in her entire life.
Maybe I’m a closet lezzer, she thought.
But it wasn’t that. She had lived her life this far nonsexually, repressing any hint of the woman she truly was. Precious was right about that. She couldn’t compete with her mother, so she’d never tried. But now… she wished she could be like that, a siren, a beauty, able to summon men to her with a single glance. She thought of Alberto, just across town.
To have that power…
Wouldn’t it be wonderful?
Oh, it would.
She looked again at the monitor, at Precious dancing, and then she glanced at her watch. Realized her time was up. Junior would be here in seconds. She took one last look at her friend, who possessed a secret that Layla wanted – so much – to share. How to be a woman. How to seduce.
With one last, enraptured glance at the monitor, she hurriedly got up from the desk and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
‘You’re a crystalline winter, same as me,’ said Precious. ‘Thought so.’
Layla’d had her colours done. This was a strange process in Harrods, where a heavily made-up lady in glasses threw swatches of multi-coloured fabric over her shoulders and subjected her to intense scrutiny.
‘No, no,’ said the woman to teal, coral, peach and mustard.
‘I like coral,’ said Layla in protest.
‘Well, don’t dear. It’s lethal with your skin tone.’
‘Beige is safe isn’t it?’ asked Layla a bit wistfully as the colours were thrown over, this one, that one, then the next…
‘Safe? We’re not interested in playing “safe”! We want to find colours that will make your looks sing. Oh yes. Here we go. Much better,’ she pronounced, as she draped Layla in brilliant fuchsia pink, deep cherry red, burgundy, turquoise, rich royal blue and vibrant, regal purple. Then she suggested lip colours, foundation, eye shadows.
Layla was relieved when they paused in Harvey Nicks’ restaurant. Now she had a little purse-sized colour swatch all of her own, and a bag full of new make-up.
‘I’m knackered,’ she told Precious, kicking off her shoes discreetly under the table.
But Precious took no notice. ‘Now we know what flatters you, we’ll plough on. I could just see you in a power suit. And a red evening dress, something cut down to the waist.’
‘You what!’
‘Well, a bit low. Maybe not that low.’
Layla’s feet throbbed. Her head was starting to ache.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this was going to be such bloody hard work?’ she asked with a groan.
‘You know what drives me absolutely nuts about him?’ Annie asked her old mate Dolly as they sat in the Ritz taking afternoon tea – and a little champagne for Dolly, after which Dolly would probably become slightly tipsy. Or pissed as a rat, depending on her mood.