Away for the Weekend

“You don’t think so?”

“No way. And I have no intention of keeping you out. But I think you should ditch those shoes before you hurt yourself.” Remedios, who beat Otto sixteen rounds at jan-ken-pon to be the one to sit in on the writers’ event, goes over to the door and cracks it open. “She has her back to us,” she whispers. “Come on.”

Two days ago, an invitation like this would have sent Beth running back to her room. Now, however, she merely nods and, holding the offending shoes, quickly follows the young woman inside. They’ve already slipped into two miraculously empty seats at the back, slouching so they can’t be seen behind the heads of the people in front of them, when Professor Gryck takes the stage.

“Firstly, I have to say that it is an honour for me to welcome you all to the First Annual Tomorrow’s Writers Today Symposium on behalf of our generous sponsors…”

Remedios closes her eyes. “Wake me up when it gets interesting,” she whispers.

The man at the door of the Grace Kelly Room (an actor who’s played a CIA agent in several forgotten movies and was very good in the role) lets Gabriela in with a puzzled smile but with no argument. She does, after all, have a ticket, and she is with someone who isn’t dressed like a pilgrim and obviously belongs. “Enjoy yourselves,” he says, looking at Lucinda, and winks.

Nonetheless, it’s just as well that Taffeta Mackenzie, though also good at multitasking, is not at all skilled at astral projection and can only be in one place at a time. At the moment, that place is in the makeshift “dressing room” off the service corridor where the models are getting ready for the show.

At last, Gabriela has her wish: even dressed as Beth, people are looking at her. Though with curiosity, not envy, of course. Who is that girl? their eyes say. What on Earth is she doing here? Ignoring the looks, she and Lucinda hurry inside, choosing seats at the back next to a young man impeccably dressed in a retro-eighties way (bespoke, hand-stitched pinstripe suit set off by a plain navy T-shirt and sandals), who shows no surprise at the unlikely sight that is Gabriela but nods and smiles. Lucinda, unaware that she has seen this very handsome young man before, nudges Gabriela. They both smile back.

The lights dim. Taffeta slips into a seat at the front, next to the runway, surrounded by journalists and photographers. So far, so good, thinks Gabriela. By the time Taffeta sees Gabriela, the graduate show will be well underway – or possibly even over. This is a comforting thought. They may get through the entire collection and be ready to announce the winner of the contest by the time Taffeta spots her. What’s Taffeta going to do then? She can’t throw Gabriela out. Not in front of all these people. Not if she’s the winner. Gabriela leans back in her seat to enjoy the show.

As we all know only too well by now, things don’t always go the way they’re planned. Which makes this day pretty special, because, at both of the events taking place at The Hotel Xanadu, everything sails along like a sloop with a good wind on a calm sea. No one falls on the runway; no one stumbles over his or her words. The distinguished writers and academics give short speeches about the role of books in the twenty-first century and how much they enjoyed judging the competition, and only two people doze through these speeches, one of whom is Remedios. Likewise, the designs on show are faultlessly presented and modelled, and greeted with “oh”s and “ah”s and bursts of applause. The work, the tears, the worries and tantrums were all worth it. Feelings of pride and triumph fill the air.

And then – finally – the moments that everyone’s been waiting for arrive.

In the Cary Grant Conference Hall, Professor Gryck introduces her surprise guest, who will present the winners and call them to the stage to receive their prizes and read their work.

“It is my great honour and pleasure,” says Professor Gryck, “to welcome a writer who needs no introduction to any serious reader of contemporary literature. JC Ferryman is one of the most respected, influential and admired writers of the last forty years…”

Beth gives Remedios a nudge. “It’s starting to get interesting,” she whispers, as Professor Gryck continues in her praise – detailing into how many languages JC Ferryman’s work has been translated, how many universities and colleges teach it and how many awards it has won. “They’re about to announce the winners.”

In the Grace Kelly Room, the graduate show has ended and, as the presenter prepares for the showing of the clothes made by the finalists in The City of Angels College of Fashion and Design’s annual contest, Taffeta Mackenzie scans the room to see where everyone’s sitting.

“Holy Mother,” she mutters, when her eyes fall on Lucinda and the girl sitting beside her. Having been a model herself, Taffeta is a master of disguise, who can change her look at the drop of a false nail. Despite the clothes, the hair and the glasses, she recognizes Gabriela immediately. “What in the name of haute couture is she doing?” Maybe Gabriela Menz is having a breakdown. She’s certainly been acting as if she’s having a breakdown. Some people can’t hack this business, that’s all there is to it. Or maybe she’s been hired by a rival to sabotage Taffeta Mackenzie and her school. The duplicitous witch.

Smiling as if life is nothing but good news, Taffeta unobtrusively leaves her seat.

But she isn’t smiling as she comes up behind Gabriela; she looks as if she’s about to spit pins. Leaning over her she says, very clearly and far from softly, enunciating every syllable, “Get out of here, Miss Menz. Get out of here right now.”

Gabriela, Lucinda and even Otto have been watching the show with trance-like attention and never saw Taffeta leave her seat. Startled, the three of them turn.

“Did you hear me, Miss Menz?” Taffeta demands. “I want you to get out of this room this very minute.”

“What?” says Gabriela

“You heard me. I’ve had all of you I’m going to take. I don’t know if you think you’re being funny or if you’re wilfully trying to humiliate me or what, but I am not going to let you ruin this day for me.”

“But what about my dress?” Gabriela looks from Taffeta Mackenzie’s angry face to the runway. “Bring on Tomorrow” has begun to play; the show is about to start. “Why should I leave?”

“Why?” Taffeta glares down at her. My God, she’s actually wearing tights! “Because you look like you have as much interest in fashion as a raccoon, that’s why. You standing up there and taking credit for the angel dress would be like a monkey getting up and taking credit for Dior’s spring collection.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Gabriela protests. “The angel dress is my design. What does it matter what I’m wearing?”

“Out.” Taffeta nods towards the man standing at the entrance as though he’s waiting for an emergency. “Or I’ll have you thrown out.”

The fact that Otto doesn’t believe in the kind of interference practised by Remedios doesn’t mean that he doesn’t believe in any interference at all.

He leans across Lucinda to say to Gabriela, “Stay right where you are. You’re not going anywhere, except up to the runway to receive your prize.”

Taffeta’s head appears over Gabriela’s shoulder. “And who in God’s name are you?”

“Ah…” says Otto. “That’s it, precisely.”

JC Ferryman walks slowly onto the stage, leaning on a walking stick topped with a silver ball. He wears a rumpled suit that he bought twenty years ago for occasions such as this, and he is the other member of the audience who found it hard to stay awake during the speeches. Much to Professor Gryck’s disappointment, he wastes no time giving a speech of his own, but mumbles a few words of greeting and rips open the first envelope.

“In third place…” A small smile flickers across his face “…is Ms Elizabeth Beeby.” In the wings, Professor Gryck gives a gasp of surprise. Beth has been such an annoyance that she forgot that she might actually win something. JC Ferryman glances at the front row. “For her short story, A—”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Professor Gryck lands beside the great writer so suddenly that he teeters. She puts one hand over the mic. “Mea culpa, I should have said that I’m afraid Ms Beeby isn’t able to be with us this morning.”

JC Ferryman looks almost disappointed. “She’s not here?”

Professor Gryck shakes her head. Sadly. “I’m afraid not.”