FIVE
Five
Ever since Larkin had asked her to be a bridesmaid, Bel had been dreading this day: the bridal spa day, which she’d been warned she would be forcefully dragged along to if need be. She’d glanced briefly at the itinerary when it had been sent out months earlier. It was, in fact, going to be a mini makeover. Which, up until recently, Bel had been underwhelmed about.
But now, she found herself wanting to do this. Not for her cousin’s wedding but for herself. Emma was right. She would never have another chance like this again, and if the universe had decided to throw her a life raft in the form of Tate, then she bloody well better take hold of it.
The dress fitting ordeal was still fresh in her mind and although the sting of humiliation had not quite faded, it had been put into perspective. Sort of. She’d called Emma and replayed the whole sorry tale, and her friend had been full of sympathetic noises and enough comforting outrage to take away some of the pain. She’d decided to try her best to pretend the whole thing had never happened and, true to Larkin’s word, no one had mentioned it on the ninety-minute drive to Toormanlee, the large regional town that served as the once-a-month, big-day-out location for Wessex residents. It was a nice town, settled on the banks of a wide river that carried water from further inland towards the mountains and then down to the coastal regions.
Larkin had been beside herself when Bel had told her she was ready to accept her style guidance, and she hadn’t given Bel any time to rethink her decision, thrusting her into the hairdresser’s chair and flicking through magazines until she found a look she was happy with. After a brief glance at the image, Bel sent a doubtful look at the hairdresser and shrugged. ‘If you think you can pull that off with this,’ she said, lifting a strand of her limp hair up, ‘then go for it.’
‘Marcel can work miracles,’ Larkin said with a knowing smile, her own freshly blow-dried hair gleaming luxuriously.
Three and a half hours later, Bel could only stare at the reflection in the mirror in stunned silence. Holy. Cow.
‘What did I tell you?’ Larkin grinned from behind her.
‘I … I can’t believe it,’ Bel said, hesitantly lifting a hand to touch the now shimmering locks, highlighted with cinnamon and caramel, falling in soft cascades of bouncy curls to her shoulders.
‘Come on. Next stop, Beauty by Celine. Facials and waxing!’
Bel had no more time to admire her beautiful new do before being whisked from her chair and hurried along the street to the next port of call.
‘Ouch!’ Bel yelled as the young woman ripped another chunk of hair from her eyebrows. ‘Surely there can’t be any more hair left?’ she muttered as the pain continued to throb and she began to wonder if there was any skin left behind.
Over the previous hour, she’d had her eyebrows waxed, her eyelashes tinted and a number of blackheads forcefully removed from her face—all after being lulled into a false sense of security following the most glorious facial she’d ever experienced. Also the only facial she’d ever experienced.
‘Almost done now,’ the elegant young beautician assured her. ‘Are you sure you don’t want the bikini and Brazilian wax the others are having?’
Are you freaking kidding me? It was bad enough having hair ripped from your face. ‘No thanks,’ she said quickly.
‘All done,’ the beautician announced after delicately spreading something she promised would help take away the redness from her face. Bel took one look in the mirror held up for her and gasped. Her entire face was one big, splotchy, red disaster. Although she did pause to admire the fact her eyebrows did indeed now have a remarkable shape. Who would have thought it could make so much difference?
She was in the process of putting her glasses back on when Larkin walked out, followed by Lisa and Kelly. All of them stopped in their tracks and stared at her.
‘Your brows look amazing,’ Larkin said, quickly covering up the awkwardness. ‘The redness is normal,’ she assured her, even as Bel noticed the others didn’t have the same swollen red blotches on their perfect faces. ‘I’d like to take you to one more appointment,’ she said, linking her arm through Bel’s.
While the others went ahead to have a make-up trial, Larkin and Bel walked across the road and into another store.
‘What are we doing here?’ Bel asked as they waited at the counter of the optometrist.
‘I know you’ve always baulked at contacts,’ Larkin started, ‘but I was hoping if you tried them—’
‘Larkin, I don’t—’
‘You look so amazing when you aren’t wearing those big, heavy frames,’ her cousin continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘I swear, it’s like you’re hiding behind them. If you’re absolutely against contacts, then at least let me help you find some frames that don’t make you look like you’re some little old lady. You’re so pretty, Bel. You just don’t let anyone see it.’
‘I’m not, though,’ Bel said. ‘I’ve always been invisible, and I’m fine with that. You and I are different, Larkin. You like people looking at you. I prefer to stay in the background.’
‘It’s only because you’ve never been brave enough to try stepping out of it,’ Larkin retorted, and Bel wondered when her cousin had become so astute. ‘I don’t want to use the wedding-day card, but I will if you force me to,’ she warned.
‘Oh no. Not the you’ll-ruin-my-wedding-photos threat,’ Bel said, rolling her eyes. They both knew that was something Lois would say—not Larkin. They shared a smile. ‘Fine. I’ll try the contacts. For you, and because I know how long you’ve been wanting me to do it.’
‘Only because I hate seeing you try to cover up the real you.’
Bel swallowed hard over a lump. For all her spoiled princess ways, Larkin had a kind soul, even if she was delusional about whatever it was she imagined Bel was trying to hide.
With the quick examination done, the optometrist showed Bel how to put the contacts in and, after a few tries, she managed to master it. She blinked a few times and looked around the room. It felt … wonderful . She felt almost weightless without her glasses.
As Bel walked out of the examination room, Larkin looked up from the magazine she’d been flicking through and a smile spread across her face. ‘There you are,’ she said simply. ‘ Now we can see you.’
Bel blinked back the rush of emotion her cousin’s soft words triggered and gave a tiny smile in return.
Armed with a trial pack of contacts, they left the shop and headed back to find the others.
Over lunch at an upscale pub, Bel listened as the others gossiped about people they knew and places they went that Bel had no idea about. Lisa and Kelly were friends from Larkin’s boarding school days. There was only four years’ difference between them and Bel, but as she listened to their conversations, Bel felt considerably older. All they seemed interested in discussing was how much money they thought someone was worth and where they’d last been on holidays overseas.
‘What about you, Bel? Lisa asked, taking a breath after spending the previous twenty minutes or so recounting her most recent spiritual retreat in Ubud, from which she’d just returned. ‘Have you been anywhere interesting lately?’
‘Uh, no. Not really.’
‘So, you actually live out here? Like, all the time?’ Kelly asked.
‘Yep. I do,’ Bel answered, trying not to shift uncomfortably in her seat.
‘But … why? ’ Kelly crinkled her nose slightly. ‘I mean, what do you do out here?’
‘I work,’ Bel said, glancing across at her cousin, who was busy cutting up her salad.
‘I couldn’t do it. I mean, it’s nice for a little, you know … getaway, I suppose, but to live out here?’
‘So have you ever left town? Like travelled? Have you been to Paris?’ Lisa asked.
‘No. I haven’t. I grew up in South Australia until I was ten. And I’ve been to Sydney.’
The two women stared.
‘The others will be here tomorrow,’ Larkin cut in, smiling.
‘Oh, thank God ,’ Kelly said, dragging the words like she was in pain. ‘Gigi and Niki will definitely shake things up a bit.’
‘Yes, but I won’t like giving up all the one-on-one time we’ve had with Tate,’ Lisa pouted. ‘You know what they’re like, always trying to steal the attention away from everyone else in the room.’
At the mention of Tate, Bel’s interest instantly spiked.
‘We’re having a cocktail party at Glentoberon tomorrow night. A kind of pre-rehearsal rehearsal for the bridal party,’ Larkin informed her.
‘It’s going to be so much fun. I love cocktail parties,’ Kelly said, clapping her hands together. ‘I have the most divine dress. It’s sure to drag Tate’s attention away from Gigi and Niki.’
Bel’s spirits plummeted. She’d been excited by the prospect of seeing Tate again, but now she remembered she’d be in a room full of glamorous socialites in designer label outfits and she’d be wearing—Bel mentally ran through her wardrobe options—absolutely nothing. She’d known there would be a number of stupid events leading up to the Wedding of the Century, but until now, she truly hadn’t cared what she’d be wearing. Now she was regretting her earlier rebellion. Big time.
As they left the table after finishing their meal, Bel discreetly pulled her cousin aside. ‘Small problem,’ she started, ‘I don’t have anything to wear to a cocktail party.’
Bel wasn’t sure if she was relieved or mildly insulted by the smile Larkin gave her as she patted her arm in a there, there fashion. ‘I figured as much. Which is why I’ve packed you a suitcase with some outfits you can have. Lucky we’re the same size.’ She leaned back slightly and ran an expert eye up and down Bel and added, ‘More or less.’ She gave her cousin a smile that didn’t quite give as much encouragement as she’d probably intended. Still, at least that was one problem down. Maybe she wouldn’t make a complete idiot of herself.
‘Bel!’ Emma cried as she gaped at her friend later that afternoon. ‘Oh my God …’
‘Is it too much? It’s too much, isn’t it,’ Bel said, touching her hair, still feeling luxuriously soft and bouncy.
‘No!’ Emma said, shaking her head as she continued to stare. ‘It’s … perfect.’
‘I feel a bit ridiculous.’
‘Well, don’t. They didn’t change anything. This is all you, girlfriend,’ Emma said, snapping out of her initial surprise. ‘I am a little pissy that I’ve been trying to get you to do something with your hair for years and you’ve always refused, though.’
‘I know,’ Bel agreed wearily. ‘And I would have said no to Larkin too except that it’s for her wedding. And the fact Tate would never actually see me with all those other eligible women around if I didn’t do something drastic,’ she added.
‘I wouldn’t say drastic, but it’s definitely dramatic. I think I need a trip to Toormanlee. So, anyway,’ Emma continued, ‘what’s next on the bridal party itinerary?’
‘The cocktail party.’
‘That sounds fun,’ Emma said encouragingly.
‘It’s one thing to have all this stuff done,’ Bel said. ‘But it’s another thing entirely to fit in. Inside, I’m still the same old boring Bel.’
‘You are not boring. You look amazing and you deserve to be there just as much as they all do. You’ll be all right.’
That night, Bel stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and found herself contemplating the massive changes that had taken place. She felt like the same person … until she saw her reflection, and then it was like a stranger was staring back at her. Who was this new version of Bel Buckley? She certainly looked more exciting than the old one. This Bel looked like she was ready to take on the world. She didn’t look like she belonged in Wessex. This is crazy , she thought with an irritable shake of her head.
Not as crazy as letting a chance to have your real-life version of Jax Lexington pass by.
Bel chewed on her lip as she examined the woman in the mirror.
Embrace this new version . New me. New beginning.
The cocktail evening arrived and Bel was not all right.
True to her word, Larkin had left her a suitcase full of clothing as well as everything she could possibly need to accessorise—including a couple of pairs of shoes and jewellery. The problem was that they’d been made for Larkin, Sydney socialite, not Bel, Wessex non-socialite. The dresses were beautiful—probably designer, although Bel didn’t know one label from another. However, while she and Larkin were pretty much the same clothes size, they weren’t the same build. Larkin was tall and graceful. Bel was … not. She was shorter and had curves in places Larkin didn’t. She also had boobs. And this was the current dilemma. The cocktail dress Larkin had packed her for tonight—a beautiful shimmering blood-red stretchy number—had a rather low neckline that Bel was currently exploding out of. She’d been forced to call in reinforcements and, thank goodness, Emma had come through.
‘This is impossible!’ Bel said as Emma stood back to study the issue at hand. ‘I’ve got straps showing everywhere. How on earth are you supposed to wear this bloody thing?’
Emma tapped a finger against her lips, tilting her head slightly sideways. ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to wear a bra with it,’ she concluded. ‘I mean, Larkin wouldn’t need to, would she? She missed out on the Buckley cleavage.’
‘Yeah, well, I wish I had too.’ Throughout high school she’d been self-conscious about her breasts, so much so that she’d always tended to wear baggy clothing to hide them while most other girls in her year were proudly showing theirs off. Nowadays, it wasn’t such a drama, except when they refused to fit into the only cocktail dress she had to wear to an evening that was rapidly approaching. ‘I can’t not wear a bra,’ Bel said irritably as she imagined her uncooperative breasts suddenly realising they had the freedom to swing in any direction—and not necessarily in the same direction at that.
Emma crossed to the open suitcase on the bed and dug through it. ‘Ah-ha! Here you go. Trust Larkin to be prepared.’ She held up a plastic bag.
‘What is that?’ Bel asked, stepping closer to accept the small bag. ‘Silicon adhesive bra cups?’ she read, grimacing.
‘It’s a stick-on bra. I’ve seen these, but never tried them.’
Bel took one of the cups from the bag and grimaced. ‘There’s no way these things are going to support a large boob. Look at it,’ Bel said holding the jelly-like mould up and watching as it flopped about.
‘Well, if you’re going to wear this dress, and I’m guessing you don’t have anything else to wear, then you’ll have to give them a go.’
‘This is so stupid,’ Bel sighed.
‘This is fashion, my love. Welcome to the high life.’
‘Why would anyone buy a dress you couldn’t wear a normal bra under?’
‘Just try it,’ Emma said.
Bel finally managed to wrestle the girls into a vague imitation of the photo she’d found in an online tutorial. Emma helped her slip the dress over her head and stood back to admire their handiwork.
‘Is the left side higher than the right?’ Bel asked, examining her breasts.
‘No, I think it’s okay. I don’t think we should try adjusting them again in case they lose their stickiness.’
‘Em, I am not feeling supported. At all.’
‘It’ll be fine. Just … don’t run, maybe,’ Emma added, eyeing Bel’s chest critically. ‘Or jump too much.’
‘I’ll try to contain myself.’
‘Then we’re good!’ Emma declared with a bright smile. ‘You look amazing.’
‘I feel like an imposter,’ Bel said, eyeing her reflection. The person looking back at her was a stranger. With no thick-rimmed glasses, her eyes seemed to dominate her face—she’d never seen them looking quite so dramatic. Emma had helped her with make-up and the neutral tones she’d used enhanced her eyes, making them seem almost golden. She had to admit, she did love her new hair. The base was pretty much her own colour, a dark brownish tone, but the highlights they’d added shimmered attractively. With the weight of the dead ends pulling her hair down gone, and a little bit of layering and artful feathering, her natural curls now bounced healthily. She felt like a brand-new person.
She understood why people had been staring at her today. They couldn’t believe it was the same person. Bel couldn’t even believe she was the same person.
‘This has always been you,’ Emma said, catching her gaze in the mirror. ‘You’ve just been hiding for a very long time. Get out there and own it.’
‘But these people aren’t like us. I don’t fit in.’
‘They’re the ones who don’t fit in here,’ Emma pointed out. ‘What would a character in one of your books do in this situation? Be her. This is your moment to step into a storyline. Jax is waiting. Go get him!’