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Cara took the perfume bottle. ‘Euphoria, huh? I’ll take anything as close to euphoria as I can get.’ She dabbed the fragrance on her wrists and eagerly rubbed them together.
‘Oh, for future reference, you’re not supposed to rub them together. It bruises the fragrance apparently,’ Miranda explained.
‘Oh. Right. Wellexcuseme, Miss Perfume Expert.’ She nudged Miranda with her elbow. ‘Since when does Calvin Klein do perfume anyway? Isn’t he the denim jeans guru?’
‘Oh, Cara. You must come shopping me with me sometime.’ Miranda shook her head with a smile, as though Cara had just been rescued from a deserted island and had missed the last seven years of modern life. ‘So, yummy mummy, how was your day of leisure?’
‘I had the mostamazingday. The facial was sublime, and the massage ... I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven.’ She tipped her head back.
‘I told you this would be good, didn’t I?’ Miranda’s glossy red lips shone as she grinned.
‘Thanks for suggesting it, and thanks for the discreet discount you arranged.’ Cara winked. ‘I’ve been treated like a V.I.P. since I got here, even though I usually feel more like a V.U.P.’
‘A what?
‘A Very Unimportant Person.’
‘Cara!’ Miranda slapped her arm gently. ‘Don’t put yourself down like that! You’re averyimportant person, and everyone deserves a little luxury and glamour in their life.’
‘It must be glorious to live like this all the time.’ Cara gestured around the room. ‘Fancy hotels, facials, make-up artists,euphoricfragrances, going out on the town...’
‘We get a fair number of women staying here whodolive like that, and although they have it pretty darn good, believe me, some of them are the most stressed people I’ve seen,’ Miranda said.
‘Really? Get them to swap lives with me and then they’ll know the meaning of stress.’ Cara laughed, her curls tickling the sides of her face. ‘Anyway, enough talk, let’s go!’ She hustled Miranda out of the room, grabbing her new silver handbag on the way. It was the smallest bag she’d ever seen, but she had to buy it. There was no way she’d be going out tonight with her regular pillow-sized handbag; a brown fake leather shoulder bag with room for all the essentials: her purse, phone, Lily’s toy phone, kids drink bottles, emergency snacks, tissues, spare undies (the kids ones, not hers), eczema cream, deodorant, lip balm, paracetamol tablets, pens, notepad, colouring book, coloured pencils, and a first aid kit (Pete’s present to her after one too many bumps, falls, grazes, bruises, and the occasional dead insect lodged in a bodily orifice, on the part of their kids). Tonight, all she needed was her credit card and emergency cash, ID, lipstick, her phone, and ... what was she forgetting?
‘Cara, don’t forget your room key!’ Just before the door closed, Miranda pointed to the credit card lookalike on the table. The ‘key’ to enable Cara’s return entry to her luxury abode.
‘Gosh, thanks!’ Cara whacked the side of her head. ‘I still feel like I’m forgetting something else, I’m so used to bringing a bucket load of stuff when I go out.’
To ease Cara’s mind, Miranda peeked in the silver handbag, promptly closing it with a pop. ‘You have everything you need in here, now let’s go, girl!’
They approached a hip establishment afive-minute walk from the hotel, which Miranda said had The Best gourmet pizzas, along with a bar, live music, and dance floor.
‘I’ll need to see your ID,’ said a burly man with arms too muscular to sit flat against the side of his body, as though he had small pillows wedged under his armpits. Handbags even.
‘Seriously?’ Cara opened her bag. ‘I’m twenty-six and have three kids, I’m sure I must look older than eighteen.’
‘Just kidding, love, in you go.’ He tapped the side of her arm, and winked.
‘Oh. Right.’ Cara walked in, slightly disappointed that she didn’treallylook like an eighteen-year-old out for her usual Saturday night clubbing adventure. She tucked curly tendrils of hair behind her ears then clutched her bag. She felt like an alien, as if all eyes were on her. She almost expected her kids to pop out from under the tables and say ‘Surprise!’, while Pete approached her with a ‘tsk, tsk’ to say: ‘You didn’treallythink you could have a weekend off, did you?’
I don’t belong here! What was I thinking?
‘Just relax.’ Miranda nudged her, as though sensing her thoughts.
‘Wait, what does that mean again?’
‘C’mon.’ Miranda threaded her arm through Cara’s and they walked towards the tables. ‘Let’s eat first.’
They were about to sit at a table in the middle when a good-looking man and an even better-looking woman approached them. ‘Miranda, long time no see.’ The man winked at Miranda.
‘Hi, David,’ Miranda said coldly. ‘Uh, this is my friend, Cara. Cara, this is David, he’s a concierge at the hotel.’
‘Lovely to meet you, Cara.’ David took Cara’s hand inhis. ‘I’d like you both to meet Martini.’ He put his arm around the woman next to him who jutted out her boobs.
‘Martina, is it?’ Miranda shook her hand.
‘No, Martini, with an ‘i’,’ she corrected with her husky voice, before turning to shake Cara’s hand.
