Thanks to a really amazing strapless bra thatmusthave been designed by NASA because it cost so much, Ginger fitted into the dress. She wore her beautiful hair up, her skin was porcelain pale and Jodie had done her eye make-up for her. She looked the best she had ever looked in her life and that included the original photo shoot for the fitness article. She hadn’t been toned then. Toning was the key, it was nothing to do with being fat or not being fat, as Will had said to her on many occasions.
‘It’s to do with fitness levels,’ he used to say. ‘There are many incredibly thin, skinny people and they’re totally unfit, Ginger. Being fit – that’s what matters. Fit, toned and strong. Gives you strength and confidence on the inside too.’
Her heart certainly didn’t feel strong these days, but she’d recover, Ginger thought miserably, extending an arm and admiring the emergence of biceps as she did so. She might have biceps but Carla had Will.
Still, she’d get over him if it killed her. She’d become aware of a few of the guys from work watching her, and she’d even caught Zac looking her way in admiration once or twice this evening. But maybe she was imagining it. Zoe had told her she looked amazing: ‘You look fabulous, Ginger. I wish you’d believe it too.’
The room was reasonably quiet as the MC made a few jokes and then started the countdown to the various awards. It really was a lovely night, thought Ginger, her mind going off into the ether. She wished she’d been able to bring someone from home: Mick and Zoe or Dad or Declan and Margaret. They’d have enjoyed it, enjoyed seeing her name written on the list of people who were nominated for the best feature writer.
Even though there was just no way in hell she was going to win it, it was something to be nominated. It was like this big start to her career, saying she’d arrived. Therefore, in expectation of not winning, she wasn’t in the slightest bit nervous as the presenter read out the list of people nominated for her award. Carla sat at one of the top tables wearing a short metallic dress that had probably cost thousands – or would have if she’d actually paid for it. Paula said Carla was notorious around town for getting discounts out of designers and designer shops. Plus, if she wore something that was photographed, it was good publicity for the designer and tonight she looked quite amazing with that sleek blonde bob and her usual push-up bra. Beside her sat Will, looking so familiar and so handsome. Ginger’s heart ached.
She was so busy in her contemplation of Will, Carla and her glossy beauty that she wasn’t listening and suddenly Paula was poking her painfully in her side with her elbow.
‘Get up,’ said Paula.
‘What,’ said Ginger. ‘What is it?’
‘You’ve won.’
‘Won what?’
‘You’ve won the award.’
‘You’ve won best feature writer, Ginger!’ said Brian, who was sitting at their table, smiling at her.
Suddenly all eyes were on Ginger. Was this a joke? Was this like Liza’s wedding, everyone ganging up on her to make her look stupid? And then she saw the huge screen and saw her name on it.Ginger Reilly, Sunday News, Feature Writer of the Year.Her stomach swooped.
‘Really?’ she said.
‘Really,’ hissed Paula. ‘Now get up there and say thank you to everyone. Remember to say thank you to the important people at the top, too, or you will never work in this town again. Don’t fall over anyone on the way up. I give you free leave to bring a glass of wine and throw it into Carla Mattheson’s face en route, if you want,’ added Paula, but a startled Ginger was gone, pushed happily along by other people.
‘I don’t believe this,’ she said and people smiled as she passed, because it was quite clear that this tall, statuesque girl, with her fabulous piled-up hair and her beautiful warm face, genuinely hadn’t expected to win.
She managed to get up on the stage without tripping even though her shoes were incredibly high. Because she was tall, she towered over the presenter.
‘Oh my,’ she said, looking around her. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
She took a deep breath. She would not make a fool out of herself. A man she was trying desperately to get over was down there looking up at her and he didn’t want her. He’d chosen someone else.
But she was a warrior woman: she would not let his presence upset her. She had a career to think of.
‘This is my first time here and I do not have a handy speech tucked into this dress. Nothing else will fit.’
Everyone laughed.
‘I wasn’t really a proper feature writer until a few months ago. Up until then, I was writing advertorials where, for the uninitiated, you have to write about peanuts and garages and make it all sound terribly thrilling but keep it under a thousand words.’
Everyone laughed some more.
‘And suddenly I’m here, nominated for an award and I win. I wasn’t thinking about that. I was looking around the room and thinking how wonderful everyone looked and wondering how soon I could take my shoes off because they are so tight.’ She poked a shoe out from under the dress, a dress with a side split that showed off those amazing legs.
Whoops accompanied the laughs this time.
She went on to make a list of thank yous, carefully mentioning all the people she worked with, including her pals Paula, Fiona and Jodie, right down to the girls who cleaned up in the evening, whose life stories she knew.
People were clapping, for her!
‘Finally, I’d like to thank my dad, my two brothers, Michael and Declan, my two sisters-in-law, Zoe and Margaret, and my Great-Aunt Grace for always being there, because they believed in me when nobody else did.’
