… where challenge and adventure meet inspiration …
OFFICIAL REPORT
Client: Danny Kovitz
Subject: Medical Emergency/Airlift
The client began to exhibit signs of distress early on Monday. Despite encouragement from the Team Leader and other team members, he finally stopped skiing, threw down his pack, and began sobbing. The client was airlifted at 15.00 hours, and taken to Base Camp on Kulusuk.
A full medical examination was undertaken and the client was found to be in good health, with no signs of frostbite or respiratory disorder. However, the client was in significant mental distress. Nurse Gill Johnson observed him for three hours, during which time she noted down the following remarks: ‘My toes have gone’; ‘My fingers will have to be amputated’; ‘My lungs have frozen’; ‘I have snowblindness’; ‘Why me?’; ‘I’m ebbing away’; ‘Tell the world I was brave at the end’. Despite her reassurances, he remained convinced for several hours that he was about to die.
The client subsequently enjoyed a substantial meal, viewed several episodes of America’s Next Top Model on the sanatorium TV, and slept a comfortable night before being transported the following day to Reykjavik and thence to New York.
Team Leader
* * *
From: Kovitz, Danny
To: Kovitz, Danny
Subject: don’t know how i survived
* * *
dearest friends
despite my best endeavors my trek across the ice sheet ended prematurely when, against my own wishes, i was airlifted to safety. i wanted to continue but was told by the team leader that to do so would endanger myself and the others. you will be shocked to hear I was near death.
i feel heartache at leaving the expedition but i will always remember the soaring landscape and will recreate this in a series of winter white dresses for my next a/w collection, it will be called ice and pain and will use textured quilted fabrics with raw bone, nb tristan, plse have list of raw bone sources ready for my return.
i am now, on medical advice, checking in to a place of rest and recuperation. you can send flowers and presents to me via my new york office.
kisses
danny xxx
EIGHTEEN
They weren’t interested in any of my notes. They didn’t even have any clothes in the studio. We didn’t talk about fashion at all. I’m sitting in the limo, numb with shock, driving away from the studios with Aran. How did that happen?
At first it all seemed perfect. The limo arrived at 6 a.m., and Jeff ‘secured’ it, while I posed for pictures taken by Lon and all his friends, who were yelling ‘Becky! Beckeeee!’ I was wearing my exclusive Danny Kovitz dress with a little shrug over it, and I felt just like a top-notch celebrity. Then we whizzed off to the studios, and I had my make-up done next to Ebony-Jane Graham, who is totally famous if you watch weight-loss programmes.
The host was called Marie and she was very smiley with enormous pearls. (And also a fairly enormous bottom, only you don’t see that as she sits on the sofa the whole time.) I was all set to start filming at 7.20, and I was dying of excitement, except my one niggle was: where were the clothes? When I asked the assistant producer, she just looked at me blankly and said, ‘You’re on to talk about Lois, right?’ There wasn’t time to protest because she bustled me on to the set, where I found not just Marie, but a kleptomania expert called Dr Dee.
Even then, I didn’t realize. I kept thinking, ‘They’ll ask me about styling soon. Maybe the clothes are on-screen. Maybe some models will appear, wearing the latest outfits.’
I was so stupid. The segment started, and Marie read out an introduction all about Lois and Sage, and then she turned to me and said, ‘So, Becky. Let’s go back to basics.’
‘Absolutely!’
I beamed at her, and was about to explain that this season’s trends are all about clean lines and playful accessories, when she continued, ‘You were actually in the shop when Lois – for whatever reason, and we’ll go into that later with Dr Dee – shoplifted some items. Could you relive that moment for us?’
I stumbled through some awkward account of seeing Lois take the socks, and then she asked me about the awards, and then she turned to Dr Dee and said, ‘So, Dr Dee. Why does an A-list movie star like Lois Kellerton turn to crime?’
And that was it. My part was over. Dr Dee talked endlessly about self-esteem and childhood issues, blah blah (I tuned out), and then the segment was finished. Not one fashion reference. Not one mention of me being a stylist. They didn’t even ask me who the diamanté clutch bag was by.
‘So.’ Aran looks up from his phone and smiles his Hollywood smile. ‘That went well.’
‘Went well?’ I echo in disbelief. ‘It was awful! I thought I was going to be styling clothes! I made all these notes, and I was all prepared, and it was supposed to launch me as a stylist …’
‘OK.’ Aran looks at me blankly, then shrugs. ‘But it was great exposure. We’ll build up to the styling thing.’
Build up to it?
‘You said it would be a styling segment,’ I say as politely as I can. ‘That’s what you told me.’
I don’t want to be a diva. I know Aran’s really helping me and everything. But he did promise styling. He did promise clothes.
‘Sure.’ He’s got that blank look again, as though he’s already tuned out what I just said. ‘So, we’ll work on that. Now, I have a couple of new offers, one of which is huge. Huge.’
‘Really?’ I can’t help feeling hopeful.
‘You see? I told you you’d be the queen of the moment. The first thing is a nice invitation to the Big Top premiere tomorrow. They want you to do the red carpet.’
‘Do the red carpet?’ I feel a sudden glittery excitement. ‘Like … do interviews?’
‘Sure. I think you should do it.’
‘Of course I’ll do it!’ I say in elation. ‘I can’t wait!’
I’m going to do the red carpet at a premiere! Me! Becky! In my own right! ‘What’s the other thing?’
‘This is shit-hot, totally confidential.’ He nods at his phone. ‘I should not even be sharing this with you.’
‘Really?’ I feel fresh sparks of excitement. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s reality. But it’s a whole new breed of reality.’
‘Right.’ I feel a bit hesitant at the word ‘reality’, but I’m not going to give that away. ‘Cool!’ I say determinedly. ‘That sounds fab!’
‘What it is—’ He interrupts himself. ‘OK, it’s not for the squeamish. But you’re not squeamish, are you, Becky?’
‘No! Definitely not!’
Oh God. Please don’t say he wants me to go on a show where you have to eat bugs. I can’t eat a worm. I can’t.
‘I didn’t think you were.’ He flashes that smile at me again. ‘What this show is about is aesthetic improvement. The working title is Even More Beautiful. Each celebrity will have a mentor in the form of another celebrity, and that mentor will carefully guide a process of aesthetic alteration. The American public will follow each process and vote on the result. Obviously medical professionals are on hand to consult at all times,’ he adds blithely.
I blink at him, not sure if I heard right.
‘Aesthetic alteration?’ I say at last. ‘You mean, plastic surgery?’
‘It’s a pioneering show.’ Aran nods. ‘Super-exciting, huh?’
‘Yes!’ I say automatically, although I can’t quite get my head around this. ‘So … I’d decide what kind of plastic surgery some celebrity has and then it gets voted on? But what if I get it wrong?’
Aran is shaking his head.
‘We see you as one of the celebrity participants who would undergo the journey. You would be assigned a celebrity mentor who would aim to make you the most beautiful swan. Not that you’re not already a swan,’ he adds charmingly. ‘But everyone can do with a little improvement, right?’ He twinkles. ‘The surgery alone would be worth thousands, together with the fee
and the prime-time exposure … like I said, it’s a great opportunity.’
My head is spinning. He can’t be serious.
‘You want me to have plastic surgery?’ I falter.
‘Believe me, this is going to be the biggest TV show ever to hit our planet,’ says Aran confidently. ‘When I tell you who’s already signed up …’ He winks. ‘Let’s just say, you will be in stellar company.’
‘I’ll … I’ll think about it.’
I stare out of the window, feeling dazed. Plastic surgery? Luke would be absolutely— Oh God. I can’t even tell Luke about this. There’s no way I’m doing it.
‘Aran.’ I turn back. ‘Listen. I don’t think … I mean, I know it’s a great opportunity and everything—’
‘Sure. You think it’s grotesque. You’re shocked I even asked.’ Aran twinkles again. He opens a box of gum and offers me some and I shake my head. ‘Becky, you want a shortcut to fame? This is your quickest route.’
‘But—’
‘I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just giving you the information. Think of me as your GPS. There are slow routes and there are quick routes to fame. Appearing on this show would be a super-fast route.’ He tips three pellets of gum into his mouth. ‘Now, if you don’t like the look of the super-fast route, that’s another story.’
He’s so matter-of-fact. He’s so detached. As I survey his smooth, immaculate face, I feel more confused than ever.
‘You said I was hot already. You said my profile had gone through the roof. So why do I need to do a reality show?’
‘Becky, you don’t do anything,’ Aran says bluntly. ‘You’re not on a TV show. You’re not dating a celebrity. If Lois pleads guilty there won’t even be a court case. If you want to stay out there, you need to be out there.’
‘I want to be out there, styling.’
‘Well then, style.’ He shrugs. ‘But that is not the super-fast route, I can tell you.’
The car pulls up in my drive and he leans over to kiss me lightly on each cheek. ‘Ciao, ciao.’
I get out, followed by Jeff, and the car drives off, but I don’t approach the house. I go and sit on a low wall, thinking hard and chewing my lip. I let my thoughts simmer down into a decision, then determinedly pull out my phone and jab in a number.
‘Becky?’ comes Sage’s sleepy voice down the phone. ‘Is that you?’
‘Listen, Sage, are you going to the Big Top premiere tomorrow? Only I’d love to put an outfit together for you. Remember, you said you wanted me to style you? Remember we were talking about it?’
‘Oh.’ Sage yawns. ‘Sure.’
‘So … are you going to the premiere? Can I dress you?’
I’m crossing my fingers tightly. Please say yes, please say yes …
‘I guess so.’
‘Great!’ I exhale in relief. ‘Fantastic! Well, I’ll put some looks together. I’ll call you later.’
As I head into the house, my spirits are higher. So what if the interview today wasn’t brilliant? I’ve taken charge. I’m styling Sage Seymour. I’m doing the red carpet. Everything’s coming together!
I can hear Luke in the kitchen, and my stomach gives a twinge of apprehension. I haven’t spoken properly to Luke since yesterday. He came to bed after I’d fallen asleep, and I left him dozing when I got up for the TV show. So we haven’t seen each other since our row.
No, not row. Discussion.
‘Why don’t you sit there for now,’ I say to Jeff, and point to one of the big chairs in the hall. ‘I guess Mitchell’s patrolling the garden.’
‘You got it,’ says Jeff, in that expressionless way he has, and settles his huge frame down on the chair. I take a deep breath, then saunter into the kitchen, humming, like someone who’s totally OK with everything, and didn’t have a tense moment with their husband last night.
‘Hi!’ My voice is a little too high-pitched.
‘Hi.’ Luke looks up from some document in a plastic binder. ‘How was the interview?’
‘It was … good. How’s things with you?’
‘How’s things?’ Luke gives a short, humourless laugh. ‘To be honest, things have been better.’
‘Really?’ I look at him in alarm. ‘What’s up?’
‘I thought that wretched Sage was up to something and now, sure enough, I discover that she is.’
‘Oh really?’ I say, my heart pumping a little faster. ‘Um, what?’
‘Both of them. Sage and Lois.’ He glances at the door. ‘Shut that, will you? I don’t want your goons hearing.’
I do as he says, my mind working quickly. What’s he found out? How did he find out?
‘They staged the whole thing. The whole feud, the stealing, the row at the awards … Fake. The whole lot of it.’
‘No!’ I exclaim, trying my best to sound shocked. ‘You’re joking!’
‘Aran discovered it last night. We’re meeting later on. Obviously this goes no further—’ He breaks off and his dark eyes suddenly narrow. ‘Wait a minute. Becky?’
‘Er … yes?’ I falter. He comes right up near and eyes me closely. I can feel my cheekbones quivering under his scrutiny. And my lips. I think my hair is shaking, too.
‘Becky?’ he says again, and I feel a horrible sense of foreboding.
Oh God. The thing about Luke is, he knows me really, really well. How am I ever supposed to keep anything from him?
‘You knew?’ he says at last. ‘You knew about this?’ He seems so scandalized that I gulp inwardly.
‘Kind of. I mean, I only found out yesterday afternoon.’
‘And you didn’t tell me? Even when I asked you directly?’
‘I couldn’t! I mean, Sage said … I promised her …’
I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t just look angry, he looks hurt. And weary. He looks like he’s had enough, I think with a lurch. But enough of what? Of Hollywood? Of me?
‘Don’t worry, I get it,’ he says, sounding tired. ‘You rate your loyalty to Sage above your loyalty to me. That’s fine. I know where I stand.’
‘No!’ I say in dismay. ‘That’s not … I just …’ Again I trail off, twisting my fingers miserably. I can’t find the words. Maybe there aren’t any words, except the ones I don’t want to say because he’ll think I’m shallow, which I’m not.
Well, OK, maybe I am. A little bit. But then, everyone in Hollywood is shallow. I mean, compared to lots of people here, I’m deep. I’m profound! Doesn’t he realize that?
‘They’ve been really clever,’ I say at last. ‘You have to admit that. Lois thought up the whole thing. No one has any idea.’
‘I think you’ll find they’ve been less clever than you think,’ says Luke dryly. ‘When this gets out, neither the press nor the public will be very impressed.’
‘Maybe it won’t get out.’
Even as I’m saying it, I know I’m being naive. Everything gets out.
‘It’ll get out. And then I think they’ll both have even more trouble finding the kind of work they want.’ Luke shakes his head. ‘Becky, I have to tell you, I won’t be working with Sage any longer than I have to. I’ll wrap up our work properly, stay professional – but it’s over. There’s no point my advising someone who’s going to ignore everything I say. I’ve never met anyone so unprincipled, so capricious, so stupid … And I’d advise you not to get too mixed up with her either. She won’t do you any favours.’
‘Yes she will!’ I say, hotly. ‘She’s my friend! She’s my—’
‘Your passport to fame and fortune. I get it.’
‘It’s not “fame and fortune”,’ I say, over-defensively. ‘It’s my work. It’s my career. I’m styling her for a premiere. It’s my big chance! Aran says—’
‘Aran doesn’t love you.’ He cuts me off again, this time so fiercely that I take a step back in shock. ‘I do. I love you, Becky. I love you.’
His eyes are only inches away from mine. And as I gaze into their dark depths, it’s as though I can see our whole life togeth
er. I can see Minnie being born. Our wedding at my parents’ house. Luke whirling me on the dance floor in New York. My Denny and George scarf.
I don’t know what he can see in my eyes, but he’s gazing just like me, unblinking, as though he’s trying to drink me in.
‘I love you,’ he says again, more quietly. ‘And I don’t know what’s gone wrong here, but …’
I feel suddenly close to tears, which is just stupid.
‘Nothing’s gone wrong,’ I say, gulping. ‘Nothing.’
‘OK. Well.’ He shrugs and moves away. There’s a flat silence which seems to weigh on my shoulders. I can’t bear it. Why doesn’t he understand?
Then Luke turns, and there’s a new animation in his face.
‘Becky, listen. I have to go back to London for a few days. It’s the Treasury stuff I told you about. I’m flying tomorrow. Why don’t you come? We could pull Minnie out of pre-school, spend some time together, regroup, talk things over, have breakfast at the Wolseley …’
I feel a little pang. He knows breakfast at the Wolseley is one of my favourite things in the world. ‘If your mother would have Minnie for the night, we could even take a room at the Ritz,’ he adds, his eyes twinkling. ‘How about that?’
The Ritz is where we spent our first ever night together. It’s a fabulous idea. I have a sudden vision of us waking up in some beautiful, luxurious bed, all relaxed and content, as though none of these arguments had ever happened. Luke has put his hands on my shoulders. He gently pulls me towards him and his hands travel down my back.
‘Maybe we could make that little sibling for Minnie,’ he says, in that soft growly voice that normally makes me go weak. ‘So, shall I book three tickets for tomorrow?’
‘Luke …’ I gaze up at him, agonized. ‘I can’t. I just can’t. It’s this premiere, and I’ve said I’ll dress Sage, and it’s my—’
‘I know.’ Luke exhales sharply. ‘Your big chance.’ I can see him making a supreme effort to stay good-natured. ‘OK, another time.’ He steps away and my skin feels cold where he’s let go of it. I wish he’d hold me again. I wish the premiere wasn’t tomorrow. I wish …