Chapter Four #3
‘No.’ I looked over my shoulder, suddenly feeling a bit pathetic for seeking validation for my career choices from a child. ‘I’m just interested in whether you know who Mandy Sykes is.’
‘Mandy who?’ She looked at me blankly.
‘She’s on the internet and in lots and lots of magazines,’ I said. ‘She’s very famous.’ Still nothing. ‘And she’s on YouTube.’ Surely, I’ve hit a nerve there.
‘Kids YouTube?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Can we watch, Auntie Nana? Let’s watch? Pleeeease?’
She made a grab for my phone.
‘Nice try.’ I slammed my hand across the screen before she could reach it. ‘It’s not watch time. Don’t worry. I just thought you might know about Mandy Sykes because she is a very, very big celebrity.’
‘What’s a celebrity?’
‘Forget it.’
‘I can ask Mummy?’ she replied helpfully, eyes widening.
‘No, no, it’s fine. Forget it.’
I put my phone down in the kitchen and plonked myself on the sofa next to Rob, dying to tell him Lucy and Rory’s news, but not daring while Nora was still up.
‘How are you feeling about everything?’ He put a hand on my knee.
‘Okay, I think. But they definitely want me to move into the house with Mandy and her husband.’
‘For how long?’
‘Twelve weeks. There’s a big bonus at the end,’ I continued. I shuffled in my seat, building up to the part about not seeing each other.
‘How much of a bonus?’
‘The salary all over again. It’s a huge incentive.’
‘Wow. That will help with our savings,’ he said excitedly. ‘The timing couldn’t be better, right?’
‘The timing is perfect, but there is one other thing,’ I continued nervously. ‘They will literally own me for three months. And that means we won’t be able to see each other.’
‘What, not even on your days off?’
‘It doesn’t sound like I’ll get many days off. She sounds paranoid about confidentiality.’
‘So, I won’t be able to touch you or kiss you, for three whole months? One quarter of a year?’
‘That’s right. And I’ll miss you, obviously. It won’t be easy, for either of us.’
He turned to look at me. ‘Do you really want to do it?’
I nodded. ‘Styling Mandy this morning reminded me of who I used to be. It’s my passion. My reason for being. Besides’ – I sighed – ‘I might not get offered an opportunity like this again. It’s literally fallen into my lap at just the right time.’
‘It hasn’t fallen into your lap – you’ve worked for this, Amber. You won this job, and you deserve this opportunity.’
‘Plus, the bonus – think of the bonus,’ I said.
‘It sounds like a no-brainer.’ Rob smiled. ‘We can FaceTime and WhatsApp, I assume?’
‘Of course.’ I nodded. ‘It’s not like I’m going to Wandsworth Prison, and it’s not forever.’
Then he leant into the side of my face and whispered in my ear, ‘We’ll have to come up with some innovative ways to feel connected then. And I’ll keep the bed warm for you.’
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss on the lips.
‘Snog!’ Nora pointed at us and giggled.
‘Cover your eyes!’ Rob called back.
‘Julie-Ann wants to know my answer today, they mentioned a few other stylists they could see if I can’t do it,’ I told him.
‘You’d better let her know then.’
As I stood up to locate my phone, I heard it ringing from the other side of the room. I saw Nora reach for it on the breakfast bar. Before I could stop her, she had chimed into it, ‘Nana’s phone!’ and then laughed hysterically.
‘If it’s Auntie Vicky, tell her it’s your birthday!’ I called, motoring towards her. Vicky often rang me from LA around this time on a Friday, for a quick check-in ahead of the weekend.
‘Auntie Nana says to tell you I’m seven and we had caterpillar cake!’ the little girl squealed enthusiastically, before adding, ‘What? Hello?’
I got the impression it wasn’t Vicky on the other end and whipped my phone out of her hands. ‘Give that back to me, you cheeky caterpillar,’ I said, retrieving the sticky device. ‘Hello?’
‘Is this the right number for Amber Green?’ asked a clipped American voice on the other end.
‘It is, this is Amber.’
‘Oh, hiii. It’s Mandy Sykes.’
‘Mandy, hello! I do apologise,’ I said in my best English. ‘I’m just with my niece. It’s her seventh birthday, as you may have gathered.’
‘We have a little,’ she paused, ‘fashion emergency. I’m hoping you can help?’
I felt my face heat up. ‘What kind of emergency?’
Rob’s ears pricked up across the room and he looked at me quizzically.
Okay? he mouthed.
I shrugged.
‘A major event has come up for tomorrow. BAFTA are throwing a lunch for key talent. I’m amazed I’ve been invited and, obviously, I want to be there.’ She paused. ‘We were meant to be on a plane to the Maldives, but we’ve delayed the trip and I have nothing, and I mean nothing to wear.’
‘Nothing to wear,’ I repeated slowly. My mind flashed back to the hotel closet stuffed to bursting with designer clothes.
‘Can you find me a gown? I need to make an impact. Consider it your trial period. If you can get to the Corinthia with some options first thing tomorrow morning, I’d really appreciate it, Amber.’
There was only one answer. ‘Yes. Of course, Mandy, please text me your sizes and I’ll get on the case.’
‘Great, you can meet some of the team then too. You are officially onboard, I take it?’
‘Absolutely,’ I purred. ‘I’ll be there.’
As I ended the call, I noticed that my family had fallen silent around me, as they wondered what kind of emergency required someone to text their sizes before it could be acted upon.
My bladder felt like it was about to burst so I dashed to the loo.
On the toilet, knickers around my ankles, I noticed my heart was galloping. What have I agreed to do?
My phone pinged into life with a WhatsApp from Mandy sending me her clothes sizes.
I scrolled onto the email icon to check whether Julie-Ann had been in touch, a contract for me to sign would be useful right about now. And I hadn’t known the offer was dependent on a ‘trial period’.
Before I had pulled my knickers up again, registering that Mandy’s sizes were pretty much identical to my sister’s, I was struck by a flash of inspiration.
Returning to my family, when Rob innocently asked Lucy how the wedding plans were coming on, and Lucy sighed in response, I was glad to have a valid excuse to leave before dinner and swerve a logistical discussion about hotels in close proximity to the wedding venue.
After a quick word with my sister about needing to get home to prep, and a big hug as I congratulated her on her news again, I bundled myself into an Uber.
On the way home, I glanced across at the Pronovias gown folded carefully onto the seat beside me. It was proof that one person’s fashion fail, could be another’s movie-star moment. It was a risk, but given the time limitations, it was a gift – and the only chance I had.