Chapter Seven
Any belief that we have unleashed the decades-dormant power of the breakup spell is quite firmly quashed by the events of the next few weeks.
First, there is no more hot sex. As predicted, Serena and Lil were delighted about Edward and demanded many more details than I was comfortable with giving. Since that night there has been no communication between the two of us, obviously. And while that was the plan, and it's not like we knew much about each other, I can't help but think that if Edward really wanted to he could have tracked me down. After all, how many Clementines were at Carl's funeral?
Second, my job comes to an incredibly anticlimactic end.
Third, there is certainly no big love/soulmate on the horizon. Nor is there likely to be seeing as I have basically retreated to my flat (which I have had to give notice on), where I am living like a grumpy, unwashed hermit subsisting on packets of ramen and share-size bars of Dairy Milk.
And fourth, and the real low point of low points: Len appears to be flourishing in a thoroughly uncursed-like way.
‘I don't know why you keep looking at it,' Lil says as I drape myself dramatically across her sofa. ‘Who cares what that idiot is doing?'
I stare at the photo on Instagram – Len and Jenny are on a beach, he has his arm around her, their faces squished together, close to the camera, beaming. Her hand is held up, showing off her diamond ring.
‘Len hates the beach,' I grumble, sitting up to better show Lil the picture. ‘He tells people he's allergic to sand. Remember when I tried to get him to go on that all-inclusive holiday to Menorca and he acted like I'd suggested a romantic escape to Mordor?'
‘What's Mordor?' Lil asks.
‘Never mind.' I sigh.
‘It's irrelevant, anyway,' Lil says, striding back and forth from her bedroom to the living room with armfuls of shiny, colourful fabric which she dumps beside me. ‘This is just further evidence of what we already know: Len is the worst. What I want to know is why you're still following him on Instagram anyway?'
This is quite a good point, so I decide to ignore it.
‘It's not like I want to be with Len,' I say, ‘but it's very galling to have my life fall so spectacularly apart while he waltzes off into the Instagram-filtered sunset with another woman.'
‘And I get that,' Lil replies soothingly, ‘but I can't let you waste your time dwelling on Len, when we have a fabulous party to go to.'
I moan, flopping back on the sofa. ‘I'm not really in the fabulous party mood.' It's been a rough few months and I think I'm entitled to a bit of dwelling, a good old sulk. I didn't even tell my sisters about my run-in with Sam at the funeral, reluctant to open up that can of worms, and they haven't mentioned him either so it's possible their paths didn't cross. I'd love to say that the encounter didn't throw me, but it did, and I've spent quite a bit of time thinking about exactly what I should have said to him. It's been a really fun little addition to the running list of regrets that plays on a loop while I try to go to sleep.
Lil ducks down beside me, her face close to mine. ‘Clemmie,' she says in the voice of someone talking to a small, truculent child. ‘Do you think Serena is going to let you miss her birthday party? Is that something you think our sister would be very calm and accepting about? Or do you think she would be very, very angry and make the lives of both you and your entirely innocent younger sister a total misery?'
‘The second one,' I say flatly. ‘The misery.'
We all tend to celebrate our birthdays in different ways. Serena's way involves a big party, and has made a natural progression from the Powerpuff Girls and ice cream sundaes to nightclubs and themed cocktails. (Although she did still make us dress up as the Powerpuff Girls for a Halloween party last year.) Attendance is absolutely mandatory, as are presents.
‘Correct.' Lil is brisk now, standing up and gesturing to the piles of clothing. ‘The misery. So stop sulking and help me choose something to wear because I've invited Henry tonight, and I need to look spectacular.'
‘Henry would think you looked spectacular if you were wearing a black sack and a ridiculous veil, because that is literally what you were wearing when you met him, and you spent the night superglued to his mouth.'
Lil smiles coyly. ‘I know, but I haven't seen him all week and I want to wow him.'
Lil and Henry have been pretty inseparable since the funeral, and it would be easy to hate them if they weren't so adorable. ‘You really like him, don't you?' I ask.
Lil fiddles with the dress in her hands. Her smile is shy, like she's keeping a secret. ‘Yeah,' she says softly. ‘I mean, it's early days, but I really do.'
‘Ugh. Fine,' I groan, pulling myself to my feet. ‘Show me the outfit options.'
‘Yay!' Lil's eyes brighten and she dives for the pile of clothes. The next ten minutes are spent cat-walking several different ensembles across her tiny, but dazzlingly expensive central London flat. We finally settle on a rainbow-striped silk jumpsuit which looks amazing on her.
‘Hair up or down?' she asks.
I tip my head, considering. ‘Down.'
She nods. ‘I'll curl it a bit, I think. Loose waves?'
‘Perfect,' I agree.
Lil hands me a sheet mask to put on my face while she curls her hair and does her make-up. Her eyeshadow is bright pink and sparkly, and while I do the back of her hair, she sticks little star-shaped gems around her eyes. When she's done, she beams at me. She looks like a glamorous My Little Pony. ‘Now, what about you?'
‘Oh,' I gesture towards the bookshop tote bag that I shoved all my stuff in. ‘I've got jeans and a nice top in there.'
Lil's look is withering. ‘Jeans?'
‘And a nice top,' I say defensively. After all, I even showered for this event.
My sister rolls her eyes. ‘It's a good job I took matters into my own hands.'
I am instantly suspicious. ‘What does that mean?'
Lil flicks me a quick grin and then disappears into her bedroom, emerging triumphantly clutching a whisper of fabric covered in gold sequins. ‘I made you a dress!'
‘Nope,' I say, shutting this down immediately. It's not that Lil can't sew – Petty taught her how to make her own clothes when we were teenagers – it's that her taste has always been significantly more daring than mine and this led to some questionable fashion choices in the mid-noughties.
‘Come on, Clemmie.' Lil sticks out her bottom lip, big blue eyes looking at me all hopeful. ‘At least try it on, I worked really hard on it.'
I feel like an ungrateful, heartless witch and cave immediately. ‘Okay.' I hold out my hand. ‘I'll see if it fits.'
Lil's face lights up with victory and I'm reminded yet again that she has us all wrapped around her little finger. People think Serena is the one to worry about, but Serena has the subtlety of a steamroller. Our whole family will tell you that Lil is much more likely to talk you into doing her bidding without you even realizing the whole thing wasn't your own idea.
‘Oh, it will fit,' she says confidently now. ‘I made it to show off all those curves. Just trust me, you're going to look ridiculously hot.'
I strip off to my underwear and then tangle with the dress, which I'm pleased to see has a decent amount of stretch in it. When I finally get it over my head and tug it over my chest, the material slithers softly down my sides. It fits like a dream.
Lil starts squealing at a pitch only dogs can hear. ‘Oh my God, amazing!' She takes my hand and pulls me over to the mirror.
I look doubtfully at my reflection, tugging at the hem of the dress. ‘It's really beautiful Lil, but don't you think it's a bit short?'
The dress is lovely, completely covered in gold sequins, with long sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that sits wide on my shoulders and shows off a decent amount of cleavage. It hugs every curve, clings lovingly across my soft belly, over my hips. It's also the sort of length that we used to roll our school uniform skirts up to, in order to scandalize our teachers.
‘You look gorgeous,' Lil says firmly. ‘And honestly you'll blend in much better at this party in that dress than you would in a pair of jeans. Don't forget it's going to be all Serena's super-glam work friends, and they don't know the meaning of the word casual.'
I am well aware that my sister knows how to manage me, but this is exactly the right thing to say. If she thinks dressing me up as a disco ball will help me fade into the background, then I'm all for it.
‘Okay,' I sigh. ‘If you're sure.'
‘Of course I am. Now let me do your hair and make-up and then we can call an Uber.'
I don't bother arguing as Lil twists my hair, braiding it up in a loose crown on top of my head and leaving a few wavy tendrils to fall on my bare shoulders. She puts some magic stuff on my skin that makes it smooth and shimmery, pencils in perfect flicks of black eyeliner, and then paints my lips a dark, vampy crimson.
‘There,' Lil says, finally satisfied as we stand side by side in the mirror. ‘Let's take a picture.' She snaps a photo of us on my phone and swiftly uploads it to Instagram.
‘Len's not the only one moving on, Clemmie,' she says softly.
I take the phone from her outstretched hand and look at the post. She's captioned it with an orange emoji and a flower emoji, and we look great. Arms around each other, matching heart-shaped faces and clear-eyed grins. I feel my spirits lift.
It occurs to me then that this is precisely why Lil insisted I come round to hers to get ready first, so that she could work her magic and give me a pep talk. I feel a lump in my throat and pull Lil back into my arms again. ‘Thanks,' I say a little gruffly into her shoulder. ‘The dress is so beautiful, and I know I've been wallowing lately. It's nice to get dressed up. You were right.'
‘It's going to be such a good night, you'll see.'
I try to share in Lil's optimism as I slip on my shoes and we gather our stuff, ready to head out to the Uber that's waiting downstairs.