Page 47 of Sad Girl Hours
I take her by the arm. “Let’s, my dear.”
Ten minutes later and I’m on the floor in uncontrollable contortions of laughter.
Casper, standing above me, asks, “What?!” as ifI’mthe ridiculous one. As if he’s not standing there dressed as a 1930s housekeeper, complete with drab period dress, dark grey wig and drawn-on wrinkles.
I still can’t speak through my giggles.
“The real Mrs Danvers wouldn’t stand for any of this nonsense, Nell,” he says so seriously that it sets me off again.
“Casper, I adore you,” I say when I manage to get hold of myself, but I’m still on the floor when Viviana and Saffron walk into the room.
“Oh,” I say, scrambling up. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Saffron says back, smiling at me like nothing’s wrong. Maybe nothing is. But then her gaze is only on me for a flit, not letting me bask in her warmth like I normally would. “What do you think?” She addresses the room, holding her dress out to one side.
“You must be…” I say, taking in the Regency-style dress and chamberstick in her hand, “Catherine Morland?Northanger Abbey?”
She turns the book she’s holding round so I can see that I’m right. “Uh-huh,” she says. “Well done.”
She’s still being – I don’t know … succinct. And I don’t know what to do to fix it.
“Ahem,” Vivvie says. “What about me?”
She is wearing a floaty grey dress with a handkerchief hem, she’s painted every visible inch of her body in thick grey paint,and she’s carrying an ornate gold frame that she’s holding so her torso is in view through it.
“AHA!” Casper finger-guns. “The Picture of Dorian Gray! Excellent. I’m a big Oscar Wilde fan – no double entendre intended, however accurate it might be.”
Vivvie smiles approvingly (for a change). “Quite right.”
I have to chime in. “You know that Dorian Gray wasn’t actually grey himself, right? That was just his name.”
“Escúchame,” Vivvie says, “I’m a very busy woman. I don’t have time to read books from the eighteen hundreds. I just went with a literal interpretation. And Casper got it straight away, so it obviously worked.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I reply, “it’s an excellent costume. Good luck washing the paint off you, though. I painted myself grey for a party last year – I was one of Medusa’s victims,” I explain. “My sister was Medusa, and my brother waved their snake around her hair.”
“What an interesting family you are,” Vivvie says with both scorn and love.
“Anyway, my pointisthat it took me three days and four showers to get all the grey out of my crevices. So, good luck.”
“Gracias. I’ll be sure to keep the group chat posted on the colour of my crevices.”
We all laugh.
“Well,” I say, looking around at my friends and feeling warm and cosy. I love that I don’t have to mask my weird interests around them. They love me for my schemes and slightly excessive commitment to the bit. “You all look amazing – I’m so glad you’re willing to be drafted into my ridiculous ideas.”
“Any time,” Casper says. “We love all your schemes,” and I have to force myself not to laugh again when I see him looking so earnest while dressed as the infamous evil housekeeper fromRebecca.
“Should we head off?” Jenna asks. “We’ve got a dungeon to sleep in and several dozen people to confuse with our costumes.”
We agree that it’s time to leave and make our way to town. I fall into step next to Saffron, Casper and Vivvie heading up the front with their long strides, Jenna trying to match them close behind.
“Hi,” I say again. “How are you doing?”
“Me?” Saffron says, like there’s anyone else I could possibly be addressing. “I’m good. You?”
“Good too. I missed you this week, though.”
I see Saffron’s throat bob with a swallow before she replies. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve been preparing for exams. You know what it’s like.”
