Page 52 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Fifty-two

Nell

I get the email to say that I have, in fact, been shortlisted (and Becks isn’t a big teasing liar) while I’m backstage ‘helping’ Vivvie set up for her showcase.

Uni have pulled out all the stops for this.

It’s taking place in the Ashton Memorial in Williamson Park, a beautiful white stone building with stairs that wind up several f loors to the domed roof.

The showcase is on the ground f loor. We’re upstairs, though, where everyone is getting ready.

The models for the evening are having their make-up done, the sound of everyone chattering scattered round the room, all the fashion students frantically sewing or steaming things with a wild, manic look in their eyes.

Vivvie’s dress is a wonder. I’ve seen parts of it over recent months but seeing it all together … it’s incredible. We watch the model slip into it, and I literally gasp out loud.

“Oh, Vivvie,” I breathe. “It’s a marvel. You’re incredible.”

“I love it,” Jenna corroborates.

Casper squeezes her shoulder. “Oh, bloody good job, Vivs. It’s a stunner.”

Vivvie circles the dress, trying to find something to scrutinise. After a moment or two, she steps back. “Would you mind turning away again so I can have a little cry?”

“Good or bad?”

“Good, obviously,” she says. “Look at it. Thank God it was worth giving myself repetitive strain injury.”

We all gather for a group hug. I’m so proud of her. She cares about this so much, she wants to do well, and wow, has she pulled it off.

A very tiny old woman with a giant bow on her head that Vivvie pointed out as Rosa, the unofficial course grandma, calls out in a deep voice that scratches at you like a scourer, “TEN MINUTES TO GO. I REPEAT, TEN MINUTES, MY DARLINGS.”

“Right, you guys need to leave,” Vivvie says, all trace of tears gone, back in business mode. “Go and take your seats. I need to circle some more and make sure not a single thing is out of place.”

“Good luck,” I say, giving her one last squeeze.

“You’re going to smash it,” Jenna says.

Casper nods. “Don’t tell the others but yours is the best by far. And I’m not saying that because I’m biased and you keep me fed with your magnificent flan. It’s objectively the truth.”

“Shut up about flan and get gone, please,” Vivvie says but I know she’s pleased.

We settle in downstairs. There are quite a few people here. It’s fully dark outside now and the lights inside are beams of warm white crossing the room.

“Is anyone else nervous?” Casper is perched on his seat rather than reclining as he usually does in haphazard bisexual fashion.

Jenna flicks him a warning eye. “No. Vivvie’s got this in the bag. Her hard work always pays off.”

“I just wish we could get her to chill sometimes,” I say. “Maybe work a little less hard.”

“I think that’d be like telling me not to worry about climate change,” Casper notes. “Useless and disappointing.”

“Oh, so you’ve recovered from your nerves enough to quote A Cinderella Story then?”

I listen to Jenna and Casp bickering until the lights dim, all of the chatter dulling into silence.

I wish Saffron was here.

Even if I can’t have her here with her hand on my leg and her cheek for me to lean in and kiss, I want her here as my friend. Our friend. An integral member of the group.

All the outfits are amazing. First, we have a jumpsuit with a sort of corset effect and feathers around the neckline and each leg.

Then there are some trousers with a kind of scale design like they’re made from a mermaid and the biggest flares I’ve ever seen.

There are dresses, all stunning, and they just keep coming.

Jenna keeps checking her phone. I ask her if she’s waiting on a message from someone but she just gives me a vague non-answer and tells me to keep watching the show.

She’s been kind of weird this whole evening actually.

Her and Casper. They were both very insistent that we had to sit at the edge of the room. It’s slightly disconcerting.

The show continues – still with no sign of Vivvie’s dress.

Jenna checks her phone again, nudges Casper and then turns to me. “It’s quite hot in here. Maybe you should go and get some fresh air.”

“Maybe I should go and get some fresh air? Um, no, I’m good, thanks, but you go and get some if you need it.”

“Oh, I’m fine. You look really warm, though. I think you should go outside. Just for a minute.”

“No way,” I whisper-shout over the music. “I’m not risking missing Vivvie’s dress.”

“What if there’s … a bear … outside?” Casper says. “And if you don’t go outside, you’ll miss it.”

I take a beat to just look at him. “Are you seriously telling me I should go outside, not support our friend with their huge event, and also risk getting mauled by a very lost bear? Is that really the story you want to stick to?”

Jenna eyes Casper. “Yes, maybe the bear thing wasn’t the best idea. But I still think you should—”

“Quit it.” I’m annoyed now. “I’m not going outside, not unless you give me a better reason than my fictional hot flush and an even more fictional bear.”

“But—”

“No,” I say firmly. “Just watch the show. Vivvie must be up soon.”

Jenna sighs and then taps furiously into her phone.

We watch a few more models strut down in some very extra outfits (including a ridiculous cage piece that the announcer says was designed by Evie, to no surprise from me).

I’m just about to lean over and make a probably bitchy comment about it to Jenna when something prods me in the shoulder.

I whirl round, ready to glare at whoever’s behind me, but it turns out that what’s behind me is a wild Vivvie.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, thoroughly bemused.

“Mine’s about to come out. I wangled the grand finale spot, and I wanted a better view. Also, I wanted to say that you should probably go and get some fresh air now.”

“What the fuck is up with you guys’ insistence I get fresh air ? One of you needs to tell me what’s going on.”

“Will you just do as we say?” Vivvie has the gall to look annoyed with me .

“No.” I decide to try the stubbornness track, turning back round to stare fixedly at the catwalk.

“I’ve come here to support you and to clap very loudly when I see your dress, not to leave midway through and go and freeze in the practically Arctic January night air.

Now shut up and just watch the show. Oh my God, look! ”

Vivvie’s dress is here. The model walks out, while the voiceover explains that this dress was made by ‘Viviana Castillo’ out of entirely recycled fabrics.

The dress consists of hundreds and hundreds of different leaf shapes in russets, golds, greens, oranges, all billowing out in the princess-style skirt and made into a patchwork corset top… The effect is like a forest floor rippling as the model walks. It’s stunning.

“Oh, Vivvie… It’s beautiful,” I breathe. Casper and Jenna look similarly enthralled.

“It is,” she says. “Now will you go outside, please? You’ve seen my dress.”

I’m genuinely pissed with them now. “ No ,” I say, still staring stubbornly out at the scene in front of me.

“ Fine. ” Vivvie turns away, walking back down towards the front, the voiceover talking about why she chose to go with all recycled materials and how the seasons are merging into one.

I allow my gaze to flit to her as she walks back towards the wing where the other fashion students are watching, and notice her arm stick out. There’s a moment where I squint to try to work out what she’s doing, but then it becomes crystal clear.

An alarm blares out, making everyone sit up straighter in concern, waiting to find out what’s going on.

And then the sprinklers go off.

Everyone immediately forgets the very clear instructions we were given at the start of the evening, and stands up, grabbing their belongings, screams ringing out and people clasping their handbags over their heads.

“OK, EVERYBODY OUT THE BACK. FORM ORDERLY LINES, PLEASE.” It’s Rosa again, immediately taking charge of the situation.

A few minutes later and we’re evacuated out into the courtyard, the poor models looking particularly blue, rumours flying around about a dress having caught fire backstage and someone being treated for ‘seventh-degree burns’.

I, however, suspect I know the truth behind the situation. When Vivvie makes her way over to us again, I laser in on her immediately. “What the fuck did you do?”

“What did I do? I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think you do. You punched the fire alarm, didn’t you?”

“Certainly not.” She arranges her features into a look of pure (fake) affront.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, Eleanora, but I don’t appreciate the allegations.

Now, I’m getting rather chilly. Casper, I believe you have some picnic blankets in your car.

Nell, why don’t you go and get them for us? ”

“Go and get them yourself. Or, Casper, you get them – it’s your car.”

This whole evening has been weird as fuck. I can’t wait to be back home and in my own room, away from my sprinkler-turning-on, fresh-air-obsessed friends.

“Nell.” Jenna turns to face me fully, looking right in my eyes. “Just go and get the blankets. Please. ”

There’s a note of desperation in the ‘please’ that gets me. Plus I am freezing . I’d be glad of the exercise and of a blanket to wrap around me.

“ FINE . Casper, give me your keys.”

“I … don’t have them.” He turns to Jenna who just slowly closes her eyes.

“You don’t have your car keys. You drove here, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I … must have left them in the car. Silly me.”

“Your car is unlocked with the keys inside?” I say, trying to make sure I’m getting this straight.

“Must be. How terribly silly of me. You’d better hurry and make sure it’s not been stolen.”

I glare at each of them in turn, knowing that something sus is occurring. “Whatever.”

I start walking away towards the car park.

I hear them have a hushed celebration behind me.

God, what am I walking towards? It’s nowhere near my birthday or anything, so unless they’ve taken the concept of surprise parties a little too literally and have organised one ten months early, it must be something else.

I walk down the hill, grumpy and shivering from being damp and out in three degrees.

When I get to the car park, I see that Casper’s car is, thankfully, still there, and hasn’t been taken for a joyride by some lucky devil who came across a Mini with its fucking KEYS IN THE IGNITION.

I get closer, my eyes squinting in the dark.

There’s someone leaning against the car.

My heart thumps. What if they’ve seen the keys and are going to steal it?

I reckon I could be quite badger-like if it came to a physical brawl, but I’d rather not have to poke someone’s eyes out in order to avenge the honour of Sally (the car) if at all avoidable.

I get closer. My heart starts thumping for an entirely different reason.

“What are you doing here…”