Page 79 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
And I know he’s probably confused—I would be. I want him to kiss me and then I don’t and then I want to be with him and then I walk away. He got deep when he danced with me earlier, even deeper when we went outside, further when I kissed him but I’ve pulled him out now that I’ve walked away.
He won’t get hurt, I tell myself when I watch him come back inside and beeline for Astrid. He’s safe on the outside, with her, I repeat when they take to the floor and dance with his hands on her hips.
Chapter Twenty
Lady Phoebe
“So, you know, Charlie Faulkner?” Athena says on the other end of the phone.
“Yes.”
“And his sister?”
“He has a sister?”
She tuts. “Yes! She lives in my house. She’s in year eleven at Darcy.”
“Oh, okay, what about her?”
“Well, George asked me to put in a little word on her behalf…”
“Why do I not like where this is heading?”
“She loves fashion—she’s a bit…strange—and George was just wondering if his best friend could maybe help out the misfortunate?”
I frown. “What do you mean she’s strange? Athena, what the fuck?”
“She’s not like us,” she whispers. “She’s been through a lot of shit but she’s so kind, really, she’s the loveliest girl ever. She has an eye for fashion that rivals Cynthia’s. I’m telling you, Phoebe, the first time I met her she was wearing literal rags and still managed to Miranda Priestly me!”
I laugh. “Okay and what do you want me to do for her? I can put a word in with my mum?”
“You could maybe take her to the shop, show her the behind the scenes stuff?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“You are the best, Phoebe. Seriously, you don’t know what this will mean for her.”
“Is this a charity thing?”
I can feel her eye roll. “No! I’m just being a good kind-of sister to her.”
“Well, aren’t you the little Samaritan,” I smile. “I’m at home now so I’ll speak to my mum.”
“You’re the best, talk later, love you.”
I end the call and head down the stairs of my childhood home and into my mothers office.
We haven’t spoken a lot since I started working with her (not for her because I’m not her employee, I’m technically self-employed, just under her name but that still doesn’t make her my boss (despite what she’ll have you believe)). But we’re not not on good terms. We haven’t fallen out or anything. In fact, after the ball last weekend, she stroked my hair all night while I cried over Arthur.
Digby doesn’t want me at his right now because he needs to work on some last minute exam deadlines but I think it’s actually because he’s pissed over all the publicity Arthur and I have been getting. He’d never admit it, though. I reckon he’d rather shoot himself in the foot ten times over.
I find my mum knee deep in work at her desk, portfolios laid out, sketches hanging off every inch of the walls. She’s even got her glasses on which makes me hesitant to disturb her. Whenever Mum had her glasses on while she was working, whatever it was, could wait. It’s the one rule Freddy and I actually listened to growing up.
“Mum?”
“What, Phoebe?” She stresses without looking at me.
I tell her what Athena told me over the phone but by the time I’m done, she’s staring at me with a deep frown.
