Little White Lies (28 page)

I give Simon a quick kiss. “I do love you,” I say softly. “Thank you for . . . well, just thank you.”

Julie comes over. “Is it time yet? Chloe’s going to be too drunk to walk in those heels if we don’t do it soon.” I glance over at Chloe, who is indeed looking a bit tipsy, and quickly agree. “Back in a sec,” I tell Simon, and signal to Alistair, who walks over to the stereo as Julie scoops up Chloe and Lucy. “Five minutes,” she hisses at me, and I give her a quick grin, then feel nerves begin to edge over me.

“If you do a Gwyneth and cry, you know I’ll never talk to you again, don’t you?” Alistair says amiably, and I manage a smile.

“I’ll do my best,” I promise.

Then Julie appears from behind the dressing-room curtain and nods.

I clink two glasses together, and gradually the hum of conversation turns into silence. I take a deep breath.

“Thank you for coming this evening, and welcome to Bess and Stanley, the new spot for fashionistas in Notting Hill,” I say in a strangled voice, then clear my throat loudly. Public speaking has never really been my forte.

“I’m not going to say much—just a few words of thanks,” I continue. “To Stanley, my friend and business partner, whose shop you’re standing in right now; to Archie for believing in me even when I didn’t believe in him; to Giovanni for letting us stock the most beautiful bags and shoes known to man; to Julie for showing me how it’s done and keeping the business on the straight and narrow; to my parents for giving me so much love and support—and, of course, for kicking me out of Bath and sending me back to London; and finally to Simon for . . . well, for being him.”

Alistair catches my eye and I wink. “But now I’d like you to make a little bit of room, and enjoy a quick performance from two other great friends—Lucy, part-student and part-superwoman, who’s done wonders with our merchandising, and Chloe, my best friend, marketer extraordinaire, and . . . as you’re about to see, almost a supermodel . . .”

Alistair hits a button on the stereo, and as the White Stripes blares out of the speakers, Lucy and Chloe emerge from the dressing room wearing Stallioni heels, cropped jeans, bikini tops, and as many Stallioni bags as they could hang over themselves. They walk up and down the shop floor for several minutes, turning as Michael photographs them. They both look amazing, but Chloe is positively glowing—you’d think she was born to do this. And to think that she assumed I was joking when I suggested it to her, reminded her that it was the one ambition she’d yet to fulfill.

As they strut their stuff, I notice Richard standing next to my mum, and am sure I hear him say, “I should be on da fuckin’ catwalk. I’m a model, you know.” I smile as I see her do a double take, obviously as bemused by Richard’s claims as I was. Then I giggle as I see him begin to lift up his T-shirt.

As the “models” walk back toward the dressing room, Chloe signals to Alistair to stop the music and gives me a hug.

“I don’t think we can really go tonight without drinking a toast to Nat, can we?” she asks. I go horribly red as I see everyone looking at me, smiling (everyone except Richard, that is; he’s still looking in puzzlement at his stomach). They look so proud, so happy for me, I’m worried I’m going to “do a Gwyneth,” after all.

“To Nat,” continues Chloe. “For proving that dreams can come true.”

“And to Cressida,” I say quietly to myself. “For helping me with the paperwork.”

Praise for

WHEN IN ROME . . .

by Gemma Townley

“A refreshing, funny, pacy book, it made me want to rush off to Rome and be Audrey Hepburn. I loved it!”

—S
OPHIE
K
INSELLA
, author of
Confessions of a Shopaholic

“Gemma Townley’s story is infectious, sweet, charming, and hysterical. She’s an author after my own heart.”

—S
HERRIE
K
RANTZ
, author of
The Autobiography of Vivian
and
Vivian Lives

“As sweet and frothy as a cappuccino, this engaging
Roman Holiday
–inspired romp reveals the importance of a ’victory haircut’ and the tranformative powers of shopping at Gucci!”

—M
ELISSA DE LA
C
RUZ
, author of
Cat’s Meow
and
How to Become Famous in Two Weeks or Less

“Like tiramisu washed down with cappuccino—seductive, and deliciously bad for you.”

—R
EBECCA
C
AMPBELL
, author of
Slave to Fashion

“A delightful debut.”

—
Shape

“A bubbly debut.”

—New York
Daily News

© Millie Pilkington

G
EMMA
T
OWNLEY
launched her writing career at the age of sixteen with a book review in
Harpers & Queen.
At Reading University, unimpressed with the official university paper,
Spark,
she launched a satirical rival,
Spank,
which she edited for a year before taking over as deputy editor on
Spark
and features editor on
South-East Student.
While at Reading, Townley (a singer, cellist, and bassist) also found time to record two albums with her band, Blueboy, with which she toured the U.K., France, and Japan.

After graduating, she worked on and wrote financial articles for a number of magazines, including
Home and Ideas, Pay Magazine, Expat Investor,
and
Company.
At the same time, she wrote about music for style magazines including
G-Spot
and
Second Generation.
She later became editor of
Financial Management
magazine and now works in communications.

She lives in London with her husband, Mark.

Also by Gemma Townley

WHEN IN ROME . . .

Little White Lies
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Ballantine Books Trade Paperback Original

Copyright © 2005 by Gemma Townley

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

Ballantine and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Ballantine Books website address:
www.ballantinebooks.com

eISBN: 978-0-345-48206-8

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