Then it’s the tone in Nina’s voice when she speaks to Lorraine.
A bitchy tone.
Then she’s insisting Lorraine sits outside while I’m being made up.
I rise out of the chair to say something but Lorraine catches my eye and shakes her head. Lorraine is keeping everything on an even keel by not tackling Nina full on. So she’s going and getting the coffee. She’s staying in the other room. She’s not ripping Nina’s face off when Nina is incredibly rude to her. But as I look at Lorraine’s eyes this last time, I realise that something has to change.
I call Lorraine in when Nina’s on a call. ‘She’s being a bitch and I am terrified of what she’s told the reporter,’ I say.
‘She doesn’t want to be sued,’ says Lorraine soothingly. ‘Let’s keep it all nice and calm so that by the time the journalist gets there you’ll be a calm, relaxed version of yourself. We’ll have beautiful pictures and you know that you’re doing what you need to do.’
I wince.
‘You’re doing it, aren’t you?’ she says.
‘Doing what?’ I say.
‘Imagining how it could all work out if Nina had her way.’
‘Yeah,’ I sigh, ‘I don’t want to be that person, I don’t want that following me everywhere as if ... as if I’m nothing more than a victim, because I’m not a victim.’
That’s one thing the group has taught me, I’m not a victim. People call people like me victims of crime and I suppose we are, but I don’t want to consider myself a victim. Something bad happened to me, but I can get over it. A lot worse things have happened to other people.
Like Ariel, who was raped. Like Eileen who lost her daughter.
‘Look at my parents,’ I say to Lorraine, ‘and my mother grieving every single moment of every day as she takes care of my father lovingly, wearing herself into the ground because she still wants to show him how much she loves him. These are much worse things and I don’t want my case turned into some enormous deal just because I’m famous. It shouldn’t be like that.’
‘Just stop going over it in your head!’ says Lorraine, ‘and if you get really stuck in the interview, just think of ...’ she pauses. ‘I can’t think of anything,’ she says finally. ‘I’ve been trying, but if you break down and cry and say you’re working so hard on all your new recipes ... shit, that doesn’t work either.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ I say, ‘it’s a tricky one. I have to try and give people what they want: the happiness, the fun.’
‘Exactly,’ says Lorraine, back on track. ‘Talk about the new house and how it’s nice even though it needs a teeny bit of work. Not a lot, mind you, because you don’t want to upset the lady you bought it off and if you say it has a hideous avocado bathroom, she might not like it.’
I turn and grin at Lorraine.
‘You’re a real softy at heart,’ I say. ‘Girl boss indeed! But you’re soft as butter.’
‘No, I am tough,’ she protests.
‘You’re thinking about the lady I bought the house off and you don’t want to upset her.’
‘You said she’d been looking after her husband who was ill, too and things had been difficult and maybe she wanted to make the house all pretty and couldn’t afford it. I don’t know,’ mutters Lorraine. ‘Just try not to hurt anyone, well that’s what my mum says.’
‘That’s what my mother says too.’
We nod in agreement, thinking of strong women who hold the world up.
‘OK,’ I say, ‘I’m ready for this.’
We take endless pictures.
‘Just one more,’ lies the photographer constantly, as I lean against the tree in the garden and try and look deliriously happy, and as if it’s not the five hundred and fiftieth picture of the day.
‘That’s it, that’s it. Now look off into the distance, give me thatmisty-eyed stare.’
‘Do you know,’ I say, turning to look at him, ‘thatmisty-eyed stare thing does not make me look nice. I look deranged. So let’s just do more smiling.’
‘OK,’ he says.
