‘You’re really not staying?’ the other designers were saying, pulling sad faces. ‘But babe, it’s the afterparty, everyone goes to the afterparty!’
Someone quipped, ‘Maybe she has something, or someone, better to do?’
Euan didn’t really hear what Peaches said in return over all the laughter, but he did notice the vast, lavish bouquet of peach-coloured roses that had landed upon, and completely swamped, the little dressing table. He knew instantly who they were from, and checking the card, had it confirmed they’d been sent from Carenza.
Watching you on that catwalk tonight has been the highlight of my life. We did it! You are a star.
Congratulations, Peaches! Mum xxx
He knew for sure Carenza hadn’t somehow caught up with them and made it to the show. That woman had an unmissable way of announcing her arrival in a room. No, she’d missed the whole thing. These roses had been pre-planned.
Peaches was on her way back to him, having made her excuses to leave, and without thinking very much at all, he flicked the card away so it landed in a pile of shoeboxes and bags.
‘Uh, let’s head out this way,’ he said, guiding Peaches away from the bouquet, not wanting to confront the guilty, sickly feeling this gave him, only knowing he didn’t want anything to spoil her triumphant evening which had twice already so very nearly crashed out.
Peaches had overcome the obstacle of a fallen tree and a missed ride, as well as her best friend and model pulling out of the show. Knowing what he knew now about Peaches’ mum, he felt sure Carenza would not be happy he’d stepped in to help in both situations. Peaches deserved to celebrate this evening, draining every drop of joy and relief from her achievement, and he’d make sure that’s exactly what happened.
I made it, thanks to Euan. Though I guess Clyde and McIntyre already told you about the bike thing. The show went really well but Willie is still sick so Euan stepped in and modelled for me again. I didn’t recognise any scouts in the audience for sure but it was still amazing. Sorry you had to miss it. Hope you’re OK x
She’d sent the message over half an hour ago, as soon as the show ended, and there was still no reply, only the ‘read’ receipt next to it. It was unsettling to say the least, but she was practised in these cold-shoulder techniques. She just didn’t think she’d be subjected to them tonight of all nights, when none of this had been her fault. The showcase had to go on, surely her mum knew that? That had been the guiding principle of the last few years of Peaches’ life: success at any lengths. Now that she’d arrived at the end point, she’d have thought Carenza would be dying to know how it had gone.
Happily, Willie was more forthcoming, sending a photo of himself in his bed at home, snuggled in his jammies with Thom taking care of him. The message told her he’d been discharged from the out-of-hours clinic with instructions to rest and rehydrate.
She’d relayed all this to Euan, skipping over the bit about her mother’s silent punishment. He’d done so much for her already tonight, Peaches wasn’t going to offload about her mum at home right now, doubtlessly seething and feeling abandoned.
‘Grandad says the roads are open again,’ Euan told her, hanging up his own phone. ‘I guess we could go back to his place, if you like? I mean, it’s my place too, sort of.’
Condensation had formed tantalisingly on the bottle in his hand.
‘Uh…’ Peaches considered his offer, looking up into the deep navy blue of the Highland sky shot through with silvery moonbeams like Indian silk. The moon was only one thin shard away from fullness. ‘Would your gramps be OK with that? It’s getting pretty late?’
‘I dunno really,’ Euan said, a little downcast. ‘I’ve never taken a girl back there before, not even for a cup of coffee.’ He seemed to replay what he’d said, hearing something in it that made him suddenly panic. ‘Not that I was planning on taking you back for… you know,notcoffee. Oh God, somebody stop me from talking, please!’
Enjoying the flush in his cheeks, a lovely pink under the car park lights, she couldn’t help laughing.
She surprised herself by reaching for the bottle. ‘How about we just… play it by ear?’
She stripped the foil from the neck and Euan played chauffeur and opened the ludicrously tiny door in the sidecar for her.
‘Madam?’
Registering only for a second her disappointment at not being invited to ride pillion with him, she caught his excitement. This was, after all, the sidecar he’d watched undergoing restoration at the repair shop for days now and he seemed to want her to enjoy it as much as he evidently was.
‘Only if we swap,’ she said, unzipping his leather jacket. ‘It’s only fair, and safer for you as a rider.’
He only hesitated a little before loosening his hoodie from his waist. They made a quick trade.
On her body it was warm and soft and scented like him, soapy and motorbikey, not something she’d know how to describe, but it involved fresh tarmac and hot tyres and clean mountain air. Content to see him safely zipped into his jacket once more, she poured herself into the low sidecar.
‘I’m sure I went on a little rocket fairground ride like this when I was a kid,’ she remarked as she settled in, and Euan pulled a tartan travelling rug (which anywhere else in the world is the name for a woollen blanket) from the very depths of the footwell and tucked it over her legs.
‘And this isdefinitelyvintage,’ she said, rubbing the soft plaid between her fingers.
‘It was Granny and Grandad’s. Goes with their bike and sidecar,’ he said, closing the door and straightening. Something about her made him do a double take. ‘Woah!’
‘What?’ She looked all around. ‘What is it?’
‘Sorry, do you mind if I…?’ He freed his phone from his pocket. ‘I need to get a shot of you sitting there. You’re…’ He shook away the last words of the sentence.
