Kate waited outside Mikey’s school with a baseball hat and a thick jacket of her stepdad’s. Blanche had called them both to London ASAP. She hoped no one would recognise her. The quicker they got the reveal over with the better, but the entire time she waited for Mikey, she was riveted to the billboard opposite. It had once boasted Darcy and her thoughts on style. Now there was a monochrome picture, high key, of Susannah and Mikey laughing with that hashtag again. Even Susannah’s dad and his football team—plus subs—had worn a letter on each of their shirts and made a show of it after winning a match. If Darcy had been popular before, she was everywhere now. It hurt. It hurt and heartened all at once.
“You look like a bloke,” Bennie muttered from beside her.
Kate groaned. She was not in the mood for her. Not now. She turned, hoping Bennie would think she was someone else.
“I’ll yell out your name if you don’t face me.” Her tone was blunt, cocky. She must be loving it. She was marrying Laura, and Kate had made a complete idiot of herself on TV. What better way to kick her?
She glared at her. “What do you want?”
Bennie shook her head, that smug grin on her face. “To tell you I’m sorry she is a shit like me.”
Kate scowled. “You what?”
“You always pick them. Me, Laura, Darcy flipping McGregor…” She shook her head again. “When are you going to find someone who actually deserves you?”
“Why are you saying this?” She glared, then cocked her head. Bennie was being genuine, if the look in her eyes was right. She was never genuine.
“I care.” She shrugged and rubbed a hand over her shaved head. “I ditched Laura. I’ll always be a shit.” She bumped Kate’s shoulder. “But I really want Darcy to turn it around for you. I want her to make you happy.” She turned and strode off into the crowd of parents waiting.
Kate stared after her and let out a long slow breath. She cared. Huh. Kate blinked away the tears. It’d do. She smiled. Yeah, it’d do.
One flight, a scrum to get through reporters in Heathrow later, and Kate stared up at the huge multi-storey poster of Darcy on the side of a skyscraper. The outskirts of London on the M4 was a maze of vivid flashing adverts, so much so she didn’t know how the driver could see the road, let alone focus.
Mikey leaned over and gazed at the picture. “She beauty.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed the hurt. Getting her heart broken by Bennie had been enough, but she didn’t have her face plastered over everything. She leaned her head to Mikey’s as they passed poster after poster, billboards, and office buildings, all bearing that infuriating hashtag. Couldn’t they see how much it ripped into her heart? “We love Kate” was nice, yeah, but the one person she needed to hear it from was silent.
The driver hit central London and crowds filled the streets. A police motorbike escort guided them right the way to Oxford Street.
The driver pulled over and Susannah poked her head in. “Mikey-oh!”
Mikey leapt at her and snuggled in. “Susannah-oh!”
“We need your assistance, Mr Sproutman. It’s a job only you can do.” She focused on him, all seriousness. “For Darcy.”
He puffed up his chest. “Kay.”
They hurried off and Kate rested her head against the seat in front. “Can you drive me home now? I showed up. Can you just say I looked nice and let me slink off?”
“You’d better follow Miss McGregor, ma’am.” The driver chuckled. “I am on my way to pick up Ms McGregor. I’m not sure you’re quite keen to see her.”
She groaned. “My heart is too messed up to answer that.”
“Honey, you don’t need pressure marks on your forehead,” Zoë chimed in, poking her head into the car, her voice full of a bustling energy. “Let’s move. I got to get you dolled up.”
“I’m not sure if I’m talking to you.” Kate clambered out of the car. They were on the street. White marquees everywhere, people everywhere. Three women scurried past with a smile at Zoë. “Is that…?” Nah, she was seeing things. She was sure they were supermodels.
“I know.” Zoë squeezed her hand and led her through the crowd of people. “I got snippy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“Forget about it.” She ducked under three crew members from the show, hurrying along with some kind of scaffold. “Isn’t the reveal in a local pub usually?”
Zoë ushered her into a large changing room. Mikey was being fussed over by staff. “Not when I’m the designer.” She pursed her lips. “You need me to pull out my edgy side, because I can do drama queen if needed.”
Kate chuckled. “No, I’ll do as told…as long as I don’t have to show anyone else my bra.”
Zoë looked her up and down, then winked. She pulled out a tape measure. “I’ll only use it on you if you argue.”
Kate held up her hands. “I’ll come quietly.”
Zoë laughed and led her over to Blanche, who was being sprayed in different coloured paints. “Honey, I found this one trying to sneak in the back.”
Blanche leaned in and kissed Kate on the cheek. “Hope you like body paint.”
“Body paint—” She spluttered as the staff shot more at Blanche and three members started tugging at her clothes. Blanche wasn’t wearing a whole lot. She glared at Zoë, who laughed and strolled off. Maybe her and Darcy were more alike than she’d realised?