Blondetourage Page 11

  Romy gets my drift. 'Yes, we must get going,' she holds out her hand. 'Lovely to meet you, Giles.'

  'The pleasure is all mine,' he extends his hand over the counter. 'If we can do anything for you while you are in London, just let us know. Is there anything special we can make you? Any products you might be interested in?'

  Romy pauses. 'I was quite taken with that Egyptian Lotus Blossom. Perhaps I will have something made up. Okay, off the top of my head – how about a heart of the Egyptian Lotus Blossom, a base of patchouli and sandalwood and a top note of rose and orange blossom? Something simple and light, but refreshing.'

  Giles jots this down. 'That sounds lovely.'

  'Here's my address,' Romy takes the notepad from Giles and writes it down. As she hands it back, she looks him straight in the eye. 'If you could be discreet, that would be very helpful.'

  'Of course. It won't be an issue.'

  'Thank you,' Romy says, graciously.

  Giles hands her something – a card. 'Please, do drop in whenever you are in London.'

  'I will! Thanks!' Romy takes my arm and we both turn to leave. 'We'd better run. We don't want to be late,' she says, then laughs. 'Or maybe I should say, we should hop fast. I don't think I'll be running anywhere for a while.' I help her get her crutches back under her arms and we're off. The door tinkles shut behind us and we're in the still-waiting car within a minute. 'Back to the Dorchester, thanks, Henry,' Romy tells the driver and we're off.

  $$$

  'I still can't believe you know Madame Morel,' Romy looks at me in disbelief as we sit in the scarily ornate marble and gilded promenade of the Dorchester. A pianist tinkles away in the background and it's all extremely posh. In fact, it's so posh even the carpet is upper-crust – we'd practically had to wade our way through it to get to our little setting of a couch, a wing chair and an oversize, plush ottoman. In front of me, the china and cutlery look so expensive I'm afraid to touch them. All up, I'm way out of my depth – I'm sure they're going to throw me out of here at any moment and I'm suddenly very, very grateful JJ and I made that trip to buy some new clothes. Imagine if I was sitting here in those disgusting old stained jeans? Opposite me, Romy looks amazing, as per usual. Today she's wearing a fitted white shirt, a kind of tailored denim wrap jacket, a floaty, layered green skirt and her trademark ballet flats (well, one anyway, because of her cast). It sounds hideous, but looks amazing. I think Romy could put anything on and look amazing, really. She's just that kind of person.

  'Er, Elli?'

  'Oh, sorry,' I say, tuning back into the real world. 'Just daydreaming. Um, I don't really know Madame Morel. I just sort of called in a few favours.' I don't go into the details of how I hassled six or seven people incessantly for days on end to get an appointment with Madame Morel, the world famous perfumer.

  Romy laughs. 'I'm sorry, Elli, but I have to say it – you're fourteen, right? What kind of favours can you be calling in at fourteen?'

  I pause for a second or two. 'Well, if I told you, I'd have to kill you.'

  Now Romy really laughs. 'I love it! You know, at your age, the only favours I could have asked for were for friends to braid my hair, or to lend me some elastics for my braces because I'd run out.'

  'You had braces?' I perk up at this.

  'Sure. I was hideous. I even had headgear.'

  For some strange reason, that makes me feel so much better. Perhaps there is hope for me. I may blossom yet.

  'So, what kind of tea should we have?' Romy continues. 'It's all a bit confusing.'

  'It says there are thirty kinds!' I say, looking at the menu. 'I think I'm just going to opt for the house blend – the orange pekoe. It says it's their specialty.'

  'Sounds like a good idea. I've heard you can get some wrapped up to take home with you, too. Remind me to order some for JJ. And should we order the high tea for everyone? No champagne for me – I'm still taking medication. And none for you – I'm sure you're not even supposed to be out and about as it is, are you?'

  'Um, yes and no.' I quickly take great interest in the spear-toting bronze statue that's standing next to me.

  'Elli ...'

  I look back at Romy. 'I'm supposed to be at the dentist. I had to put on quite a show. A lot of groaning and holding my jaw.'

  Romy's mouth twists as she tries not to laugh again. 'Naughty girl. You will make up the lessons, though?'

  I nod. 'Don't worry, Melinda will make sure of that.'

  'Good. Oh, look, there she is. Madame Morel?' Romy waves. 'We're over here.'

  I'd been kind of worried that Madame Morel would be super scary and that she'd pull the same 'stupid Romy' line that Romy's obviously been receiving all day, but it turns out she's really lovely. She doesn't even know who Romy is, which is fantastic, because everything is then about Romy and her future, rather than what she's done in the past. I like Madame Morel as soon as I set eyes on her. She's absolutely tiny and about the same width as she is high. She has the softest voice, with the most gorgeous French accent and shoes that honestly look like they should be on a doll's feet, they're that small. She couldn't be scary if she tried. Over the most scrumptious finger sandwiches, fresh scones with clotted cream and blackberry and strawberry jams, French pastries and pot after pot after pot of tea, Madame Morel takes us through her career, the kind of careers that are available today, and study options for Romy. Romy sits forward on her ottoman, her leg outstretched, and drinks the information in as happily as she drinks her tea. I listen in more than happily, eating plate after plate of everything (our waitress keeps on refilling) and downing cup after cup of tea until my stomach is swimming.

  When I can't possibly fit another drop of tea in, I sit back and try not to fall asleep in my chair. It isn't for quite a while that I remember I'm supposed to be watching the time and sit up with a bit of a jolt. We've been here two hours already, which means I've been away from the house for almost three. Yikes! Quickly, I text JJ and Melinda to let them know I'm on my way. I really don't want them calling the dentist's office where I've already cancelled my appointment.

  'Sorry to interrupt,' I say. 'But I have to get going. Everyone will be wondering where I am.'

  And even though I say time and time again that they shouldn't end their meeting, both Madame Morel and Romy insist that they both really need to get moving as well. After Romy settles the bill, we leave Madame Morel at the elevators so she can return to her room and Romy and I hobble and too-much-tea waddle our way outside to find Romy's car. As we exit through the front doors, I frown, thinking it seems awfully bright outside and it isn't for a second or two that I realise it's not the sun flashing in my eyes, it's cameras. Multiple cameras.

  'Romy! Romy!' several photographers call out at once. 'Romy! Over here. Here! Romy! Is it true? Are you leaving Rich Girls?' I find myself being bustled inside the waiting car and zooming off before I have a chance to blink, let alone belt up. 'What ...?' I start. When I finally regain some kind of composure, I find Romy sitting beside me, looking at me, frowning as well.

  'Elli, did you tell anyone about any of this?'

  'No!' I sit up in my seat. 'Of course not! I wouldn't do that!'

  Romy keeps on looking at me.

  'It's in my best interest not to anyway, isn't it? I mean, I'm supposed to be at the dentist.' I'm thankful they didn't seem interested in me, only in Romy. Considering I'm not meant to be here and all.

  Romy's frown remains. 'But how did they know? I haven't told anyone where I was going to be this afternoon. And afternoon tea at the Dorchester – it's a little obscure, isn't it?' She shifts in her seat, trying to get into a more comfortable position with her leg.

  'Um, Romy ...' I say, looking down at her cast. 'I think I might know how you got found out.'

  Romy follows my gaze. 'Oh. I'm so stupid. Of course. Anyone could have seen me going in. And there are always journalists in and out of here interviewing people, I'm sure. Sorry, Elli. I didn't mean to sound like I doubted you.'

  I shrug
. 'That's okay. But how did they know you've thought about leaving? Did you hear that?'

  Romy's expression turns serious. 'It's true, I've thought a lot about it lately, but I'm contracted for another whole year, not just this season. Things would have to be unbearable for me to leave. Don't worry about it, though, I'm sure it was nothing. The press always thinks one of us is leaving, or that we're fighting, or stealing each other's boyfriends. I'm not going anywhere. Not today, anyway.'

  'Oh ...' I say, slowly. And then I try not to grin, because what Romy's just said – it's like I've just been handed a year's security. I look out the window of the car as it stops and starts in the steadily building afternoon traffic and continue to try and hide that smile. A year's security. How strange that I didn't really want JJ to take this job and now everything inside me doesn't want to leave. I don't think I realised how lonely I was doing the Frau Braun thing. I don't think I realised how much I would love being around people my own age, even if they are as annoying as Ashleigh. And JJ seems pretty happy, too, despite Anouschka's food demands. Still, there are always demands in her line of work. She's used to that.

  'What are you grinning about?' Romy asks me.

  Busted. 'Um, I was just thinking that JJ's really liking this job.'

  'I don't think Anouschka's been too awful.'

  I don't reply to this.

  Romy sighs. 'She's not a bad person, you know, Elli. She's just a bit ... prickly on the outside. Like a porcupine. But she's always been a good friend to me. A true friend.'

  I keep looking at Romy, not quite knowing what to say.

  Eventually, Romy gives up. 'You don't believe me, do you? No one ever does. Anouschka ... how can I explain it? She comes from this very strange family. It's chock full of men, they're all very business oriented and absolutely everything revolves around their company. Anouschka would rather die than go into the family business, I think. They don't understand the whole socialite thing, but really, when you look into it, Anouschka is way smarter than her five brothers. They think they're ever so clever with their fancy-pants MBAs, but when you look at how Anouschka works on a marketing level, she's developed whole new ways of selling things. She's miles ahead of them all.'

  I don't understand. 'What do you mean? Like selling handbags and things?' I shift around in my seat so I'm facing Romy better.

  Romy shakes her head. 'Sort of, but it's more complex. I saw someone speak about it once – a marketing guru. It was really fascinating. What Anouschka does, apparently they call it "linking". You see, she never talks about herself, but links her name to clothes, clubs, handbags, or whatever it is someone wants her to sell. And because she doesn't talk about herself, but is intriguing for who she is and what she says, she gets more publicity, which makes her more famous. It's kind of like she's a living billboard. It's really very interesting when you take it down to a marketing level.'

  I pause to digest this. A living billboard. That really is kind of interesting. 'So if she talked about herself, no one would want to know about her?'

  Romy nods. 'That's the clincher. If she talked about herself, the media would switch off. Let me give you an example. Okay, so Anouschka has been paid to publicise a restaurant. If she simply told as many journalists as she could that that restaurant was great, they'd probably be wary of mentioning it. It looks like free publicity. But if she "accidentally" spills a glass of soda on herself at that restaurant and makes a huge fuss, well, look at that. The name of the restaurant happens to get mentioned all over the world the next day. It costs a lot less than advertising, believe me.'

  'Wow,' I say, as I take this all in. That makes a lot of sense. A whole lot of sense. After all, imagine how much it would cost that restaurant to advertise in all those papers all over the world. Millions of dollars, probably. But by paying Anouschka a smaller sum, they get mentioned all the same.

  There's something I still don't get, though. 'But what's the point of it all, where Anouschka's concerned? I mean, she doesn't really do anything, or make anything, does she? If what you're saying is true, she's kind of just like a famous fancy coat hanger.'

  'That's true. And there's not a lot of point to being famous for the sake of being famous. But it does mean she gets a lot of offers to do things she might want to do.'

  'Like TV shows and things?'

  'I suppose so.'

  'But does she want to do them? Is she really happy?'

  Now it's Romy who pauses. 'Only Anouschka can answer that.'

  I guess that's true. But there's something bothering me. 'I don't get it. You guys are both really smart. Why do you do this?'

  Romy shrugs slightly. 'Well ... that's a good question. At the start I thought it could just be a job. Every job has its benefits and its disadvantages, doesn't it?'

  I nod, agreeing with her.

  'But it turns out it isn't that way at all. The fame thing – either you're into it or you're not. If you're into it, you have to be into it every minute of the day. It takes a lot of upkeep. If you're not, you're better off well away from it doing your own thing. It seems that I'm not into it. And I want more than just a job. I want to do something I really love.'

  'Like Madame Morel. And JJ,' I say encouragingly.

  Romy gives me a curious look. 'Yes.' She laughs again now. 'Why am I telling you all of this? And what am I doing with you? You know something? You should be a therapist when you finish school. There's something about you that makes people unburden their soul.'

  'That's too bad, because it's not going to happen. I'm going to be a vet.'

  'You already know what you want to do?' Romy looks surprised.

  'I've always wanted to be a vet.'

  Now Romy takes a deep breath. 'Maybe that's what it is – you know what you want and you're going to go out and get it. Believe me, it's not something you see all that often. It's quite appealing. Well, here we are ...'

  Henry pulls over outside the house and I realise I've forgotten to ask him to drop me around the corner. Oops. Hopefully everyone will be busy inside. And if they see us, I'll just say Romy saw me walking along the footpath and picked me up.

  It takes us a few minutes of crutch hopping and step negotiating to get inside and it's only when I've said goodbye to Romy and am about to walk into the study that I remember my 'sore' tooth. I stop for a second and pinch my cheek, so it looks a little bit red.

  'Hi,' I mumble out of the corner of my mouth as I step inside the room.

  'Hello, Elli. How's the tooth going?' Melinda asks, as everyone stares at me.

  'Better thanks.'

  'That's good to hear. Are you feeling okay? Ready to join us for Geography?'

  I'm never ready to join in where Geography's concerned. 'Sure.'

  Melinda tells me which page everyone's up to and I take my place next to George. Fluffy immediately races over from where he's obviously been hiding behind the curtain and jumps into my lap.

  'He's been waiting for you to get back,' George tells me. 'Hey, did Romy give you a lift?' She gives me a funny look.

  Geez, you can't get away with anything around here. I'm surprised we don't have set hours for breathing. 'Just from the corner. I, um, got the houses mixed up and got dropped off up the street. She saw me walking.' I can't look at George as I say the words and instead focus on opening my textbook to the right page and readjusting Fluffy in my lap.

  'Ashleigh saw you from the window.' George gestures.

  'Oh.' I glance over at her, expecting death stares that tell me I've been trampling on her 'they're my Rich Girls' territory. But, strangely, she doesn't seem at all interested that I've spent any time with Romy. Instead, she's quite busy reading her textbook. On the other side of her, Rhys catches my eye and gives me a 'You okay?' look. I smile tightly and nod, 'Yes'. Bleh. I hate lying to everyone. But it's okay if it's for a good cause. Isn't it? At least I hope so.

  $$$

  That evening, a mysterious present turns up on my bed. I pull off the fancy layers of pristine white
wrapping to find a bottle of perfume. Well, that's not exactly true. It's not perfume or eau de toilette, but something even lighter still – like a spritz. It's from the shop that Romy and I visited earlier this afternoon. There's a handwritten label that says 'inspired by Elli' and another, smaller label that says 'freesia, pear, violet'. As I read the combination, I'm unsure. Freesia, pear and violet? It sounds like a difficult combination. Eager to try the perfume out, however, I don't pause for a sniff, but spray some straight on my wrist.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  It's nice.

  It's really nice.

  I sit there sniffing my wrist for a good few minutes before I realise what I've just said to myself and laugh out loud. 'Really nice'. I bet Romy could talk about this scent combination for hours and all I can come up with is 'really nice'. How sad is that? Freesia, pear and violet. I look at my wrist. I never would have thought flowers and pears would go together, but there you go. And I can't wait to track down Romy tomorrow to see what her own perfume combination smells like. Knowing her nose, I bet it's something that would remind me of her even if I smelt it when she was on the other side of the world.

  Caught on

  camera

  'What? What?! I ... you ... WHAT?!' I sit up in bed when something lands on my legs with a thwack!

  JJ towers above me and she does not look happy. No, she does not look happy at all. 'I am busy preparing breakfast and cannot stop to chat right now, young lady, but you are in serious trouble.' She bends over and taps at something in the folded back newspaper.

  My eyes still bleary, I sit up slowly and try to focus on the article that JJ's pointing at.