‘Well, it’s no “I’ve tattooed my eyebrows on to look like a pair of leeches and my highlighter’s so bright, my face is glowing green”, but it has its own subtle charms.’
‘Do my eyebrows look like leeches?’
‘Yes, but in the most adorable way possible.’
Later he’d sent her a pic of her with little cartoon leeches drawn on her face. It got eighteen thousand likes. She’d hashtagged it #SamBeLike, as she did with most of her couples content. But she had hesitated right before sharing it. Would Sam mind? Would he think she was using him? The thought had rocked her and she’d felt breathless, her heart stuttering because, of course, this, sharing little texts and gifs he sent her, was nothing compared to the truth.
When the panic attack – though she could barely bring herself to call it that – passed she’d hit the Post button. You’re in too deep anyway, Ali, may as well ride the wave. A PR had DM’d an hour later inviting her and Sam to a hotel she repped for a couples’ weekend. ‘You guys are so cute!’ she’d written.
The irony that the one thing she wasn’t faking was the thing everyone had latched onto wasn’t lost on Ali. Her feelings about Sam were real – she knew this for certain. If they weren’t, every kiss and cuddle wouldn’t be so marred with regret and foreboding. Some time apart would be good. Ali knew it wasn’t a solution – it was just staving off the disaster that she knew lay ahead one way or another.
Going to the retreat would be like treading water on the Sam thing – they could text and Facetime and they wouldn’t need to do anything regarding the baby. She’d be a week closer to the Glossies and scoring the Influencer of the Year award – everything else could wait till after that. They’d go away. Or she’d, she’d – god knows what, emigrate? It didn’t seem like the worst idea at this point, but it still didn’t solve the Sam problem. Her mind was mangled just thinking about it. Stay in the day, Ali, she mantraed, reverting to the one thing that had worked to keep her chill since the beginning of all this. Don’t think too far ahead, like, beyond tomorrow. Large-scale lying could be so stressful – why didn’t anyone ever talk about that?
‘I can deffo make time, Holly,’ Ali piped up. ‘Count me in!’
The marquee was nearly empty by now and Ali, Shelly and Holly started to make their way back under the flower arch and out to the chilly car park, where Sam was waiting, holding a balloon animal and eating a cupcake.
‘Ali!’ Hazel bustled back over to them. ‘We do a gorgeous little get-together every month, a little #MamaMorning. Shelly’s hosting the week after next. You should come – it’s a great chance to swap tips, give each other’s account a little boost, and it’s good for us Insta-mums to be seen to be friends.’
‘Right.’ Ali grinned.
Shelly was quick to jump in. ‘Wearefriends, Hazel!’
‘Oh, relax, Ali knows what’s up.’ Hazel winked at Ali. ‘She knows you don’t get to five digits without a little clever networking, never mind the six digits – though you’re getting there, aren’t you, Ali?’
‘I’m nearly at sixty thousand now,’ Ali said. ‘So hopefully a few more weeks.’
‘Well done.’ Hazel smiled a tad aggressively and started herding the kids towards the minivan her driver had just pulled up.
‘See you then.’ Polly waved in her meek fashion and headed after Hazel.
‘Hazel seems so … different to her Insta,’ said Ali carefully.
‘Hmmm,’ was apparently the best Shelly could come up with.
‘She seems really nice, though,’ Ali added hastily, unsure how close they all were.
‘Well—’ A commotion at the minivan interrupted whatever Shelly’d been about to say next.
‘We’ve done a head count. This is not one of mine,’ Hazel was roaring, shoving a kid back towards the assembled PRs. She hopped into the passenger seat and the car sped away, leaving the PRs to deal with the slightly dazed little girl.
‘Well, that makes me less worried about whether I’m actually fit to be a mother.’ Ali giggled and Shelly joined in. ‘I’d better grab Sam – he’s probably off his head on all the sweets!’
‘Ali, I hope you’re OK after what happened on set. I heard Stephan was being horrendous.’
‘Yeah.’ Ali didn’t want to sound worried. ‘Things are going fine so far. I’m picking up lots of bits with the Insta thing.’
‘Well, just be careful.’ Shelly looked tired as she scanned the car park for her car. ‘It can suck you in but don’t let it take over. The real things are what’s important.’ She sighed as a dark car pulled up. ‘See you week after next – I’ll DM you.’
Ali watched her go, with an eerie feeling in her tummy.
18
Shelly sat in her dressing room feeling apprehensive. The day’s filming involved her character, Imelda, throwing one of her regular lingerie parties, which naturally required Shelly to wear the wares. The wardrobe mistress, Dee, was holding up option after sheer, frilly option which Stephan was energetically rejecting while shouting down the phone in a corner of the dreary, windowless room. He vetoed every piece that would cover more than the barest minimum for their primetime, pre-watershed spot in the schedule.
‘If we can’t have a hint of a nip, can we at least go for some side boob?’ He was wrangling the head of drama on the phone and shaking his head furiously at a black silk teddy that Shelly felt slightly better about, seeing as it was pretty close to a nightie.
This is why I need to ditch this, thought Shelly bleakly – she wouldn’t be a prude about her body if the role actually meant something to her, but she hated Imelda. She hated having to ham up her Dublin accent, and the stories they gave her were always so weak. Imelda was the slapstick character, always up to stupid schemes like her lingerie parties and that time she and her brother tried to rig the bingo. She was rarely involved in any of the grittier storylines on the show, though Amy was adamant that this was for the best – if Imelda started doing anything too hard-hitting onDurty Aul’ Town, it could upset the SHELLY audience.
