“That’s not even going to buy the bloody veil,” Rebecca muttered.
“A wedding dress is a very poor investment,” I put in, thinking this information would be considered helpful.
Judging by how red Rebecca’s face turned, it was not.
“The ROI is abysmal,” I explained, hoping to get my point across without her head exploding. And I was actually telling the truth. I’d never understood how anyone could spend tens ofthousands of pounds on a dress they only wore for one day. “The re-sale in general only yields approximately a third of the market value for the dress once it’s been worn.”
“Why the fuck are you talking ROI and market value, you freak?” Rebecca’s face was a really ugly shade of puce now.
Clearly, further explanations on the economics of the wedding industry were not welcome at this point.
Mum sighed. “Victoria, just give us the money and stop being difficult. We can’t afford it, and Gareth’s not changing his mind.”
I frowned. “But what about the allowance I pay you?”
Mum’s eyes went wide, and she shushed me, looking over my shoulder, presumably, to check that Gareth hadn’t snuck back into the kitchen.
“I thought I told you not to ever mention that.”
“But it should be more than enough to?—”
“I’ve spent it, okay?” she snapped, and Rebecca sat back in her chair with a mutinous expression on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.
After Dad died, his child support payments stopped. I was, at that point, twenty-three, so technically they should have stopped five years prior. But I think my father knew that continued financial support kept Mum from harassing me, and if he didn’t carry on paying, she would simply use me to extract the money anyway.
He might not have been the most interested father, but he did tell me that he didn’t want Mum “fucking me up any more royally than she already had,” so it was easier to keep her paid off.
Dad’s funeral was the first time Mum approached me about money. When she could corner me, away from Margot and Ollie, who had very kindly included me in the event as if I were family, when really, I was nothing of the sort, she told me that I needed to continue the payments now that Dad was dead.
My inheritance from my father was very modest compared to that of hisrealchildren. It only really lasted until I was earning for myself after university. So I had to pay my mother’s allowance out of my own earnings. To be honest, it seemed to be the most expedient option. I never really bought anything for myself, nor did anything, so I didn’t actually require unlimited wealth.
Then, of course, I started working at Felix’s company, and my income sky-rocketed, so I simply forgot about the payments to Mum. But they were substantial. So substantial that drinks and a wedding dress shouldn’t be an issue if she’d saved any at all. But then, looking around at all the clutter, I could guess where the money went.
“You owe me.” Mum hissed as she grabbed my arm.
I tried to flinch away, but her grip was way too tight.
“You know you owe me. This is pennies for you, and your sister has had a hard time recently.”
Thehard timeMum was referring to was Rebecca's firing from her employment at a high-end fashion boutique for “borrowing” the clothes. Borrowing was the term Rebecca used for it; the boutique termed it “theft.” She was furious about it at the time, saying that she was a “walking advertisement” and that her Insta following alone would be worth the price of the few pieces that she “borrowed.”
I suspected that it was more than a few pieces, seeing as Rebecca rarely wore anything twice, and it was nearly always designer.
I really needed Mum to let go of my arm, and I knew the only way that was going to happen was if I agreed to her terms.
“Okay,” I said and then breathed a sigh of relief when Mum released her grip.
Chapter 7
A lot of people are mean to me
Mike
“Hello, ladies,”I said as I passed my sister Lucy, then Lottie and Vicky on the sun loungers on my way to the pool.
Christ, she was wearing that goddamn bikini again. I’d only risked the briefest of glances, but the image of her slim, golden body laid out on a sun lounger with her golden hair splayed all around her was burned into my brain.
This was not going to be good at all for the ejection of Vicky from my late-night appointments with my hand, which seemed to be the only way I wanted to get off nowadays.
