Page 31 of Bad Influence
Over the first week at work, my focus was on calling in a host of outfits for the various appointments Mandy had, plus an at-home photoshoot, organised by Jimi, to generate some content to introduce Mandy to her new British audience. With Jimi’s input, I took my style inspiration from the Princess of Wales off-duty, calling in home-grown designer brands, and mixing-in high-street staples, to show Mandy adapting her wardrobe to suit the British countryside.
Deliveries arrived at the front door in a steady stream. There were Barbour jackets, Paul Smith suits, Penelope Chilvers boots, LK Bennett wedges, and soft cashmere turtlenecks to be worn with jeans, of which I had all the hottest brands. I mixed this in with silk shirts and pleated midi skirts for a look that was relaxed and timeless – less fuss, more function.
‘Seriously?’ Philippa tutted, as she arrived at the annexe, her arms straining under the weight of yet more dress carriers and a big bag containing three more pairs of shoes. ‘Anyone would think you are dressing the entire cast of a West End show. How many outfits does one person need for one photoshoot?’
‘I know.’ I sighed. ‘It seemed like madness to me too the first time I was on a celebrity photoshoot, but believe me – and aseveryoneelse in this house will testify – you can’t have enough choice.’
‘But how much isenough?’ she asked, disparagingly.
‘Well.’ I paused for a moment, considering how it was going to go down when I told Philippa that the rails were not even halfway full yet. ‘I always have four options for each set-up, and we have at least five set-ups to get through tomorrow. The photographer and Julie-Ann will have the final say, along with Mandy. And you can bet she’ll go for the one that I didn’t have quite the right shoes for, or she’ll need it in the next size, so I need to have all bases covered. So that’s twenty looks. Minimum.’
‘She’s only got one pair of feet though,’ Philippa quipped. ‘It’s another world, honestly. Hardy Amies used to visit this house, you know. He will be turning in his grave. He never went this overboard with the late Queen. And she wasThe Queen.’
‘In some circles, Mandy’s a Queen too,’ I replied, feeling protective of my art. Philippa had already started scuttling off because the doorbell had gone again. ‘At least you won’t need to hit the gym tomorrow!’ I called after her.
On the seventh morning, I woke early and FaceTimed Rob. ‘You’re up early,’ he said woozily, his voice still gruff from sleep.
‘Same to you,’ I said. ‘I thought we could wake up together.’
‘Well, that’s nice, I just wish you were actually beside me. Close enough for me to smell your bad morning breath.’
‘Charming!’ I giggled. ‘You’re one to talk.’
‘Shall we start again?’
I took a deep breath and put on a sultry voice: ‘Good morning, my handsome boyfriend. I thought we could wake up together.’
‘Oh, hello, my beautiful, clever, sexy girlfriend, with breath like extra strong mints.’ He smiled broadly, with a dimple appearing on his left cheek.
I loved the sleepy smile and sound of Rob’s voice when he first woke up. But there was a tightness in my chest which was hard to shake ever since I had seen the photo on my phone. The thought of Emily also loving this smile – even worse, havingkissedit – made me feel as though someone had just taken my favourite childhood toy and stamped on it.
‘How did you sleep?’ I asked.
‘Terribly,’ he croaked.
‘What was up?’
‘I’ve been worrying about work. Things are not picking up on the production side and I don’t think I can stand the monotony of my current role anymore. I need to get out of Serious Global. It’s making me seriously depressed.’
‘Oh honey, I’m sorry,’ I said tenderly. ‘That’s a rubbish night. I wish I was there to help make you feel better. Might any new opportunities come up?’
‘Not at the moment, television is in crisis – networks are cutting back on new productions and there aren’t enough jobs to go around.’
‘What could you do to cheer yourself up?’ I sighed.
‘I don’t know. I’ll hit the gym later I guess,’ he said.
‘I wish I could bring you a cup of tea. What else are you going to do?’
He shrugged. This was unlike Rob, he was usually quick to find a positive in most situations.
‘Could you call up an old friend?’ I offered, thinking about what I would do in his situation. ‘Make a plan to meet someone for a drink or dinner after work one evening this week?’
‘Like who?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been rubbish at keeping the connection going with my uni friends. That’s what shacking up with the love of your life and moving to another continent will do to your social life.’
I knew he meant it jokingly, but there was a strong element of truth in what he was saying. We had both been neglectful of our former friendship circles since getting serious about each other. Yet whilst I still had Vicky on speed dial and WhatsApp, the same couldn’t be said of Rob. In fact, now that I thought about it, I struggled to remember the last time he had met up with someone other than a work colleague for an evening out.
As my mind ticked over, I couldn’t shake a feeling pulling at my insides. I was itching for a confrontation, intentionally nudging the conversation in a certain direction.
