The Winner, page 7
How many times had her brother said those words, Heather wondered. Why couldn’t he just get a bar job, like all the other wannabe actors, so he could keep himself afloat while freeing up his days for auditions? But she had long ago stopped asking that question. Ronan would only make excuses about needing the time and ‘creative space’ to write his own one-man show. The fact of the matter was her brother thought he was too good for ordinary work. He wanted to be a star and refused to settle for anything less. ‘Give the audience what it wants.’ That was his ‘mission statement’. The problem was audiences didn’t seem to particularly want him.
‘We should go out for dinner,’ he said. Was it her imagination, or was his accent becoming posher as the call progressed? ‘Somewhere fancy, since you’re living the high life now. Just two siblings out on the town. We have a lot of catching up to do.’
‘That’s certainly true, since I haven’t seen you in nearly two years.’
‘Has it really been that long?’
‘It really has.’
‘Well, I was out of the country a lot. Remember I went on that tour to Goa with Drama in Motion? My monologue was a huge hit.’
‘That tour lasted four weeks. You were gone ten months.’
‘I met a girl there. I was in love. How was I supposed to know she’d turn out to be a psycho?’
Heather closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth until her anger had faded, leaving behind only a vague sadness. She had hoped, at first, that Mum leaving might draw the two of them closer. But it had only blown them further apart. She no longer recognized the brother who’d built her tree forts and danced beside her in the bedroom as they sang pop songs into hairdryers.
‘I need to get going, Ronan.’
‘Okay, but what about meeting up this weekend? We can take some selfies for your feed. Your followers would love me.’ Heather closed her eyes. Her brother had been calling relentlessly from the moment he’d discovered Heather was the newest addition to CelebRate. But back when time had hung on her like a weight, thick and immobile, he was nowhere to be seen.
‘We can talk about it later.’
‘But I—’
‘Goodbye, Ronan.’
CHAPTER 10
It’s been a long day and I’m tired, but I need to get this done before bed. Things are moving fast for her, so I can’t afford to wait. I consider the woman’s photo, pinned next to Rob’s on my study wall. Is she beautiful? I certainly don’t think so. But maybe that’s because of what I know about her. When I look at those thick-lashed eyes and full lips, I don’t see glamour or smouldering sexuality. I just see damage. But damage is good. I rely on it.
There are so many things I could do, places I could go. Probably best to start simple, see how she reacts, take it from there. A public comment should do the trick. I read through the latest CelebRate posts on the big Celeb gossip sites, hunting for a good jumping-off point. I can’t be the one to instigate the conversation. I’m flying under the radar – for now at least. I come across a photo of her hugging a little girl – her goddaughter, apparently – both of them wearing matching sunglasses with tiger-striped frames, laughing at the camera. ‘Wow, look at her!’ says one of the comments underneath. ‘She would be SUCH a cool mum.’
Perfect.
I click on the speech icon. Write, ‘I know a girl named Ellie who might have something to say about that.’
Hit ‘Reply’. Then I sit back in my chair with my arms folded behind my head.
Job done.
CHAPTER 11
It was strange seeing the Shakespeare Estate from the other side of the park. It looked different somehow, shabbier, drained of life. Heather had been excited to discover that one of the homes along the familiar Holland Park border was in the Triple F’s property portfolio. How many times had she gazed across at those white-pillared houses, wondering what it would be like to live there? So actually being inside one felt surreal.
She turned away from the window and refocused her attention on the room in which she now stood. It was big. Her whole flat would have fitted inside it. She turned in a circle, taking in the oak floors and built-in bookshelves, the working fireplace with its frame of carved marble. The Victorian mouldings and crystal chandelier. Amazing to think that this place could be hers. None of the teachers she’d studied with would ever be able to afford a house like this, no matter how many years they worked. She had felt so left behind when they’d all headed off to their first teaching jobs, spending the last eight months earning proper salaries while she struggled through her first induction year. Now, though, it was her turn to leave them behind.
She headed upstairs to explore the rest of the house, starting with the ‘family bathroom’, with its walk-in shower at one end and Bolivian marble bath at the other, marvelling at the warmth of the tiles underfoot, courtesy of underfloor heating.
She checked each of the five bedrooms in turn, ending with the largest, whose giant skylight was displaying sun-rimmed clouds that disappeared, with the touch of a button, behind a motorized ceiling blind. The master en suite was stylishly modern, all dark granite and shining chrome, but for Heather, the bedroom’s main highlight was concealed behind a top-mounted door in the middle of one wall. She actually gasped out loud when it slid aside to reveal a huge walk-in wardrobe, complete with shoe display shelves, gliding drawers and more rail space than she could ever hope to fill.
Heather felt as though she was floating as she headed back down the curving staircase to the living room, where Lara, her image consultant, stood waiting by the rear window.
‘So?’ Lara asked. ‘What do you think?’
Heather beamed. ‘It’s absolutely stunning.’
Lara nodded. ‘I think so too. It’s a perfect house for hosting.’
Heather looked at her, puzzled. ‘Hosting?’
Lara’s perfectly arched eyebrow rose. ‘Dinner parties? Or cocktail barbecues in the back garden. This room will make a great entertaining space.’
‘Ah. I was thinking more about my day-to-day life, sitting by the fireplace with a cat on my lap. I love cats, but didn’t think it would be fair to trap one in my poky flat.’ She wandered over to the fireplace, fingers travelling along the mantel above, tracing the cool, smooth marble.
‘I can source you a gorgeous Persian to go with this room,’ Lara said. ‘Fully certified, of course. Only the best.’
‘Really?’ She looked at the floor, a broad expanse of gleaming oak. ‘Sure, why not? I like Persian rugs. I’ve never had one before.’
Lara’s laugh sounded perfectly managed, flawless in pitch, volume and duration. ‘I meant a Persian cat. You mentioned wanting one?’
‘Ah.’ Heather felt foolish; Lara must think she was an idiot. ‘Thanks, but a rescue cat will do me fine. It can have a fabulous new life, just like me.’
Lara pulled a face, making her nose wrinkle. ‘That’s sweet, but you’re going to be taking a lot of photos here, so you need to consider how everything in your home looks, whether it fits with your brand. And trust me, when you see a chinchilla Persian kitten, you will literally fall in love.’
Heather wasn’t really a fan of puffy cats, but she was in far too good a mood to argue. ‘Sure, why not? No harm in looking.’
She circled the room, picturing her future here. Getting ready for nights out at concerts and premieres. Chatting to fans as she wandered through the rooms doing livestreams. Hosting. She wondered: who were these people she would host? Heather couldn’t really picture Debbie and Steve in this enormous, white-pillared house with its chandeliered ‘entertaining space’. But soon she would have new friends, Winfluencers like herself, carefree and full of fun.
She returned to the window overlooking the garden and tried to open it, frowning when it wouldn’t budge.
‘Why is this sealed shut?’ She could hear her voice rising, becoming shrill. ‘I won’t live in a house with sealed windows. I have to be able to let the air in.’
Lara gave her a puzzled look – no doubt thrown off by the sudden change of tone – then joined her at the window.
‘I think it’s just paint. The house was recently redecorated. Hang on.’ She grabbed onto the bronze handles at the base of the frame and yanked hard, gritting her teeth. The window rose with a sharp squeal of protest. Heather felt something inside her unclench as a breeze drifted in from the back garden, carrying the scent of blossoms.
‘There you go,’ Lara said brightly.
‘Thanks. Sorry I overreacted. I used to … stay somewhere with windows that wouldn’t open. I don’t ever want that again.’
‘Of course.’ Lara nodded. ‘I totally understand.’
I very much doubt that, Heather thought. But she wasn’t letting those thoughts follow her into this day. She circled the room again, fingers trailing along the built-in bookshelves, excitement swelling inside her until she could barely contain it.
‘I love it,’ she said. ‘And I kind of like that it’s not too far from where I live now.’
Lara’s nose wrinkled again – perhaps in response to the mention of the Shakespeare Estate.
‘Yes, the property division bought a couple of places on this street to sell on to CelebRaters. It’s considered a good Winfluencer location because the facades are beautiful and the road is wide but doesn’t get much traffic, so it’s easy to film from the front. Plus it’s good value, by Holland Park standards, because of its proximity to’ – her eyes flicked towards the back window, with its view over the park – ‘the edge.’
Heather pressed her lips together, unsure whether to be amused or insulted. ‘Well, edge or no, I love it.’
Lara nodded. ‘Good. All you have to do is say the word and it’s yours. Literally right away. The company will set up your mortgage and give you an advance on future income to cover the deposit. And because it’s part of the Triple F’s property portfolio, you can live here as a renter until the sale is finalized.’
‘That’s okay. I don’t mind staying where I am until the deal goes through.’
Lara’s forehead scrunched and she made a little ‘mm’ sound. ‘Well, the thing is … we’d kind of like to get you into your new home as quickly as possible.’
‘“We”?’ she echoed, as Lara led her out of the living room and down the stairs. Heather trailed after her. ‘Who is this “we”?’
‘The Triple F family!’
They were back where the house tour had started – on the basement or ‘garden floor’, with its granite kitchen island and pearl-grey stone tiles, the handle-free cupboards that opened at a touch (‘Italian design,’ Lara had whispered, as though it were a secret. ‘Literally the best.’). There was a giant glass wall at the back, framed in timber, overlooking the garden.
‘The whole point is to showcase your new lifestyle,’ Lara said. ‘You can’t do that if you’re stuck in a tiny flat. And think how this place would look on CelebRate! You can use the image-string function to make a sequence as you literally move up in the world, maybe throw in a video of you walking from room to room, talking to an interior designer about what furniture you want. Run some music under it. It will be amazing!’
The image consultant pushed a button hidden in the timber frame and a glass panel slid aside, creating an opening to the garden. At the far end, a willow dipped leaves in a tiny pond, overlooked by a wrought-iron bench. Lara’s mobile phone rang and she retreated into the kitchen to answer it, allowing Heather to explore in peace. She sat on the bench, looking up at the house. It was the kind of place a celebrity might live in. She closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky. She felt as though she was living in a fairy tale, a magical kingdom where dreams became real. She walked back across the grass to the kitchen. Lara was leaning against the fridge, tapping out a message on her phone. She looked up as Heather approached.
‘The word,’ Heather said.
‘Sorry?’
‘You asked me to say the word if I want this place. And I do.’
‘Oh.’ Lara’s laugh tinkled. ‘I get it. Funny.’
Heather looked around at the beauty and luxury surrounding her on all sides. A wave of euphoria crested through her, making her dance around the room, arms raised, just to release some of it. She’d just taken a pill, so it didn’t hurt at all.
‘You’ve made a really good choice,’ Lara said when Heather returned to her side, giddy and a little breathless from her victory jig. ‘You are literally going to love living here.’
‘Yes,’ Heather said. ‘I literally am.’
CHAPTER 12
It’s like being in a film, Heather thought. The Great Gatsby, perhaps.
Dozens of tiny lights were scattered like stars across the ceiling above the bar area of the New Heights, casting the VIP crowd in a golden glow. A row of handsome bartenders, identically dressed in black, shook cocktails and poured drinks while the latest Britain’s Got Talent winner sang a throaty number on a discreet stage tucked in the corner. Debbie Limon, the UKTV news presenter, was leaning against the bar, chatting with an actor Heather recognized from an ITV crime drama. The Triple F’s private club occupied the entire top floor of a sleek Chiswick high-rise not far from the contest’s headquarters, its pool and roof garden offering panoramic views across London. Heather had seen this place in a thousand posts, back when CelebRate had been a daily source of comfort and longing: a fantasy realm where life was being lived to the full, somewhere beyond the sealed windows. And now, here she was, a part of the scene.
Anticipation was whirling inside her as she looked around at all the beautiful people tossing their hair and laughing, sipping drinks, eating the ‘nibbles’ being circulated on silver trays. Heather had spent a lot less time on CelebRate since starting work at the school, but she still recognized most of the Winfluencers. There was Sasha, she of the enormous earrings, standing beside Leonora, who read tarot cards and seemed to eat nothing but tapas. And Amir, the handsome rollerblader with a passion for Japanese anime. She fiddled nervously with her hair. Was she really one of these people now? It didn’t seem possible.
Then a familiar voice said, ‘Champagne?’
Heather turned and looked up at Noah, who had appeared beside her like a genie, two fresh glasses in his hands.
‘Always.’
He handed her one before raising the other in a toast. ‘To your first Triple F mixer event. The first of many.’
‘Cheers to that.’ They clinked glasses and drank in a mirror-image motion. Then she held up her flute, admiring the bubbles. ‘Does the novelty of drinking champagne ever wear off?’
He appeared to consider the question. ‘It’s not what I drink at home. But I always have it in public because champagne captures the spirit of the Triple F lifestyle.’ He tilted his head. ‘And speaking of luxury lifestyles … how are you enjoying your new place?’ He must have seen the startled look on her face because he chuckled and said, ‘As a mentor, I always keep an eye on the newbies, make sure they’re settling in okay.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘It’s a beautiful home. You have excellent taste.’
‘Thank you. I still can’t believe it’s mine. I feel like the police are going to show up any moment and arrest me for squatting.’
He laughed softly. ‘I remember that feeling. Give it time. You’ll be surprised how quickly you get used to it.’ A photographer appeared beside them. There were a lot of them circulating. Flashes kept going off in the corner of her eye, like a storm on the horizon. Noah put his arm around Heather’s shoulders and they smiled at the camera. The photographer took out a notebook and got as far as ‘So who—’ before Noah interrupted with, ‘Dolce and Gabbana dress, Miu Miu handbag. My suit is Hugo Boss.’
‘Ta.’ The photographer jotted it down before melting back into the crowd.
Heather looked down at her red dress. ‘How did—’
‘You bought it with your Triple F Visa. We monitor fashion purchases so we can let the designers know that a Winfluencer has chosen something from their label, then offer them the opportunity to have the images featured more prominently on CelebRate. For a price, of course. Fabulous dress, by the way. Sure to bring in new followers. You’re doing so well, Heather. That video tour of your new place has already attracted more than 100,000 likes.’
Heather felt a glow of pride. She’d thought about asking Debbie or Steve to come round and help her record the video. But the thought of parading her new wealth in front of them made her feel uncomfortable, so instead she had made it herself, using one of those selfie sticks she’d always found irritating. And she’d been pleased with the result.
‘I’m glad you like it. Who would have dreamed that people would want to watch me wander around my house pointing at curtains? It’s … Oh wow, is that Simon Cowell?’
Noah glanced round. ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten he was coming. We’ve been discussing a possible collaboration.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘But please keep that under your hat. I should probably go have a quick word with him, if you don’t mind?’
‘Of course! I’ll see you later.’
The moment Noah stepped away from her, Heather began to feel self-conscious. She clutched her champagne glass as she wove past the groups and pairs of made-up, dressed-up people, searching for an entry point into a conversation. But no one paid her any attention. A photographer aimed his lens her way and she looked towards the door, a smile arranged on her face as though greeting a new arrival. The flash went off.
Okay, she decided as the photographer moved past. Time to be brave; she was going to have to break into one of the glitzy circles and introduce herself.
‘Hiya. You’re Heather, aren’t you?’ She turned to see a petite brunette with a short pixie cut, dark purple lipstick and a long black T-shirt dress with netting at the hem that made Heather think of cobwebs. A small diamond stud winked at the side of her nose. Heather remembered seeing a post of her riding a motorbike, but couldn’t remember her name. ‘I’m Tessa. Come on.’ She took Heather’s hand and led her away from the bar. ‘I’ll introduce you to a couple of people. The first mixer always sucks. Like being the newest monkey in a zoo where all the other animals know each other and you have no idea where the predators are kept.’ Tessa stopped in front of a pair of women Heather recognized from the Top Six, a heavily made-up blonde with inflated lips and a sour-faced brunette in a sequinned dress.
