels.
“Good job!” Sylvie praised as I walked in.
“Thanks.”
I was just sweeping the wooden floors of our kitchen when the doorbell rang. I looked down at my scruffy clothes and ran upstairs, changing into tights and a purple strappy dress with embroidery over the front. I pouted and applied my berry lipstick in front of the mirror, having cleaned my teeth. Finishing outlining my eyes in black eyeliner, I raced back downstairs and saw Chloe standing there, three huge bags slung over her slim arm, a pink and gold purse in her left hand.
“Hello?” Chloe turned to face me and anxiously gave me a hopeful smile. “I’m sorry, Sapphire, darling, really sorry. I don’t know why I teased and tormented you like that. I hope you will forgive me,” she said, adding with sadness, “I understand if you don’t, you can be sure.”
“I understand,” I replied soberly. “Chloe. I know you said that with feeling. But you just persuaded me. Of course I’ll forgive you.”
“Oh – thank you! I was so – so ridiculously cross with myself after you left. I wanted to run up and give you a hug, but, well, I thought you would just push me away,” Chloe said, embracing me with a warm and friendly hug. “I should apologise to you both, Sylvie, you too, seeing as I was horrible to you too. I’m such a pushy girl; but if I am ever horrible to either of you again, you just tell me and I’ll snap straight out of it.”
“Don’t worry, Chloe,” Sylvie murmured, giving Chloe a close hug. “I over-reacted. Come on, let’s just forget about it for now.”
“Oh, thank you! Now – would either of you two care for your ‘sorry’ presents?” Chloe asked with a smile, walking into the living room and sitting down.
I looked at my last present, which was lying unopened at the end of my mattress. Fingering the long, loving letter Chloe had written, tears started in my eyes. I was surprised and angry. Blinking hard, I fought them off and reached for the pile of kind and thoughtful presents, carefully placed by my cabinet: a pink hairband with a beautiful array of well-arranged feather and real-looking jewels tied on a pink satin-covered base, a thin vase for flowers starting with a pale flouncy pink and rising to deep purple at the curled rim, a group of fat wax candles with pink and purple hearts painted on and a lovely set of photo frames, in all different shades, with personalised words on, with pictures as well, all my favourite things. She had made us each a pretty card too, tied with a love heart ribbon. Mine had lots of silver and red confetti inside, and two £10 notes. Sylvie’s had a lot of purple bank notes, presumably £20 notes, and they cascaded out of her card like a paper fountain. She stuffed them away, blushing, but thanked Chloe extravagantly.
“Chloe, have you got a better modelling contract in America?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes. They want me there for over three years now!” She sighed, looking a little worn out. “Honestly, those people – so bossy, so pushy. It’s my life, and do I get to choose? No I don’t! Really, it’s like they’re taking care of the whole of my flipping future career, for God’s sake!” she exclaimed.
“Er, yeah, sure, but you wouldn’t be earning that much if they hadn’t helped you step up to a better modelling career! Wow! Look at the time! Shall we go out for lunch?” Sylvie suggested.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Shall we go to the nice sandwich bar, Sylvie?”
“Nah – cheap ain’t my style.” Chloe shrugged off the suggestion.
“So what is?” Sylvie and I asked with sarcasm.
“Posh. Stylish. Romantic. Expensive. That kind of thing.”
“Honestly, Chloe. There ain’t anything like that here in this dump.”
“Huh! Bet there is. Come on, we’ll find somewhere.”
“All right,” we said in unison.
We put on our coats (Sylvie had just received a new coat from Chloe, along with house decorations, posh boots, body spray, room fresheners and perfume as her ‘sorry’ presents) and locked the door behind us, walking into town. We showed Chloe several nice restaurants and a healthy salad bar, but she raised her eyebrows disdainfully. Once we had trekked the length of the high street, Chloe finally spotted a posh-looking Indian restaurant, partl
y hidden behind a forest of conifers, swaying to and fro in the rhythm of the gentle breeze.
“Great,” Sylvie agreed.
“Nice,” I replied happily. “Chloe, you’re amazing.”
This was exactly the thing to say to Chloe, who preened and purred with clear self-affection, smiling all over her lovely face. She was like a young girl, purring in pleasure at the comments from others.
“Well, thanks,” Chloe beamed. “I wouldn’t go that far, Sapphy!”
I was surprised by this reply. I wouldn’t have thought Chloe would’ve brushed away any praise.
“Well, that was brilliant!” Chloe said after our meal, lying back in her purple leather armchair and sipping the last of her lime and lemonade after finishing her spicy chicken and veg soup, poppadums and colourful rice.
“Well, you can say that again!” Sylvie sighed, having finished her mild curry and poppadums.
I ate with relish, loving my guacamole dips and spicy Indian crisps, salsa (a very hot mixture of spicy pepper and tomatoes) and colourful rice. My Indian drink, Rainbow Relish, was a mixture of strong vibrant juices, a fizzy, sweet drink like lemonade, and tasted fabulous. Sylvie had the same and also loved it.
We walked home after lunch and sat down. The living room was brightened up by Chloe’s presents: my candles were arranged on the small cabinet beside the sagging sofa in two elaborate holders, the furry purple rug covered the old carpet, my gorgeous vase was in pride of place on the centre table with a bunch of tulips in it, and a few of the photo frames with my favourite pictures in were placed around the house. Sylvie had sprayed her lily and jasmine house spray everywhere, making the house smell amazing.
“Shall we go out for dinner as well?” queried Chloe at a quarter to eight.
“Sure.”
“Let’s go!”
We drove off in Chloe’s pink sports car, playing loud music. Other people, in cars or walking, stared at us. But for once I didn’t care.
“Where shall we go?” I asked.
“I know of a lovely place where they do brilliant steaks and pies. How about there?” Chloe asked, driving along.
“Nice,” I agreed. “Chloe, you always know what you want and where it is,” I added, grinning.
The fancy restaurant was quite a way off, but we talked about America for the time in the car.
“What kind of clothes should I get?”
“What? Anything you want, silly. The money’s yours to spend. Get some sun cream and perfumes too – nothing’s too grand for a night out in New York!” Chloe said to me.
“OK,” I replied. “What kind of clothes will you wear?”
“Oh, I’ve already been to the shops. I bought some great tops, believe me! I got one strappy red one with a black sequined neckline, a purple wrap-around top with pink lace edging, a top of three different shades of blue, with green and white beads sewn on to the collar and, finally, a beautiful black silky long top with lovely grey lace around the hem. Oh, and the dresses! I got five – one flouncy pink with a lace collar and purple hem with white hearts on the bodice; a deep blue one with an array of beads on the skirt and a black velvet cape to go with it; one scarlet with pink tights and a long flowing skirt; one shiny black with a tiny mini-skirt, and – my favourite – a long elegant white one that I wore with silk tights and long posh gloves – and I got three necklaces too!” she described them all in elaborate detail.
Soon after, we came to a huge mock-Tudor house, all black beams and criss-crossed lead windows, with a gravel drive leading up to it. I gasped in amazement; Sylvie gaped in astonishment.
“I wanted to show you two my new house,” Chloe gulped nervously. “What do you think?”
I stared at her in bewilderment.
“Chloe!”
“It’s true. I had a huge modelling job for this new clothes company, and I got paid. A lot. So I decided to move to my dream house, and here it is. You see, I was a child star, Sylvie, but I never told you, so I lived in that lovely cottage until I decided to really up the ante. I moved in last Wednesday.”
“Wow! So this is your house?” I marvelled.
“Yep,” Chloe answered, unlocking the door. “Anyway – would you care to make it our house?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I screamed, flinging myself at her.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Sylvie exclaimed too, but she wasn’t mocking me.
“Fab!” Chloe said, going in.
We tiptoed in on the red carpet, immensely proud of what Chloe had achieved. The high ceilings had lots of beautiful swirls and pictures; the grand mirror at the end of the hall was gilt; the heavy mahogany doors had ornate door handles; the cream sofas were brand new and comfortable; the rooms were very light and airy and spacious. I held my breath as I walked around each silent room, as if I were in Buckingham Palace with the Queen.
“Well?” Chloe asked us after we’d toured the three floors and the annexe.
“Well, what? If you want my opinion, I can’t say. I’m speechless!” Sylvie laughed.
“Me too,” I added.
Chloe led us into one of three living rooms and sat down, opening a huge tin of fancy chocolates. We each popped one in our mouths and relaxed too, lying back, carefree, not worrying about a single thing.
“Ah – Chloe, are you sure we can share this beautiful house with you?”
“Of course,” Chloe said, facing Sylvie. “You are my best friend in all the world. Sapphire, you come second.”
The End
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Rebecca
About the author
Rebecca is ten and this is her first book. Her favourite author is Jacqueline Wilson.
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