Stella blushed.
‘It’s true, Stella,’ Eliza continued. ‘We are all about female empowerment. We know how hard it is to bounce back after kids. It’s a major challenge for women and I was adamant that the best candidate would have dealt with that issue. It defines a central issue for all women. You’re a great example. Strong, successful, adaptable. I mean even I can tell Slop! is so not you, but you took it on. That’s the spirit we want. You don’t let other people’s expectations define you.’
Stella was not convinced this was a compliment, self-conscious again about her clothing choices. She was silent.
‘Listen, I’m not expecting you to make a decision now. I’ve emailed over the prospectus. Take a look. Any questions, call me. Any time.’
Eliza slid over her card and packed away her laptop. They enjoyed a calorifically respectable lunch and Eliza excused herself.
‘Thank you for everything, Eliza. I will consider it all and if I’ve any questions, I’ll be in touch. Thank you for making me feel so wonderful! I might just have a small dessert to celebrate.’
They said their goodbyes, and Eliza left. Stella had wanted to leave with Eliza but she’d seen the dessert menu and found herself incapable of leaving a salted caramel sticky toffee pudding untried. This did of course mean she’d have to stay and talk to Coco.
‘Thank you, Coco. I mean it, for all your support on this. She’s great. It’s a great opportunity.’
Coco gave her enormous smile, her eyes lit up. ‘Stella, you are amazing. Sometimes you just need to be reminded of that. You deserve this.’
‘I meant what I said on the text – it can’t happen again. From here on in, we can only be friends.’
Coco was nodding.
‘You know that it’s over, right? You promise me you understand what I am saying, that I have to try and make my marriage work, whether I take this position or not?’
Stella’s pudding arrived.
Coco nodded sagely.
‘Yes. On one condition?’
Stella didn’t want to be negotiating on this point. She lifted her spoon and waited.
‘Promise me you’ll let me have a little taste of your pie?’ Coco smiled beguilingly and Stella had to laugh.
‘Go ahead, but this is the very last time!’
They both laughed and fell on the salted caramel like rabid wolves.
Afterwards, eyes dilated, lips coated in thick sugar, they mooned at each other.
‘Thank you, Coco.’
‘Thank you, Stella. See you at work soon.’
‘I haven’t—’
‘Yes, you have,’ said Coco, and blew her a kiss as she strutted out of the restaurant, turning the head of every man and woman.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stella
It was only a few weeks later in early December when Stella woke on the day of the wedding to muffled sounds that indicated snow was falling. She smiled to herself: Dixie would have her white wedding. Dixie’s second wedding was to be the antithesis of her first. Where Carlton was a selfish fool and lecherous flake, Freddie was proving himself an upstanding adult and loving partner. Where the first wedding had been a debauched summer affair, all cutesy, English summer clichés – adorable bridesmaids, B-list actors and braying asset managers; a vintage Rolls-Royce and a local parish church in need of a new roof; a plethora of mostly offensive, audacious hats and fascinators more suited to decorating an aviary than adorning a human head; and barely edible mass catering that everyone tried to laud while pushing sullenly around the plate – her second wedding was a chic Christmas affair, instead of a church, a function room at the stylish and well-catered Claridge’s, no priest with his hand-out for collections. Instead, Freddie had roped in a friend as celebrant. Stella hoped no one would wear a hat, that there would be no attempt to fascinate by attaching insect or feather-like antennae.
Her first task of the day was to check on Ana.
The girls had all met only once to plan for the wedding, in the Dandelyan Bar at the Mondrian on the South Bank. Dixie had insisted on virgin cocktails: Ana was pregnant and she was de-carbing for optimal wedding day fuckability, so the Dandelyan’s renowned mixers were charged with getting them high on two units of alcohol and a clever combination of fruits.
The wedding had been arranged at breakneck speed after Freddie had persuaded Rupert, an old acquaintance and the general manager of Claridge’s, to squeeze them in for a wedding before Christmas. It never ceased to amaze Dixie quite how well connected Freddie was. They were both just desperate to get married, move to New York and get on with the rest of their lives. Freddie was all about living in the moment, which Dixie knew was a consequence of Daisy’s illness. There was no denying the impact that had had on his life.
Stella arrived to find the girls crying with laughter. They were still floored by her assertion that she was not actually a lesbian, but rather bisexual, or at least bi-curious. Ana was in tears as she tried to express her disappointment at not being able to witness Stella’s sexual awakening. It was great to see Ana laugh, especially when she revealed that Rex had apparently recovered within days from his cuckolding and was planning a one-year sabbatical from work and was pursuing his dream (though Ana was certain he’d stolen it off her) of travelling business class anti-clockwise around the world. Ana seemed relieved about Rex, though heartbroken when she revealed she’d heard nothing from Joel. It hadn’t been quite a week yet, but she had expected him to ring immediately, or send flowers, or just acknowledge her existence. After all, she had told him she was carrying his baby! He was obviously just an asshole – a day or a week, it was still too long. She was handling it in true Ana style, and Stella thought that this might just be the making of her. Engagement suited Dixie, or perhaps it was just her fake tan; whatever the cause, the dramas in Stella’s and Ana’s lives gave contrast to her new stability and authority. Dixie and Stella listened with horror and compassion as Ana described her determination to live by her choices and be the best mother she could imagine for her child. Tears of bravery replaced the tears of hilarity as she wore her heart on her sleeve. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, and when Dixie asked, teasing, ‘So who would you like as your plus one at the wedding?’, Ana could only shrug hopelessly, before saying that as a strong independent woman, she didn’t need a plus one.
A toast was made to friends and the future, whatever it might hold for each of them. Their individual plights, thought Stella, revealed how quickly the things we rely on can be taken from us to be replaced by new catastrophes and new opportunities.
Water keeps flowing under the bridge, thought Stella, opening her curtains to watch the snow fall silently onto the dark streets. She picked up her phone and texted Ana: ‘Do you have crampons for your stilettos? Rushing around, but here if you need me…Sx’
Stella needed the next few hours to prepare. Her choice of outfit had changed multiple times in the previous few days. For the first time in twenty years, she was dressing to attend a wedding without a man by her side. As Jake was still in rehab there was no one to carry her to bed when she was too drunk to stand. No one to laugh at the fashion disasters, the inappropriate couples, the inebriated media personalities. All she could really hope for was that the Claridge’s concierge was trained in the recovery position (at the very least) and would escort her to the room Freddie had kindly booked.