The Look of Love (14 page)

The waiter approached and Bella studied the menu. Difficult. The others ordered but still Bella dithered.

‘Tricky, this,’ she began, ‘The thing is …’ She hesitated, then admitted, feeling utterly foolish, ‘I know this sounds completely mad but right now I can only eat white food, so if you could just tell me …’

The young waiter, who was black, snapped in an intensely Caribbean accent, ‘So it won’t be rice and peas or goatwater stew for
you
then, honey. You want spaghetti bolognese or a pie? Safe and European?’

Dominic snickered. She caught Saul giving her a look of horrified disbelief. Oh God, Bella thought, they’ve all totally misunderstood.

‘No, I mean … yes. It could be rice. White rice. But not the peas. I meant
literally
white food. As in chicken, or white bread or plain potatoes, pasta – though not
wholemeal. Sorry.’ Bella felt flustered and more than a bit idiotic.

The waiter shrugged, bored now, indicating that food-fad-wise, he’d just about seen it all. Now in an accent more Bermondsey than Barbados, he said ‘Look, I can get you plain grilled chicken, a risotto …’

‘Actually, that would be lovely, a plain, simple risotto.’ She checked the menu. ‘This one with chicken will be fine but no mushrooms in it, please.’ She felt hot and bothered, knowing she’d have to explain herself and wondering why she hadn’t earlier. Too silly of her, really, but then who didn’t hope to keep their personal vanities private?

When the waiter went, Daisy suddenly removed her sunglasses and touched Bella’s hand. ‘Sensitivity?’ she asked, surprisingly gently. And goodness, what huge blue eyes – why ever did she hide them? She realized Daisy was older than she’d originally thought too, possibly a similar age to herself. The quirkiness of her look had blurred that issue.

‘Yes. In a way.’ Ah – Daisy got it. Of course she did – even fresh snow would look a bit tawdry against her teeth.

‘I understand,
totally
,’ she sympathized, ‘I only do wheat and dairy on alternate days. Tomatoes
never
. And every third week, no carbs for five days. Have you had the Kaz tests? Do you know your Bimelow Reaction
Rating? It makes
all
the difference once you know about that.’

‘Er … no, sorry, I’ve never heard of those.’ Bella glanced at Saul. He was looking at her in a strange way, as if he’d just discovered something about her that was a long, long way from pleasing. What had she done?

‘I don’t have any allergies or food sensitivities at all. It’s just my teeth,’ she explained, feeling she’d been caught out here. ‘I had them whitened by this mad laser treatment a couple of days ago and the dentist warned me not to eat food with any colour in it for three days, because the laser has removed a protective layer and it needs that time to grow back. That’s all. I did it because of this programme.’

Oh why did it sound like an idiotic confession? It was nothing, really, but she felt silly, vain and … caught out.

‘Oh God, is that all?’ Daisy looked disappointed. ‘I thought you had some
really
interesting food issues! Of course, looking at you properly, I can see you probably haven’t.’

‘Daisy!’ Saul warned. ‘Back off now!’ To Bella’s surprise his hand quickly squeezed hers under the table. It was a very welcome reassurance and made her feel much better.

‘OK, sorry, sweetie!’ Daisy sighed. ‘I’m just feeling a tad mid-season today. September is a difficult time in
this business. You can’t move anyone on to autumn/winter while the sun’s still blazing, and yet linen, for example, is so
over
once the August bank holiday has gone. Do you see?’ This was aimed at Bella. It felt like a test. But in fact Bella did see, sort of. Her ever-stylish mother would see even better, she thought.

‘I think so. Though surely it doesn’t matter that much?’ Daisy took a sharp intake of breath, as if Bella had committed some deep heresy. Perhaps she had. She tried to make amends. ‘I suppose it’s similar to how my mother always swears you absolutely
cannot
wear velvet after New Year, even though the winter has barely set in.’

‘Oh she’s absolutely right!’ Daisy smiled. ‘Gosh, what a star she must be. You don’t take after her, then?’ Bella experienced the same kind of nettle-sting moment that she’d had with Charlotte only days before. This one wasn’t so uncomfortable though, for how could she take seriously any clothes-sniping from a woman in a coat that she could wear to a fancy-dress party as the Honey Monster? Oh, the curse of being habitually polite. If only she was the manners-free kind of bitch who could come right out and say it.

‘So what are our other victims like?’ Daisy asked as the food arrived. ‘Because frankly you’re a bit of a let-down, I don’t mind telling you, Bella.’

‘Daisy!’ Saul protested. ‘Play nicely, please.’

‘I
do
quite mind being told it, actually,’ Bella retorted.

‘Good for you,’ Saul muttered. ‘Don’t take any crap.’

Dominic leaned back against his chair, saying nothing. His silence was a bit unnerving, but maybe he knew better than to cross Daisy. Bella now felt thoroughly unfazed –
no way
did she any longer intend to go through this ridiculous charade. They could, she decided, use her house and the rest of the writers’ group in it, but she wasn’t going to be sneered at by bloody Daisy.

‘Look – I’m sure you can do this without me … there are others …’

‘No, really, don’t go dropping out now.’ Saul squeezed her hand again beneath the table.

‘Hell no, don’t do that!’ Daisy smiled sweetly. ‘It’s just that this is the problem, isn’t it? You don’t look
too
bad as you are. I only meant, what’s to change? We can tweak at the basics – your hair is desperate, frankly, but otherwise you already seem to have a teeny clue how to put an outfit together.’ Bella softened, feeling slightly wrong-footed. Then Daisy got back on form with, ‘For an amateur, that is, obviously! It’s just that there won’t be quite that
oh wow
factor at the end of the show that a
really
extreme change would make. Still, we can work on something, I’m sure. Frump you up a bit at the start, maybe. And sometimes it’s the small things that make the difference. A good handbag would pull you together – and colour counselling. I mean, we’re working on the
whole person here, and realistic solutions. We’re not doing a
Ten Years Younger
scenario.’ She shuddered. ‘Ugh – all those frizzy-haired people who’ve never looked after their teeth or even
exfoliated
. Imagine.’

‘So what are the others like?’ Saul asked. ‘I know we get to meet them soon, but you could give Daisy and Dominic some handling tips. Do any of them bite?’

Bella pulled flat-leafed parsley out of her risotto, feeling like a picky child eater. She loved it normally, but worried about how rigidly she had to stick to Mr Ruben’s instructions. If she accidentally ate it, would her teeth be stained dark green?

‘Well …’ Bella thought of Dina with her long, straggly, greying hair. Dina didn’t approve of hair colourants, couldn’t be bothered with make-up. And Phyl, whose skin was as smoke-ravaged as Dominic’s. And Jules’s saddlebags. But then there was Zoe, who was so Boden-cute and fresh-faced that it would be hard even to want to tweak her look.

‘Er … I think one or two could be a challenge!’ she assured them.

‘Oh good! That’s what I like to hear.’ Daisy grinned. ‘Something to get my teeth into.’

‘Now that,’ Saul leaned close and murmured to Bella, ‘is exactly what I’m slightly afraid of.’

There was just enough broadband signal for Molly to use the Internet on her laptop in the garden, so long as she stayed close to the kitchen and didn’t go to the bench at the far end under the trees – her favourite sunny outdoor spot. Nick was in the kitchen, screwing handles shaped like big silver starfish on to the new kitchen units.

She scrolled through her Facebook updates and seethed (yet again) about Aimee’s from the day before, which crowed:
I know something that you don’t know
. The timing was all she needed to know exactly what Aimee was talking about. She’d made a play for Giles and was winding Molly up. Aimee must have raced up Station Road straight from pressing her fat dimply thighs against Giles on the bus and Molly could just see her hurtling into the house, straight to the computer to
drop just enough of a clue that would be guaranteed to rile a rival. And it was working. Was it ever. Cow. Giles was away on a two-day field trip but she’d text him, see if he was contactable out there in the Welsh hills, and try very, very hard not to ask what foul suggestions Aimee had made to him. Oh, but they wouldn’t be
suggestions
, would they? Nothing so subtle from a girl who’d been caught on camera giving a blow job to Carly’s boyfriend (ex now, obviously) by the bins at the back of Pizza Express.

Molly felt depressed, as if she were the one who was all wrong and acting difficult. Giles might well casually add himself to Aimee’s other-people’s-boyfriends total, just because of her simple lack of complication. Aimee wouldn’t be picky about a venue for sex.
She
wouldn’t be holding out for a warm, romantic atmosphere and peace and low lights and the right music and only a
little
bit of alcohol and someone who’d say they loved her and make it something special. She just wanted another notch on her broomstick, and to be able to look at you with that sneering, smirking, ‘OK follow
that
’ expression.

‘Oh isn’t it lovely and quiet at the end of the day! Those men, I thought they’d never stop bashing the kitchen around.’ Shirley came out and sat beside Molly, putting two mugs of tea on the table.

‘Here you are darling, I thought you might like a
drink. Nick’s moved the kettle into the utility room while he paints the walls, bless him, so we can still be human.’

‘Thanks Gran, good thinking. Looking amazing in there, isn’t it?’

‘It is. And it all works. I thought we’d be left with pretend taps, no sink and a cardboard worktop painted to look like granite. But no, it’s all genuine – they surely can’t be expecting to break it down after and take it all away again. Bella would be mad to let them, whatever the cost. Why can’t real workmen get it done that fast? You’d be talking about weeks normally. This is like those shops that get an entire refit over a Sunday. I did think your mother was a bit crazy, going in for all this just so someone can tell her a lot of rubbish about what to wear. I mean, if she doesn’t know by now … but the house is getting the benefit, at least. So, Moll darling, what are you doing? Homework?’ Shirley sneaked a quick look at the screen. ‘Or socializing?’

Molly smiled. ‘Bit of both! Just about to work on a Jane Austen essay but I thought I’d see who’s on Facebook first.’

‘Ah – Facebook. I’m going to give that a go some time soon. I’ve got so many people I’ve met when I’m travelling and I’m sure it would be easier to keep up with them this way. The whole world seems to be in there.’

‘Not quite everyone does it,’ Molly told her. ‘We’ve got this girl at school, Olivia. Her parents don’t approve of computers and they don’t even have a television. Half the time Liv hasn’t a clue what we’re talking about.’

‘Parents can be so thoughtless,’ Shirley said. ‘I can see they might not want to be slaves to the media, but it’s terribly unfair to inflict your prejudices on your children if the result is social isolation.’

‘Oh, Liv goes online at school. But she has to do all her homework in the library cos she can’t do it on a computer at home. I think her folks would really like her to write with a quill pen and ink that you dunk into.’

‘Well, so long as she knows how the technology works, I suppose she’ll be all right. So are you Facebook friends with absolutely everyone you see every day anyway? Is there any point when you see them all the time?’

‘You sort of have to be, really,’ Molly laughed. ‘If someone from school asks you to be their Facemate you don’t say no. It’s manners. Even if later you hate them, you still leave them on the list because
un
friending them is too drama-queen and … what’s that lovely word you used to say I did?’

‘You used to
flounce
,’ Shirley reminded her. ‘When you were about fourteen you made a point of being quarrelsome during meals. Rather than lose an argument you’d scrape your chair back and flounce out of the room. I
remember worrying you were anorexic and were making an excuse to go and make yourself sick.’

‘Yuck no!’ Molly giggled. ‘I was just being
teenage
.’

‘You’re still teenage!’

‘Not like that.’ It made her smile now to think about it, as if the fourteen-year-old Molly were half a lifetime away from the nearly-eighteen one. How much more would she have changed by the time she was twenty? Would she look back on this being possessive about Giles stage as something completely infantile? She tried the thought that they might still be together, then the possibility of them not being. So much could happen between now and then. So much could happen between now and Saturday, come to that.

‘So who is he?’ Shirley suddenly asked. ‘This boy you’re thinking about. Are you sleeping with him?’

Molly squealed. ‘Gran, aaaagh! Mum was so right – she said you used to be really embarrassing when she was young.’

‘Ah, but am I embarrassing
you
?’

‘No. Um … yeah! Just a bit.’

‘In that case I apologize. And it’s all right, Molly darling, of course you don’t have to answer the other question. That’s your privilege and choice.’

‘No, no it’s OK.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll tell you. He’s Giles and I love him madly, we’ve been going out together for a few months but been schoolmates for,
like, ever? I haven’t slept with him yet but I want to.’ It all came rushing out in a near-garbled blast – she didn’t particularly want to tell Shirley about the Mum-interrupted near miss.

‘If you want to, what’s stopping you? So long as you’re careful …’

Molly laughed. ‘That’s what Mum said!’

‘She
did
? Good heavens! She always used to close her eyes and put her hands over her ears if I ever mentioned the subject when she was your age! So what’s the problem with Giles?’