Page 3 of Christmas off Script
Shut up!
Perching on the edge of the sofa, Ella scrunched up her face, fighting the internal monologue as it picked away at the created fantasies of her life, trying to unravel them. If she was in her own home now, she would have grabbed a pen and started drawing, soothing away her stress by creating fairytale worlds with handsome princes and happy princesses, butterflies big enough to ride, and castles in the clouds. A place where every magical day was either midsummer or a perfect Christmas.
Her phone buzzed.
Leo: Would you consider playing Cinderella this year? Summer is such an insufferable flake now she’s an ‘influencer’ and I don’t want her to bail at the last minute and leave us without the eponymous star x
Leo: Look at me with my big words. I’m so audacious x
Ella grinned, her heart immediately lifting. Leo knew her better than anyone else. He may have disliked her family even more than Oliver did, but he hardly ever let it show and was the one person who truly understood why she spent so much time helping her stepmother.
Ella: U R sew smarrt x
Leo: Dear god. You just made me throw up in my mouth. Don’t do that to your BFF. He’s too much of a posh twat
Ella: OMG have you been listening outside the window?
Leo: Lol, no way. Michelle’s just boringly predictable, and I know what she thinks of me. Did she forget you were coming early today?
Ella: Yeah
Leo: Sorry x
Ella: Not your fault. I’ve got to get back to it. I’ll see you later x
Pocketing her phone, she took a deep breath and went back to sorting out the living room.
Two hours later,the three rooms downstairs were clean and tidy and Ella had moved to the upstairs bathroom. Brown smears of foundation and the chalky remains of toothpaste coated the sink, a film of oil and strands of bleached hair lined the inside of the bath, and the toilet was unflushed.
Could she at leastattemptto clean up after herself?
She can’t bend down easily and it’s a small space. Youknowthis!
Dropping to her hands and knees, Ella scrubbed the toilet bowl, daydreaming about the hot shower she would have when she got home, followed by a relaxed and fun afternoon with Leo, baking Christmas cookies and making limoncello together.
The bathroom door opened and Michelle appeared. On her bottom half was a pair of stained jogging bottoms, grubby socks and dirty sliders. From the waist up, though, she was camera-ready.
Dressed in a voluminous black blouse and a heavy diamante necklace, her make-up was artfully contoured to give the impression of cheekbones, big doe eyes, and a narrow nose. Her lips, already plumped with fillers, now appeared so huge it was as if two lilos were stuck together. Aided by Botox and the filters on her phone, by the time Michelle posted to social media, she was every inch the influencer she aspired to be, and utterly unrecognisable from the real person underneath the façade.
She peered around the bathroom. ‘You doing my bedroom next?’
Ella nodded. ‘And I’ll make sure I don’t touch your lights or the bed.’
‘You’d better not. The last time you moved them, it took forever to fix.’
Michelle had social media accounts under the name ‘Chelle Shops’. Every video was the same: her dressed in black against the backdrop of her frilly pink bed, showing her audience everything she’d been buying.
Posting for the past four years and against all odds, Michelle had built up a sizeable audience of people who loved shopping, and wanted to know what she’d bought and what she thought of it.
Nobody seemed to realise they never actually saw her wearing any of what she presented, nor the items for a second time. Another one of Ella’s jobs for her stepmother was returning every item Michelle had bought for a full refund. And if Michelle got anything for free, then the moment she’d posted about it, she sold it online.
‘I’ve already sorted the packages downstairs and I’ll take them to the post office when I’m done here,’ Ella said. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with today?’
‘Yeah, can you go to the shops and get me a few things?’
Alarm flashed across Ella’s skin. Michelle seemed to think she was a walking cash machine, but her teacher’s salary was modest and she was perpetually short of money. This was mainly because of the extortionate rent she paid to Oliver’s parents for the privilege of living with their son in the house they’d bought for him.
‘Er…’
