Love Among the Treetops: A feel good holiday read for summer 2018. Catherine Ferguson

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      She walks over with that air of superiority, and I have a sudden urge to slip my bare arms behind my back so she can’t give me one of her expert Chinese burns. She used to grab me, her dark eyes narrowed and mean, twisting the flesh hard until I squealed …

      ‘Let’s have a proper catch-up later,’ she murmurs, patting my arm gently and giving me a smile. Then she glides off, leaving me staring after her. I may have imagined it, but there might have been a hint of warmth in her tone.

      I glance at my arm, feeling silly for over-reacting. It’s probably at least twenty years since Lucy delivered one of her famous Chinese burns. My instinctive reaction shows just how deeply embedded childhood traumas can be.

      But I’m sure Paloma’s right and Lucy is different now …

      I feel myself relax after that.

      It’s lovely to see my other friends again and we’re so busy catching up, I’m not even aware that Paloma has disappeared. Then I suddenly notice her in deep discussion with Lucy by the cold salmon and cucumber dip. A moment later, she comes over.

      ‘Lucy wants us to take part in the fashion show.’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘You and me.’

      I’m instantly suspicious. ‘But why? It’s such ridiculously short notice.’

      ‘Two of the girls haven’t shown up. So she wants us to fill in.’

      I laugh. ‘No way.’

      ‘Why not? It’ll be fun.’

      ‘Will it?’

      Paloma grins. ‘If her designs are awful, it’ll be a scream. And I have very high hopes that they might be.’

      ‘No. No way on this earth.’ I shake my head firmly. Lucy has to be joking if she thinks I’m going to do that. Really, wild horses couldn’t drag me onto—’

      Someone puts their arm round me and squeezes hard.

      Lucy.

      ‘Twilight! Thank you so much for agreeing to rescue me and my little show!’

      I turn and Lucy’s face is right there, looming large, a little scary in its proximity. But at least her hand is clamped around my shoulder on this occasion, not my neck.

      So I gnash my teeth and endure it.

      ‘You can’t imagine how grateful I am,’ she says as I practically gag on her perfume with all its horrible associations.

      Paloma, in the background, is mouthing, ‘Do it! Just do it!’ with a big grin on her face. So I find myself relenting.

      ‘Fabulous! Oh, you’ll be brilliant. Trust me.’ She hurries over to Olivia, doing a thumbs-up, and the tension in my body subsides.

      Paloma comes over. ‘It’ll be a hoot. Honestly. The collection’s called “Space Exploration Goes to the Movies”.’

      ‘What does that even mean?’ I whisper.

      Paloma grimaces. ‘Beats me. Just a load of pretentious bollocks, I imagine.’

      ‘Okay, ladies.’ Lucy is back and my teeth clamp together again. ‘Twilight, you’re on last as it happens. I always like to end on a witty note. And guess what? You’re it!’ She rubs her hands together gleefully.

      I force a smile and follow Paloma and Lucy into the little kitchen area off the main room that seems to be serving as a dressing room.

      Paloma, who has an amazing figure, looks quite magnificent in her outfit. It’s the sexiest take on a Princess Leia dress I’ve ever seen, all skin-tight silvery Lycra with slits to the thigh and white platform boots.

      She does a twirl.

      ‘Lovely.’ I nod approvingly. ‘Maybe I’ll be Darth Vader.’ Something black and voluminous would be just fine for covering up all the squidgy bits that haven’t seen the light of day for years, and which I’d rather remained a mystery …

      ‘And here we are!’ announces Lucy, producing my outfit with a theatrical flourish. ‘I call it “Big Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. What do you think?’

      I stare dumbfounded at the contents of the hanger.

      And carry on staring …

      My face must seriously look like it belongs to Elastigirl; it’s pulling in so many different directions at once as I try to work out what’s actually going on there.

      She has to be joking.

      It’s a ‘big breakfast’, all right, although the only nod to Audrey Hepburn’s elegant attire in the movie is a black T-shirt dress that looks at least three sizes too small for me. Surely she doesn’t expect me to—

      ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ says Lucy, clocking my doubtful expression. ‘There’s such an enormous amount of “give” in this fabric. Look. It’s quite extraordinary.’ She stretches the garment out to really ludicrous proportions, so that even a portly walrus could be shoehorned into it at a pinch.

      I shoot her a suspicious glance.

      But she just smiles and murmurs, ‘D’you know, Twilight, I think it’s going to look fabulous on you.’

      That’s when she turns it around and I realise I was looking at the back view. The front is something else altogether … and are they my shoes?

      ‘Come on, off with the clothes!’ Lucy urges me, with a glance at her watch. ‘Don’t be shy, we’re all girls together here.’

      There appears to be a lull in conversation. And when I look up, everyone – without exception – is turned towards me, watching, as if I’m the hired stripper for the evening or something. There’s nothing else for it. Breathing in for all I’m worth, I start undressing. The zip sticks on my trousers and as I’m frantically trying to make it go down without breaking it, I can sense Lucy giving my figure the once-over.

      ‘Mm, the trousers are a little – um – snug,’ she comments, far too loudly. ‘I can let them out for you, if you like. I’m a whiz with a needle and thread.’

      I smile at her through gritted teeth. ‘It’s all right, thanks.’

      She frowns at my bottom but thank heavens, at that moment the zip unfurls and I’m free.

      Finally, after lots of wriggling and twisting and panting and straightening of fabric, I’m standing there, catwalk-ready, staring at myself in the full-length mirror.

       This is Lucy’s version of ‘fabulous’?

      The dress might have looked okay with some armour-plated underwear and a pair of skyscraper heels. But with my legs in yolk-yellow tights disappearing into over-sized tomato-red trainers, and three fabric bacon rashers appliquéd onto the front of the dress, along СКАЧАТЬ