Chapter Five #2
We didn’t have time to get to the other two people in the room, as the clip-clop sound of heels on a marble floor grew louder.
Mandy came into view down the central stairs, wrapped in a low-slung dressing gown.
Her breasts peeked out like perfectly round scoops of ice cream nestled inside a waffle cone.
‘Morning all!’ she exclaimed. ‘How is everyone?’
There was a murmur of ‘good’ and ‘great’ around the room.
‘You all think you’ve arrived, don’t you?
’ she said, eyes narrowed. We looked at each other nervously.
‘Well, you have!’ she declared, smiling broadly.
‘You’ve reached the final stage of the selection process.
Well, except for you, Jimi. You’ve always been here.
Within twenty-four hours we’re going to have contracts signed and you can start the day after that.
We will move into the house tomorrow. Welcome to the world of Mandy Sykes! ’
‘Yeah!’ cheered Lola, enthusiastically, the only one to make an audible response to Mandy’s address. The rest of us Brits needed longer to warm up.
The fact that Mandy seemed to think I could start in two days’ time was worrying – I was hoping I might have at least a week to get my life straight and make the most of being with Rob.
I made a mental note to add that to the growing list of items to be discussed with Julie-Ann, who hadn’t yet emailed my contract .
‘Action stations, gang! Just because the cameras aren’t rolling today, doesn’t mean we can slack,’ Mandy trilled, glancing over her shoulder at the youngest-looking member of the party who was descending the stairs behind her.
‘This is Blair, my personal assistant. They will show everyone where to put their stuff and I’ll meet you all upstairs.’
I looked around me to see who else she had been referring to, before realising that Blair was the ‘they’.
They had appealing, symmetrical features, shoulder-length brown hair and wore a pair of flared trousers covered in purple diamonds, black nail polish, one gold crucifix earring and a vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt, like a modern-day Harlequin-meets-emo, with a dash of Harry Styles.
‘Please make us aware of your pronouns so we’re all clear from the off,’ Mandy added, before clattering up the marble steps once more, the heels and dressing gown combo grating on me. Blair shot me a smile before mouthing Hi , and scurried upstairs behind her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone who looked as though they felt as out of place around here as me.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Hi, I’m Coco,’ the slender woman replied. ‘Nutritionist.’ She had white-blonde hair in a short pixie crop and elfin features.
‘Amber. I go by she and her. I’m brand new here – when did you start?’ I asked.
‘She and her as well,’ Coco replied. ‘Today’s my first day too.’
‘How are you finding things?’
She raised her hand and whispered behind it. ‘Weird. But it always is at first, isn’t it? I just need to get to grips with the plan.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ I replied. ‘I’ve not done anything quite like this before.’
We exchanged a timid smile in mutual acknowledgement that this was not a normal job.
‘You’ve never been in-house before?’ she checked.
I shook my head wondering what I had agreed to when a jolly butler opened the door and delivered a tray of pastries into the room.
‘Good morning. Something to brighten your day!’ he announced. ‘They’re straight out of the oven, there’s plenty to go around.’
An aroma of freshly baked, buttery croissants and pains au chocolat filled the air, it was delicious. I realised I was starving, having missed dinner last night. I instinctively moved towards the tray.
‘Sorry, but no.’ Coco intercepted the butler as he was turning to leave. ‘These are not for now,’ she said firmly. ‘I ordered a fruit plate and crudité platter with hummus. We’ll take that first.’
She was polite, but deadly serious. I wondered how many times Coco had done this before, suspecting this wasn’t the first. Her bossy tone reminded me of my sister.
Coco must have seen the crushed expression on my face because she immediately offered an explanation.
She aimed it at the butler, but it was clearly for all of our benefit.
‘Two things: one, always eat fruit and veggies first. Carbs come last. It stops insulin spikes and keeps glucose in check. And two, we don’t turn to food as comfort to escape our feelings. ’
The butler looked deflated as well as confused. ‘Sir, it was very lovely of you to offer these baked goods to “brighten” our day,’ Coco continued, ‘but we don’t need food to regulate our emotions, thank you.’
‘Of course. Apologies. I didn’t mean to offend.’ He bowed his head. I wanted to go over and give him a hug. He was only being friendly! And I would have loved a croissant.
‘No offence taken,’ said Coco, softening a little.
‘It’s just that so many people are unaware of how emotional sensitivity can affect their eating habits.
If Amber here really wants a croissant, then she should have one – not to improve her day, she knows she can look within herself for that affirmation – but just because she fancies a croissant.
This is how we learn to regain control over our health and life. Are you with me?’ She looked at me.
‘Absolutely,’ I said gravely, wondering whether Mandy was about to get this spiel too, as I’d noticed the butler had a second platter of pastries which was presumably for upstairs.
‘It’s no problem at all, madam,’ answered the butler. ‘I’ll go get the fruit and crudités immediately. Shall I take away the pastries, or would you like me to leave them for later?’
‘Leave them for later, thank you,’ she said to my relief.
She turned to us. ‘Don’t panic everyone, I’m not a food Nazi, but I do feel that if we’re all going to be living together, and I’m keeping Mandy on a nutritional plan, then we should all contract to adopt the same healthy rules.
Believe me, it just works better this way and makes things manageable.
It also enables me to do the job I’ve been hired to do. ’
‘I’m in,’ added Lola. ‘I can’t wait to sample your nutritious dishes when I’m in the house.’ Easy for her to say. I felt a spike of envy that Lola wasn’t going to be subjected to this every day, like the rest of us.
‘Me too, and bravo for highlighting that food should not be used as a reward,’ said Jimi.
‘That’s great.’ Coco nodded, pulling her hands into a prayer position. ‘Excited to connect with you on this, Jimi. Look, it doesn’t bother me if any of you want to keep a secret crisp stash in your room,’ she added. ‘But it won’t help Mandy. And we are all here to help Mandy. Isn’t that right?’
‘That we are,’ I said gravely. ‘The croissants can wait.’ I gave her a tight smile and hoped she couldn’t read my mind which was currently screaming: GET IN MY TUMMY, YOU SEXY CROISSANTS!
Little does unsuspecting Coco know that I am the person who thought complex carbohydrates was a topic I must have missed in maths, and has Dairy Milk on Subscribe and Save from Amazon.
I crossed my fingers behind my back and hoped Coco wasn’t being completely serious about subjecting us all to whatever nutritional plan she had in store for Mandy.
Blair came downstairs again. They seemed friendly and asked me to get the clothes ready for Mandy in the dressing room, before they directed the others to assigned areas of the suite, where everyone was asked to set up for our boss.
Lola – also she/her – was instructed to start on Mandy’s hair and make-up first. So, we all began, cautiously, carefully, like worker bees in the wake of our queen, doing the things we were each trained to do.
I unpacked the gown in the same closet I’d spent the morning in just yesterday, relieved to have a private space in which to prepare.
Yesterday already felt like a long time ago.
Carefully unfurling it from the protective case, I was thankful the shimmering champagne-coloured Pronovias gown looked even more glamorous, and much less bridal, than I remembered.
It was sexy, cut low around the chest, and skin-tight to the knee, where it flared out dramatically, creating a stunning ‘mermaid’ tail shape.
Knowing it was always best to have more than just one option for a celebrity to try, I pulled out the scarlet silk gown from Mandy’s existing wardrobe, the one which caught my eye during the interview process, and also the black ruffled Dior dress, in case Mandy felt that recycling one of her gowns was a more understated look for a classy event like this.
If she loved the Pronovias mermaid dress as much as I hoped she would, we could even save it for another big event.
Keeping one eye on the clock, I rifled around in her underwear drawer for the perfect body-contouring pieces to wear underneath each gown, and selected a few options of sandals to compliment the looks, lining the shoes up neatly in a row to the side of the gowns like sentry guards.
The rail full, I stood back to admire my work, visualising Mandy wearing each outfit, before picking out some pieces of jewellery to finish off each look.
Mandy came into the room about an hour later.
Hair and make-up had run over – as it always does – and having helped myself to two strong Nespressos I was feeling wide awake.
Mandy looked extraordinarily glamorous for ten a.m. on a Saturday, her deep skin glowing and her big hair bouncing with curls as light as candy floss around her shoulders.
To my delight, she made a beeline for the Pronovias.
‘Oh wow – look at this!’ she exclaimed, pulling the side of the gown out from the rail, to admire the sparkling sequins adorning the fabric from top to bottom.
‘She’s special,’ I agreed.
‘Ahem – she could be non-binary,’ Blair astutely pointed out, flicking me a look.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry,’ I replied.
Mandy fixed her eyes on the dress. ‘I love this! How did you find it so quickly?’ She turned to me.
‘I was able to call in a favour,’ I stammered, thinking it was only a half-truth.
‘It’s perfect for a daytime event and will look great with your cream sandals.
I thought the shell clutch would make a fun addition.
I love how the big sequins overlap one another to create the scale-like effect – and it reflects the light, see?
’ I gently moved the delicate fabric under a spotlight to illustrate.
‘That’s why it’s named the mermaid dress. ’
‘Sold!’ She beamed, making my heart swell.
When Mandy tried it on, the dress fitted perfectly. Even Jose joined the appreciation, telling her: ‘?Qué guapa! ?Te ves espectacular!’
Which, I assume, is a compliment.
The only person I hadn’t managed to engage with for any length of time during the morning was Jimi.
He spent most of his time with Jose, setting up a bespoke Pilates reformer machine in the bedroom, and adjusting various sized straps around two shiny black inflated balls – a contraption I heard him tell Lola was ‘the biggest fitness trend to hit Hollywood’.
To me they looked more like sadistic instruments found in fetish clubs.
When my work was done, I collected my kit and it was air kisses all round for the goodbye.
‘Thank you for this opportunity, Mandy,’ I said to her as I prepared to leave. ‘I’m really excited about working with you and understanding more about how you like to be styled.’
She looked at me for a moment and I wasn’t sure how she was going to react, but then her expression revealed a kindness I hadn’t seen before.
‘Me too, Amber. I can see I made a good choice in you. Don’t let me down.’ I admired the way she skilfully cloaked a threat in a compliment.
‘I won’t,’ I vowed earnestly.
‘I was thinking, we could discuss fashion strategy in the cryotherapy chamber at Harrods next week,’ Mandy said, like this was perfectly normal. ‘I find it helpful to have a distraction when I’m trying to stop my brain from freezing.’
‘Sure,’ I replied. I have absolutely no idea what I’ve just signed up for.