Vanity. Lucy Lord

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Taking advantage of one of her beloved’s rare moments of frivolity, Bella manoeuvred her floating armchair towards his to kiss him. As she reached out she accidentally launched herself into the water, knocking Andy out of his chair too. They were both laughing as they re-emerged and hauled themselves up onto the island.

      ‘What an amazing place you have here, Natalia,’ said Andy, handing her back the silver-plated coke straw. She put it onto the mirrored bar top, next to the absurdly over-the-top silver coke urn, and Andy went to the edge of the island to look out at the view, shaking the water out of his short black hair.

      ‘Yes, it’s just fabulous,’ said Bella, following his lovely tall body with her eyes. He wasn’t excessively muscular (Andy had far more important things to do than waste time in the gym), but he still made her weak at the knees with his long legs and broad shoulders. All at one with the world, she tried to focus on the view too. ‘Isn’t that Formentera over there?’ She pointed in the direction of the Old Town.

      ‘No, no, sweet Bella, that is Old Eivissa,’ said Natalia.

      ‘Bugger, I’ve never been any good at directions.’ Bella laughed. ‘But this really is out of this world, and it’s so great of you to do this for Poppy and Damian.’

      Natalia waved her bejewelled hands around impatiently.

      ‘Pouf, I haf money and small villa! What use is it for me on my own?’ Then she looked at Bella curiously. ‘Anyway, do you not think it is great for you to do this for Poppy?’

      ‘What?’ For a moment, Bella hadn’t a clue what she was on about. ‘Oh, you mean the Ben stuff. Well, he was an absolute wanker anyway, and I’m happy with Andy now, so …’

      ‘So …’ Natalia patted her on the shoulder. ‘You are a good and strong woman, like my old mamushka.’ She looked sad, and Bella was torn between sympathy, curiosity and an unedifying desire to be compared to something more glamorous.

      Mark, Sam and a load of people she didn’t know, but who all seemed to know Marky, were lounging in Natalia’s rainbow chill-out room, which wasn’t as awful as it sounded. An enormous, circular area, half open to the sea a long way beneath, with every bit of floor covered in cushions of all colours, fabrics and sizes, at least three layers deep, it gave new meaning to the concept of chilling out.

      The only pieces of furniture were several low white stone tables, essential for the balancing of ashtrays and glasses. The expanse of semi-circular whitewashed wall was hung with around fifteen vividly coloured, apparently abstract paintings. Once you got closer, you could see that they were more impressionist than abstract, all depicting the same view at different times of day, night and year. Individually, each painting would have been nice to have on your wall, thought Sam, but all bunched together like this they were incredible.

      ‘Bella really got lucky when she met old Nat.’ Mark laughed, drawing on a badly rolled spliff.

      ‘Don’t be nasty, Marky!’ said Sam, then snuggled up to him again, not wanting to put him off her. ‘Bella’s a brilliant artist.’

      ‘Oh, I know she is, babe. Who’s the one who keeps giving her freelance illustration work?’ Mark puffed up his huge chest and pointed at it, making Sam giggle.

      ‘I asked you a question, babe! Who?’ He started tickling her and, even though she thought she might die from lust, she eventually managed,

      ‘You are, Marky!’

      He kissed her, using his tongue.

      ‘That’s better. Remember who’s boss around here, gorgeous.’ He took another draw on the spliff. ‘But you gotta admit Bella’s fucking lucky – finding someone as cunting loaded as Natalia, who’s fucking obsessed with mad colours, to buy them all at her first exhibition? That’s what I call bollock-busting luck.’

      ‘Are you talking about my daughter?’ asked an amused and very posh voice.

      Mark looked over lazily in the direction of a beautiful older woman whose kaftan suited the surroundings so much he thought she’d be just perfect for a Stadium shoot, if they ever had a granny-fanciers’ edition.

      ‘Oh, hi, Olivia. Yeah, just saying how great for Belles that old Nat bought all her paintings.’

      ‘Yes, that was certainly a lucky break. Well, I just came in to see how they looked in here, and I must say I think Natalia’s done her proud.’

      ‘Hi,’ said Sam. ‘I’m Sam.’

      ‘Oh, how lovely, Bella’s told me all about you. I’m Olivia,’ said Olivia, extending an elegant hand. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

      Sam got up and fussed around with some cushions, trying to make it comfortable for her, but Olivia brushed her off.

      ‘Thank you, darling, but don’t be silly. It’s absolutely fine as it is.’ And she sat down, cross-legged in her kaftan, opposite them. Catching sight of the spliff burning itself out in the ashtray, she added, ‘You young things nowadays seem to have no idea how to roll joints. Give that to me, please – I can hardly bear to look at it.’

      Momentarily terrified with dope fear, Mark passed Olivia the ashtray.

      ‘D’you have any more skins?’ she asked, and he reached into his pocket for a packet of Rizlas. Deftly, she tapped off the burning end and tore the silly thing open.

      ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’ She beamed around at them, having re-rolled a perfect, tight little spliff with her right hand. Her left was holding a large glass of white wine. ‘I do hate waste.’

      ‘Bugger me, where’d you learn to do that?’ Mark laughed.

      ‘I was a teenager in the sixties, darling, was married to Justin Brown, and spent an awful lot of the seventies in Morocco. May I?’

      Mark nodded and she lit it and toked, inhaling deeply.

      ‘Gosh, that really makes Bella’s colours look cool,’ she said, gazing at her daughter’s paintings on the wall, and Mark and Sam both laughed.

      ‘Sam, darling, you’re awfully pretty. Oh, of course, you’re the one who dabbles in modelling. I did that donkey’s years ago, though I was slimmer then …’

      ‘You’re still beautiful,’ said Mark and Sam simultaneously, and Olivia laughed.

      ‘Past my prime, I’m afraid.’ She turned her hypnotic gaze on Sam again. ‘I imagine modelling’s very different these days. We used to make up our own faces, and sometimes we even wore our own clothes, you know.’

      ‘Yes, I’ve heard about that,’ said Sam, wondering exactly how much Bella had told her mum about the nature of her modelling, and trying to ignore the smirk on Marky’s face.

      ‘I don’t have any of that old shit,’ said Big Sean, the obnoxious DJ that Poppy had poached from Pacha for a small fortune, rolling his eyes. As he was about five foot seven, the name was presumably meant to be ironic – unless his Napoleon complex was seriously out of control.

      ‘Find it then. It’s my wedding and I’m paying you enough,’ Poppy said steelily. ‘And I’d like you to dedicate СКАЧАТЬ