The Making of Mia
Jo looked out of the window for inspiration and started to run a list of names through her head. The sky was turning to a
beautiful violet from the deep red, and as Jo watched the sun disappear in the horizon a glittering plane caught her eye.
It was preparing to land, and, suddenly preoccupied again by her future, Jo imagined packing up her belongings and heading
back to the horseshoe-shaped airport with Joanne Hill’s passport in her hands. The assistants at check-in would not believe
that the slim, beautiful woman in front of them was the same dumpy, ugly girl in the passport photo, and Jo smiled. From the
moment she stepped on to the plane and away from Miami it would be the beginning of her new life. Miami had been the making
of her, and as Jo remembered the airport’s nickname – MIA for Miami International Airport – she knew what she had to be called.
‘I’m going to be Mia Blackwood,’ Jo said, as she turned back to Gable. ‘It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’
After working for a variety of national newspapers, Ilana Fox currently works at ASOS.com, and looks after all their social
media. She lives in London with her clothes, shoes, bags and boyfriend.
ILANA FOX
For Harry and Nan Fox.
I love you both very, very much.
I told you I’d do it. So there!
Acknowledgements
First I’d like to thank my agents – Michael Sissons and Fiona Petheram at PFD – for everything they’ve done, and for the belief
they had in me. I feel very lucky to have such an amazing team of people on my side.
Thank you to my editor Kate Mills for her inspired and patient editing, Genevieve Pegg for holding my hand over email and
for her advice, and also to Helen Windrath for ironing out the remains of my strange American grammar. I wouldn’t have had
as much fun writing this without you. To everyone at Orion, thank you so much.
To my friends and family, I want to thank Ben Harvey and Natasha Moore for reading every word of the very first draft several
times. Other notables include Naomi and Abi Stern (best cousins in the world, so proud of both of you), Dad and Magda, and
Holly Seddon for just being the best. Also, thank you to: Hannah Weimers, Andre Litwin, Justin Myers, Ewan MacLeod, George
Stern, Christian Martin, Lina Sonne, Sophia Wong, Sarah Graham, Claudia Dutson, Helen Nicholson, Stacey Teale, James Seddon,
Shaun Terriss, Sean Griffin, Chris Chivrall, Anouska Graham, Jamie Griffin, Pete Picton, Danny Dagan, all the Cobra boys,
and my mates at the
Sun
who kept me going – far too many of you to name, but you know who you are. Cheers.
May 2007
Joshua was going to go nuclear, Mia thought, as she sashayed seductively across her living-room to hand him a whisky. As she
leant down to pass him the Tiffany cut-crystal tumbler, she caught sight of herself in the darkness of her floor-to-ceiling
window. She paused slightly as she once again acknowledged just how beautiful she was. Her long limbs were lightly tanned,
her make-up was as fresh as it had been when she’d applied it earlier in the evening, and her cheeks were flushed with anticipation.
Mia smiled softly at Joshua and then walked over to the antique mirror to scrutinise herself properly. Yes, she was stunning,
but there was something about her reflection that made her feel uncomfortable: she was too perfect. Mia remembered how she
used to look, and rather than disliking the memory of her former appearance, she was haunted by an image of a happier, more
carefree girl. As much as she loved her Balenciaga gown, the Cartier garnet and diamond necklace that sparkled against her
neck, and her expensive gold-spun highlights, she’d have been happier in jeans and a sloppy T-shirt. She wanted to be herself
again.
Across the river Big Ben began to chime midnight, and Mia suppressed a tiny smile. It was so apt. This was the moment when
Cinderella turned from the mysterious woman
who stole Prince Charming’s heart back into the put-upon scullery maid, and Mia was about to do the same.
In the mirror Mia could see Joshua walking over to her with a fond expression on his face, and as she turned round he produced
a small Asprey jewellery box and got down on one knee. Mia tried not to look pleased. Joshua really believed that she would
accept his proposal and give up running
Gloss
magazine.
‘Mia Blackwood,’ he announced theatrically in his booming voice, ‘will you marry me?’
It was one of those chick-flick moments that Joshua was so keen on, and as if on cue Joshua flipped the lid to the box to
expose the largest pink princess-cut diamond Mia had ever seen. She tried not to laugh. She’d always known that Joshua traded
in magazine clichés, but this was ridiculously over the top, even for him. His divorce hadn’t even come through yet.
‘Oh, Josh,’ Mia said with a sigh, glancing at the platinum ring with minimal interest. ‘What if I told you that at midnight
I turn from being the beautiful princess into one of the ugly sisters? Would you still love me then?’ Mia scrutinised Joshua’s
face while keeping hers as emotionless as possible. She sounded like she was in a play, but she knew it fitted the situation
perfectly.
Joshua laughed patronisingly, and scooped Mia up into his arms.
‘You and your fairy stories,’ he said, kissing Mia’s nose affectionately. Mia slithered from his grip in a quiet rage and
took a deep breath. She was going in for the kill.
‘Joshua, I’m serious.’ Mia’s eyes glinted with steely determination. ‘You sit in your gilded office and think you know everyone
and everything, but how much do you really know about me? I’m willing to bet you haven’t a clue about the secret in my past.’
Joshua burst out laughing. ‘“Secret in your past”? Why the melodrama, darling, and what on earth are you talking about?’ Joshua
took Mia’s hands in his and smiled. ‘Did you once make a porn movie in Hollywood when you were helping your brother start
his career? Might I have seen it?’ Joshua’s tone was light, but Mia knew he was worried. He couldn’t have a wife with any
skeletons in her closet. ‘Because I’d rather like to watch you having sex … especially considering you’ve been making me wait
all this time.’
Mia’s green eyes narrowed and her voice turned to ice. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, and Joshua stopped laughing as he saw
how serious the beautiful woman in front of him was. ‘Take a closer look at me, Josh,’ she said with slight menace in her
tone. ‘Don’t you remember me? Because after all this time I never forgot you.’
Seven years earlier
April 2000
‘Joanne Hill!’
Jo had been starting to fall asleep at her desk when she heard her name being barked out in front of the whole class. She
groaned inwardly and quickly looked up at her least favourite teacher. It didn’t matter if she was daydreaming about running
a magazine or was paying as much attention as was humanly possible – Miss Montgomery never failed to sniff out weakness, especially
when it came to her. As the teacher shot an icy glare in her direction, some of the more popular girls in the English class
began to giggle, and Jo felt her face start to flush. She hated herself for being an easy target, and was aware – for the
thousandth time – that her street accent and second-hand, oversized uniform marked her out as someone who didn’t quite belong.
It didn’t matter that she’d been at the exclusive boarding school for seven years – people still relished gossiping about
her background, often making up wild rumours when they got bored of the truth. Jo didn’t care that her mother lived on a council
estate and worked in a call centre, but she hated the others making crude jokes about it on top of everything else.
‘Yes, Miss Montgomery?’ Jo asked in a quiet voice, hoping that if she stayed calm and measured she’d not draw any more attention
to herself. It didn’t work. Every eye in the classroom turned towards her, and Jo knew they were
scrutinising her double chins and rolls of fat as well as her bright red cheeks and lack of make-up.
‘Can you give me an example of brotherly love in
Hamlet
?’ Miss Montgomery snapped impatiently, and she raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Jo felt like screaming about how unfair it all was. Even though she normally loved English, she had to admit that she’d not
read the play – she’d been up until 4 a.m. on deadline to finish an article for
Saint,
the school magazine, and had completely forgotten about her homework. Jo racked her brain to think of something that could
deflect everyone’s attention from her and back to the teacher.
‘Is it when Hamlet’s brother dives in front of a bullet – no, a sword – like a bodyguard, miss?’ Jo hesitated, wondering if
it really was a good idea to suggest that the seminal moment of a low-budget, made-for-TV film was on par with a Shakespearian
play. The roar of laughter from the bitchier girls proved it wasn’t, and Jo wanted to slide under her desk and hide. She hadn’t
meant to be humorous.
‘You think you’re so funny, don’t you, Joanne, but your poor excuse for wit doesn’t disguise the fact you’ve not bothered
to do your homework,’ Miss Montgomery spat, her dislike for Jo apparent. ‘So what were you doing last night that was more
important than studying for your A-levels?’
Miss Montgomery began walking around the front of the classroom, and all the girls kept their eyes on her, enjoying the performance.
Apparently, before she came to teach at St Christopher’s School for Girls in Buckinghamshire, she’d been a journalist on a
local paper, clawing her way up the career ladder with her red-lacquered nails until redundancy meant she had to give it up.
Teaching and lodging at a private boarding school clearly made more sense financially, but the teacher was still bitter that
her career had ended so soon after it had begun, and she hated Jo Hill for her almost naïve
determination to succeed in journalism. Miss Montgomery flipped her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and then surveyed
the rest of the class with her kohl-rimmed green eyes.
‘Well?’
Jo hesitated, not wanting to tell the truth because she couldn’t stand it if someone derided her dedication to
Saint
, but not knowing what to say instead. But it was too late – one of the others swooped in for the kill.
