All That Glitters (5 page)

Ella nodded. She had, but
Cerise
wasn’t her first choice of reading matter – she preferred trashy magazines where she could secretly scour photos of celebrities’ bodies for imperfections. And even though Ella knew most of the gossip in some magazines was embellished almost to the point of untruthfulness, she didn’t care. Tacky magazines like
Heat
and
Now
were pure escapism, and didn’t require much thought.

Magazines like
Cerise
, however, did.

It was high fashion, high intelligence, and one of those magazines that Ella never really bothered to look at because it didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humour. Not that she’d dare tell anyone at the magazine that.

Lucy smiled briskly. ‘Brilliant. Anyway, Tatiana’s our fashion editor, and she’ll be leading this column. She’s out on a shoot right now, but she should be back in an hour or so.’ Lucy looked at her vintage Cartier tank watch and frowned slightly.

‘So what we want you to do is pick out six outfits from the rail – although we’re only going to publish four – and when Tatiana gets here you’ll get a car down to the studio. You need to make sure they’re related to a something based in current affairs – and you can discuss that with Tatty later. There’s a make-up and hair team all ready to go, and we’ll shoot you in the outfits.’

‘Okay, that sounds good,’ Ella said in a small voice. Lucy was one of the best editors in the country, and even though she was being perfectly friendly, Ella was still intimidated. Lucy was a career woman who’d worked hard for everything she’d earned. In comparison Ella had just married Danny.

‘Right, well, I’ll see you later then. Have fun,’ Lucy chirruped, and then Ella was left alone and in front of a rail filled with next season’s clothes. Her hands trailed over a Burberry Prorsum tuxedo jacket, a silk-mousseline blouse from Fendi, a grey Stella McCartney cashmere sweater, white Helmut Lang skinny jeans, and a Matthew Williamson beaded chiffon gown. Ella sighed in pleasure. She may not be pursuing her dream of starting her own business any more, but there was definitely a buzz that only working provided, and it was coming back to her now, in droves.

She could do this.

‘That’s right, now tilt your head down slightly, a bit to your left . . . that’s perfect. Hold it.’

Ella stood still in front of the muslin backdrop, and hoped that the hot lights wouldn’t smudge her make-up. She’d had photographs taken before, of course, but nothing like this. She was being treated like a professional model, and it was just so much fun. There were two people there to do her make-up, one hairdresser, and the photographer himself had three assistants, who rushed around taking light measurements and calling out numbers from a computer. It was glamorous, exciting, and exactly how she imagined a photographer’s studio to be like, right down to the tiny canapés and bottles of Evian laid out on a table to the side.

‘Now swing your hip a little and look directly at me. Come on Ella, look like you want to fuck me but in an ice-cold model way,’ the photographer said in a husky voice.

Ella pouted and then burst out laughing, and the photographer snapped away. She was wearing a ripped Wildfox tank vest, tight leather biker trousers from Alexander McQueen, super-high Giuseppe Zanotti ruched boots, and a Vivienne Westwood silver ring that had been sprayed with Swarovski crystals. Her hair had been tousled and backcombed, and lashings of smoky eyeliner made her violet eyes pop.

It was a sexy, aggressive rock-chick look, and something she’d never dare wear as Danny Riding’s wife.

She loved it.

‘Just a couple more frames to go,’ the photographer announced, and Ella moved in time with the background music, letting the pink lights overhead shine through her glossy hair. She was having the time of her life.

‘And that, my darling, is a wrap.’

Tatiana – the fashion editor for
Cerise
– put down her cup of coffee and walked from the back of the studio over to Ella. She was clapping.

‘That was brilliant.’ Tatiana smiled. ‘You’re a natural, and from the shots I saw on the computer, the camera loves you. And you really nailed that last outfit; you should wear pieces like that more often, and think about doing more modelling.’

Ella looked down at her ripped top and laughed. ‘I’m not sure I could really get away with wearing this on the football terraces . . . although that dove Donna Karan dress would be perfect for a dinner party. I loved how the wisps of silk and chiffon softened the structure of it. It was beautiful.’

Tatiana nodded. She’d thought the same thing when Ella had been modelling it. The light grey of the dress had made her look sophisticated and classy. She really was a world away from the other footballers’ wives.

‘And before I collapse with exhaustion, I just wanted to say thank you for letting me do this. It’s been so much fun to choose all these outfits and shoot them. It’s been like a long day of dressing up.’

‘A
really
long day,’ Tatiana agreed. ‘I know it’s pressing ten p.m., but I’d really like to get some quotes from you on each of the outfits . . . you know, the inspiration behind them, where you’d wear them, and why you think they’re revelant.’

‘No problem!’ Ella said happily. And it really wasn’t. Because even though Ella was shattered, she was having the time of her life and she didn’t want it to end. She loved fashion and had always been addicted to the high street, but since marrying Danny she’d really been able to indulge herself in it, and was starting to get to know and understand the designer pieces that inspired hundreds of high street copies.

‘You know, I really liked how you put the Donna Karan with the Louboutin ankle boots,’ Tatiana mused, as she concentrated on the photos. ‘You must have picked up some tips from your stylist.’

‘Oh, I don’t have a stylist,’ Ella said. ‘I never have done.’

Tatiana looked up at Ella thoughtfully. ‘But you always look so well put together when you get snapped by the paparazzi.’

Ella smiled and shrugged. ‘I just like clothes, I suppose. For years I couldn’t afford anything designer, and dressed quite scruffily. But I love fashion. Not the way-out, wearing-clashing-stuff kind of fashion, but I adore beautifully made clothes.’

‘Well, if you ever decide to make a career for yourself, you could definitely work as a stylist,’ Tatiana said. ‘Or even a personal shopper.’

‘Really?’ Ella said in delight. Okay, so she’d always dreamed of making it as an entrepreneur, but it was cool that a fashion editor thought she was good enough to make a career for herself in clothes.

Tatiana laughed. ‘Well, if you weren’t married to Danny Riding, you could. I can’t imagine getting a job would ever be good for your reputation, or his. People would think Danny wasn’t earning enough.’

Ella concentrated hard on ensuring her smile didn’t fade away. Tatiana was right, of course. Who needed a job, or a business to call one’s own, when you were married to one of the top footballers in the country? Working in fashion was just something Ella had to do for the Riding ‘brand’, and even though she’d enjoyed it, she knew she’d never be able make a career for herself out of fashion, or anything else. She’d promised Danny that she’d be there for him, that she’d play a supporting role in his career.

She tried not to wonder if in making that decision she’d also made a mistake.

Chapter Four

‘It was so brilliant!’ Ella exclaimed happily, as she recounted the day before over dinner with her husband. ‘I got to put together a couple of designer outfits, and then I spent the whole day modelling them. Tatiana, the fashion editor for the magazine, said if I wanted to, I could probably work as a stylist. She thinks I have a really good eye for it.’

Danny forked a piece of fresh pasta into his mouth and smiled. ‘Babes, that’s fantastic. I’m so pleased you loved it. Aaron wasn’t sure if you were going to get on with it. He suggested you’d be more comfortable on a less highbrow magazine, but I knew you’d enjoy it. The feedback Aaron had was really good, too, and he’s already had preliminary talks with the magazine about getting you to do it more often – when we need a bit of a PR boost.’

‘That would be amazing.’ Ella smiled. ‘Putting together outfits and modelling just felt so natural. Deep down I know it’s not something I could make a career out of, and because of that it felt so different to running Sweet Dreams – I didn’t have to worry about profit margins, or food measurements, or distribution points . . . all I had to do was put some clothes together and model them. It didn’t even feel like work because it was so much fun. Does that make sense?’

Danny nodded. ‘It’s how I feel when I’m on the pitch. When we’re doing training sessions it can be bloody hard graft, but it’s worth it when we’re playing and thousands of people are chanting our names. When we win a game it’s indescribable. It’s that adrenaline – that addictive buzz of performing and being the best you can be – that keeps us hooked. I can’t imagine doing anything else.’

Ella and Danny beamed at each other across the table. They didn’t just understand each other, they
got
each other, and that was what marriage was all about.

‘God, if I got to hang out at
Cerise
a bit more I’d be over the moon,’ Ella continued. ‘I know I don’t want to start my own company again, but I want to use my brain a bit more. I want to
do
something.’

Danny took a sip of his orange juice and paused for a moment. ‘I’m glad you feel that way, but remember, you’re doing this stuff at
Cerise
for a reason – because it’s “strategic positioning” of our brand, or something . . . not because we’re pushing you to have a career on the side. And there’s something else Aaron wants you to do too. It’s kind of a big deal.’

Ella put her fork down as she swallowed the last of her supper. ‘What is it?’

‘Well . . . The
Sunday Times
wants to do a profile piece on you. Really high end. It’s a great opportunity for you to talk about yourself and show how you’re of a different mould to the other wives.’

‘Wow,’ Ella marvelled. All thoughts of working at
Cerise
were forgotten. ‘That’s amazing. I thought you were going to tell me I had to do something awful.’

‘Would we ever ask you to do something awful?’ Danny teased. ‘The thing about this is, if you can win over the journalist and get them to write a really good profile of you,
Cerise
will probably want you even more. Or other magazines.’

Ella bit her lip. ‘Really? How does that work if I’m not going to have a job?’

‘Aaron said that if a quality newspaper does a piece on you, that it makes you look like quality. He says all the other WAGs just want bikini shots in the
Daily Mail
and the
Sun
, so this will make you stand out. Plus, the
Sunday Times
has a fashion magazine or something—’

‘
Style
?’ interrupted Ella.

‘Yes, that’s the one. Well, Aaron says if
Cerise
isn’t interested in having you do stuff every so often,
Style
probably will be. So by agreeing to be in the newspaper it looks like you’re talking to lots of publications. Apparently it will make
Cerise
– or any other magazine – quicker to say yes every time Aaron wants you to do stuff for them.’

Ella nodded thoughtfully. She could see how that would work.

‘Aaron’s PR offensive seems to be working with you, but now that he’s looking after both of us, he’s really busy. He’s thinking about taking someone on to help out. What do you think? Do you think you could be comfortable with someone else handling you, so long as Aaron oversees whoever does it?’

‘Of course I would,’ Ella said, and it was true. Even though Aaron was a bully, she respected him, and they both had the same goal: to make sure Danny’s career was as successful as it could be.

‘Great, I’ll tell Aaron you’re cool with it, and he’ll start looking for someone to hire. It will probably be a man; is that okay with you?’

Ella leant back in her chair. ‘Sounds good to me,’ she said honestly. If she could get some work at
Cerise
– even if it was on Aaron’s terms and timings – she was going to be even busier, and having someone around to keep her organised and help would be brilliant.

God, she thought. She really was lucky. Now all she had to do was win over the journalist from the paper, and take it from there.

‘Wow, this is some place,’ Jim remarked as he looked around the Ridings’ drawing room. The Palladian-style high ceilings showed off understated, decorative cornicing, and the room’s perfect symmetry – along with the pale colour scheme of ivory and Wedgwood blue – made it feel effortlessly chic. Oriental rugs had been laid carefully on the oak floor, and pieces by Chippendale and Hepplewhite faced the marble fireplace. It was a ridiculously formal room, and Ella felt a little uncomfortable in it.

‘Can I get you some tea? Some coffee?’ Ella asked the journalist nervously, as Jim pulled his MP3 recorder and a notebook from his satchel. He was a big, burly man and he looked a little out of place on the delicate wooden chair he was sitting on.

‘I’m fine,’ he assured Ella. He’d interviewed all sorts of people – mainly footballers, sporting heroes, or movie stars – but he’d never come across anyone like Ella Riding before. He normally got the measure of people pretty quickly, but he couldn’t quite work her out. She wasn’t the sort of WAG he usually encountered. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself, just to get you relaxed.’

Ella bit her lip thoughtfully. Where to begin? She nervously rattled off some bullet points about her childhood (born in Essex, grew up in Hertfordshire), and then let herself trail off. Jim saw she wasn’t quite sure what to say and jumped in with a question.

‘Rumour has it Danny’s in line to be the new England captain next year – what’s it like being married to him right now, while he’s on the cusp of turning into a Three Lions legend?’

Ella smiled. ‘It’s a dream come true,’ she said honestly. ‘Danny’s a great player, and I’m honoured to be his wife, and to stand by his side during his football journey. I’m lucky to be part of it.’ So far, so bland: perfect understated-wife-of-a-football-player.