Miss manners, p.26
Miss Manners, page 26
‘Anna? Are you there?’ He sounded chirpier than Timmy Mallett during a game of Whack-a-Mole.
‘Hmm,’ I mumbled, regretting picking up the phone.
‘Have you seen the papers yet?’
‘No,’ I managed to say.
‘You’re everywhere! Daily Mirror, The Mail on Sunday, Sunday Express, The Sun Sunday – you name it.’
The Sunday Times? I joked to myself.
‘And, do you want to know the best part?’ he chirped.
‘No,’ I croaked, considering cutting him off.
‘BBC Three producers are interested in making a documentary about the story, and they want to interview you. Oh, and those Felicity Diamond dresses you wore are already being copied by all the big retailers. It’s commercial gold!’
I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Murphy.
‘Goodbye, Murphy,’ I said, then hung up.
I attempted to return to whatever dream I was having, but it was too late. I had left that place between sleeping and waking. I was now simply awake.
I dragged myself into the living room, noticing the dresses were gone and the flowers had been placed in the middle of the table, which was reassuring considering I’d expected them to be thrown in the bin, doused in petrol, then set alight.
But where were Tara and Felicity?
I wanted to apologise to them both face to face. To explain that I wasn’t myself lately, I was somebody else. I was Phoenix Valentine. Selfish, arrogant, dishonest and deceitful. Now that Miss Manners was finally out of my hair, I wanted to be Anna Borgström. You know, wearing big knickers, rolling about on wheelies, Bollywood nights, swapping quotes of the day, and googling random words like poo.
Anyway, in the meantime, I decided to lounge about and watch a bit of TV to clear my mind. Except as soon as I switched on the TV, I was assaulted with various images of myself going a bit mental on the stage last night after each newscaster’s report.
‘Phoenix Valentine, real name Anna Borgström, has been revealed as the diary thief live to the nation at the Miss Manners contest last night.
Over the past two weeks, Pinkie Mortimer has launched a Who Stole Pinkie’s Diary campaign to catch the culprit, which has proved to be a game of Guess Who? As a result, it has sparked a great deal of interest amongst the bloggerati.
The diary thief’s identity has been the subject of speculation, including Genevieve de la Croix amongst other names.
Pinkie released a statement today, saying, ‘I knew I recognised Phoenix from somewhere. I’m just glad the thief’s finally been caught red-handed. Now I’m focusing on various other projects, which I look forward to promoting in the near future.’
I clicked the remote and puffed out as I sank into the sofa. Okay, so I couldn’t watch TV. I decided to go for a walk instead. I needed to get some milk anyway. I headed to the local newsagent’s. But as I went to pay for the milk, Anil, the shopkeeper, stalled the transaction.
‘Anna,’ he crooned. ‘Anna Borgström. You are famous! You are on the TV and in all the papers!’ He rushed off and grabbed copies of various newspapers, then read out each headline like a newscaster. ‘Phoenix on Fire, Daily Mirror,’ he said, before adding, ‘Phoenix, the Diary thief, Sunday Express. Diary Thief Revealed, Sun on Sunday.’
As Anil continued to read the headlines, I contemplated discarding the milk carton and doing a runner out of the shop.
‘Can I have your autograph, Miss Anna?’ Anil asked, his face lighting up like a firework display.
‘Autograph? But I thought everyone used chip and pin nowadays.’ I half smirked, paid for the milk, then signed a little illegible squiggle on his receipt book anyway.
As I stepped outside the shop, my phone rang.
It was Brian.
‘Hey, Anna. How are you feeling?’
I felt a stirring in my tummy. It was so good to hear his soothing voice.
‘Like a shed head,’ I murmured. ‘Why?’
‘I just wondered if you wanted to come over in a bit?’
‘Wouldn’t my presence devalue your property?’
Brian laughed. ‘Come on, let’s hang out. Forget everything and watch a movie or something.’
‘A movie? I don’t know.’ I mock-hesitated.
‘Oh, come on.’ There was a short pause. ‘I have a surprise!’
‘A surprise? Oh, all right then,’ I agreed, because I always did like a Kinder Surprise.
‘In that case, I’ll see you in a bit.’
As I took the Tube from Camden Town to Green Park, I was met with butt loads of unwelcome stares from commuters. Like a gorilla, I don’t react very well to being stared at. It makes me angry and aggressive, like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. So I put on my you-come-anywhere-near-me-and-I’ll-throttle-you face and hoped that would be enough to deter anyone.
It didn’t.
A girl in her teens approached me as I was passing the barriers.
‘Aren’t you Phoenix Valentine?’
‘No, sorry,’ I said, which was true. I was Anna Borgström. But as I attempted to walk on, she followed me.
‘Yes, you are,’ she insisted. ‘You’re the one who stole Pinkie’s diary!’
I decided that the best thing to do at that moment in time was to pretend someone was ringing me.
‘Excuse me.’ I gestured towards my phone. ‘Sorry. I’ve got to take this call.’
‘But it isn’t ringing,’ the girl said, staring at me in confusion.
‘It’s on silent,’ I said, then took the fake call.
It worked. I’d actually managed to shake her off and get on with my journey. I didn’t want to play the fame game.
I eventually arrived at Fairfax Manor. But when I knocked this time, it wasn’t Giles who answered. It was Brian himself.
‘Hey, Anna. Come in,’ he said with a smile, as if he’d just discovered the lost cities of gold. I followed him into one of the living rooms to find Tara and Felicity sitting on the Chesterfield.
As I walked in, they both stood up.
‘Surprise!’ they both beamed in unison.
‘Huh? Wait, does this mean I’m forgiven?’ I asked, slightly worried about the whole set-up, not to mention Brian’s sneaky involvement.
Felicity looked at Tara, then stepped forward, poker-faced. ‘Yes, but only on one condition,’ she said, then paused. ‘You have to wear the dresses for my graduate show next month. I’ve been selected amongst the top forty to showcase my designs! There are going to be industry recruiters, fashion buyers and the press!’ Felicity jumped up and down on the spot, holding both my hands and simmering with excitement. ‘Plus, there’s a one thousand pound cash prize for the winner!’
Once Felicity had watered down her excitement she cleared her throat, then attempted to resume a straight face. ‘So, do you think that’s fair?’
I stood in silence, smiling on the inside. ‘Of course. I mean, that’s the least I can do,’ I said, hugging her. ‘Congratulations, Felicity! I’m so happy for you!’
But then I remembered that the dresses were no longer in our living room. ‘What happened to the dresses? Did you get them finished on time?’
‘Just about,’ she said with a smile. ‘I woke up at six this morning, worked flat out till nine, then posted them off. So now I’m free all day!’
‘Wow! You must’ve been as quiet as a nun, because I didn’t hear a thing,’ I said, impressed.
Next, Tara stepped forward. ‘And now for my conditions,’ she said, looking stern.
But Tara was obviously a better singer than she was an actor, because her face soon broke into a smile.
‘You have to turn up at my first ever live gig!’ she said, her voice raising in decibels.
‘What?’ I said disbelievingly. ‘You got it?’
‘I got it!’ she screamed. ‘I got my very first live gig! I was in the studio with my agent, Ben Morrison, all day yesterday, negotiating contracts, recording a few tracks, discussing future projects. Plus, he’s so hot, which always helps to get the creative juices flowing, if you know what I mean?’
‘So that’s where you were all day!’ I said, nodding. ‘I must’ve left about thirty voicemails on your phone! I thought you were so mad at me that you couldn’t bear the sight or sound of me.’
‘Well, I was,’ she admitted. ‘But that wasn’t the reason I didn’t answer my phone. I had to put it on silent.’
Giles entered the room a moment later. ‘Adam Knight for you, sir,’ he said, his white-gloved arms floating rigidly either side of his body.
As Adam entered, the room fell silent.
‘So, what should I call you, then?’ I asked, turning to face Adam. ‘Brian? Adam? Sebastian?’
‘Look, I’m sorry for acting like an idiot at the academy.’
Well, at least he had the decency to apologise. It looked like the academy had done him some good in the manners department.
‘Well, in that case, I’m sorry for accidentally bashing your nose during dance class,’ I conceded.
‘Oh, and just so you all know,’ he said, smiling and raising his eyebrows at everyone, ‘I never kissed Pinkie. She kissed me.’
‘Well, now we know.’ I half smiled, trying to remain aloof.
‘You’re not still wearing that perfume, Go Away, are you?’ he asked cheekily.
‘That depends on how close you stand to me,’ I said, raising an eyebrow.
‘I’m wearing Come Here, so you can stand as close as you like to me, darling,’ Felicity said seductively.
As I raised a curious eyebrow at Felicity, she flashed me a he’s-so-hot-he’s-burning-a-hole-in-the-atmosphere look. So I looked at Brian instead. Now, he was hot.
Tara and Felicity spent the next hour or so being taught all the waltz and minuet dance moves by Brian and Adam, whilst I sank into a beanbag and smiled.
6 MONTHS LATER
Well, it goes without saying, I didn’t win the Miss Manners contest. Frunella Fudge did. In light of my unmannerly antics, I had been disqualified. But, to be honest, she was probably the only person who really deserved to win it, considering she was the only one who’d actually stayed true to herself.
Apparently, after I’d left the building, there was quite a scene between Pinkie and Genevieve. According to sources, before the compère announced the winner, Pinkie and Genevieve had both walked towards the podium simultaneously, each believing that they had won it. As the two socialites, one dark and one blonde, came face to face with one another, they launched into yet another cat fight.
As for now, however, Pinkie and Genevieve have become best frenemies, like Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. Pinkie is no longer considering re-auditioning for Legally Blonde: The Musical, but rather, can you believe it, Twelfth Night: The Musical. Oh, and she now carries a BlackBerry. As for the diary, she’s publishing it next year.
Genevieve, on the other hand, has opened her own cafe, which has been aptly named La Croix.
Oh, how I was glad to see the back of such a fake world, which had no place for reality. Although the original message I had been given was to stay true to myself, I had, in fact, become even truer to myself, in the sense that I had found myself – I found who I was, who I am and who I want to be.
In terms of the love prediction, well, our landlady Minky is now dating Stanley, since I introduced them at one of his gigs, Tara is dating Beanie and Felicity is dating Adam. And as for me, I’ve been on a lot more exciting adventures with Brian, who is even insisting on taking me to see New York! I still feel queasy whenever I see loved-up couples on the Tube, but that’s just a bad habit.
Regarding the whereabouts of Mojo, well, that remains a mystery. But, you never know, we may cross paths someday when the winds change.
As for my parents, who’d been backpacking for almost three months, they didn’t really have a clue about what I was getting up to. As far as they knew, I still worked as a sales assistant at Harrolds. So you can imagine their shock and horror when I told them that I was, in fact, going to my very own book signing, which, coincidentally, was on a Monday.
Seriously, sometimes I feel streets ahead of my parents, just like Einstein must have done when his friends kept saying, ‘The universe is straight, Albert, take it from us,’ and he was secretly thinking, ‘I know it’s curved. I’ll show you one day.’
So, anyway, thanks to winning the Bloggie Award, I was offered a publishing deal, which meant that I was now officially an author. When I got the call from the agent, I must have looked like Kevin McCallister after an aftershave burn. But, incredible news aside, it meant having to face my old boss, Bill.
As I approached Toy Kingdom on the fourth floor, I felt like Neil Armstrong when he said, ‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.’ Walking into the place this time round felt like going back to high school after ten years.
As I stepped into the heavily decorated, Halloween-themed store, I was immediately swamped by hoards of people demanding an autograph. Unfortunately, I don’t think the silent ringing phone trick would have worked on that crowd.
As I quickly sat down at the signing desk, I heard Bill shouting orders from across the room. He hadn’t changed a bit. Our eyes met for a split second, and Bill, instead of barking orders at me like he used to, actually half smiled instead. It was the kind of smile that said ‘Well done’.
But then I noticed a girl standing beside the table, dressed as a pumpkin. I blocked out everyone else, all the chatter, laughter and screaming, and focused on the poor girl. I picked up my book, Miss Manners, then walked over to her.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Ellie,’ she mumbled from somewhere deep inside the puffy orange costume.
So I wrote down her name in the book, signed it, then handed it to her.
‘Read chapter two,’ I said with a sympathetic smile.
The girl beamed, her face gleaming. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured shyly.
Six months ago, I had no job, no car and no money. But now I have all three. And then some.
I had managed to land a job at Couture as a junior features writer. On top of that, I had accrued a new friend (Felicity Diamond), a hot boyfriend (Brian Fairfax) and, more importantly, a sense of who I really am (Anna Borgström) along the way. You win some, you lose some, as they say.
Meanwhile, Brian had wangled himself the role of reviewer at Fairfax Traveller magazine. Considering he’d been given the opportunity to travel the world, I was, naturally, a little jealous.
As for Sophie, well, no one really heard anything from her since the night she revealed herself to be an opportunistic, money-hungry snake. Some say she’s published her Dictaphone extracts in an online blog, but no one knows for certain.
Tara recently signed a record deal with Beanie’s record label, Carpe Diem, and has almost finished recording songs for her first album, Bold and Beautiful.
Felicity ended up winning the Alexander McQueen Award, which, as a result, got her a deal with Topshop, where recreations of the award-winning Aphrodite, Antoinette and Cleopatra dresses sold like hot cakes on the day of their launch.
As for me, well, I managed to buy back my beloved Mini Cooper. And, although I may not have my own office yet, I already feel like I do. I mean, everyone here is so wonderful, and no one ever brings up the unnameable Incident Number Two.
Oh, and by the way, good news – today I was called in for a meeting in Romilly’s office, who announced my next major assignment.
But that’s another story.
Iman Sid, Miss Manners
