Page 13 of Rescuing Rosie
‘I was informed we’d be indoors,’ said Rosie. That was kind of true; she’d just omitted the ‘for most of it’ part.
‘I’m sure Veronica wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some of the Vybe outdoor gear?’ said Kayleigh.
Thank you!
‘You can borrow a jacket,’ said Veronica. ‘They’re on racks in the yoga room.’ Her eyes dipped to Rosie’s trousers and sodden boots. ‘But please be careful with it.’
The hotel carpets were deep and spotless; clearly boots should be removed before entering. Rosie took hers off, and her socks, wringing them out at the bar entrance, then made her way to the spa. An immaculate blonde in white trousers and shirt was in attendance, and when Rosie explained her mission, directed her to the yoga studio.
It was empty, and light and bright, courtesy of floor-to-ceiling windows, but the view was obscured by the rain. Rosie’s damp feet squeaked on the wooden floor and left footprints as she crossed to where racks of colourful activewear were parked – leggings, shorts, bras pretending to be tops, actual bras, vests, hoodies … rain jackets, and puffers of varying lengths and puffiness. Rosie made a mental note to find out from Veronica the correct terminology when referring to the properties of quilted outdoor wear.
And there it was – the fuchsia-pink sleeveless jacket. She stroked her fingers down the marshmallow-soft fabric, then read the label to check the size, hoping it wasn’t model-tiny. But Madison’s chest was not in the slightest bit tiny.
Medium. Whoop! And also on the label:Filled with goose down for unparallelled warmth. Feathery heaven!
She took off her denim jacket and slipped on the puffer, snuggling into the generous collar which reached up to her chin. Immediately the chill in her upper body was soothed away. So warm, so light … it was like wearing a cloud.
Mission accomplished, she headed to her room, encountering only Grace the receptionist, whose face remained admirably expressionless as she took in Rosie’s pink puffer, soaked tartan trousers, and bare feet.
‘Got a bit wet!’ Rosie called. ‘Just off to change.’
A sign at the top of the stairs indicated Byron, Tennyson and Wordsworth to the left, and Shelley, Southey and Coleridge to the right.
It was a long time since Rosie had opened a hotel room door with a proper key; it made a satisfying clunk as she turned it. The room was blessedly warm, and her face lit up as she saw chocolates and a bunch of flowers on a table:With the compliments of Vybesaid the little card. She was loving this brand more by the minute – shame their publicist was as icy as the Cumbrian wind.
After popping a truffle in her mouth, and then another, Rosie took off her wet clothes and put on the fluffy white robe she found hanging in the wardrobe. She quickly unpacked her case then headed to the bathroom to make herself presentable. She washed her face, rubbed in some moisturiser, applied a touch of eyeliner and mascara – just enough to give her the confidence to meet Veronica’s cold gaze – added a dab of lip gloss, then wrangled her wind-blown frizz into long waves with her styling brush.
‘You’ll do,’ she said to her reflection, noticing the upside of that Arctic blast – rosy cheeks! ‘I’ll be with you later,’ she said to the bath.
Returning to the bedroom, Rosie put on her pink leggings and a white long-sleeved T-shirt, then the pink puffer and her flowery Doc Martens. She admired the result in the full-length mirror, remembering the shoe-shop lady’s words:They’re so you!Today, it felt as if they were.
The receptionist’s expression was less bemused this time. ‘The others are in the conference room, just along there,’ she said.
As Rosie knocked and entered, Madison’s manager was perched on a long table addressing the crew, plus Ashley. Madison had changed into a lime-green cropped sweatshirt, matching leggings, and white trainers. Her long, jet-black hair was piled on her head in a top knot.
‘Ah, Rosie,’ said Ashley. ‘Looking rosy!’
‘That’s one bracing wind,’ she replied.
‘Your boots!’ exclaimed Kayleigh, eyes wide. ‘Oh my god, Veronica – would you look at those Docs with the pink leggings! For the outdoor shoot – the hill one?’
‘Hill?’ said Madison.
Rosie glanced at the star’s beautiful face, which would no doubt have frowned, had that been possible.
Veronica took in Rosie’s ensemble and said, ‘I think we’ll stick with walking boots.’
Her words bounced off Rosie. No matter how many judgemental head-to-toes she was subjected to today,no onewas going to silence the buzz this outfit was giving her.
Madison’s manager held out a hand. ‘Guy Baptiste,’ he said. ‘You’re writing the piece?’
Rosie shook it; his grip was tight. ‘Yes. I’m Rosie Appleby.’
‘Good to meet you,’ said Guy. ‘Just to reiterate, it’s copy approval all round.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘It’s being sponsored by Vybe, but the deal is we all get to see the piece and amend as necessary.’
Rosie had known this would be the case, but she wondered now, about the ‘funny’ content Amara had requested. She was going to have to tread a fine line.
Madison squeezed past Veronica and came to stand next to Rosie. ‘Hi, I’m Madison,’ she said, offering a hand. Her palm was soft and her handshake light.
