‘No you wouldn’t. Your house is lush.’
‘I suppose it is.’
It made her stop and think. Her life seemed normal to her now. She was always careful to make sure Tilly understood the value of money. To realise how lucky she was. She encouraged her daughter to give coins to every busker they enjoyed hearing play at Portobello Market, and to collect pennies from the back of the sofa, as she herself had done as a child, to save up in a jar. But there were so many other things that they took for granted – the private school education, the fancy holidays, the cars, and the ability to go to Pret after ballet class and spend twenty pounds on hot chocolate and cake without even blinking.
Until Josie came. Seeing her past up close made her remember that her life wasn’t normal. It reminded her of where she came from. Over the past few days, the sound of Josie’s Bristolian vowels and casual slang had occasionally made Amy bristle, because she knew it still lurked in her own lexicon. Her smart Home Counties accent almost never slipped these days; people who met her for the first time assumed from her polish and confidence that she had been educated at the finest schools and colleges. But this week, when she had been talking to Josie, she had found herself remembering who she used to be.
‘So what are you going to do after this week? Back to Bristol or Brighton?’
Josie wrinkled her nose. ‘Landlord’s flogged our house to someone else. He hiked the rent up anyway, so I couldn’t afford it. So I’m going back home.’
‘Your mum will be pleased.’
‘I guess. She always says that she’s glad my dad has gone, but I’m not sure she means it. She gets lonely.’
Amy nodded, wondering if Karen had had a partner since Lee. Their lives had become so distant from one another, she was ashamed she didn’t know.
‘Did you ever meet him?’ Josie asked.
‘Who?’
‘My dad.’
‘A couple of times. But we didn’t really know each other.’
‘She deserved better,’ said Josie. ‘We both did.’
‘Do you still see him?’
Josie shook her head. ‘Don’t want to. He beat her up. Did you know that?’
‘No,’ Amy said, feeling sad and angry. She couldn’t tell the young woman that she’d never liked the cocky mechanic. Yes, he was handsome, even charming. But she had always felt uneasy at the way Karen either gushed about him or sidestepped his name. Amy knew she should have done more to warn her friend.
‘Did you always want to leave?’ said Josie after a minute.
‘Leave where?’
‘Westmead.’
‘I guess. But not because I was unhappy. I just wanted to see what else was out there. I applied to a bunch of colleges randomly. Got into Oxford Brookes and that was what really changed my outlook on the world.’
‘Is that where you met David?’
‘Yes, but it was really my friend Pog who changed everything. I worked with him behind the bar in a student pub in Oxford. He was frightfully posh – so posh it was almost as if he was from another planet. But we got on really well, and when I used to tell him what I dreamed of doing – going to Paris, moving to London, falling in love with someone rich and handsome – he told me to go for it. I wasn’t convinced at first. I thought it was easy for him to say with his trust fund and his connections, but he used to reply, “Why not you?”’
‘Why not me?’ repeated Josie as if to herself.
‘Your mum doesn’t doubt you can do it,’ said Amy with a maternal smile. ‘And neither do I.’
Cliveden was a photographer’s dream, with fountains, pathways and a stunning honey-coloured facade.
‘I don’t like the look of those clouds,’ said Amy, peering out of the window. She knew that they had some shots planned for outdoors.
Josie craned her long neck and pulled a face. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to reschedule?’
Amy sighed. ‘I’d love to, but we’re lucky to get Miranda at all. Plus we don’t have the time. This issue has to go to the printer’s in three days and we have nothing else to put on the cover.’
Janice Evans, the magazine’s fashion director, met them in the reception. She was tall, blonde and Welsh, and refreshingly no-nonsense for someone in the notoriously flouncy fashion world.