The taxi driver helps me with my bags as I knew he would after I flashed him my brightest smile, and he even opens the car door. I know he’s after a big tip because he’s seen the size of our house, but it still makes me proud, knowing he’s gone to that extra effort.
As he pulls out of the drive, I take a last look back at our home. It’s in Andrew’s name, and it’s his money that paid for it, but I still call it “our.” From the outside it reminds me of my childhood dentistry, which had converted a huge Georgian house to suit its needs. The inside had been hollowed out, each room turned cold and clinical, whitewashed with awful linoleum floors.
I check my phone, but Andrew hasn’t sent me a goodbye message even though he’s never off his mobile, a constant presence near his right hand whether he’s watching television or in the shower.
To take my mind off Andrew, I open the envelope with the tickets and brochure inside again, leafing through the pictures of the island once more.
I don’t feel guilty about the past. Mum hasn’t got to me. There’s nothing to make up for with Poppy, and this invitation proves it. We’re going to have a brilliant time and forget about the real world we’ve left behind.
If Poppy’s still harbouring any grudges she wouldn’t have invited us.
I can just relax now.
This is going to be fantastic.
Two
Chloe
May 18, 2023
Okay, I think I might finally have enough pictures. This plane journey is insane.
I wasn’t going to go until I saw Poppy was paying for it all. Since when is Poppy Greer of all people a rich bitch? I would say I’m not jealous but that would be a complete lie. If I had her money I’d be on a plane at least twice a week, enjoying all of this luxury. Who knows, though? If my sponsorships continue to do well and people enjoy the pictures from my holiday . . . oh, what’s that? A high-end airline company like—I don’t know, let’s say Emirates—wants to sponsor you to enjoy first-class travel anywhere you want in the world? It’s such a tall order, but you know what, I’ll do it.
Simply arriving at the airport lounge was unreal. We had our own area where breakfast was being offered. Proper breakfast, complete with fresh fruit smoothies, and a whole variety of pastries, yoghurts, cheeses, and granola. Even though Esther ended up eating most of it I created the most beautiful plate of everything on offer, even the high-end wine with nuts and olives to the side. There were a few businessmen eating a small breakfast near us who certainly didn’t appreciate the impromptu photoshoot next to them but this is work too, sorry, gentlemen.
I’m so close to a million followers now, it’s within touching distance. My agent, a thin woman called Carla who I’m pretty sure lives on a diet of celery sticks and stress, has told me if things keep going the way they are it could happen within the month. She was delighted when I told her about Poppy’s little getaway and insisted I take photos of every step of the journey. I wish I could have brought my proper lighting kit with me, but some of my followers have already said they prefer the “natural” look I have going on right now.
Meeting up with everyone again was actually a bit awkward at first. It’s been so long since it’s been the four of us all together. And I’m somewhat avoiding Annabel lately, for obvious reasons. Nor is it much fun seeing Tanya at the moment.
She’s not looking much better. She didn’t even make an effort for the plane journey—I mean, we’re in first class, for God’s sake, at least try and look like you belong—just wearing leggings and an oversized jumper. I think she was trying to hide how thin she’s gotten, but you can’t hide it in your face. There’s a gaunt expression to her now, and these huge bags under her eyes. Maybe I should give her some tips on how to cover that up, because she’s doing a pretty terrible job at hiding that there’s something wrong.
Not that Annabel or Esther seemed to notice. Annabel gave a great big squeal when she arrived, rushing around and kissing our cheeks and telling us all how beautiful we looked. Annabel at least can be counted on to look the part, though how she can afford a Prada handbag when she doesn’t work I’ll never know.
“How long has it been since the four of us were together like this?” Annabel asked, in that stupid breathy voice she has when she’s putting on a show.
“We all met up to discuss the invitations,” Esther pointed out with a grin.
Come to think of it, Esther’s dressed like she’s hiding something too. Esther enjoys exercise (which if you ask me is something super-fit people say just to have some superiority over normal people like us who suffer through it just to have a nice ass) so really she should be showing off her toned legs and arms, but instead she’s completely covered up with baggy trousers and a long-sleeved turtleneck. While we were waiting for Annabel to arrive at the airport, she barely spoke to me and Tanya, instead distracted by constant messages on her phone from her boyfriend. She’s chewed her lip so much she’s broken through the skin, and there’s a fleck of lipstick on her teeth, but I’m quite enjoying guessing how long it will be until she notices so I’ve decided not to tell her.
Annabel waved her hand dismissively at her. “Oh, you know what I mean. Not just a short lunch or whatever. We’re all spending time together. Isn’t it great?”
“Oh it’s just fabulous,” I said, but she didn’t seem to realise I was making fun of her because she beamed at me in response.
We were escorted to our seats on the plane, and when I say seats, I mean suites, which is pretty incredible. There’s a separate bed and sitting area, all in these cool neutral greys and whites, with a statement orange pillow on the leather armchair. With six suites on the plane, we’ve taken up four of them. Out of the last two, one is empty and the other is at the back, containing a rather stern-looking man in a suit with a shining bald head that made me giggle and Esther roll her eyes at me.
I’ll admit takeoff made me a little nervous, that slight dip as the plane levels off never failing to send me into a panic that we’re about to fall. There’s something wrong with people who enjoy takeoff; it’s not natural for us to just be floating around in the sky and any minute now I’m certain the laws of physics are going to remember and send us plummeting.
Orange juice and a hot towel helped take my mind off my fears. I pressed the towel into my face, knowing I had my backup makeup in a bag near my feet, and closed my eyes. When we finally levelled and the seatbelt signs went off, I sighed with relief.
Now, everyone is gathered in my suite. All of us are still in disbelief, I think, that we’re here and about to join Poppy Greer on an island in the Bahamas. A part of me wondered whether our plane tickets would scan through and come up as duds when we first arrived, a final bit of payback for before, and the airline staff would laugh at us and send us away.
Esther said as much when we all went to lunch together a few months ago, when the invitations first arrived. We’d all brought them and laid them out on the table alongside our Caesar salads, taking in the exact same information Poppy had given us, the only difference being our names.
“I don’t think we should go,” Esther had said, shaking her head at the thought of it. “This seems a bit suspicious to me.”
“How is it suspicious?” I asked, twirling a piece of chicken on my fork. My followers, my “family” as I like to call them (which is easy to do when your own family are a dad in prison and an alcoholic mum), love how into healthy eating I am (I got over a hundred thousand likes for a picture of this meal). “She’s the one paying for it all.” This, I felt, was the most important point.
Esther wasn’t convinced. “But why would she pay for it? For us? Why has she chosen us to be her bridesmaids when she hasn’t even seen us for however long?”
“On that note,” Annabel said, frowning, “we don’t actually know anything about the wedding yet. Like, where is it? When exactly is it? All we have is the invitation to the hen party and a promise of further details.”
“So we’ll find out when we get there. No biggie. She clearly wants to see how we’re all doing.” I shrugged, taking my phone and scrolling to her Instagram. “Ever since she followed us she’s been liking all our pictures. In fact, she’s even liked the photo I just took of this salad.”