Chapter 10
The ballet girl:
Purple leggings
White trainers
Baggy brown sweatshirt
Cropped grey puffer jacket
Pink beanie
Oversized Stanley bottle
Phone in one hand, beaker of coffee in the other, Annie was leaning against a wall trying to look casual, as if she just hung out leaning against walls every day of the week.
In fact, this was a strategic position. The show needed models and since the athletics team was a no, she’d now had a better idea.
She was thinking she would go about this the old-school way – scouting out on the street.
Not any old bit of street though, she was currently standing close to the entrance of the local dance school because she had this idea that girls who were used to being on stage in costumes might like the idea of being in the show.
And dancer physiques were fit, flexible, muscular, and would know how to move well to the music.
Unlike the major designers, she didn’t need coat-hanger thin girls for this show because the donated clothes were in all kinds of sizes, so a mix of physiques would be the way to show these clothes off to their best advantage.
And she had even checked on the dance school website to see when the advanced classes were scheduled to make sure that she was scouting amongst the oldest girls, not bumping into knee-high toddlers in tutus…
though maybe some toddlers in tutus might be adorable for the show’s grand finale.
It was incredible to her to think that this show really was going to happen in less than a month now.
That she and Svetlana had created this living, breathing, major event from literally a handful of ideas and a major burst of enthusiasm.
They had enthused and organised it right into being.
Yes, there was still plenty to do… more than plenty to do, but if she, Svetlana and Paula could all keep their effort level dialled up to the max, then on October 1st, they could be putting on the show they had dreamt of, the show that could raise an incredible amount of money for a very good cause and a show that would maybe lead to headlines, buzz, and, fingers crossed, exciting new opportunities.
So, taking a big gulp of coffee, Annie reminded herself that she just had to keep focused, keep working.
Oh, a group of girls was coming out of the studio doors now, and with their hair bundled up, grinning and giggling, they looked very late teens – exactly the kind of girls she wanted to talk to.
Then she suddenly felt worried… this wasn’t the old days.
Could you just go up to females in the street and say ‘hey, would you like to be a model?’ It might come across as weird and stalkerish.
She poked about in her handbag to see if any of her TV business cards could still be found.
Ah yes, here was a little bundle of them.
They at least had her name, phone number and the address of her TV production company printed on them, so that was more respectable than nothing.
OK, time to get over there before they dispersed and disappeared.
‘Hello… hello, girls,’ she began with a big smile. ‘Could I just ask a question?’
The group of five paused in their tracks and looked at her.
She wasn’t quite sure what that look in their eyes was – curiosity mixed with a good old pinch of dismissiveness and even disdain.
‘I hope you don’t mind me stopping you like this…
’ Annie went on as her eyes scanned the group.
They were all lovely, fit-looking with the clear eyes and glowing faces of youth.
A good range of skin tones and hair colours – she could work with any one of them.
Really all five girls would be amazing. And they’d be friends, they’d encourage one another, travel to and fro from rehearsals together.
Yes, getting every one of them who wanted to be in this show would be perfect.
‘I’m organising a big charity fashion show and I’m looking for girls who might want to be models…
and before you think this might all be dodgy.
I’m going to give you my card and you can go home and talk to your Mums about it and then call me back to get more info. ’
There was a sort of stunned silence. The girls looked at one another as if waiting for someone to make a decision first about how they should react to this.
‘Can I give you the cards?’ Annie asked.
‘Yeah!’ one of the girls nearest to her enthused. ‘What kind of fashion show? And when is it?’
So, she gave them some of the basic details. But first of all, ‘Does that date work for you?’ was the most important question. ‘No use me talking to you about this if you’ve got an important dance performance that night.’
‘No, it’s good. We’ve got some dance exams coming up in October and maybe auditions, but no shows,’ the girl replied.
‘So what’s this fashion show?’ another one asked. ‘Is it for a designer?’
‘No… it’s for charity, but it’s a big show, in Mayfair with a big audience, so I’m looking for people who are used to performing, who wouldn’t be frightened of going on stage.’
‘But we’ve never modelled,’ another girl told her.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. If you can dance, you can definitely model – we can teach you all the things you do on a catwalk, but mainly it’s about being able to get in and out of your clothes quickly and then being bold and confident as you stride out in front of the audience. You can all do that, can’t you?’
‘Will we get paid?’ one of the dancers asked.
‘Well, this is for charity, so we’re giving our models money to cover their travel, we’ll give them something to eat and drink on the night and, as a big thank you, we’ll let everyone chose an item of clothing from the ￡100 and under donation rails. Does that sound OK to you?’
The girls all looked at one another, some grins breaking out and a sense of excitement building. ‘Sounds good.’ One girl nudged another. ‘Shall we go for it?’
The shy girl at the back, very pale-skinned, very blonde, a little too gangly and tall to be exactly dance physique asked quietly, ‘Even me?’
‘Oh, sweetheart, definitely,’ Annie said. ‘I’d love all of you to volunteer. It would be great if we had a group of friends, because you could support each other, look out for each other, practise your twirls together.’
The smiles broke out at these words and soon the group was completely convinced.
‘Let’s do it!’
‘Yes!’
‘OK, well, first of all, everyone needs to go home and ask for permission,’ Annie told them.
‘I’m more than happy to talk to your mums, your parents, and we can even have a mum or two backstage to look after you and help out.
The show has a website, so your parents can check that out and make sure they’re happy.
So, will you promise to be in touch?’ she asked them.
‘I need to know in the next day or two if you’re going to say yes.
If not, I’ll need to start looking for some other volunteers. ’
The girls assured her they would be messaging.
So they parted, the group giggling, arm in arm, heading in one direction, Annie in the other while she thought of the tall, very shy girl – the one who didn’t think much of herself, who thought she’d be left out, but who’s makeover would be the most dramatic, because Annie always poured her makeover magic into the people who couldn’t even see themselves properly.
She could imagine brushing out the girl’s hair, letting the halo of ethereal frizz take over, crimping little under sections even and then allowing that porcelain skin to just be, with dark, glossy, cherries in the snow lipstick slicked across her slight lips.
Tall and angelic looking, she would be transformed into the grand finale bride.
They would find something in that rummage box of wedding dresses that would be perfect for her.
She could carry an enormous bunch of wispy flowers…
and finally see all that was unique and wonderful about herself.
Now that the show date was drawing closer, Annie was beginning to feel extremely focused.
She knew this was how it had to be. Pulling it all together into the event she wanted it to be, knew it could be, was going to mean total devotion from now until curtain up.
OK… as much total devotion as could be given by a mum with four children and all their dramas.
But she wanted to do it. She wanted to walk down the catwalk with Svetlana at the end of the show and take her bows as the fashion crowd cheered. Surely, if it was a success, it could lead somewhere interesting?
She glanced along the pavement ahead of her and saw that woman again…
the steely white bob, the enormous shades and the complicated head-to-toe black, Japanese fabric.
She was almost in disguise. Annie gave her a nod and a smile as they passed one another.
But she got nothing back. I wonder what her story is?