Paparazzi Princess (4 page)

My whole mood felt deflated as I went into the girls’ cloakroom and into a cubicle. As I put the seat down and got my phone out to text Pia to come and meet me, I heard the door open and close and someone come in.

‘There’s going to be a few good parties,’ said a girl’s voice. ‘Tom Robertson said he’ll probably have one at some point. Yay.’

I froze mid text.

‘He is
so
cool. I think you’re in with a chance there,’ said another voice.

Ohmigod! I knew those voices. Ros Gambier and Peta Howarth from Year Eleven. Only two of the best-looking, most sophisticated girls in the school. One dark, the other blonde, they both have style and a band of wannabes copy their every move, haircut or nail colour.

So it
wasn’t
that Tom didn’t want to make plans. He just didn’t want to make them with me!

Tom Robertson
,
I hate you
, I thought as I heard the door open and close again as the girls left. I felt such a fool. I should have known. What would he want with a great stupid buffoon like me? I didn’t know how to be with a boy, not really, and I couldn’t be sophisticated if I tried. I always ended up doing or saying something daft but then boys don’t always want girls to be funny. They don’t want anyone moving in on them too much, either. You have to be cool but not too cool. You have to show you like them but not too much or they run off like scared deer.
I hate boys. They do my head in
, I decided
. I thought Tom was into me and we had something special going on. What an idiot I am. I started feeling all this lovely slushy stuff I’ve never felt before then he does the cool I-don’t-care act like I mean nothing to him. It hurts. I wish he was my boyfriend and not available to the whole school. No, I don’t. I hate him and wouldn’t go out with him if he begged me. Most of all, I hate the dull ache I feel in the pit of my stomach. Love sucks.

My phone bleeped that I had a text from Pia.

Where R U?

In doldrums. Loo. Ground floor
, I texted back.

Minutes later, I heard Pia’s foosteps.

‘You in there?’

‘Yep and I’m not coming out. I am going to stay here like that Moaning Myrtle ghost in
Harry Potter
, the one who lives in the toilet.’

‘Could get very smelly and boring.’

‘Don’t care.’

‘What’s happened? Last time I saw you, you were cuddling up to lover boy.’

Through the closed door, I told her the latest.

‘So?’ she said when I’d finished. ‘Stuff him. There are other boys. JJ Lewis, for instance. Imagine how Tom would feel if you got off with
him
. And there’s still your gran’s at Christmas to look forward to. Don’t let a stupid boy bring you down. If he can’t see that he’d be lucky to have you as his girlfriend, then he’s not worth it. Come on, Jess, come out.’

I opened the loo door.

‘Least you have options,’ said Pia. ‘Another day, another boy. Not all girls have two boys they like.’

‘They probably do. The important thing is, does the boy like you back? In my case, no.’ I replied. ‘There’s clearly something wrong with me and I repel boys.’ My confidence had taken a knock and if Tom wasn’t that into me, maybe JJ wouldn’t be either. ‘Unrequited love sucks, Pia.’

She made the L for loser sign with her thumb and index finger on her forehead. ‘What? Planet loser, population you? No way. You’re a great-looking girl, Jess Hall. I don’t buy this loser talk. When the going gets tough, the tough move on. A new day, a new boy.’

‘Nah. I’m off boys forever,’ I said. ‘I ca-an’t tay-ake the pai-ain-n-n.’

Pia burst out laughing. ‘You’re such a drama queen.’

‘It’s OK for you. You’re going to hang out with Henry after school while I’m going back to the gloom of my lonely room where I’ll sit in the dark and listen to tragic love songs.’

Pia laughed even more. So much for getting any sympathy from her.

When I got home, I went to my facebook discussion page.

As I was typing, an email came through from Pia.

It said:

I read the email a few times.
Maybe
, I thought.
But even if it’s true and Tom was just being non-committal because his mates were there, it still doesn’t change the situation. Pia’s loved up at her house with Henry and I am still here on my own, sans boyfriend.

‘Hey, Jess, got a moment?’ called a female voice from the crowd of journalists. I turned to look and saw that the small, dark-haired lady, Bridget, was coming over to me through the sleet and rain. She looked like she was in her forties, had a soft Irish accent and as she approached, she gave me a big smile, but then they all act like I am their friend on the occasions that they speak to me.

‘I . . . I’ve got to go in,’ I said. I didn’t want to be seen talking to her in case I got in trouble with Yoram, who was watching me like a hawk from the front door.

‘Ah, I’m not going to bite,’ she said as she stood beside me and looked in the direction of Porchester Park. ‘I see they’re putting the decorations up in reception. It’s going to look just lovely, so it is.’

I nodded. It was already looked opulent inside the apartment block. Winter Wonderland was the theme – all very tasteful and extravagant with a four-metre tree in the corner of reception decked in silver baubles and big white ribbons.

‘I suppose some people will be coming back for Christmas, won’t they?’ Bridget continued with a shiver against the cold wind. ‘Maybe some your own age from their schools?’

I glanced over at Yoram, who made the tiniest movement to the left with his chin. I knew what that meant. Get inside. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but I really do have to go now. I’m freezing.’

‘Me too. Yes, go on,’ said Bridget. ‘Go in and get yourself warmed up. Broken up from school, have you now?’

I nodded. ‘Today. Yep. Holidays, hurrah,’ I said with more conviction than I felt. I’d been hoping to bump into Tom around school before the end of term and get an invite to his party but the sixth form had broken up earlier than the rest of us. I hadn’t seen him since our last awkward meeting when we agreed to ‘keep it loose’, so the usual joy of the last day at school was tinged with disappointment for me.

I hurried round to the staff entrance and noticed that over to the left of the crowd of paparazzi was a homeless man sitting in the doorway of an empty shop. I’d seen him there a few times lately, wrapped up in an old blanket and cardboard box. I usually crossed the road to avoid him as sometimes he liked to shout – not at me, but at the whole world. Yoram and Didier had moved him on a few times as no way was his presence desirable for the posh Porchester Park image, but he kept coming back. I had to admire him for that. He wanted to be homeless in the posh part of town. Standing up to Yoram took some courage and it made me smile to think that the residents spent millions to live in the most exclusive location in London and yet they couldn’t stop an old tramp coming to sit in a doorway and watch the world go by.

Bridget had been right about the residents, there
were
people expected back for the holiday – mainly teenagers who’d been at boarding school abroad. I’d seen the list a few weeks ago but I wasn’t going to tell Bridget who they were or when they were arriving. Dad had drilled it into me – no discussing the comings and goings of anyone who lived here. Some of the newcomers sounded exciting, like a Russian boy my age called Alexei Petrov, though I hadn’t seen him around yet. There was also a Saudi prince who’d apparently arrived a few days ago. I hadn’t seen him, either, but then I’d hardly seen any of his family apart from the occasional glimpse when they appeared like a flock of black birds from above and disappeared quickly into waiting limos. They lived at the top on the far side of the apartment block and had four apartments: two for the family, two for staff and apparently an apartment close by in another block for even more staff.

The only newcomer I
had
met was a Japanese girl called Riko Mori. I already knew her mum and dad and nine-year-old sister, Sakura, because of our arrangement that I look after their Persian cats when they were away. Riko looks about my age, is slightly built and very pretty. She has amazing style – a mix of preppy and eccentric – like she mixes gingham with tartan and leopard skin and wear sports shoes. Stuff that shouldn’t go together but somehow works. She looks original, that’s for sure. Some days, she wears her shoulder-length hair in bunches which would make her look young if she didn’t wear heavy black eye makeup and bright red lipstick. Other days, she mixes vintage evening clothes with something new and street and puts something mad in her hair like a small toy. She wasn’t friendly the first time we met, but not unfriendly either, like she was sizing me up before she decided if I was a person worth knowing or not. Today, when I got to the staff entrance, I was surprised to see her in the courtyard wearing an ankle-length padded coat, an enormous pink scarf and big dark glasses, even though the sky was grey and overcast.

‘Hey, Riko. You lost?’ I asked.

She shook her head. ‘Not exactly.’ She speaks perfect English, unlike Sakura who speaks only a little and their mother who speaks none at all. She indicated the gate behind me. ‘I’m . . . just finding my way around. Is that another entrance?’ she asked as she looked at the gate I’d just come through.

‘Yes. It’s for staff. There are five houses here so we use the side entrance,’ I said. I gestured at the mews houses laid out around the paved courtyard.

Riko followed my gaze. ‘I see. But isn’t there also a way out the back somewhere?’

I nodded. ‘There’s a door and a gate at the back of the block behind the service lift.’

‘Service lift?’

‘Yeah. It’s used for deliveries and workmen. The residents’ staff use it too.’

‘I see. Thank you. It’s all so new to me.’

‘I know. It took me a while too. It felt like a maze when I first moved in.’

‘And the doormen?’ Riko continued. ‘Are there some at the back and staff entrance as well?’

‘No. Just Yoram and Didier at the front. The other gates are always locked if they’re not being used.’

‘So you have a key?’

I shook my head. ‘A code. Don’t worry, no-one can get in here.’

‘Or out,’ she said with a grim expression. ‘Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.’ With a glance behind her, she disappeared back into the residents’ lobby.

‘No prob,’ I called after her. ‘Just let me know if I can help with anything else.’ I wondered if she was feeling trapped. Alisha told me that sometimes she wished she could roam freely like Pia and I did, instead of having to go everywhere with a minder in tow watching her every move.

I hurried inside to collect Charlie. We were due to go over to Gran’s to help decorate her tree. I was really looking forward to it and had been out to get some purple ribbons to make bows for the branches.

Charlie was waiting for me inside, sitting at the breakfast bar eating a bag of crisps.

‘You ready?’

‘Yumph,’ Charlie replied through a mouthful.

‘You need a haircut,’ I said.

Charlie pulled his tousled hair over his eyes. ‘Yes, Sir,’ he said. ‘But I like it longer. And so do the girls.’

‘Oo. Get you, you babe magnet,’ I said. Actually Charlie
could
be a babe magnet. He didn’t have the teen movie star looks that Tom had but he had an open, friendly face and dark, honey-coloured eyes that were kind. Girls liked him but, unlike Tom, he wasn’t aware of it. ‘Hey. Shall we put our Christmas jumpers on?’

Charlie opened his jacket to reveal that he was already wearing his – a red cable polo neck with a big reindeer head on the front. Mum had knitted it while she was in hospital.

‘Very tacky,’ I said.

Charlie grinned.

I raced upstairs to put mine on – a cream one with a Christmas tree on the front. I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
Hmm, a time to look cool and a time to look mad
, I thought as I reached into a drawer to add a pair of holly-shaped earrings.
Mum would have approved.
Although she had worked in the fashion industry when she was alive and had a great eye for putting together a stylish look, she still loved a chance to dress up like a nutter when she could. I didn’t mind as long as no-one like Tom or JJ saw me. I’m not sure they’d understand. They’d probably just think I was naff.