‘Move in?’ I repeated.
‘Ah-huh.’
‘Oh wow.’ I tried to take it in.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a Tube attendant waving at me. I turned away, pretending not to have seen him. I needed a moment to process what Mandy had just said.
‘So, are you offering me the job?’ I clarified. ‘And is it based in London?’
‘Well, I can’t say much, but it’s definitely somewhere in the UK,’ she replied. ‘It’s a secret location. And yes – I’d like to offer you the job of being my personal stylist. You’ll join my glam-squad-in-residence.’
I breathed an audible sigh of relief. In the last couple of years, I had lived with Mona in Los Angeles, and then in our basic New York studio, so I didn’t fancy moving back to America, not now that Rob and I were properly living together.
The Tube attendant was right in front of me now. ‘Excuse me, madam, but you’re causing an obstruction. I need you to decide if you’re going down, or coming through the ticket barrier. Which is it?’
I mouthed at him in response,Two seconds!
‘I can’t see that being a problem, Mandy,’ I replied, without having a moment to properly consider the words tumbling out of my mouth. ‘Count me in. Thank you.’ I paused. ‘Oh, and the salary – are you able to—’
‘Excuse me, madam, but I need you to move along,’ said the man, more frantically this time. ‘Not in two seconds. Now!’
‘Great news!’ Mandy trilled. ‘Welcome to the team, Amber Green! We’ll finalise the details from the Maldives and then you can meet my A Team. I’m sure you’ll get along great.’
‘Thank you, Mandy.’ I beamed.
‘Julie-Ann will give you a buzz about all the other details,’ she replied.
I had forgotten how averse celebrities can be about discussing important points like salary and start date.
‘No problem, I’ll speak to Julie-Ann. Thank you!’
A voice rang out from the station’s Tannoy: ‘Would the woman with the bag on the floor currently obstructing the downward escalators please vacate the area? See it. Say it. Sorted.’
‘Sorry – I mean, sorted!’ I shouted at no one in particular, as people turned to look at me. Then I stepped back onto the downward escalator, my head spinning, heart pumping – and a big smile spread across my face. The timing could not have been better.
The train carriage was busy, but I never minded being on the Tube – to me it was a place to observe fashion in action, spot trends and marvel at how people decided to present themselves to the world; it was a place where you didn’t know if someone was rich or poor by looking at them. In fact, many of the wealthiest people in this city cared little about gaining status through the labels in their wardrobes. In my observation, through working in fashion, many of those with the least to spend liked to wear a branded item like a designer cap or tote bag. It always fascinated me how people used the currency of fashion to tell their story.
I wondered what conclusions people might jump to if they studied my clothing; if they would have any inklingthat I was a personal stylist. And not just any stylist because, as of two minutes ago, I became the stylist to Mandy Sykes, A-list celebrity.
Well, perhaps more C-list, depending which gossip site you subscribed to, but still.
As I looked around me, I tried to process the conversation I had just had with Mandy. This was a dream job for me. Sartorially speaking, there was so much potential. There was still the small matter of my salary to be discussed, as well as the details around what ‘moving in’ with Mandy actually entailed, but I imagined Julie-Ann would soon be in touch and this kind of role was much better than earning nothing. It was likely to be a rise on my paycheque at the store. The headline news was that the feeling in my stomach right now was akin to the time I found a vintage Mulberry handbag grossly under-priced in a charity shop, so I took this to be a good sign.
As I sat on the Tube, I WhatsApped Rob and Vicky in tandem.I’ve got the job!!
Rob messaged back immediately.Amazing! Well done, baby, what did she offer you?
Fortunately, my reception faded again before I could reply to that one. I’d make it a priority to email Julie-Ann the second I re-emerged from the Tube.
Nora’s birthday dinner was going to be fantastic this evening, because there was so much to celebrate.
I caught the eye of a small, older woman squashed into the corner of the carriage not far from me, her deeply tanned face ingrained with lines that held thousands of stories. Wesmiled at each other. Perhaps in her brief assessment of me, she recognised my excitement.
As I left the carriage, she whispered something and pressed a piece of paper and a sprig of heather into my palm. In that second before the Tube doors closed behind me, I had nothing to give her in return but a big smile.
On the platform I opened and read the handwritten words on the piece of paper:Don’t just exist – live.
She would never know how much the words resonated with me. Mandy had handed me an opportunity to participate in life; to feel something new. Whatever the salary, I knew I had no choice but to take it.
