Promtastic Page 2

  “Hello? Caterers? Right. I need to finalize the canapé selection. No, no! Not cocktail sausages.”

  If only everyone understood that she was doing it all for them, it would be such a help. Of course she couldn’t be available to friends at the moment. But she was doing it to make the perfect evening for them. Why couldn’t they see how important that was?

  She ducked into French class just as the bell rang and shot Owen an apologetic smile as she slipped into her seat. She slid out one of her lists and slipped it into her French book. She began to highlight the things that were still left to do. The theme of the prom was Hollywood Nights and they already had the tea lights, fairy lights and the pretty white lacy metal centrepiece-holders all set up, but the stars still needed to be hung. Leigh highlighted “Hang stars” carefully in pink. Leigh had already bought the large jars for the sweets, the pink and white balloons, the stars, and the wallpaper of the LA skyline, but she drew a little arrow, pointing to the entry on her list that read “Hang LA skyline”. Who was supposed to do that? She would have to check. The white flowers for centrepiece and decorations were ready as she had talked to the florist just that morning, so Leigh ticked that off. The steaks, burgers, fries, chilli dogs, Mississippi mud pie, doughnuts and frosted cupcakes were all ordered, though Leigh wanted to confirm the list with them one more time, as she wasn’t fully convinced they had the order right. She highlighted that entry too. The dessert stations, ice cream and candyfloss stands, chocolate fountain and marshmallows were all officially confirmed though – at least there was that. She had to call the drinks people to make sure the Hollywood cocktail bar was on track, so she highlighted that as well. Leigh sighed. It still felt as if there was so much to do.

  Each item on the list had its own sub-list of course with additional information, but that was on her laptop at home so she couldn’t look at it now. Anyway, she knew it all by heart. It just made her feel good to see all the ticks next to the things that she had done and to think about how to sort out everything that was left. It was going to be perfect if she could just finish it all. She was proud of the way she had handled that crisis with the caterers. As if they had wanted cocktail sausages! That wasn’t American-themed at all. She just wished that Owen and Charlotte weren’t so fed up with her for not being available.

  “Leigh Kowalski!” She roused herself and sat up. Madame Blanc was standing over her. Before Leigh could clamp her hand over her list, Madame had snatched it up in her bony fingers. “Voilà! I see we are into lists, Leigh. Perhaps you would be so kind as to list ze vocabulary we ’ave been practising for ze past ten minutes.”

  Leigh wanted to say that unless that vocabulary included glitter, tablecloths or centrepieces she didn’t really have a lot to offer in that department. “I’m sorry,” she said instead. Wisely, she thought.

  “I’m sorry too, Leigh.” Madame folded the list and took it back to her desk. “Your concentration ’as been non-existent recently. Why can’t you follow ze example of Zoe ’ere, who is always, always, paying attention?”

  Zoe Anderson blushed scarlet, hung her head and looked as if she wanted to die.

  Leigh knew that Zoe, as the shyest girl in the class, would have hated being singled out. “But, Madame!” Leigh protested.

  Madame raised her hand. “I know, I know – prom, prom, prom. And I ’ave been very generous to you because I know this. But this is enough! Detention after school. Today.”

  “Today! But Madame, prom is tomorrow and I have so much still to do.”

  “Prom is one night; school is your whole future.”

  “Which shows how much she knows,” Leigh moaned after class, walking towards the detention room with Owen. “I mean the night before prom and she knows there are last-minute changes that have had to be organized. It is one night, that’s why it’s so important – you only get one shot at making it perfect.”

  Owen stopped with her outside the detention-room door. “I could wait for you. Maybe after detention we could go for a coffee somewhere; it seems like I’ve hardly seen you—”

  Leigh turned to him, incredulous. “Are you mad!? Coffee! I’ve just lost a whole hour off my schedule. I’ll get to bed God knows when trying to make that time up. A nightmare! I’m never going to get through my list.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Owen sighed. “How can I get—”

  The insistent buzz of Leigh’s phone interrupted him. She held up a hand, indicating for him to wait. “Hello. Right, yes, the marshmallows – oh, you can, brilliant. Of course the raspberry pink was completely wrong. Mmmm… Mmmm.” She mouthed, “How can you get what?” at Owen, before barking, “Yes! Sun-dried tomatoes and olives,” down her phone.

  “Forget it.” Owen turned and headed for the exit.

  “Owen!” she called, watching his back as he disappeared down the corridor. She sighed to herself. They could have all the time they wanted together after tomorrow night.

  She finished her call.

  A text pinged up. It was from Owen.

  How can I get on your list?

  She looked at the number of missed calls from the caterers and the venue manager. She just didn’t have enough time.

  Her finger pressed “Ignore” on the text. Owen would have to wait.

  Grace

  4.30 p.m.

  “What do you think, Mum?” A tall girl appeared through the velvet changing-room curtains in a slinky silver dress and made a slow circle in front of the woman standing outside.

  Sitting on the red silk sofa nearby, Grace’s mum whispered to her daughter, “Marvellous … if you want to look like a giant Christmas cracker.”

  Grace frowned. “Mum! That girl’s in my year. Be quiet!”

  “Really?” Her mother examined her Chanel red nails, “I thought Maison Marie would be too expensive for most of your class. It is the best dress shop in town, after all.” She looked again at the girl, who had raised her dress a little to show off some silver sandals. “Oh dear. Oh dear.” Her mother leaned back on the deep cushions and flexed her own delicate ankles. “Let’s face it, there aren’t many girls who can carry off silver jersey. I mean, you could do it, of course, but then you’ve got the figure to wear anything. Not, I’m afraid” – her mum’s voice dropped – “like Miss Lumpy over there … honestly, a couple of tubes of Pringles have to have better shape than those legs…”

  “Mum! Will you please be quiet.” Grace’s embarrassment was saved by a saleswoman bustling towards them, a delicate gold-and-cream lace dress in its transparent plastic cover draped over one arm.

  “We’ve done the alterations now and I think it’s going to be simply perfect.” The saleswoman beamed.

  “Well, I should hope so – it was one of the most expensive in the shop.”

  Grace cringed again. All she could think about was how soon this fuss would be over. None of her friends at school had taken Friday afternoon off to get ready for prom but her mum had been insistent at breakfast. “There’s so much to do, Grace. You simply won’t have time on Saturday to do it all. And you’ve got to look the best.”

  “But what about my schoolwork?” Grace had asked, astonished. Usually this was a winning card: her mum was so determined that she was going to go to Oxford that there was never a let-up in her work schedule. This week alone she had her extra music, sports, and maths and English tuition.

  “You’ve got to have a special something to stand out from the crowd. The competition for Oxford is ferocious,” her mum had reminded her for the hundredth time.

  “She does work hard,” her dad said gently.

  Her mum had whipped round on him. “She has to if she’s going to make something of herself!”

  “I’m just saying, Denise,” her father had gone on patiently, “that sometimes I think she needs some time that isn’t organized…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Doug! You have to push yourself in this life – perhaps that might have been a lesson for your career. Grace needs to understand that.”r />
  “But there’s something extra every night,” Grace had wailed, “and nearly all day Saturday when I have to get up early for sports club then extra maths, then violin practice. I can’t remember ever having a lie-in, or a moment to myself. Every single day is planned out, every minute of my life … no time for … for me.”

  “I give you some time to see Evan, don’t I? He’s such a useful connection. It will all be worth it,” her mum had said firmly. “We’ve got to make these sacrifices.”

  We! Grace had thought to herself.

  Grace had given up on changing her mother’s attitude. Because she was an only child, the spotlight of attention never wavered from her and there was nothing about her life that felt private.

  Except one thing. She smiled quietly to herself – then gave herself a shake as she spotted the saleswoman looking enquiringly at her. She couldn’t think about that now.

  “Go on, then,” her mother urged, pointing at the dress. “Try it on.”

  Now it was Grace’s turn to emerge from behind the gold velvet curtains. Everyone in the shop stopped to stare.

  Her mother’s hands flew to her chest. “Grace, you look beautiful.” She stood up as if to put her arms round her, but thought better of disturbing her hair and dress and patted her on the arm instead. “There won’t be a another girl in the school to touch you.”

  A few other mums and daughters in the shop eyed one another at this, but that afternoon in Maison Marie no one could deny that Grace looked stunning.

  The cream silk covered in filigree gold and cream lace swished gently as she turned in front of the mirror.

  “French lace really is the best, Mrs Gardener. Worth the expense,” the saleswoman gushed admiringly.

  “Nothing but the best for my daughter.” Grace’s mum took out a tissue. “She’s nearly all grown-up now.”

  Yes, I am, Grace thought to herself back in the changing room as she let the dress slip off her shoulders. So why do you still treat me like a child?

  But she meekly handed the dress over to be wrapped and pulled on her jeans and white T-shirt. As she picked up her pink cardigan, her phone rang.

  “Hi! HELLO! magazine here, calling Grace Gardener for an interview.”

  “Hi, Alex, where are you?”

  “You mean, where are you? Lucky thing, getting the afternoon off. While I’ve suffered the most très boring French lesson dans le monde, you’ve been swanning around being beautified. Are you at this minute lying on a sofa being fed chocs and champagne at Maison Marie?”

  “We’re very nearly done here.”

  “Is the dress dreamy amazingness?”

  “It is lovely.”

  “So what else have you been doing? Please, please tell me everything went wrong at the tanning shop and you look like an Oompa-Loompa.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Come on. Spill. I’m just about to put my feet into Mum’s massaging foot spa with a ton of softening oil, so I’m immobile for at least ten minutes.”

  “OK, OK. Well, the tan is done and I’m only slightly carrot-coloured. I’ve had a manicure. That was pretty nice, actually. I went for pale gold with a slightly sparkly topcoat. Then I spent a lifetime in the Style House while they covered me in foils and made me look like an alien.”

  “Did you get a head massage when you got it washed?”

  “Yes – that was great. And I had freshly squeezed apple-and-mango juice and a smoked-salmon panini.”

  “Noooo! At Tillie’s Tresses you’re lucky if you get a PG Tips and a stale digestive.”

  Grace laughed. “Now you know you’re having your hair done at the Style House tomorrow, so don’t pretend you aren’t going to look amazing. Every salon in town is booked solid. I can’t wait to see everyone.”

  There was a moment’s pause before Alex said quietly, “This is really it, isn’t it, Grace? This is what we’ve been looking forward to since our first day at secondary school. Now we’re leaving Harper High and going to be all grown-up.”

  “I know. It’s like the first day of the rest of our lives.”

  “At least you’ve managed to get a boyfriend before you leave school.”

  “You will too.”

  There was another pause.

  “Are we still meeting at the cinema tonight?”

  “Of course. Evan’s coming too.”

  “You are lucky your mum loves him so much.”

  “She loves the fact his dad’s a top lawyer,” Grace said curtly.

  “And that he’s trying for Oxford, like you,” Alex added.

  “That too.”

  “And that he’s incredibly good-looking, hard­working, on the swim team and – Hello? I think that’s what’s called a perfect boy.”

  “My mother is too keen on our relationship and when he turns up she’s going to go on and on to everyone in the shop about what a marvellous couple we make.”

  “But you dooo.”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Grace! Grace!” her mother was shouting outside. “Are you decent?” Grace heard her mother give a girlish giggle. “Evan is here.”

  Kristyn

  4.45 p.m.

  Kristyn hadn’t intended to follow Evan from school to Maison Marie: that would have made her some kind of crazy stalker. But when he had turned into the shop, she couldn’t help going in too. After all, she did still need shoes for prom. Maybe she could check out the designer shoes and try to customize a cheaper pair. Or maybe she could even afford some nicer ones, if she borrowed some money from her parents. She was starting a new well-paid waitressing job tonight and she’d be able to pay them back quickly. She had worked so hard for the past four months at the coffee bar to repay them for her prom dress; maybe they’d be willing to lend her some money for shoes now. The thought of her dress hanging on her wardrobe door made her feel happy. She had got it online. A one-off vintage find. She knew no one else would have one like it. She did have a knack for spotting amazing finds like this dress. Her dream was to be a stylist but she had no idea how she could make it happen. “Why bother going to college to study some more?” her older sister always said. “I’ll get you a job in the salon and you can earn some decent money.” And her parents always agreed with Jessie.

  The shop doorbell jangled loudly as she went in, making her jump – but Evan was already disappearing into the back where all the dresses and tuxedos were and luckily he didn’t turn round.

  Each pair of shoes was carefully displayed like Cinderella’s glass slippers. She picked up the nearest shoe, and turned over a handwritten price tag tied to the ankle strap with thin gold ribbon. Her eyes widened: £560.00! She hastily placed it back on its gold velvet cushion. She was sure the sales assistant with the scary painted black eyebrows had seen her reaction and was now sneering at her. She watched her go over to the girl at the till and say something. The girl smirked. Kristyn wanted to run out of the shop, but instead she picked up another shoe – slightly less expensive but still way, way out of her price range.

  She wondered, not for the first time, why posh shops were always so quiet. Was it the rich velvet curtains, or the thick carpet she could feel her cheap school shoes sinking into? In the silence she felt the stares of the staff burning into the back of her neck like lasers as she pretended to consider a pair of delicate Jimmy Choo heels.

  “Would you like to try those on?” It was Scary Eyebrows, who had drifted noiselessly to her side.

  Before she knew it she had said firmly, “Yes, please.”

  What was she doing?! Now she had made things worse, because both she and the sales assistant knew this was going nowhere. But she had started the game and Evan was in the shop and might come back at any minute. If he saw her he might stop to say hello. Possibly. She wondered why he had come in here. Picking up his tuxedo?

  “Do sit down,” the sales assistant sighed, gesturing to one of the beautiful gold chairs, upholstered in red silk, “and I’ll get them for you. What size?”

 
Kristyn told her and took a seat, her back to the archway that led to the dress section. If she looked in the gilt-edged mirror in front of her she would see the reflection of anyone coming or going. If Evan came out she could casually get up and say something.

  As she began to practise what she actually would say, a loud voice in the dress department pierced the quiet. “Grace, you looked an absolute angel in that dress. I know I keep saying it – but she did. You just wait, Evan!”

  Grace. It would be. Kristyn felt disappointed with herself for not guessing sooner. Of course that would be why Evan was here.

  “Mum, are we finished now? I’m exhausted after everything this afternoon and we’re going to see that film later.” She heard Grace’s clear voice.

  “Yes, we’re done now, finally. See why you needed to take the afternoon off school? There was just so much to be done. It’s cost the earth, but you are worth it, and it’s a once-in-a-lifetime night. Now, tomorrow we’ve got the hairdresser booked for final blow-dry with dress on. Maison Marie are sending the dress to the salon. Then the after-prom party at our house; I’ve ordered catering from Carousel. We’ve got the limo ordered, of course, but there’s so much still to do. Why don’t you and Evan go and have some something at Café Luigi’s after the film?”

  “Luigi’s?” Grace sounded unimpressed. “Well, OK. That would be nice.”

  “You can make up the study time later, but I know you and Evan need some time alone … although, straight back after, please. You’ve still got a lot to do today to prepare for your tutorial tomorrow, and your music practice. And definitely don’t order pasta, Grace. Promise me? And don’t eat the bread. You want to fit into that dress tomorrow, don’t you?”

  In the mirror Kristyn saw Grace appear with Evan, followed by Grace’s mother. Her hands gripping the side of the chair, Kristyn sank down into the seat and clenched her eyes shut. The doorbell clanged and they were gone.

  When she opened her eyes again the sales assistant was staring down at her. She shuffled back up the chair with as much dignity as she could, silently praying that the assistant was going to tell her they didn’t have the shoes in her size, so she could get out of the shop as fast as possible. They both knew she wasn’t going to buy them. She wished her mum was there. She couldn’t count the times she had asked her mum to go shopping with her. “Oh, Kristyn, I would – but I’m working.”