better. She's still rubbish with homework, but at least she can understand what's going on in class now. The Bitches are still there, but Crow just seems to tune them out. Her head is always full of fabrics and finishes and design details that she's spotted.
At home, Mum has taken to asking Crow out whenever there's a new exhibition on.
‘You don't mind, do you darling?’ she asks me. ‘It's just that you're much happier texting your friends and she needs the visual stimulation.’
Of course I mind. I don't text my friends THAT much. I message them, mostly. And I like seeing art. I particularly like getting a chance to chat to Mum while we're doing it. She seems to have much more free time when Crow needs something. I cope with my jealousy by having furious conversations in my head when I rant and rave to Mum about how much attention the TWELVE-YEAR-OLD is getting. I swear a lot and say some evil, unforgivable things and it makes me feel much better. Out loud, I say, ‘Of course, go ahead, that's fine, you go and enjoy yourselves.’ As you do.
Jenny thinks Mum is being totally selfish and unreasonable. Edie points out how hard Crow works and that she deserves some treats. Therefore hinting that I am being totally selfish and unreasonable. Crow says nothing and carries right on sewing.
Then one morning I come down to breakfast and there's a SUPERMODEL sitting at the kitchen table, chatting to Mum.
‘Hi Nonie,’ Mum says casually. ‘This is Svetlana. She's come to pick her dress up.’
Svetlana looks up and gives me a smile. She's stunning. You could use her cheekbones to cut bread. Her honey-coloured hair tumbles past her shoulders and her golden eyes glitter and sparkle like Swarovski crystals. Her skin glows. And as she's sitting down, I can't even see most of her body, which is what she's really famous for.
I goggle.
She's eating a chocolate croissant. I'm guessing she has a metabolism like Mum's. But as soon as she's finished chewing, she says, ‘Hi’ and I say, ‘Hi’ back in a strangled voice that isn't really mine.
‘I'm making toast,’ Mum says, silently gesturing at a half-empty pack of chocolate croissants that were going to be for us. Svetlana's appetite is impressive.
I sit at the table and try and think of something to say, but luckily Svetlana is chatty, as well as hungry.
‘I had no idea your mum was such a collector. I adorethe photographs. She's going to sell me some limited editions. No time to choose today, though. I'm supposed to be at the airport in . . . ’ she checks her watch, ‘ . . . twenty-four minutes. Oops. I may have to jog through security.’
‘Where are you going?’ I ask politely. It's really weird watching her lips move after so many months of only seeing her in photographs.
‘New York. Big party tonight. Thank God Crow got my dress done in time. I was worried she wouldn't. My fault. I only asked her last week. She's so incredible, your friend. What's her secret?’
‘She actually has a family of elves working for her,’ I say, with a serious expression. It's how it feels, sometimes.
Svetlana giggles. Even her giggle is honey-coloured and stunning.
Then Harry comes in, dressed in boxers and an open dressing gown, with the air of a boy who's been partying a bit and needs something restorative. I'm not sure he's entirely recovered from his India trip yet. He takes one look at Svetlana and reacts for a moment as if he's been punched in the chest. For that moment, it feels as if the air's been sucked out of the room and it's spinning. Then he breathes in, belts the dressing gown and wanders nonchalantly over to Svetlana, whom he KISSES ON BOTH CHEEKS as if he's known her for years.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘I'm Harry. I've heard so much about you.’
Svetlana giggles her stunning giggle again. Harry looks friendly and groggy but not outrageously impressed. Henotices the crumbs on the table.
‘Can I get you another croissant?’
More giggling. ‘No thank
At home, Mum has taken to asking Crow out whenever there's a new exhibition on.
‘You don't mind, do you darling?’ she asks me. ‘It's just that you're much happier texting your friends and she needs the visual stimulation.’
Of course I mind. I don't text my friends THAT much. I message them, mostly. And I like seeing art. I particularly like getting a chance to chat to Mum while we're doing it. She seems to have much more free time when Crow needs something. I cope with my jealousy by having furious conversations in my head when I rant and rave to Mum about how much attention the TWELVE-YEAR-OLD is getting. I swear a lot and say some evil, unforgivable things and it makes me feel much better. Out loud, I say, ‘Of course, go ahead, that's fine, you go and enjoy yourselves.’ As you do.
Jenny thinks Mum is being totally selfish and unreasonable. Edie points out how hard Crow works and that she deserves some treats. Therefore hinting that I am being totally selfish and unreasonable. Crow says nothing and carries right on sewing.
Then one morning I come down to breakfast and there's a SUPERMODEL sitting at the kitchen table, chatting to Mum.
‘Hi Nonie,’ Mum says casually. ‘This is Svetlana. She's come to pick her dress up.’
Svetlana looks up and gives me a smile. She's stunning. You could use her cheekbones to cut bread. Her honey-coloured hair tumbles past her shoulders and her golden eyes glitter and sparkle like Swarovski crystals. Her skin glows. And as she's sitting down, I can't even see most of her body, which is what she's really famous for.
I goggle.
She's eating a chocolate croissant. I'm guessing she has a metabolism like Mum's. But as soon as she's finished chewing, she says, ‘Hi’ and I say, ‘Hi’ back in a strangled voice that isn't really mine.
‘I'm making toast,’ Mum says, silently gesturing at a half-empty pack of chocolate croissants that were going to be for us. Svetlana's appetite is impressive.
I sit at the table and try and think of something to say, but luckily Svetlana is chatty, as well as hungry.
‘I had no idea your mum was such a collector. I adorethe photographs. She's going to sell me some limited editions. No time to choose today, though. I'm supposed to be at the airport in . . . ’ she checks her watch, ‘ . . . twenty-four minutes. Oops. I may have to jog through security.’
‘Where are you going?’ I ask politely. It's really weird watching her lips move after so many months of only seeing her in photographs.
‘New York. Big party tonight. Thank God Crow got my dress done in time. I was worried she wouldn't. My fault. I only asked her last week. She's so incredible, your friend. What's her secret?’
‘She actually has a family of elves working for her,’ I say, with a serious expression. It's how it feels, sometimes.
Svetlana giggles. Even her giggle is honey-coloured and stunning.
Then Harry comes in, dressed in boxers and an open dressing gown, with the air of a boy who's been partying a bit and needs something restorative. I'm not sure he's entirely recovered from his India trip yet. He takes one look at Svetlana and reacts for a moment as if he's been punched in the chest. For that moment, it feels as if the air's been sucked out of the room and it's spinning. Then he breathes in, belts the dressing gown and wanders nonchalantly over to Svetlana, whom he KISSES ON BOTH CHEEKS as if he's known her for years.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘I'm Harry. I've heard so much about you.’
Svetlana giggles her stunning giggle again. Harry looks friendly and groggy but not outrageously impressed. Henotices the crumbs on the table.
‘Can I get you another croissant?’
More giggling. ‘No thank
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