But in Savannah’s life nobody knew, nobody saw. Her secret was perfectly hidden. She herself kept it that way.
‘Are you happy to browse or do you want some help?’ said the woman in the shop. A woman who reminded Savannah a little bit of her mother, except this woman’s silvery hair was cut much shorter. She wore the classic sales lady outfit of an elegant black dress and low pumps. She wore one fat Perspex bangle on her arm. The bangle was an unexpected bright turquoise colour. It was her only jewellery and looked both stark and fabulous at the same time.
‘I love your bracelet,’ said Savannah, ‘it’s wonderful.’
‘We stock them. I got them in because I liked them so much myself, see.’
She showed Savannah a display of rings, necklaces and bracelets all in the same Perspex in a variety of colours. Acid-green, lime-yellow, bubble-gum pink, pillar-box red.
‘They’re fabulous,’ breathed Savannah, running her fingers over them.
‘Now this one,’ said the woman, picking up one of the acid-green rings and holding it towards Savannah, ‘would look wonderful on you with your hair, your colouring.’
Savannah generally wore only her engagement and wedding rings and the little delicate gold watch Calum had bought for her. He liked delicate, elegant jewellery. In the same way, he liked feminine clothes, which was why Savannah wore flowing things that twirled and swung around her ankles. Flowing clothes also hid how thin she was. She slid the ring onto her ring finger on her left hand, but it was far too big.
‘You’re quite slim, aren’t you,’ said the woman assessingly. Her voice was very kind.
‘Yes,’ said Savannah, who’d heard this before. People often wanted to comment on how thin she was and she laughed it off saying that it was exercise and running around and being a busy mum and entrepreneur.
Nobody really wanted to know about her disordered eating. Or how sometimes she stared into the fridge and thought she might get sick if she had to eat anything. When the last bit of control in her life was about drinking coffee and never touching a biscuit.
The sales lady got a smaller ring.
‘Try this one.’
It fitted perfectly. Savannah held her hand out and admired it, admired this new version of herself. But then the dress she was wearing, a floaty floral thing, looked so wrong with a modern piece of jewellery. To wear this ring, to be this woman, she needed different clothes.
‘That dress you’re wearing,’ she said, ‘I love that. I’m sorry, that sounds a bit insane, I love your bracelet, I love your dress, I want to take over your body.’
The woman laughed. ‘No, this would suit you. And, besides, it’s my job to show off the wares of the shop so that you’d go, oh I’d like that.’
‘I used to come here all the time,’ Savannah said, ‘but somebody different worked here.’
‘Yes, I bought it recently. Eleana.’ The woman held out her hand.
‘Savannah,’ said Savannah, shaking Eleana’s outstretched hand.
‘Do you want to change your look, perhaps, try something different? Because the clothes here used to be more your style. But I prefer a leaner, more sculptured, tailored silhouette.’
‘No, I love this,’ said Savannah, surprising herself, and she did. Apart from the cashmere sweaters and some very comfortable-looking velvet track pants, everything on the mannequins and on the rails seemed sculpturally shaped. There were no florals here, no leopard print, either. Eden always said leopard print was a neutral. Savannah used to agree with her, but Calum hated leopard print.
It’s tarty, he said.
Savannah had let it go.
Eden wore leopard print and it looked fabulous on her. She had a leopard-print dress that clung to her curves and she wore it with purple shoes. Calum was good at both implied and straightforward insults. To imply that her sister wore tarty clothes was very him.
‘I would like something different,’ said Savannah.
Ten minutes later she was ensconced in a large changing room with hangers of clothes. There were dark greens and navies and some rich creams, tailored trousers, shaped jackets, tanks that didn’t cling to the body, but had a firm business-like look to them.
Everything looked amazing. She wanted it all. But when she’d added up the total, it was too much. Maybe a few pieces, Savannah thought. She was dressed in her own clothes, had pulled back the dressing-room curtain and was working out what she would like to buy, when Eleana appeared.
‘There is no pressure,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing worse than shop owners who refuse to let you leave the premises without offloading everything in the shop onto you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Savannah, gratefully.
The kindness was there. Instinctively, she knew Eleana meant it. If she walked out without anything, it was fine, and Savannah rarely felt as if she could do that. So often she had bought things in shops because someone had hovered over her and made her feel she had to purchase, because she might get into trouble with somebody if she didn’t.
