The Look of Love (21 page)

‘Oh God. Terrific,’ Daisy sighed. ‘OK – we’ll work with what there is. It’ll be fine. After all,’ she rallied and her frightening vampire smile appeared, ‘those suppliers need me more than I need them. I
mustn’t
lose sight of that.
Mustn’t
.’

‘Mum?’ Molly walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. ‘Mum, are there any like, bananas? I’m hungry?’

‘I shoved them into the bread bin in the utility room,’ Bella told her, ‘and aren’t you supposed to be at school till lunchtime? Saul says you can come and watch this afternoon if you like, but you’re …’

‘Oh! You must be Molly! Bella’s talked about you!’ Daisy leapt across the room to Molly and started
tweaking at her hair, which clearly hadn’t yet seen a brush this morning. ‘And aren’t you pretty! You’ll do
perfectly
! And you have a lovely youthful shape too!’ Daisy went on, pulling Molly’s floppy T-shirt back so she could see the contours of her body better.

‘Gerroff!’ Molly pushed Daisy’s hands away and shrank back, cornered against the fridge, ‘Do for
what
?’ But Bella could see, then, the mists of Molly’s morning brain clearing. ‘Oh you’re Daisy, aren’t you!’ she suddenly squealed. ‘I’ve seen stuff about you in
heat
. I loved what you made Colleen wear for the Grammies!’

‘Molly –
how
divine to meet you! So darling, how would you like to be on my programme?’ Daisy sounded as if she were illicitly offering sweets to a child. Then she turned to Saul. ‘Perfect for Fashion Victim number four. Oh thank you God.’

‘Oh wow, can I really? Like, makeover clothes and hair and stuff? Thanks!’ Molly flicked her hair back and pouted, instantly in model mode, ‘I thought I was only going to watch. Wait till I tell Carly. And Giles, wow!’ Out came her phone, the banana quest all forgotten.

‘Er, no. No, Molly, you can’t!’ Bella stepped in, feeling she was going to have to physically pull her daughter away from this madwoman. She turned to Daisy. ‘She’s got A levels soon and too much schoolwork to get through. And right now
she’s got to get to school
.’

‘Oh but
Mum!
That’s
soo
not fair! No school this morning, so
nerrrr
, because French is cancelled. Got a text. I’ve got ages till the exams and this won’t take long …’ She looked at Daisy and Saul anxiously. ‘Will it?’

‘No! Hardly any time at all! I promise.’ Daisy was almost purring at Bella. ‘Really, we can just do the minimum with her, and besides, it’s
educational
, surely? Don’t you agree, Dominic, darling?’

Dominic smiled at her, looking delighted to be consulted but saying nothing, just nodding.

‘Taking clothes on and off and having your hair ponced up isn’t what I’d call educational.’ Bella felt like a prim old party-pooper, but Molly’s university chances were surely too important to jeopardize.

‘Well, there I disagree,’ Daisy said, holding Molly’s hand and stroking it. Bella felt cross, as if Daisy were claiming her daughter and putting a spell on her. From the rapt look on Molly’s face, that was exactly the case.

‘Learning what looks good on you, how to apply make-up so you don’t look like a clown, slut or idiot, these are
life skills
. In the end, what Molly learns at these sessions could have a huge effect on her future. Imagine.’ Daisy now took hold of Bella’s hand too, standing between mother and daughter as if she were about to join them in holy matrimony, ‘Imagine, a few years down the line. Molly’s at an interview for a job she
really, really wants. Say it’s between several applicants who have almost identical qualifications. How she presents herself, armed with what Dominic and I can teach her and the confidence she’ll get from looking good, could make all the difference in beating the competition. It’s a tough, dog-eat-cat world out there when it comes to work; a girl needs all the weapons available to get where she wants to be.’

‘OK Daisy, lecture over. This is between Bella and Molly, nothing to do with us.’ Saul intervened.

‘But Daisy’s right, Mum!’ Molly seemed to have decided for herself. ‘And I can put doing this programme on my personal statement for university. Everything helps.’

‘I’m beaten.’ Bella felt exhausted, worn down by both Molly and Daisy. She felt Saul squeeze her shoulder, sensed his sympathy in the face of this unstoppable Daisy/Molly juggernaut. And she could, in spite of her objections, see that Daisy had a point – she just wished this could all be done for Molly over a few hours on a weekend instead of intruding into school time. And if this was a hint of what was to come, she could see herself in a week from now: her toffee-coloured hair hacked off to an inch short and hennaed scarlet, killer heels she constantly fell from, ankle-length pencil skirts that she couldn’t walk in, cinched-in patent leather belts that stopped her breathing, satin, black, everything
she didn’t want. And worse, she saw herself staring into a full-length mirror, brainwashed into smiling at her absurd reflection and really believing she loved what she saw. Aaaaagh! Perhaps having Molly onside could even help.

‘Thanks Mum! I’m way up with the schoolwork so
please
don’t worry! It’ll be
ace
!’

‘Darling, I know today is going to be difficult … but …’ Shirley found Bella outside the kitchen, watching Nick and the burly one plus two rather feeble-looking boys manhandling the huge lavender sofa in through the garden doors. It wouldn’t fit through the front door, and she and Saul had had one of those mutual ‘Oh no!’ moments when they saw it being unloaded from the truck. It really was one big piece of furniture. Luckily it had fitted through the double gates at the side of the house, and the men had huffed and puffed their way round to the back garden with it.

‘Too big, do you think?’ she asked Saul as it was plonked on to the walnut floor.

‘It’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘Just wait till the protective wrapping is off it. It’ll look fantastic, trust me. We made a good choice together here.’

‘Bella, I really do want to ask you …’ Shirley persisted.

‘OK, OK, I’m all yours. Difficult day, you said? Understatement. So what’s with the “but”?’ They were surrounded by men. Bella moved her mother further down the garden, away from flapping ears. ‘What is it? Are you all right?’

Shirley was looking anxious. Ah, this is it, Bella thought, her heart sinking fast, she’s had terrible health news and is about to tell me. But Shirley shook her off and started walking back towards the house where Saul was talking to Nick.

‘I just need a lift, late this afternoon, that’s all,’ she said. ‘But I can see it’s not the best time. No, in fact, don’t worry at all – I’ll go on the bus. On my own. I’ll be fine. Honestly.’

Bella followed her and sighed, recognizing a certain amount of subtle emotional blackmail. Every mother’s speciality, she thought ruefully. She’d done it to Molly, one day Molly would certainly do it to her children. If Shirley was being devious enough to resort to this, she must be pretty much all right. If it was something serious, she’d be more straightforward.

‘Now Bella,’ her mother lowered her voice, ‘I just had a call from the police. Later today would, it seems, be a good time for me to go and get my little piece of trouble dealt with.’

‘Your caution? I was going to ask you about that. I was surprised you hadn’t heard anything about it by now.’

‘Shh! I realize Nick knows, but I don’t want the whole crew calling me ASBO Gran or something, thank you.’

‘Telling you today is a bit short notice, isn’t it? I thought they’d send you an appointment.’

‘Um … they did,’ Shirley admitted. ‘They sent a letter to Walton. Lois has redirected my mail and it’s only just arrived. I have to go later this afternoon or early evening, and I’d quite like you to come with me. If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Yes, of course I’ll take you,’ Bella said. ‘Saul said we should be done for today before five, if that’s not too late. Are you feeling a bit wobbly about this police thing?’

Shirley hesitated. ‘Er … no, I don’t think so. It all seems relatively straightforward, though I have to say …’

‘Are you changing your mind about saying you’re guilty? Because you can, you know, I’m sure. No one could blame you for deciding you don’t want a criminal record after all.’

‘No, it’s not that. I’ll live with it. No, I was just going to say it’ll be nice to have you there with me. I mean, apart from at Jules’s last night, we don’t really see a lot of each other at the moment, do we?’

Bella looked at her, wondering what on earth to say to that. ‘Um, well actually, isn’t it mostly
you
who is always on the way out of the house?’

‘Ah yes, but …’ Shirley smiled in a disconcertingly dreamy way. ‘Yes, OK you’re right, I am. But later, we’ll have a proper catch-up, all right? There are one or two things I need to talk to you about.’

‘You don’t sound very pleased for me. I thought you’d be really excited about it, like I am. What’s wrong with you?’

Giles was being a disappointment. Molly sat on the bench under the plum tree, talking to him on her mobile. She’d thought he’d be really happy for her, really up for seeing her on telly all kitted up with gorgeous make-up and amazing hair and shoes to kill for, but he was being all grunty and moody.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. She waited. Nothing else. No reason why he couldn’t communicate more than one word at a time to her. So far there’d been about three: ‘Hello’, ‘Great’ and now ‘Sorry’. The ‘Great’ hadn’t sounded genuine, either, when she’d babbled on about the programme.

‘Are you jealous – is that it? Because I’ll be getting lots of attention?’ Molly suggested. She could see the silent Dominic man watching her. For someone who was supposed to be a style guru, she was surprised he didn’t do something with his own hair. It wasn’t quite a comb-over, but it looked like he backcombed it to boost volume. In a high wind it would all move sideways like
a dislodged bird’s nest. He was sitting on the doorstep up by the kitchen, staring down the garden at her and making her want to go and hide behind the camellia. But that would look obvious and rude. And she didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the man who was going to restyle her hair and who’d be organizing her make-up and all the pretty accessories for whatever mad stuff Daisy dressed her up in. Ooh, she couldn’t wait! All she needed was someone to tell who’d be almost as excited as she was.

‘Are you still there?’ Molly said to Giles. ‘You’re all quiet. What’s wrong with you?’ What had changed since lunchtime yesterday? He’d been all over her when they’d been lying on the school field over by the trees and he’d been pinning her to the grass, tickling her. She’d loved that, all the closeness and the sexiness of it. If they’d only been alone and not surrounded by half the stupid school and a rounders match just yards away. He’d gone home soon after though, having a free study afternoon.

‘Hey – did you hear about Aimee?’ she asked him. Maybe some gossip-sharing would change his mood.

‘Yep,’ he grunted. Nothing more.

‘Look – are you like
really
busy or something? Am I interrupting some essential Wii game or wha’ever? Because you’re so totally not into talking to me right now, are you?’

‘Sorry,’ he said again, sounding even more distant. ‘Laters, maybe, yeah?’

And he’d gone. It wasn’t a lot by way of a goodbye. None of the usual ‘love you babe’, no down-the-phone kisses or reluctance to end the call. Molly looked at her mobile as if expecting it to tell her what the real problem was. She got up and went back to the house. As she walked through the kitchen, heading for the stairs and her own room, she looked back. Dominic had got up and was still watching her as he, too, went towards the kitchen. Get used to it, she told herself. Millions are going to be watching you. Millions minus, if his mood was anything to go by, Giles.

If this was supposed to be a way of easing them all into the whole makeover thing, it was pretty unnerving. The four fashion victims sat in a row on the lavender sofa facing Daisy. Fliss skipped around somewhere in the background, making notes on a clipboard with a lilac Barbie pen. The guest colour consultant was a bony woman in her mid-fifties called Esme. She wore a startlingly vivid azure and black wrapover dress which could find very few curves to cling to, and her hip bones, when she walked, seemed to travel several inches ahead of the rest of her.

By contrast with Esme and the ever-spectacular Daisy, Bella felt that she and her three co-victims were at a
terrible disadvantage, having had their faces scrubbed of all hint of colour by Simone the make-up artist. Psychologically, if they wanted the victims to be in a position of useful vulnerability for maximum acquiescence, the plan was highly effective. Bella’s plea to Simone for some Clarins Flash Balm to tighten up her skin had met with the incomprehension she’d have expected from someone too young to know how useful it could be. Bella had had to slide up to her room and sneak down a tube of it, which she, Jules and Dina had applied secretly and hastily in the downstairs loo, in the hope it would give them an instant magical facelift effect.

In addition to the starkly naked skin, they were now wearing white hairdresser-style gowns from neck to knee and had their hair hidden under white towelling bands. ‘I’m trying to think this moment has to be the
nadir
,’ Dina muttered to Bella, as Simone raced across the room to give Daisy’s already perfect maquillage a brisk brush-over.

‘Oh please, let’s hope so. Surely it can only get better?’ Bella murmured back.

‘It’s OK to talk; in fact we really want you to, to make it natural,’ Saul reassured them as he moved the young cameraman sideways a foot or two. ‘Preferably not all at once, if you can manage that for the sake of sound clarity, but we can always edit.’

And then, suddenly, they were under way. Daisy did a confident and word-perfect short introduction, explaining how colour was going to be the starting point rather than the usual makeover-show finishing one.

‘It’s the difference between someone saying, “Oh I like your dress,” and them saying, “Oh you’re looking great!”’ she concluded. ‘With the first, it isn’t the wearer they’re noticing, but the clothes. However stunning they may be, your clothes are there to reflect
you
, not the other way round. Esme is our colour expert – she’ll explain what she’s doing as she goes along. Esme?’