Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning (5 page)

              Winter did as she was told. She started downstairs, hanging up six fliers in every room, placing them at different angles, not really considering lighting and just avoiding the windows all together. She put them on the back of chairs, on the toilet seat, on the shower walls, on the floors – but not the new one – on tables and on the railings out on the balcony. Once that was done, she was handed more stickers displaying her parent’s logo, smaller this time.

              “Stick these to our cups,” Olivia ordered, before sweeping off to hang up lights in the living room.

              Winter saw the table full of glass cups and plastic cups and let out a groan. She got to the mundane job of peeling the stickers, placing them on the cups and moving on to the next one. It took her an hour and a half, her parents ushering her to speed up each time they walked through the living room.

              The main party would take place where the new floor had been installed. The sofas were moved into a back room and locked away, to reveal a dance floor fitted with lights underneath. Winter finished the cups when a moving service that had been hired was pulling in cannons.

              “What are those?” Winter asked her mum.

              “They will fire confetti over the crowd,” Olivia said proudly. “They go up by the DJ booth.”

              The movers began carrying the heavy canons up towards the DJ booth, with no help from Nathan or Olivia. Winter was about to offer her help, but her dad turned to her and told her to get to work on the playlist.

              “No rock music or old songs,” Nathan warned.

              Winter downloaded every song that had been in the charts the past month. She added memorable songs already downloaded, and created a new playlist on Olivia’s iPod. The DJ was never allowed to control the music himself. He was just there for show. Once that was done, Winter went back downstairs. She was surprised to see it was quarter to nine already.

              “It won’t be long before they’re here!” Olivia exclaimed. “Winter, you need to start getting ready! We all do!”

              Winter felt a little resentful that she had to change out of the ‘pre-party’ dress her mother had ordered her to wear. She had grown to like it.

              The movers had fitted everything: the canons, a disco ball, lights, photo booths, a bar and speakers in every room so people could enjoy the music where ever they were. The place was almost ready. All they needed was their staff and guests.

              Winter was ushered upstairs by her mother. She was taken into their walk-in closet and Olivia fiddled around with clothes before dragging out a golden yellow dress that blended in with white. It was similar to the one Winter had on now. The same material, thin, tight, but it was more revealing. It hung from one shoulder only, and stopped halfway down Winter’s thighs. It was casually glamorous, with glitter somehow woven into the material itself.

              “Isn’t it wonderful?” Olivia asked. “We’ve got this exclusive. Designed just for you! I’m so proud of it! The designer will be here tonight, and will want you to pose with it with him, maybe say a few words on it! Oh, isn’t it a wonderful surprise?”

              Winter didn’t hate it. Compared to other clothes she had been forced to wear she thought it was quite nice. The dress she was wearing now had become bearable. Winter thought it suited her. She smiled and took the dress off her mother.

              “Well, hurry up! You need to get into that before Teen Vogue gets here!”

              Winter rolled her eyes. Olivia was bouncing with enthusiasm. Winter wished she could feel just a fraction of excitement for the night ahead. It would certainly make it go faster.

              She walked into one of the changing rooms fitted in the closet and drew the curtains. She saw her reflection; saw how tired she looked from today’s efforts. She pulled off the dress she was wearing now and began putting on the other dress of a golden yellow fading into white, not bothering to check the label of the designer she would have to meet later. She saw it glisten in the light above and thought tonight the effect would be dazzling.

              She messed up her hair once more and checked her reflection, pleased with how she looked. Although her lips looked bare. Maybe she would put some red lipstick on.

              As she rooted in the make up bag on one of the shelves, her phone went off. She stopped looking for lipstick and instead turned her attention to her phone. It was Connor.

              “Still up for tonight?” The message read.

              Winter text back, confirming the time to meet her. Her parents didn’t know she had invited a boy to the party. They would be even more surprised to find out she had invited a boy.

              The doorbell rang downstairs and Winter thought it would be the people from OK! Magazine. Although it did seem pretty early for them to be arriving. She heard the closet door open and her dad announced Missy’s arrival.

              “Hello, Missy,” Olivia said. “Winter is just getting changed. It’s good you’re here. Vogue is on their way.”

              Winter applied the red lipstick slowly, trying to extend the time she would have free of Missy Founder.

              “Winter, are you almost ready?” Olivia asked. The doorbell rang downstairs and Olivia gasped. “They’re here! Girls, I will leave you be! Come and join us in an hour for the OK! shoot!”

              “We will, Olivia,” Missy said, so sickly sweet it made Winter want to retch.

              Winter heard Olivia leave. She saw a hand reach for the curtain separating her and Missy and watched as it was yanked back. Winter saw Missy in the reflection of the mirror before turning around to face her.

              Missy’s long brown hair was wavy and set around her shoulders. She was wearing a French dress with inspiration drawn from 18
th
century French fashion and Marie Antoinette. Winter thought she looked slightly maid like, but the dress had been made a little more modern with light pink fish net tights and a hint of lingerie on show.

              “You look pretty,” Missy said. Winter even thought she sounded genuine.

              “You too,” Winter said out of politeness.

              The closet door opened and in walked three people in their late twenties, all elaborately dressed. A man was carrying a camera, a woman carrying lights and another man carrying notes. Winter recognised them from previous parties, although they had never spoken.

              “What beautiful girls!” The man carrying notes said. “Set up the lights and lets get this shoot started.”

              The man with the notes was the interviewer, while the woman with the lights didn’t really talk much. As the cameraman directed Winter and Missy, telling them where to sit, how to sit and the expressions to cast, the man with the notes began asking questions.

              “Hope you don’t mind. We’re filming this. Now, Winter, this is your home, and your parents are notorious for their luxurious parties they throw!” The man said, every word seemed overly emphasised. “Do you enjoy being at the centre of such parties?”

              Winter would have liked to say no. She would have liked to explain she hated it, that her parents were so absorbed in this lifestyle that they never took into account what she wanted, or realised what they were doing to their relationship with their daughter. Instead, she told lies as if she had rehearsed them.

              “It’s brilliant to see such talent, both established and rising in my home,” Winter said, aware that Missy was smiling and pretending to be part of the conversation as the camera man snapped away with another camera intended for photographs only. “It’s always a pleasure to see my parents develop their bonds with hard working people all over the world.”

              The man with the notes nodded. Winter noticed that the woman with the lights was now recording this on an MP3 recorder.

              “And Missy, do you benefit from such parties?”

              Missy nodded.

              “Oh, yes, these parties not only help Winter’s parents network, but they help me and my family network, too,” Missy explained. “They help me bond with people, meet people and find new jobs that I just love to do.”

              The interviewer nodded thoughtfully, as if Missy had just said something extremely important.

              “Now, Winter, it’s common knowledge you are notorious for your bad party ways. People think you need help. Will you be laying off the booze tonight?”

              Missy laughed and the camera snapped a photo. Winter noticed the camera filming them zoom in slowly towards her.

              “I’m just here to have a good time and see what is next for me, career wise.” Winter nodded.

              “And will you be refraining from breaking Missy’s nose again?”

              The air was temporarily frosty as the memory of that night came back to them. Winter had had enough of Missy embarrassing her. She had snapped, in front of strategically placed photographers, and punched Missy straight in the nose. It had broken on impact, but as soon as the bandages were off Missy had had it fixed.

              Missy flicked her hair, washing off the memory with a shrug of her shoulders.

              “We’ve gotten past that terrible time,” Missy said sincerely. “I’ve been helping Winter get off the booze…” She leant forward, and the three reporters did the same. Missy whispered. “And the drugs.” Flash of camera. Gasp. Scribbling of pen on paper. “That night was a bad night for Winter, but now she is on the mend.”

              Missy turned a fake smile to Winter. The look told Winter that if she was going to be embarrassed, she would bring Winter down, too.

              “Now, you both look lovely, who are you wearing?”

              Winter let Missy discuss her French inspired dress, while she turned to the mirror to fix her hair. The cameraman snapped away, taking enough photos to fill a thousand magazines. Winter hoped this was over soon.

              “And you, Winter? Who are you wearing?”

              Winter cast around for what to say.

              “Well, I can’t reveal that just yet, although by the time this report goes up you can find out yourself. However, tonight I will be having a photo-op and a quick press conference with the designer, who designed this dress especially for me.”

              The man with the notes turned to the woman recording sound.

              “Did you hear that? Get Don on the phone! Tell him we need him here now with press. We need to get this story tonight. Exclusive to Vogue!”

              Missy scowled. She was not happy that Winter had turned a positive light back on herself.

              The interview seemed to be over, because the man with the notes packed them away and picked up the camera left to film. He began taking different shots of Missy applying make up, Winter puffing up her already messy hair. He took close up shots of her dress, her shoes, the different designer labels hung up all around them.

              “Can you two mess with each others hair?” The cameraman asked.

              Winter didn’t miss the grimace from Missy, but she did as she was told. Winter felt awkward as she began touching Missy’s hair and the cameraman took photos. When it was done, Missy was biting her tongue to stop moaning about how Winter had messed her hair up.

              “I think we’ve got everything,” the cameraman said. A look from the interviewer.

              “Cool,” the interviewing man said. “Tonight, we’ll be around to take photos of the latest fashions and get this interview with Winter and her anonymous designer, then it will be up online in the next week.”

              Winter nodded, pretending to show interest. Just then they heard the doorbell downstairs ring.

              “That must be OK! Magazine!” Missy smiled and she hurried out of the room to greet them.

              Winter left the closet with the Vogue workers. She heard the cameraman and the woman talking about something that had happened in London.

              “Whole street, murdered, and warnings have been put out now…” The man was saying. “It’s pretty worrying.”

              “They’re vague warnings, though,” the woman reasoned. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

              Before Winter could find out more, Olivia had grabbed her and dragged her into the room where the main party would be happening. There was a much more elaborate set up.

              Four lights were set up on each corner of the dance floor. There were ten people in total; two reporters, two people holding boom poles, two camerawomen, two photographers and a stylist. Nathan was already dressed in a charcoal grey suit. Missy was in conversation with the reporters, while one of the camerawomen filmed the whole thing. The second camera was turned to Winter as she approached.

              “You look pretty, Winter!” The woman behind the camera said.

              “Thank you,”

              The photographers were taking photographs of all of the decorations, including the fliers Winter had hung up. Nathan seemed to be pleased by this.