“He’s a fucking… fuckhead.” She swigs her champagne.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “He is. And that’s why you need to give the necklace to me. To me ,” I repeat, very loudly and clearly.
Diamanté’s swaying on her shoe boots, and I grab her arm to steady her.
“The dragonfly necklace,” I say. “Do-you-know-where-it-is?”
Diamanté turns her face to survey me a minute, leaning so close I can smell champagne and cigarettes and Altoids on her breath.
“Hey, Lara, why aren’t we friends? I mean, you’re cool.” She frowns slightly, then amends, “Not cool, but… you know. Sound. Why don’t we hang out?”
Because you mostly hang out in your massive villa in Ibiza and I mostly hang out in the wrong end of Kilburn? Maybe?
“Er… I dunno. We should. It’d be great.”
“We should get hair extensions together!” she says, as though seized by inspiration. “I go to this great place. They do your nails too. It’s, like, totally organic and environmental.”
Environmental hair extensions?
“Absolutely.” I nod as convincingly as I can. “Let’s definitely do that. Hair extensions. Great.”
“I know what you think of me, Lara.” Her eyes suddenly focus with a kind of drunken sharpness. “Don’t think I don’t know.”
“What?” I’m taken aback. “I don’t think anything.”
“You think I sponge off my dad. Because he paid for all this. Whatever. Be honest.”
“No!” I say awkwardly. “I don’t think that! I just think… you know…”
“I’m a spoiled little cow?” She takes a gulp of champagne. “Go on. Tell me.”
My mind flips back and forth. Diamanté’s never asked me for my opinion before, on anything. Should I be honest?
“I just think that…” I hesitate, then plunge in. “Maybe if you waited a few years and did all this on your own, learned the craft and worked your way up, you’d feel even better about yourself.”
Diamanté nods slowly, as though my words are getting through to her.
“Yeah,” she says at last. “Yeah. I could do that, I suppose. ’Cept it would be really hard.”
“Er… well, that’s kind of the point-”
“And then I’d have an obnoxious fuckhead of a dad who thinks he’s bloody God and makes us all be in his stupid documentary… and nothing in return! What’s in it for me?” She spreads her skinny tanned arms wide. “What?”
OK. I’m not getting into this debate.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I say hastily. “So, about the dragonfly necklace-”
“You know, my dad found out you were coming today.” Diamanté doesn’t even hear me. “He called me up. He was, like, what’s she doing on the list? Take her off. I was like, fuck you! This is my fucking first cousin or whatever.”
My heart misses a beat.
“Your dad… didn’t want me here?” I lick my dry lips. “Did he say why?”
“I said to him, who cares if she’s a bit of a psycho?” Diamanté talks right through me. “Be more fucking tolerant . Then, you know, he was on about that necklace.” She opens her eyes wide. “He offered me all these substitutes. I was like, don’t patronize me with fucking Tiffany . I’m a designer, OK? I have a vision.”
The blood is beating hard in my ears. Uncle Bill is still after Sadie’s necklace. I don’t understand why. All I know is, I need to get hold of it.
“Diamanté.” I grab her shoulders. “Please listen. This necklace is really, really important to me. To my mum. I totally appreciate your vision as a designer and everything-but after the show, can I have it?”
For a moment Diamanté looks so blank, I think I’m going to have to explain the whole thing again. Then she puts an arm around my neck and squeezes hard.
“’Course you can, babe. Soon as the show’s over, ’s’yours.”
“Great.” I try not to give away how relieved I am. “Great! That’s great! So where is it right now? Could I… see it?”
The minute I clap eyes on this thing, I’m grabbing it and running. I’m not taking any more chances.
“Sure! Lyds?” Diamanté calls to a girl in a stripy top. “D’you know where that dragonfly necklace is?”
“What, babe?” Lyds comes over, holding a mobile phone.
“The vintage necklace with the cute dragonfly. D’you know where it is?”
“It has yellow glass beads in a double row,” I chime in urgently. “Dragonfly pendant, falls to about here…”
Two models walk past, their necks piled high with necklaces, and I squint desperately at them.
Lyds is shrugging easily. “Don’t remember. It’ll be on one of the girls somewhere.”
It’ll be in the haystack somewhere . I look around the room hopelessly. Models are everywhere. Necklaces are everywhere.
“I’ll look for it myself,” I say. “If you don’t mind-”
“No! The show’s about to start!” Diamanté starts pushing me toward the door. “Lyds, take her in. Put her in the front row. That’ll show Dad.”
“But-”
It’s too late. I’ve been ushered out.
As the doors swing shut, I’m hopping with frustration. It’s in there. Somewhere in that room, Sadie’s necklace is hanging around a model’s neck. But which bloody one?