The Making of Mia (18 page)

April 2004

‘Sorry to disturb you, but would you like a glass of champagne?’ A haughty voice cut through Jo’s thoughts and she opened
her eyes. She’d been so busy thinking about Joshua Garnet that she’d momentarily forgotten she was on a plane, and she gripped
the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Jo knew she was being desperately unsophisticated compared to the other
passengers in business class, but she couldn’t help it. It was her first-ever flight.

‘That would be great, thanks,’ Jo said.

The hostess slowly took in how Jo’s stomach folded over her waistband, how her thighs strained against her jogging bottoms
and how her grown-out hair was tatty at the ends. If Jo hadn’t been feeling so out of place and jumpy she’d have glared back
defiantly, openly mocking the hostess’s thick orange foundation and obvious blow-job lips.

‘I’m sorry, but I have to check your passport for proof of age,’ she said with an amused glance, and Jo looked at her incredulously
before digging out her passport, flashing her year of birth and noticing the smirk that the hostess gave Jo’s passport photo.
Jo cringed inwardly and tried not to let it bother her. The harsh white light of the photo booth had caught her face at a
bad angle and her chins looked treble
their normal size. In her photograph Jo looked like a whale, an enormous, ugly freak.

As the hostess concentrated on pouring a glass of champagne, Jo tried to imagine what Florida would be like, but she couldn’t
stop thinking about Joshua and everyone back at Garnet Publishing. Jo leant back in her chair and closed her eyes again. For
the past ten minutes she’d been fantasising about marching into Garnet Tower and telling everyone that Joshua Garnet had been
fucking Marina Stone, who he had clearly seduced when she had recently posed for
DG
magazine. The cover had been
DG
’s most successful as Marina had been photographed on all fours wearing nothing but Swarovski crystals scattered on her honey-coloured
skin. Her full breasts hung from her taut, smooth body, her glossy red lips were slightly open, and her eyes were glazed.
If the rumours were to be believed Marina always got high for shoots so she could lose her inhibitions, and true to form the
cover of the magazine was strictly top shelf.

Joshua had hung a blown-up image of that particular cover in his office, something that seemed an obvious thing for a publisher
to do at the time, but was loaded with meaning in retrospect. Jo grinned to herself as she imagined using it as evidence of
Joshua’s infidelity, but as she imagined what Harold Garnet’s reaction would be, her smile faded. The old man would refuse
to listen to her despite the evidence she produced – he’d want to think his company was safe in his son’s hands, that Joshua
was solid, dependable, and had given up chasing jailbait. Harold Garnet would never believe her over his son in a million
years.

‘Jo, Jo, over here!’ Amelia’s voice rang out in the air-conditioned airport lounge, and as soon as Jo spotted her she suddenly
felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Amelia was toned, brown and gorgeous, with natural blonde highlights
streaking hair that had grown so long it skirted the top of her bottom and completely covered her perky breasts. She was wearing
tiny denim cut-off shorts and a faded grey vest with no bra. She looked great. In comparison to her friend Jo felt fat, lumpy
and pale, but she pushed her distaste about her body to the back of her mind as Amelia ran towards her with a huge smile.

‘I thought you were never going to appear! We’ve been waiting here for absolutely ages, and I was beginning to wonder if I
got the time wrong …’

As Amelia made small talk she quickly cast her eyes over Jo and tried not to let her surprise show. Jo had regained a lot
of her weight and looked drawn – she was a shadow of the sparkling girl she’d seen a year ago, and she looked like she’d been
defeated by life. She was wearing saggy-looking jogging bottoms and a tired T-shirt, and Amelia wondered what had happened
to the girl who had been the secret star of
Gloss
, the girl who had revelled in being in a glamorous, picture-perfect world. As Jo gave her a warm smile, Amelia resolved to
make her shine again. With the Longboat Key sunshine and lack of nightlife, fast pace or anything to do, it wouldn’t be that
hard – after all, it had done the trick for her, she thought, as images of Charlie rushed through her head without warning.
Amelia felt a slight touch on her elbow, and she turned round, banishing her ex-boyfriend from her mind. She grinned at the
man standing next to her.

‘Jo, this is Jackson,’ Amelia said proudly, as the man shook Jo’s hand firmly and gave her a flash of exquisite white teeth.
He looked like a movie star. ‘He’s my tennis coach this summer,’ Amelia giggled, and as Jackson turned his back to the girls
to pick up Jo’s scruffy psychedelic Top Shop cases, Jo flashed her an inquisitive look. Amelia merely beamed back. ‘Well,
I say he’s my tennis coach but he’s not actually teaching me any tennis. He’s coaching this summer at that tennis
academy everyone is raving about. Apparently Agassi and Sampras have both played there,’ Amelia said proudly, waiting for
Jo’s impressed reaction. Jo gave her an exhausted, weak smile.

‘How was the flight?’ Jackson asked Jo as he carried her beat-up luggage to the shiny black SUV parked outside. The heat of
the late-afternoon Tampa sun hit Jo at full force and she squinted in the sunshine, breathing in the faint scent of hibiscus
and smouldering tarmac. Everything and everyone out here already seemed big, larger than life. Middle-aged women heavier than
Jo wandered about the car park fanning themselves, and the cars all seemed to be double the size of the ones in England. Palm
trees swayed slightly even in the languid breeze, and boys walked around with their jeans around their knees, hip-hop style.
They clutched mobile phones to their ears and gesticulated wildly as they yelled to their friends. They looked all-American,
in an Eminem way, and Jo felt as though she’d been airlifted in straight from
EastEnders
.

‘It was great,’ Jo said nonchalantly, as they began to drive to Longboat Key, the thin ribbon of land where Amelia was staying
for the summer. As Jackson and Amelia pointed out tiny wooden houses and areas of deprivation Jo blinked, wondering why these
places weren’t mentioned in the guidebooks to Florida. Were these really part of the American Dream? They drove past orange
trees ripe with fruit, vast shopping malls that Amelia promised they would visit, and just as Jo started to nod off Jackson
showed her the impressive white Sunshine Skyway Bridge. As they got closer to Longboat Key, Jo noticed the local beaches were
full of skinny teenage girls playing volleyball. They all looked preppy and perky, and Jo grimaced.

‘This is home,’ Amelia said happily, as the car pulled up outside a small, low block of flats. ‘It’s actually Granny’s
holiday condo, but since she only comes out in the winter the folks and I use it in the summer. This year Mummy and Daddy
are on safari so I’m here all by myself “practising my tennis”.’ Amelia shot Jackson a coy, flirtatious look, and Jo looked
at the two of them. There was definite chemistry, and Amelia was dressed in what everyone at school had called ‘slutty casual’.
The idea was that you didn’t need to use much imagination to visualise her naked.

‘Jackson’s got a dinner thing at one of the golf clubs, so it’s just you and me tonight.’ Amelia looked at Jo slyly. ‘I thought
we could open a bottle of wine and catch up. I’ve not told you anything about my split with Charlie, and rumour has it you
bumped into William not so long ago.’ Amelia had a devilish look in her eye but Jo ignored her, taking in the view as they
went in. Outside were spiky bits of dark green grass that led down to a small quay, and there was a lone heron strutting about
looking like it didn’t have a care in the world. Jo thought back to the pigeons that sat on the stairwell outside her flat
and felt a million miles away from home. It felt good.

‘So what did happen with Charlie?’ Jo said, tearing her eyes away from the quay and focusing on Amelia, who’d poured herself
a glass of wine and downed it in one.

‘As you know I moved back home after I got my degree and didn’t bother to get a job. It was Mummy’s idea – she was convinced
Charlie was about to propose and she told me that men like him didn’t like “career women”. But Charlie never seemed to be
around. I was thinking about going travelling but Charlie wouldn’t come with me – so I just, you know, watched daytime TV
and did lots of shopping. One night I decided to drop in at Gigolo as a surprise, and went into a private room to find Charlie
fucking two fifteen-year-old bottle-blondes next to a mountain of coke. It was kind of like a back-to-front roasting situation.
A Charlie sandwich.’
Amelia’s eyes went black as Jo’s hands quickly covered her mouth in shock – even though she knew Charlie was a bastard, the
mental image of Amelia walking in on him to find that was terrible.

‘He tried getting out of it, of course, made some lame excuse about how he loves me and was only fulfilling a basic need,
but there’s nothing you can really say when you get caught out, is there? Especially if you’ve got your cock in one girl and
another’s tits in your mouth.’ Amelia sighed. ‘It was so common, really. And the galling thing was they weren’t even pretty.
They looked like girls who wouldn’t even be able to be extras on
Hollyoaks
– you know the type – tarty, aspirational footballers’ wives without the looks for it. I had to get myself tested for STDs
and everything. It was so shameful. All I wanted to do was hide away – to stay in my bed until the pain stopped. I was gutted.’
Amelia gave a little laugh and Jo could tell she was trying to hold back the tears. ‘But Mummy made me realise that he wasn’t
worth it, and told me that if Charlie wasn’t going to marry me I had to get on with my life. In the end Daddy thought it would
be a good idea if I came out here for some rest and relaxation, and I’ve certainly been getting in the relaxation bit with
Jackson. He’s the perfect tonic for getting over Charlie, and it’s definitely sorted my head out.’

Amelia poured some more wine and turned to Jo. ‘And here you are, too. So what’s the story?’

Jo took a long gulp from her glass of wine before filling Amelia in on what had happened with Joshua Garnet. As Jo told her
how she had accidentally sent Madeline Turner knickers meant for Marina Stone, Amelia’s mouth dropped open.

‘But that’s amazing. You were working for the man screwing London’s coolest model since Kate Moss!’ Amelia looked incredulous.
‘Do you know how incredible that is? How
close to the action you have been? It sounds like something out of a film … Did you ever meet her?’

Jo shrugged. ‘She phoned the office a couple of times and she was always a bit of a bitch, to be honest. I got the impression
she loves herself.’

‘If I looked like Marina Stone I’d love myself too,’ Amelia said, looking at the tiny folds of skin on her stomach. Jo laughed
at Amelia’s frown. She was stunning and she knew it.

‘If I looked like you I’d love myself,’ Jo said, examining her pale white skin mournfully. ‘Because I’ve been so busy I’ve
not been looking after myself and almost all of my weight has come back, and I hate it, I really fucking hate it. I hate this
flab, I hate my ruined career, and to be honest I’m starting to hate myself. I’m not surprised William didn’t whisk me off
my feet when he bumped into me in London. I look awful.’ Jo normally didn’t allow herself to wallow in self-pity but just
this once she thought she deserved it. She hadn’t the energy to be strong. Not tonight, not with her jet lag and alcohol-muddled
brain.

Amelia poured Jo another glass of wine. ‘Your hair isn’t brilliant, I’ll give you that,’ she said, casting her eyes over Jo’s
hair, which hadn’t been cut in months. ‘But you lost all that weight before, and I’m sure it will be easier to do it again.’
She fixed her usual, positive smile on her face and tried to make Jo see there was light at the end of the tunnel. ‘All the
magazines say it’s easier to lose weight the second time around.’

Jo laughed. ‘Ames, the journalists who write that crap make it all up. I can guarantee that whenever a journalist writes an
article about losing weight she has never had to herself. They’re all size eight – which is quite handy because that way they
can fit into the fashion samples that are sent to the office,’ she said, thinking of Araminta, Helena and
Lucy back at
Gloss
with jealous irritation. ‘But I do want to get back to how I was before. I can’t bear feeling so rubbish about myself.’

‘Then come and work out with me. Come roller-blading on the cycle paths, play tennis at the academy, borrow my bicycle and
run on the beach. You’ll lose the weight in no time, I’m sure of it.’

Jo eyed her stomach and felt the raw band of skin where the waistband of her jogging bottoms was digging in. She knew her
love handles were showing through her T-shirt, and she felt several folds of flab underneath her bra. Very soon she’d need
to get some underwiring to hold them up, she thought, idly. Jo imagined herself running on the beach and her heart sank. She
was exhausted – mentally and physically – from working on her career in London, and the thought of getting up early and working
out while she was on holiday filled her with dread. But what did she have to lose by trying? At the very least she’d get a
tan from spending so much time outside, and everyone knew that tans were slimming.

Jo sighed and couldn’t bear to let Amelia down. ‘OK, then. But give me a few days to relax, first – there’s no way I’m going
to try roller-blading while I have jet lag.’

Amelia hid her self-satisfied smile in her glass of wine.

Jo twisted in front of the full-length mirrored wardrobe in her bedroom and glared at herself. The expensive one-piece swimming
costume she’d picked up at the Surf Shack did absolutely nothing for her, but then again, she thought, what skimpy piece of
clothing would? Her stomach bulged through the thin black fabric, and the straps of the costume dug into the spongy flesh
on top of her shoulders. Jo tried not to look at her ass, but she knew it was impossible to miss the doughy, dimpled mass
of fat on top of her large thighs, or her flabby upper arms. Jo grabbed a towel from the pile on her dresser
and wrapped it around her body before padding down to the pool. She’d been in Florida for three weeks and had her daily routine
completely mapped out, with everything she did a deliberate attempt to either lose weight or relax.