Princess at Silver Spires (4 page)

Katy and I have got a lot in common, but the one thing that's totally different between us is our relationship with our parents. I envy her being so close to her mum and dad and knowing that she can completely relax when she's with them. I've been brought up in a very different way. I lived the first part of my life in Ghana with my two older sisters and my little brother, and we had a huge house and servants to do everything. My brother and sisters and I didn't see much of our parents because we were always with our nannies, and whenever we did see them we had to be extremely polite and respectful.

Moving to London and joining a prep school two years ago seemed like a massive upheaval after living in Africa. The boys at the school kept their distance and the girls crowded round me as though I was an interesting rare specimen at a museum.
Princessus Africanus.
I didn't say much because I found it hard to adjust to my new life, but then as I settled in and began to talk more, the girls grew over-the-top friendly, suddenly wanting me to come to tea with them and inviting themselves back to my house. I think they were expecting our house to be like Buckingham Palace, which it definitely isn't. It's in Knightsbridge and it's true that it is quite big, because there are four floors, but some of the pupils lived in houses out in the country with loads of land and paddocks, whereas we have hardly any land.

I still don't see my parents very much, and obviously even less since I've been at Silver Spires, and it's also true that they still have a small staff working for them. But they don't sit on thrones and the floors aren't made of gold, as some of my prep school friends believed.

Even though I don't have the same kind of closeness with my parents as Katy has with her mum, I'm getting closer and closer to my dad. He's such a wise man and I really needed his advice this evening. I'd been getting myself into more and more of a state about the fashion show, because I absolutely couldn't bear the thought that people might think I'm a big show-off, wearing all those glamorous clothes and strutting along a catwalk with lots of girls who are way older than me. Then last night, when I couldn't get to sleep for worrying about it, I actually thought about pulling out of the whole thing. After all, I wouldn't be letting the charity down, because it's definitely been decided to donate the money raised to Just Water. All I wanted was to hear my dad agreeing with me, and then I'd somehow feel a bit stronger about breaking the news to Elise.

While I was listening to the phone ringing, I was trying to imagine whereabouts in the house Dad might be, and what he might be doing. Probably working in his office. As it happened, it was one of the housekeepers who answered, and she went straight off to find him.

“Naomi…” came his voice a minute later.

“Hello, Dad. How are you and Mum?”

“Both very well, my dear. And you?”

“I'm fine, but there's something I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, you see, there's a fashion show at the end of term and one of the older girls has asked me to model for her, even though I'm only Year Seven and all the other models are miles older, and—”

“Modelling in a fashion show? That sounds very glamorous!”

“Yes, it does, doesn't it?”

I paused, waiting for Dad to go on and say that “glamorous” was not at all appropriate, and then insist that I pulled out, which would be perfect. But he didn't say anything at all, so I had to carry on. “The thing is, I don't really want to be a model, but the money from the tickets is going to Just Water. That was…my idea.”

“Well done, Naomi! I'm proud of you for that. And Mum will be proud too. It's wonderful that Just Water will benefit from the show. And if I remember rightly from the school calendar, parents are invited, so we'll come and support it, of course.”

I instantly tensed up, partly because Dad wasn't saying the things I'd been hoping he'd say, and partly because a picture of my parents wearing their African finery and rolling up in one of their chauffeur-driven limousines was flashing through my mind. They don't understand how badly I want to blend in with all the other students here. In fact it was their limousine, even before their clothes, that attracted attention when I very first arrived at Silver Spires.

A feeling of urgency for Dad to understand my predicament was welling up inside me. “The horrible thing about the fashion show, Dad, is that now people in my year know I'm one of the models, they're saying nasty things about me…”

“Nasty things?
Envious
things?”

“Things like, ‘Look at her, the stuck-up princess!'”

There was a pause, then Dad's voice softened. “Naomi, my dear, your mother and I have told you before, unfortunately these comments will probably never go away. You must rise above them, because they come from jealous minds. You
are
a princess. It's an inescapable fact and you must simply let people take you as they find you and say whatever they want, without you taking it to heart.”

I sighed. This conversation was still not going at all as I wanted. Maybe if I mentioned the other thing that had made me so uneasy.

“But I'm worried that Elise only chose me because I'm a princess, Dad. You see, when she first asked me to be her model, she made a great thing about
not
having chosen me because I'm a princess, and said she'd picked me because of my straight back and things like that. But why did she say anything about being a princess? I've just got the feeling she thinks she'll get more attention or something…and that feels…wrong to me.”

There was another pause before Dad replied, slowly and gently. “I shouldn't let it worry you, Naomi. Even if she did choose you because you're a princess, think of the good that has come out of it. Think of Just Water.”

Now I felt really panicky, and started gabbling away at top speed because I was so desperate for Dad to find something to disapprove of. “But you should see what I've got to wear! It's a really short, tight evening dress, and everyone'll be staring at me!”

There was silence from the other end of the phone. I held my breath. At last it seemed I'd said the right thing. My mind started racing ahead, imagining Dad phoning Miss Carol and saying, “On no account can I have Naomi wearing skimpy little dresses and cavorting on a catwalk. Please tell Miss Owen that we are not allowing it!”

But then I got a shock because Dad suddenly chuckled. “I remember the first time your sister Sisi wore an evening dress. I can still picture her tottering along in high heels. I know it's hard, Naomi, but you must try to develop your Western side, while hanging on to your African roots. Why not give Sisi a call? Or Mary?”

We only talked for a minute or two after that before I rang off. I'd phoned for Dad's advice, but now I was almost wishing I hadn't. Maybe I ought to do as he suggested, and phone one of my sisters. But I knew really that I'd never do that. There's an eight-year gap between me and Mary, and then Sisi is two years older again. They're very close to each other, but have never been close to me because of the age difference.

The phone call had definitely made me feel worse, not better. There was no way that I'd be able to back out of the show now that my dad was supporting it.

The next day I felt nervous all day because Elise had asked me to go to my first fitting. It was French last period with Mam'zelle Clemence, and I'd asked Katy not to bring up the subject of the fashion show, because I didn't want the spotlight back on me again and everyone talking about me, so now I just had to hope that Mam'zelle Clemence wouldn't bring it up herself. Poppy was in my French set and I'd already seen her whispering to another girl, but I'd told myself not to get neurotic. After all, she wasn't necessarily talking about me. All the same, I was pleased when the bell went for the end of lessons.

“Right, pack away zee books, girls,” Mam'zelle Clemence instructed us in her lovely strong French accent. Then she broke into a big smile and called across the classroom, “I 'ear you 'ave 'ad your arm tweested, Naomi! Fantasteeeek! Only twelve years old and already bound for zee catwalk!”

I could have died, but I quickly latched on to something she'd said, to show Poppy I wasn't showing off about it. “You're right, Mam'zelle Clemence! I did have to have my arm twisted and I'm going to be really nervous with everyone watching me. I bet I'll be rubbish at walking like a model.”

“No, no, no! You weel be lovely!”

“Why did you agree to it, if you hate it so much?” came Poppy's clear voice, cutting through the chatter and the noises of bag-packing.

“I…I…”

“Because it's for a good cause,” said Katy, defending me.

“What?” said Poppy.

“It's a charity called Just Water. I…” How could I explain my involvement with the charity without sounding cocky? “I've always supported it.”

“Excellent!” said Mam'zelle Clemence, beaming. “Eet is all verrrrry exciting! And now, Katy, we 'ave our own fashion club, yes?”

Katy nodded. She didn't need reminding. Fashion club with Mam'zelle Clemence is her favourite time of the whole week.

As soon as we were outside and out of earshot of anyone, Katy turned to me. “Don't worry, Naomi. It's only Poppy who's got a problem. You mustn't let it get to you.”

“But she thinks I'm a show-off and she's spreading it,” I moaned. “I'll feel terrible if everyone starts thinking bad things about me.”

“They won't. I was talking to some girls from Beech House yesterday and they were really pleased for you. In fact one of them said she could totally see why you'd been chosen, and she wished she looked like you!”

“Seems like word's got round pretty quickly.” I sighed.

I was rather disappointed to be missing debating club today, but as it was the first time Elise had asked me to go for a fitting I thought it might seem a bit rude to say I couldn't come. Mia had promised to report back about what was debated, so at least I wouldn't feel that I'd completely missed out.

Katy suddenly frowned. “Oh, I wish I didn't have to miss your first fitting, Naomi, but we're customizing belts in fashion club today, which will be brilliant fun, I know. You will tell me all about it later, though, won't you?”

“Of course I will,” I reassured her, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. “See you at supper.”

As I went off to the textiles room, I did feel a little bit better because of what Katy had said about the girls from Beech House. I told myself that gradually everyone would get used to the idea of a Year Seven being one of the models, and then hopefully they'd stop talking about it. And anyway, I only had to walk down the catwalk three teeny little times and that would be that. Finished!

But somehow I still couldn't stop my heart from beating faster at the thought of entering that strange world where I didn't fit in.

The busy atmosphere in the textiles room was exactly the same as the last time, except that there seemed to be more models around. Lara was fitting a layered skirt on a very beautiful girl.

“That's Petra,” said Elise, when I still couldn't take my eyes off her a few moments later. “She modelled last year. She'd look good in an old shopping bag with a piece of string for a belt!” Elise's eyes glinted with something I couldn't quite understand.

“She looks stunning in that skirt and top!” I said enthusiastically.

“What, you like that grungy look? Quite honestly, Naomi, anyone can achieve that kind of design.” I was shocked that Elise had spoken in such a hard tone. But a moment later her voice turned light and bright. “Wait till you see your finished prom dress! I don't want anyone pinching my ideas so we'll stand behind this screen… Okay, strip right down.”

I was relieved that I didn't have to take my clothes off in full view of everyone. Petra didn't seem to mind standing out in the open, but I would have felt totally uncomfortable. When I'd agreed to be Elise's model, I'd never even considered how often I'd have to get changed in front of people. I hoped there'd be screens on the night of the show, otherwise I knew I'd feel young and stupid compared to all the Year Tens and Elevens.

Elise unwrapped the dress from some tissue paper and slipped it over my head. “You just stay still. I'll get it into the right position.”

It felt lovely and smooth on the top half, but then it pinched my waist and seemed too big for my hips. The bottom of the skirt was very tight, with a slit up the back.

“That's so you can walk!” said Elise, smiling. “Looking good, Naomi! Looking good!”

“Are you going to take it in a bit round here?” I asked, pressing the material to show how much spare there was sticking out from my hips.

“Don't do that!” said Elise.

“Oh, sorry!” I felt terrible.

“That's the design. It's supposed to exaggerate the female shape. That's why I've used such a stiff fabric, obviously. I might give you an extra centimetre round the waistline, though. Lift up your arms.”

I did as I was told while she fiddled with the waist. “Have you got any silver stilettos?” she went on.

I shook my head. I didn't have stilettos of any colour.

She grabbed a big tapestry bag and pulled out a pair of high heels. “I'll get you silver ones for the show, but try these on for now.”

I'd never worn such high heels and I felt quite wobbly. “I'm not sure I'll be able to walk in these…”

“Which is why we have such things as practices and rehearsals!” laughed Elise. “Now let me look at you.” She stood back. “You'll be wearing really long white fishnet gloves with silver and gold trimming, and this will be the last of my six outfits to be shown, so I want it to be the most stunning of all. I'm thinking that on your head you could wear…well, we'll see about that later.”