dazzling. Everything shines; the expansive windows displaying breathtaking clothes and jewels, the dark, sleek cars, the blonde glossy women and even the older plump men who accompany them, shine. These men wear a uniform of the confident wealthy: pale blue shirts, red ties and navy blazers with buffed buttons and cufflinks and enormous watches that… yes, you’ve guessed it… shine. The street is clean enough to eat your dinner off and every street lamp is decorated with hanging baskets full of pretty bougainvillea that gently sway in the breeze. I turn around and around in circles.
‘Where should we start?’ I gasp, craning my neck to take in the enormous, shiny buildings. ‘I know, I know.’ I scrabble in my bag and find my all-singing all-dancing iPhone. ‘I have to call Ben,’ I say excitedly. He is the perfect person to appreciate this perfection.
‘Ben?’ asks Scott.
‘My old boss, remember?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Darling, how utterly fabulous to hear from you,’ shrieks Ben. ‘My most famous, famous, famous friend.’ I’m pretty sure Scott will have overheard him.
‘Well, I’m not really famous,’ I point out, blushing a little.
‘Clearly you haven’t been keeping up with the press, darling. You are a face,’ he yelps excitedly. ‘Every glossy has you plastered across the front page. Headline: “She’s delighted, er, make that chuffed.” Too funny.’
‘Which paper wrote that?’ I ask, distraught (Saadi had been too; Scott thought it was hilarious). ‘I sound like a trying-too-hard idiot.’
‘Most of them ran with that, since it’s the only comment you’ve made so far. And I noticed that you are taking all the credit for B&B. Most papers say you own it.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ I mutter. ‘The papers aren’t always that accurate.’
‘No kidding. Don’t sweat it. Your engagement has been marvellous for business. I’ve had to take on three new fulltime staff.’
‘Three!’
‘One permanent and two on contract. When the fuss dies down I won’t need the contractors but I might as well milk it while I can,’ says business savvy Ben.
‘So the permanent girl, she’s –’
‘To replace you, that’s right. Well, you aren’t coming back here, are you?’
‘No, I suppose not. Although it seems weird to think of someone doing my job. I love my job. I suppose I should say loved now. I miss it.’
‘What’s to miss? You hated the fact that you had to work Saturdays and you moaned that your hands were always scratched by rose thorns or chapped due to the constant dipping in and out of water,’ points out Ben.
‘True, and some of the customers were irritatingly indecisive.’
‘I know if I was in your position I wouldn’t look back and I do own the place.’ The florist is a business to Ben, flowers are a religion to me. He’d be just as happy selling chocolate or shoes as long as the chocolate and shoes were truly beautiful and his profit margin was reasonable. He could turn his hand to anything. I’m all about flowers so despite the drawbacks I still insist, ‘I loved my job.’
‘You must be loving your new life,’ says Ben more seriously.
‘Oh I am! You’ll never guess where I am right now.’
‘Rodeo Drive,’ he says drily.
‘How did you know?’
‘Because if I was in Rodeo Drive I’d be doing exactly the same thing in your shoes. I’d be calling all my friends to brag; who wouldn’t? Crazy world you’ve landed in though, isn’t it? I’ve been approached by half a dozen papers all desperate for an exclusive story. You know the sort of thing; they want details of your past loves, hopes, dreams, etc. etc.’
‘You’re not doing any interviews though, are you?’ I ask.
‘Of course I am. Adam, Jess and Lisa are being very tight-lipped, which is marvellous because that’s driving up the price the papers are prepared to pay me.’
‘But you won’t say anything too stupid, will you?’ I ask hopelessly.
‘Of course I will,’ says Ben cheerily.
I sigh. ‘What did I expect? Discretion has never been your thing. Please, please, please don’t show the press any photos of me dressed in my Moulin Rouge fancy-dress costume.’
‘New Year’s Eve 2007, when you got so drunk you ended up wearing your basque around your waist. And your modesty was only just saved because Adam strategically placed a feather boa over your –’
‘Yes,’ I say quickly, desperate to shut him up. I’m grateful that my past life was so ordinary that I have no more dramatic skeletons in the cupboard. If I did I’m pretty sure Ben would have inadvertently flung them all into the daylight by