Chapter Nine
WEEK TWO
‘A mber? Amber, can you hear me?’ The voice was coming from above my head.
As Jimi leant in closer, I could feel his breath on my neck. I blinked.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘Thank God. I thought you were completely out for a moment.’
I sat up onto my elbows and immediately felt a burning sensation on my upper lip. I moved my tongue to it and tasted blood. I put my hand to my face, to the source of the hot sensation, and when I moved it away there was fresh blood on my fingers, confirming my fear.
This feels bad. Really bad. ‘What have I done?’ I asked shakily, my eyes fixed on Jimi. ‘It really hurts.’
‘You slammed down a weighted ball and it bounced straight back up and whacked you in the mouth,’ Jimi said, his concerned expression panicking me further. He even looked hot when panicked. ‘You’ve got a fat lip.’ He winced.
I moved my tongue upwards again. Things definitely felt bigger than normal up there. ‘How bad does it look?’ I asked, my eyes wide with fear. Jimi didn’t say anything. ‘Tell me, honestly – on a scale of one to ten?’
‘Probably six?’ he said in an airy tone that fooled neither of us. ‘Make that nine. I’ll grab you some ice.’
‘It’s stinging.’ I cringed, my hand lifted to meet my lip again as a perfectly round drop of bright red blood landed on my leggings.
‘I’m not surprised. You look like you’ve done a round with Anthony Joshua. You’re lucky you didn’t knock your front teeth out,’ he called over his shoulder as he left the gym. ‘I’ll get a compress too. Philippa must have a first-aid kit in the house.’
I was still thinking about the call with Rob last week when I had reached for the medicine ball.
I vaguely heard Jimi ask something about whether I had used this type of ball before, which I thought I had.
I clearly didn’t think about not slamming it down unless I was ready to catch it.
The heavy ball had bounced straight back up and whacked me in the mouth at close range, throwing me backwards.
Amber, you clumsy fool.
I should have known better because I already knew that celebrity-style gyms didn’t agree with me, following an unfortunate incident at Soul Cycle in New York last year.
It involved me falling off a static bike and injuring myself midway through a class, because I was too busy trying to stalk the Victoria Beckham–lookalike on the station next to me, rather than listening to the litany of instructions and affirmations being shouted out by the instructor.
Disappointingly, it turned out to be VB’s doppelg?nger, and I had the humiliation of being sent out of the class to sit in reception with a banging headache, a glass of water, and a badly bruised ego.
Today, I found myself in a similar predicament, having zoned out of listening to Jimi’s commands, because the thought of Rob being in contact with Emily had filled me with a discombobulated feeling that no amount of weighted squats could shift.
I hadn’t felt this jealous since Vicky got the last pair of Chloé ankle boots in our size in the Outnet sale. And now my lip was throbbing too.
I had a visceral feeling that I wanted to cry, and I wanted Rob to comfort me.
A few minutes later Jimi returned with a champagne bucket filled with ice and a damp cloth.
‘It’s the best I can do.’ He leant down and gently held the icy cloth against my lip. ‘It’s going to swell a bit and then I’m sure you’ll have a nasty bruise. But you’ll only look hideous for a day or so.’
‘Thanks for letting me know,’ I muttered.
‘You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,’ he said more sym-pathetically.
‘What is Mandy going to say?’ I winced, as the cold ice sent a shiver down my back. ‘We’re shooting today. This is a disaster. I’m such an idiot!’
‘Idiot you might be, but your lip will heal. It won’t look so bad once the swelling’s gone down. Perhaps you can convince Mandy that purple’s this season’s lip colour?’
I smiled and then grimaced as my lips refused to do what they were supposed to.
‘Wow – you really are Quasimodo.’ Jimi pulled away from me jokingly.
‘Stop it. I can’t laugh, it hurts!’
‘That’s better. What was going on with you then? You seemed miles away.’
I slumped backwards to lean against the wall. I was feeling slightly lightheaded now too, I needed breakfast. Thinking about Rob again, the tightness returned, it felt as if something heavy was pressing down on me and I didn’t have the energy to push it off.
‘Oh, just boyfriend stuff,’ I mumbled.
‘Did he dump you?’ Jimi asked. ‘You really are having a bad morning.’
I wanted to laugh but didn’t dare, for fear of ripping my lip open further.
‘No, he didn’t dump me,’ I replied. ‘Would you be a little more sympathetic if he had?’ I was conscious of the fact that I was avoiding making eye contact, because he still looked like a model, and I was paranoid about the state of my face.
‘We just had a misunderstanding about something on the phone this morning. We’ll work it out. ’
Then another face came into view behind Jimi.
‘Oh my God, honey. Your face!’ Coco didn’t mince her words.
I pushed my hands against the floor and used the wall to steady myself as I stood up.
‘I threw down a medicine ball and it bounced straight back up.’ I winced, placing the ice back over my swollen top lip.
Coco gasped.
I gently dabbed the frosting of ice on my lip with a tissue. ‘I mean, who’s heard of a medicine ball that bounces?’ I added, quietly pleased that there was something to blame, other than myself. ‘It was the ten kg.’
‘Ouch.’ She made a face.
‘Yes, ouch,’ I repeated sarcastically. It was actually quite hard to speak.
Coco studied me. ‘You look like you’ve had a lip job,’ she said with concern, ‘that went wrong.’
If I wasn’t mistaken, her lip curled slightly with amusement. Instead of annoying me, it provided some reassurance that, if she was finding it funny, it couldn’t be that bad. At least not in need of the hospital.
‘Thanks. It feels like it too.’ I pressed the pack onto my face again, to give myself some respite from the hot sensation of blood rushing to my lips. ‘But how am I going to explain this to Mandy?’
Coco smiled. ‘Tell her you went to Harley Street in the middle of the night to get your lips done, and it didn’t agree with you?’
‘Great idea, I’m sure she’ll go for that,’ I replied.
‘Just tell her you got beaten up by a medicine ball?’ Jimi offered. ‘But not on my watch. I’m not sure my insurance would cover it.’ He looked a little worried.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t sue you,’ I replied. ‘I’m more concerned about the immediate future.’
‘Come on,’ said Coco, gesturing to the doorway. ‘You’ll survive, Amber, it’s honestly not as bad as it probably feels right now. I came to tell you both that breakfast is ready. You’ll feel better with something in you, and we can figure out a plan.’
‘Morning, gang, what’s on the breakfast menu?’ Blair joined us in the large kitchen. ‘Oh WOW. I didn’t know Jocelyn Wildenstein was joining us for breakfast this morning,’ they said, stunned. ‘What happened, Amber?’
The bleeding had mercifully stopped now, but the fact my upper lip was twice the size of the lower wasn’t something you could easily miss.
After we had eaten a breakfast of oats with turmeric, sultanas, psyllium husk, collagen, and hemp seeds – Coco blended mine so I could drink it through a straw – Blair nudged me.
‘Come on, let’s take a smoothie to Her Royal Highness.
Lola will be here to do her make-up shortly, and Mandy needs something to wear to Harrods. The crew are coming to film.’
I followed them into the hallway and Blair noticed me stop in front of the large decorative mirror there, to peer at my lip.
‘It honestly doesn’t look that bad,’ they said. ‘I’m getting used to it. But if you’re worried, why don’t you accompany Mandy to her cryotherapy appointment? It will help bring down the swelling.’
I wondered what cryotherapy was. ‘Does it actually make you cry?’ I asked.
‘No! It’s basically a short stint in a giant freezer – for health benefits.
Mandy uses it to “increase her metabolism”, what she means is to lose weight.
She loves going to it with someone new – and to be honest, I already feel like I’m walking on thin ice this morning because I’ve just had to tell her HELLO!
magazine have passed on a photoshoot,’ Blair said, looking down and quoting, ‘“We can see that Mandy has a big following in the US, but we’re afraid she’s not well-known enough over here to warrant a shoot at present.
We would need a new ‘hook’ to consider it. ”
‘ Not well-known enough ? That’s four words Mandy hasn’t heard in a very long time, and as for a hook , by that they mean personal news like a divorce or pregnancy. I daren’t tell her that part,’ Blair said.
‘Did you try OK! magazine?’ I asked.
‘Are you joking?’ Blair said, blanching. ‘No global star would be in their pages. HELLO! will come crawling before long. We’ll make sure of it. Anyway, she’s been in a foul mood ever since. I call her Medusa when she’s like this.’ They waved their fingers above their head illustrating snakes.
‘Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.’ I squirmed. ‘Being in a freezer with Medusa doesn’t sound like the most appealing way to spend an afternoon, but if you think it will help, at this point I’ll try anything.’ How bad could it be?
‘Come on, let’s get her ready for Harrods,’ Blair said. ‘I’ll tip off a pap I know, so at least she’ll get a column centimetre, if not an inch, going in.’
My dress code for Mandy about town was simple, effortless luxury – I had built her a staple collection of black, beige, and cream tank tops, matching cashmere, and white jeans, finished with fine gold jewellery.
It was understated for a moment like this when she needed to look cool and chic when captured on camera as we entered Harrods. Simple, huh?