Millie catches my eye from the stool where she’s perched next to her friend. ‘I’m just going to swap to the other side so everyone gets a chance to be in the shots.’ They’re here this afternoon as part of their school outreach project, and standing in for Ross with the video. More fool me for even thinking they might be too young to film; the clips they showed me when the biscuits went to the kitchen are easily as good as mine.
Joanie taps Walter’s shoulder. ‘Make sure you tilt your cap the right way, we can’t have our leading man hiding his face.’ Before Walter has time to reply she’s leaned across and done it for him.
Madge turns to me. ‘So where’s your young man today, Cressy? He’s usually in charge of filming.’
I’m opening my mouth to deny that he’sanythingto do with me, but Millie gets in first.
‘Ross is at the surgery, but he’s not Cressy’s. She’s very happy to be single. For now, anyway.’ Except for the last bit, an answer like that makes me want to hug her.
I hold back a grin. ‘I was hoping young Walter would ask me out, but he hasn’t.’
Jen sends me a wink. ‘You’ll have to get in the queue, he’s very popular here in the lounge. We’re hoping all the attention will make you want to stay with us, aren’t we, Walter?’
I smile at him. ‘There you go, Walter, that’s what being a YouTube star does for you.’
Walter laughs. ‘Pam says we’ve had another thousand “looks” since this morning.’
‘Brilliant.’ So far Ross has only sent me the film from the fairy cake afternoon, but when I whizzed through it before I uploaded it yesterday afternoon I had no idea it would take off this fast. Obviously it was lovely seeing everyone joining in. But with the wonky camera angles I hadn’t tipped it for Oscar nominations.
Jen circles the table delivering biscuits back to their makers. ‘St Aidan is riveted, and everyone’s shared us on Facebook and Twitter. If people all over the world are watching, we’ll likely be famous.’
‘In which case, we’d better get on, and we’ll upload this one too.’ As I smile up at Millie and add inky drops of colour to each bowl of icing, I’m thinking back to the time my first-ever buttercream video took off. That whoosh of excitement when I saw how fast the number of views was rising; when it reached a hundred thousand I actually felt like my chest was going to burst.
I was such a different woman before those videos took off. Life was so simple when all I had to do was turn up to the magazine offices from Monday to Friday with a few ideas for lifestyle features to slip in alongside the slimming articles. But once my social media career took off there was pressure every minute of every day. I’d wake up knowing I had to find more ideas that were ahead of everyone else’s, that my posts had to be better than the day before, that I’d always have to stay two jumps ahead of the copycats. My entire being depended on likes and views and followers, on keeping my sponsors interested and happy and on board. And all the time I’d have my antennae out searching for new ones.
It’s not that I’m not delighted the way things have turned out for me; how could I be anything else? But having clawed my way up this particular ladder, I’m fully aware of the downsides. The drawbacks outsiders don’t see.
Looking along the lines of faces here I feel very protective. There was that group of pensioners who filmed themselves singing heavy metal songs in their sheltered housing complex; the clips went viral and the media took over their lives.
It’s a hard call. If you’ve only got a few months to live, would you rather spend it being whisked off to London in stretch limos to have cocktails with pop stars and photoshoots with theDaily Mail? Or would it be better to stay quietly at home on a Cornish clifftop surrounded by friends who love you, watching the seagulls wheeling and the sun sparking off the sea?
Obviously as a young person I’d choose London every time, but I live therebecauseI love the buzz. More importantly, I’ll have plenty of time to watch the surf lines when I’m not young any more. But for my friends here, I want the best for them. And something deep inside tells me they’re lovely as they are. I’d really hate to spoil that.
It’s a fleeting thought, and as I push the bowls of coloured icing out along the table it’s broken by Millie’s shout.
‘Is that a wave in your hair, Cressy?’
I smack my hand to my head. ‘Please tell me it isn’t.’
Millie’s grinning. ‘I was wondering how you’d done it, it looks cool.’
I run my fingers over the back of my scalp and sure enough, there are kinks all the way down. I give a grimace. ‘That’ll teach me to rush my straightening.’ There simply isn’t as much time to fit it in as there used to be. And possibly there’s less motivation; I’m still on show here, but no one is as judgemental.
Millie’s looking at her friend. ‘Waves are in, aren’t they, Luce?’
Luce nods and tosses back a mass of curls. ‘We were just saying, you should give them a try.’
‘I’m so busy, I may have to.’ Obviously I’m joking. The last time I let my hair express itself I was twelve. In any case everyone knows perfect waves take even longer to achieve than sleek. I’m just hoping they don’t turn their eleven-year-old judgement on my dress, because I took a short-cut with that too, and wore it straight from the hanger without giving it a second press. The last six weeks my standards have slipped so far I can’t even think about it. It’s all very well having a holiday, but there’s the panic that if I let things go too far I may lose them for ever. That it’ll be hell on earth to get back to the Cressy I was before.
I pull a bobble out of my pocket and hurry my hair into a ponytail to hide the damage, but I’m not quick enough for Nell.
‘Beachy waves would suit our Cornish Cressy.’ She’s been at the other end of the lounge, socialising with Diesel, but as she’s here alone I’m guessing he’s crashed out after all the attention. ‘I’ve come to give you the good news on camera.’ She turns to Millie. ‘Make sure you get this.’
I get up to hand out the spoons, but Jen has already done that so I lean across to help Walter push the icing all the way to his rabbit’s tail. ‘Give me a clue?’
Nell’s beaming. ‘I’m very happy to tell you, the feedback data on your evenings so far has been phenomenal.’
I’m puzzled. ‘But they’ve all been disasters. I haven’t got onto trouble-shooting once. Where did this data come from anyway?’
