Chapter 6
Chapter Six
‘Pip!’ called Jono, spotting Rosie heading towards him. His face broke into a grin as he took in her waterlogged appearance. ‘Jesus Christ, what happened to you?’
Jono gave everyone nicknames; he called her Rosie Applepip, Pip for short.
‘I was trying to cross a stream,’ she said. ‘I failed, and now I can’t feel my feet.’
Jono gave her a hug and rubbed her arms. ‘Dear oh dear,’ he said. ‘Wherever you tread …’
It was true. Rosie was known for being somewhat accident prone.
She felt better for seeing Jono – she always enjoyed his cheerful banter.
‘Have you finished here?’ she asked. ‘I’m going to head back after I’ve said my hellos.
I’ve been promised a stiff drink, and I’m going to take it into my bath.
’ She pictured herself in a deep, hot, steaming tub full of bubbles, a cocktail perched on the side.
‘God, please let there be a bath. Have we got baths?’
‘I have. I’m in Lord Byron. So to speak.’
Rosie snorted. ‘Lucky you. Did Ashley put you in there?’
‘Yes, he moved me from Shelley when he saw all my gear. But mostly because it’s the best room.’
‘Nice one. I had an inkling you two would get on.’
Jono nodded over at Madison. ‘Go say your hellos. She’s a trooper, not what I expected at all. We’ve given up on the outdoors for today – we’re going to relocate to the gingerbread shop, they’re shutting up early for us. We’ll take a break, warm up a bit, then drive on over.’
‘Right you are. I guess I’ll have to postpone the bath until later, then.’
Rosie made her way over to the two women standing under the umbrella. As she approached, their eyes travelled in sync down to her wet trousers.
‘Hi, I’m Rosie from Holistic Health.’ She clenched her teeth to stop them from rattling. ‘I’m afraid I had a misadventure on some stepping stones – I’m just off to change but I wanted to say hello. I’m here to report on the wellness weekend.’
‘Oh my gosh – you look freezing,’ said the shorter of the two women.
‘I’m Kayleigh, hair and make-up.’ She had a sweet smile, and wore a woolly beanie pulled down over her hair, red tendrils poking out from underneath.
The rest was tucked beneath a shiny scarlet puffer which Rosie recognised as a Vybe signature piece.
These iconic jackets were extra puffy, stopping just the right side of Michelin man, and were coveted for their warmth and shimmer.
The other woman’s puffer was silver, and both wore them with leggings. Thermal ones, Rosie assumed.
‘I’m Veronica, Vybe’s publicist,’ said the taller woman.
Her shiny black hair was pulled back in a severe, wisp-free bun, and she had the sort of face that instantly made you nervous – Rosie’s mother would have called it ‘hard’.
‘We’re heading back,’ Veronica said. ‘The rain refuses to fuck off, it’s Baltic, and blue skin is not a look I want associated with our activewear. ’
Rosie looked over at Madison, whose face was hidden by the umbrella she was huddled beneath. But there was no mistaking the twin globes of that famous derriere, snug in their daffodil-yellow leggings.
Beside Madison was a square-shaped man with close-cropped hair, wearing a dark wool overcoat and leather gloves. A gentleman would have given Madison his coat, thought Rosie. She frowned. And his gloves, too – Madison’s hands were squeezed beneath her armpits as she hopped from foot to foot.
‘I need to go change,’ Rosie said. She’d introduce herself to Madison later, by which time her teeth would hopefully have stilled.
She couldn’t remember ever having felt this cold.
Why wasn’t it snowing? ‘I don’t know about you, but I hadn’t expected this level of freezing.
I’ve only got my denim jacket – major wardrobe fail,’ she said, hoping Veronica would get the hint.
The publicist glanced at her, then called over to Jono. ‘Can you ask the manager to drive us to the shop just before five?’
Rosie wasn’t giving up yet. ‘Part of my brief is to mention your terrific gear at every opportunity,’ she said, as they set off up the track, water squelching in her boots. ‘Which isn’t a problem, as I’m already a fan, and those jackets are to die for.’
‘Aren’t they?’ said Kayleigh, stroking an arm down her quilted sleeve. ‘I’m so toasty in this!’ Her eyes went to Rosie’s denim. ‘Is that really all you’ve got?’
‘I was informed we’d be indoors,’ said Rosie. That was kind of true; she’d just omitted the ‘for most of it’ part.
‘I’m sure Veronica wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some of the Vybe outdoor gear?’ said Kayleigh.
Thank you!
‘You can borrow a jacket,’ said Veronica. ‘They’re on racks in the yoga room.’ Her eyes dipped to Rosie’s trousers and sodden boots. ‘But please be careful with it.’
The hotel carpets were deep and spotless; clearly boots should be removed before entering.
Rosie took hers off, and her socks, wringing them out at the bar entrance, then made her way to the spa.
An immaculate blonde in white trousers and shirt was in attendance, and when Rosie explained her mission, directed her to the yoga studio.
It was empty, and light and bright, courtesy of floor-to-ceiling windows, but the view was obscured by the rain.
Rosie’s damp feet squeaked on the wooden floor and left footprints as she crossed to where racks of colourful activewear were parked – leggings, shorts, bras pretending to be tops, actual bras, vests, hoodies …
rain jackets, and puffers of varying lengths and puffiness.
Rosie made a mental note to find out from Veronica the correct terminology when referring to the properties of quilted outdoor wear.
And there it was – the fuchsia-pink sleeveless jacket. She stroked her fingers down the marshmallow-soft fabric, then read the label to check the size, hoping it wasn’t model-tiny. But Madison’s chest was not in the slightest bit tiny.
Medium. Whoop! And also on the label: Filled with goose down for unparallelled warmth. Feathery heaven!
She took off her denim jacket and slipped on the puffer, snuggling into the generous collar which reached up to her chin. Immediately the chill in her upper body was soothed away. So warm, so light … it was like wearing a cloud.
Mission accomplished, she headed to her room, encountering only Grace the receptionist, whose face remained admirably expressionless as she took in Rosie’s pink puffer, soaked tartan trousers, and bare feet.
‘Got a bit wet!’ Rosie called. ‘Just off to change.’
A sign at the top of the stairs indicated Byron, Tennyson and Wordsworth to the left, and Shelley, Southey and Coleridge to the right.
It was a long time since Rosie had opened a hotel room door with a proper key; it made a satisfying clunk as she turned it.
The room was blessedly warm, and her face lit up as she saw chocolates and a bunch of flowers on a table: With the compliments of Vybe said the little card.
She was loving this brand more by the minute – shame their publicist was as icy as the Cumbrian wind.
After popping a truffle in her mouth, and then another, Rosie took off her wet clothes and put on the fluffy white robe she found hanging in the wardrobe.
She quickly unpacked her case then headed to the bathroom to make herself presentable.
She washed her face, rubbed in some moisturiser, applied a touch of eyeliner and mascara – just enough to give her the confidence to meet Veronica’s cold gaze – added a dab of lip gloss, then wrangled her wind-blown frizz into long waves with her styling brush.
‘You’ll do,’ she said to her reflection, noticing the upside of that Arctic blast – rosy cheeks! ‘I’ll be with you later,’ she said to the bath.
Returning to the bedroom, Rosie put on her pink leggings and a white long-sleeved T-shirt, then the pink puffer and her flowery Doc Martens. She admired the result in the full-length mirror, remembering the shoe-shop lady’s words: They’re so you! Today, it felt as if they were.
The receptionist’s expression was less bemused this time. ‘The others are in the conference room, just along there,’ she said.
As Rosie knocked and entered, Madison’s manager was perched on a long table addressing the crew, plus Ashley. Madison had changed into a lime-green cropped sweatshirt, matching leggings, and white trainers. Her long, jet-black hair was piled on her head in a top knot.
‘Ah, Rosie,’ said Ashley. ‘Looking rosy!’
‘That’s one bracing wind,’ she replied.
‘Your boots!’ exclaimed Kayleigh, eyes wide. ‘Oh my god, Veronica – would you look at those Docs with the pink leggings! For the outdoor shoot – the hill one?’
‘Hill?’ said Madison.
Rosie glanced at the star’s beautiful face, which would no doubt have frowned, had that been possible.
Veronica took in Rosie’s ensemble and said, ‘I think we’ll stick with walking boots.’
Her words bounced off Rosie. No matter how many judgemental head-to-toes she was subjected to today, no one was going to silence the buzz this outfit was giving her.
Madison’s manager held out a hand. ‘Guy Baptiste,’ he said. ‘You’re writing the piece?’
Rosie shook it; his grip was tight. ‘Yes. I’m Rosie Appleby.’
‘Good to meet you,’ said Guy. ‘Just to reiterate, it’s copy approval all round.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘It’s being sponsored by Vybe, but the deal is we all get to see the piece and amend as necessary.’
Rosie had known this would be the case, but she wondered now, about the ‘funny’ content Amara had requested. She was going to have to tread a fine line.
Madison squeezed past Veronica and came to stand next to Rosie. ‘Hi, I’m Madison,’ she said, offering a hand. Her palm was soft and her handshake light.
Oh. Close-up, Madison was extraordinary. Outstandingly pretty, but above all, disconcerting. It was like meeting someone who wasn’t entirely real. A doll, come to life.
She was small in stature and shaped like the proverbial hourglass – if the bottom of that hourglass had been half the size again of the top.
Her wasp-waist, visible between her crop top and leggings, was tanned, flat and smooth.
How much did Rosie envy that waist? Rosie was, appropriately, an apple, and as she compared herself to Madison (I probably shouldn’t do that) she was glad that the pink puffer was long enough to cover the stubbornly convex curve of her own tummy.
‘And you’re …?’
‘I’m so sorry, fangirl moment! I’m Rosie, I write for Holistic Health magazine.’
‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Madison held Rosie’s gaze; her eyes were clear blue, fringed by forests of false eyelashes.
The upturned tip of her long, narrow nose was slightly pink, as were her cheeks, a result no doubt of spending the afternoon in the daffodils. The effect was charming.
‘I hope you’ve warmed up now,’ said Madison. Her accent was pure Essex. ‘You looked a bit cold and wet down by the lake.’
As she spoke, Rosie’s eyes went to the twin pillows of her lips. Plumped up, glossy, and outlined in dark beige, they were probably as tall as they were wide.
How old was this woman? Twenties? Thirties? Possibly early forties? It was impossible to tell. Journalist fail. Rosie would need to access Madison’s Wikipedia page at the earliest opportunity.
‘I have, thanks. I fell in a stream. I’m not great with the outdoors.’
‘Oh god, me neither,’ said Madison. ‘Isn’t this place fuckin’ depressing? Can you believe people actually come here for their holidays?’
‘Are we all set then?’ asked Ashley. ‘The van’s at the door.’
As they made their way outside, Madison fell into step beside Rosie, and introduced her to the young, snake-hipped guy who’d been helping Jono with his gear.
‘This is Lucas,’ she said. He had spiky black hair, pale skin, and a sweet smile. ‘He’s my PA, and he does all my socials. I heard you were doing Insta posts for your mag? I’d be grateful if you’d run anything with me in it past Lucas first. Okay?’
Rosie didn’t normally ask permission before posting photos, but for the sake of team harmony she’d do as Madison asked.
‘You don’t do your own posts?’ she asked.
‘Just the odd selfie, but Lucas does most, and all the words.’
‘All of them?’
‘He agrees them with me first.’ She gave Rosie a long look. ‘More importantly, he monitors engagement. That’s mostly deleting comments from the haters, plus keeping an eye on the insights, of course. Instagram endorsements are where I make most of my income.’
Rosie stood back to allow Madison into the van first, and as she did so was treated to an eye-level encounter with that famously uplifted butt.
Why would anyone do that?
Rosie resolved to ask Madison about it when they’d got to know each other a little better. Things were looking promising on that front, as Madison beckoned to Rosie and patted the seat beside her.