183 Times a Year (13 page)

‘Yeah,' she finally says, ‘she's that bloody French designer, Francoise Libert or somink.' My heart sinks. Am I so out of touch with my teenage daughters'?

‘There see.
Even
Mais – I mean Mania – knows who she is. God help you Mum. Surely you've heard of Libert shoes and Libert handbags?' Cassie implores. ‘She's like soooooo famous. Don't you know anything?' Cassie rolls her eyes at me again. ‘Even Dad knows who she is for god bloody sake.'

Yes, well, he would wouldn't he!

I smile, sweetly.

‘Okay,' I say, trying to steer the conversation away from my fashion ignorance. ‘We've established who this fashion designer is but I still haven't got a clue what she's got to do with you?'

‘Ah well,' Cassie says grinning as she runs round to the back of Ruby's chair. She places the photo of the world famous Francoise Libert next to Ruby. I look at Francoise then Ruby, then back to Francoise before finally settling my gaze on Ruby.

‘Did you know you actually look a bit like her?' I ask. Cassie groans like she has stomach ache.

‘Ov Couse I deed Madame. Are you suggesting zat I am not ze great Francoise Liberccct?' Ruby replies with complete sincerity.

‘Riiiigght, I see.' I don't though. ‘But isn't she…?' I trail off, trying to find words of diplomacy.

Oh fuck diplomacy, this is Ruby you're talking to.

‘What?' Ruby asks.

‘Well, isn't she a little slimmer than you?'

‘Cow,' Ruby replies laughing. ‘But yes, you're right, she is, only slightly though. However, I have a secret weapon every woman should own, unless of course they're stick insects like you two.'

She waves her hand dismissively at Cassie and me and stands
up,
crossing both hands across her voluptuous breasts before moving them downwards towards her waist. She swings her hips from side to side, Marilyn Monroe style. ‘See, don't you think I'm looking rather svelte?' Ruby continues, her voice suddenly hot and breathy.

I study the form of my fine female friend. Her glorious curves remain sumptuously obvious but her profile is … how can I describe it … smooth. In fact, she has less lumps and bumps than me.

‘Spanx,' Ruby says simply, ‘big fat Bridget Jones knickers. They push everything up and iron everything out. I can't breathe or eat but I look bloody brilliant.'

‘You really do,' I reply, but why so dressed up to go shopping with a teenager?'

‘Are you kidding?' she says pointing at Cassie, ‘just look at her for god sake. Can't have this little minx outdoing me can I?' She winks at Cassie, but the twinkle in her eye doesn't escape me.

‘Okay, I still don't understand though?'

Cassie begins her story with great enthusiasm. Her projectile vocabulary spews across my head, splashes around my ears and crashes through my thoughts. Barely pausing for breath she's both vociferous and excitable.

I'm informed that Ruby has been aware of her resemblance to Francoise Libert for some time. She is also very good friends with some of the staff at Catalina's. Especially, and in particular, the waiter serving them, who incidentally also has a brother who works as a chauffeur for a specialist car hire Company.

Cassie's storytelling is intermittently dispersed with a furtive array of strange sounds from her phone that appears to increase tenfold as the story goes on. Apparently news travels fast when you're friends with a fashion designer. Cassie continues with her rapid teenage download of information. She explains that her
friends
Phoebe and Joe also came into the same restaurant as she and Ruby, along with
the
school queen of celebrity herself, Chelsea Divine and her equally popular brother Ollie.

Cassie, dying of embarrassment and unaware of Ruby's idea, sat nervous and fidgeting as Ruby called Luca, the good looking Italian waiter, over. They talked quietly between themselves, Cassie at this point not privy to the conversation. Several minutes later Luca approached Chelsea's table and spoke to its occupants.

‘I didn't know it at the time,' Cassie continues with the child-like enthusiasm of one that has just seen Father Christmas for the first time, ‘but he told them he couldn't help but notice that they were looking over at our table, so asked them kindly not to stare at Madame Libert and on no account must they approach her for an autograph or anything as she was out with her goddaughter and she didn't have much time before she flew back to Paris. I don't think they believed him at first coz they just kept looking over at us and laughing.'

Cassie then goes on to explain that after pretending to come off the phone, Luca then delivered a message to Ruby, but addressed her of course as Madame Libert. He spoke in a very loud voice saying that a Ms McCartney, unable to get a reply when ringing Madame Libert's mobile, was now on the restaurant phone for her.

Cassie's face is flushed with excitement. ‘You should have seen their faces Mum. Pheebs gave me a look that said “why the hell have you never told me this before?” and Chelsea just looked … shocked. I swear she didn't close her mouth for like at least ten minutes.'

Cassie pauses to hurriedly take a gulp of water. ‘Then Luca brought the phone to our table and Ruby answered it, speaking English but with like this shamazing French accent. She then like proceeded to have a ten minute conversation with no-one
on
the other end, laughing and joking and constantly referring to Stella.' Cassie stops for a moment and looks at me. ‘You have heard of Stella McCartney right?'

‘Yes Cassie,' I reply slightly amused, ‘I have heard of Stella McCartney but can
you
tell me who her Dad is?'

‘Duh,' she says, ‘Paul, that Beatle bloke. Anyway, in the meantime my phone's like going crazy coz Pheebs is like texting me, and Chelsea and Joe – all of them in fact. I didn't think they'd fall for it, but they did, they really did. Then, while Ruby's talking – but not really of course – to Stella she says something like, “Yes, yes, qui, my goddaughter, she izzzz soooo beautiful, so nat-u-rel. So many of zis girls ere are, ow you say it,” and she looks straight at Chelsea and says, “fake”.'

Cassie rambles on, desperate to reveal the finale of their devious tale of deceit. ‘Then, Luca the waiter declares – again loud enough for everyone to hear – that our car has arrived. I look out of the huge glass window and you'll never guess what pulls up outside for us?'

‘No, I probably wouldn't Cassie,' I reply.

‘A limousine,' she declares. ‘A black stretch limo. For us! Of course it wasn't really for us,' she gushes, ‘it was Luca's brother Giovanni driving. He had to pick someone up from the airport or something but as a favour to Ruby,' Cassie nods and smiles at Ruby, ‘he picked us up on the way.'

I raise my eyes a little. ‘And what pray did Ruby have to do in return for
such
a big favour?' I ask. Judging by the look on Ruby's face the sarcasm in my voice isn't lost on her, but it completely washes over Cassie.

‘Then, just as we were leaving Ruby kissed Luca on each cheek and clapped her hands together like well quick, three times and said, “Come Cassee, we ave to leev”. Then she like looked across at Chelsea's table and shaking her head and tutting said something like, “Non, non, non, some peepel really ave no dress
sense”.
She was like shamazing Mum.'

Cassie turns to look at Ruby. ‘That was like one of the best days of my life, like ever,' she coos. ‘Well sick. I still can't believe they all fell for it!'

Ruby smiles at Cassie who then looks down at her phone to address yet another text.

‘I'm glad you had fun Cas,' Ruby replies.

I smile at Cassie and Ruby but a tiny current of jealousy ripples across my heart.

Cassie looks up from her phone, half-smiling, and half-frowning. ‘Why do they believe it though?' she asks. ‘Why do they actually believe that me, a nobody, could possibly be friends with a famous person?'

I'm both angry and saddened at Cassie's opinion of herself.

‘Right, let's make this clear Cassie – you are not a “nobody” but a “somebody”. We all are and it is people like Chelsea and her brother and their parents that see the world as the Somebodies versus the Nobodies. To them it's all about rank and status. Rank seeks status and fame and status provides acknowledgement of being someone in a society saturated with rankism. However, in that world, indignities and exclusion abound and it's usually heaped on those considered as nobodies.'

‘Here, here,' Ruby says raising her wine glass.

‘What?' Cassie replies. I sigh heavily, wondering if I've actually taught my daughter anything of value.

‘Emily Dickinson wrote…'

‘Oh god no, not more English crap,' Cassie says rolling her eyes but I carry on regardless.

‘Wrote:

I'm a nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?

That there's a pair of us – don't tell. They'd banish us, you know
.'

Cassie
looks thoughtful for a moment. ‘Hmmmmm. Soooo, what you're saying is, Chelsea can only function in a world full of the Somebodies versus the Nobodies, as long as she's a Somebody coz that gives her status and as fame gives you status …'

‘And rank,' I add.

‘Yeah, that too. So like, it was easier for her to believe than not to believe?'

‘Yes, that's exactly it. Fame promises escape from indignity. It quiets those internalised critical voices like classmates, teachers and friends. Having a friend like you – who happens to know someone famous – makes her a quasi-somebody, which, in her eyes, is far better than being a nobody.

‘Hmmmmm. Okay. Sick,' Cassie replies. ‘I think I understand. She's just shallow, like Dad?

Ruby and I look at one another.

‘Don't keep protecting him Mum. I know it's true and you know it's true.'

I do know it's true Cassie but how can I put him down in front of you when half the blood that runs through your veins comes from him?

‘Look, all I'm saying is, don't let anyone
ever
put you down. You are, regardless of what anyone else says or thinks, somebody. And the key to killing status and rankism – the source of most of the social dysfunction of human society today – is recognition of that. We are all somebody and all worthy of recognition and dignity, rich or poor, famous or not. Okay?'

Cassie throws me a slightly annoyed, slightly quizzical look. ‘Okay Mum, I get it for god's bloody sake.'

Cassie checks the caller ID on her phone and smirks. ‘I have to get this,' she says and gets up to leave the kitchen. Her feet thud heavily on the stairs and she's mumbling some incoherent teenage babble into her phone as she disappears into her
bedroom
with the usual slam of the door.

I turn to look at Ruby. ‘And you said I should have been an actress?'

‘Well, it was all just a bit of fun,' she says laughing.

I reach for the bottle of wine and pour us both another glass.

‘Now c'mon tell me, you can't kid a kidder, what's the real reason you're all dressed up?'

Chapter 12

TESLA GIRLS

LIZZIE

‘Oh, I just really don't get it Lizzie, let's just face it I'm too old for this world of technology.'

‘Of course you're not Mrs Lambert,' I reply, ‘you're never too old to learn anything new.'

‘That's easy for you to say,' she replies, ‘but I am 84 you know?'

‘I know, and just look at you, you're amazing, a real inspiration.'

‘Well, thank you dear, that's very kind of you to say so, and please, don't call me Mrs Lambert, call me Beryl, but sometimes I just feel overwhelmed with all this technology. When I look back to when I was a gal I really can't believe how different things are. When you're old, like me, the past is a place I don't recognise, a different world if you like.'

Mrs Beryl Lambert is one the Library's older, long serving customers, recently signed up to one of our computer courses. She completely vindicates and values the role of Libraries within the community but is thoroughly suspicious of the implementation of new technology. Especially if she feels, as she did with the new self-issue machines, it is technology replacing human beings, which in turn equates to the loss of people's jobs and incomes.

During the library's most recent and third restructure in almost as many years, it was Mrs Lambert that led a petition of
some
several thousand signatures, against reduced opening hours and more job losses. She then presented it to the local council at the Town Hall. It did cause the council some embarrassment and more than a little unwanted attention but when all was said and done the restructure went ahead anyway.