Anxiety Girl: Meet Sadie Valentine... Read online

  ‘Julian...’ Aldo repeats slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. ‘So, what’s that, the second guy this week?’

  ‘Third.’ I correct, feeling my cheeks flush violently.

  ‘What’s with you lately?’ He gives me a sideways glance and bends down to stub out his cigarette. ‘You’re going through more men than I do conditioning treatments.’

  Choosing not to answer, I look down at the ground as light raindrops start to fall from the sky. A cab fires past in the opposite direction and Aldo expertly raises his hand, causing it to do a sudden U-turn in the middle of the road. Holding on to his arm, I step over a puddle and dive into the back of the car.

  ‘Move your arse, Shirley.’ Playfully pushing my arm, Aldo jumps in next to me and slams the door.

  Shirley isn’t my name, but you already know that. What you don’t know is the reason that Aldo refuses to call me anything else. I don’t tell many people this, but around ten years ago, my mum won the lottery. I don’t just mean a few grand, she won the big time. Once the initial shock had worn off, she hired a financial advisor and made some very successful investments. That’s how we live here, in Cheshire.

  You’re probably wondering what my mum’s strike of luck has to do with me earning the rather unfortunate nickname of Shirley. Well, when I turned twenty-one, my mother gave me the rather incredible gift of a luxury apartment in the prestigious village of Alderley Edge. A few months after meeting her boyfriend, Mick, she suddenly voiced her concerns that I was getting too dependent and set me up in a home of my own.

  I hadn’t even put the key in the door when I noticed the ill-fated spelling mistake on my letter box. Shirley. Shirley Valentine. That movie haunted me throughout my teenage years and now it is going to stick with me until the day I die. I still don’t know whether it was an unfortunate error or a lame joke on behalf of the estate agent. Either way, it’s going nowhere. The only person to ever see the hapless mistake was my new neighbour. The neighbour who eventually turned out to be my best friend.

  Whilst we are on the subject of aliases, Aldo isn’t Aldo’s real name either. Believe it or not, he was born a not-so-exotic Alan. Yes, the Italian stallion was once Alan Christopher Taylor. In all fairness, Alan is probably the last name I would choose for him. Apparently, introducing himself as Aldo led to him getting more action at the local gay bars and after years of juggling the two names, he finally bit the bullet and legally became Aldo Cristiano Taylor.

  These days Aldo and I share an apartment. It turns out that being a hairdresser to the stars doesn’t pay as well as you might think. Well, not when you spend your entire month’s wages on champagne and tattoos. I look over at Aldo and run my eyes over the many inkings on his neck. It’s actually his fault that I ended up with the black squiggle on my finger.

  With him being literally covered in sketches, he thought the only suitable gift for my twenty-fifth would be a doodle of my own. Little did we know at the time that the tattoo in question would be the start of my demise. I say demise, but that’s probably a little strong for what really happened, although at the time it felt exactly that.

  An awful churning sensation hits my stomach as I recall my last birthday. The day where everything changed…

  Chapter 2

  His name was Spencer. Spencer Carter. I knew from the moment I saw him that I wanted him and not just for one night, I wanted him forever. Just like in the movies, our eyes met across a smoky room. There was no wine or cheap perfume, but still, it was a feeling I shall remember forever. When I think back to the fateful day that he came into my life, I never would have believed it would end in such heartache.

  It all started on a minibreak to Brighton with a group of girlfriends. We arrived on the Thursday evening and within two hours of being there, our paths had already crossed multiple times. Everywhere I looked he was there, smiling at me from behind his bottle of Corona. It was like it was meant to be. Destiny. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. I just knew that he felt the same as I did. No one had ever looked at me that way before. I can still remember how his eyes seemed to look deep into my soul and I was powerless to stop it. It was like the world stopped spinning and everything around me fell into silence.

  He toyed with me all evening. Like a spider, he cast his web and just waited for me to make a foul move so that he could pounce. I must have walked past ten times in a desperate bid for him to strike up a conversation with me. Despite my efforts, it was just before midnight that we finally exchanged more than lustful glances. I accidentally spilt my drink down his shirt and he accidentally brushed my breasts whilst helping me clear it up.

  A sad smile plays on the corner of my lips as the taxi takes a sharp left turn. We were so happy. Blissfully happy. Before Spencer, I never believed in love. Not real love, anyway. The kind of love you see in movies where you just can’t breathe without one another seemed false to me somehow. Spencer changed more than my outlook on life, he changed me in ways that I never believed possible.

  For months we didn’t spend a single night apart. If he wasn’t up in Cheshire, I was on a train down to Brighton. We spent day after day wrapped up in one another, both physically and emotionally. We talked about everything. From books and ice-cream, to children and plans for the future. Within days he knew more about me than anyone else ever had. He completed me. He made me into the person that I always wanted to be. Strong, confident and trusting. I guess it was the last one that got me into trouble.

  When I close my eyes, I can still see his face as though he is stood right in front of me. The little scar above his left eyebrow. The random streak of grey in his dark, floppy hair. The extraordinarily white teeth that at first, I was convinced were fake. The way the skin wrinkled around his eyes when his face broke into a smile. Spencer had one of those smiles that could light up an entire room. Just like his smile, his personality was larger than life. Everywhere he went, people wanted a piece of him. It was like he had a secret, a secret that other people just had to find out.

  In true whirlwind style, we were engaged in a matter of months. He didn’t have a ring, but that didn’t matter to me at all. My friends couldn’t comprehend that part, but our relationship went deeper than materialistic things. We understood one another on a much higher level and didn’t expect the rest of society to recognize that. We didn’t need them to. It was us against the world and we reminded ourselves of that every single day.

  I look out of the window and watch the streets whizz by as I think back to the day where I felt everything had finally fallen into place. Spencer woke me up at the crack of dawn. It was the height of summer, so daylight was already streaming in through the open windows. Without saying a word, he tossed me some clothes and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. Totally intrigued, I dragged on my denim shorts and followed him out to the car. Despite my incessant probing, Spencer didn’t give me more than a mysterious smile for the entire journey, which only fuelled my fire.

  When we finally came to a stop, the sun was high in the sky, casting a blinding, white light over us. I laughed and giggled like a teenager as he took my hand in his and led me across the hot sand. The beach was secluded. The only signs of life came in the form of a few random seagulls that scoured the area for food. With the sea breeze blowing through my hair and warmth from the sun enveloping my body, I had never felt more free.

  Spencer’s oversized t-shirt billowed in the wind as he strode across the sand. His long fingers entwined with mine, he calmly guided me to the perfect spot. My heart raced when we stopped where the ocean kisses the shore. Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me deeply on the lips before dropping to his knees. My ears started to ring as I registered what was happening. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t dare to in case that tiny shred of doubt in my mind was right. Then he said it.

  Will you marry me?

  I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. He knew without even asking that I would say yes. My entire body prickled with adrenaline as he pulled me down onto the sand.
The sun danced on the water, creating a dazzling congratulatory display. We must have stayed in that same spot for hours, completely lost in one another’s embrace. I never wanted to get up. I never wanted to return to the real world for fear that it would take away the sentiment of our special day.

  The cab comes to a sudden stop and I am jolted back to reality with a bump. Shaking all thoughts of Spencer out of my head, I reach into my bag and pass the driver some coins. Aldo’s phone rings loudly as he steps out of the cab and I can’t help but notice him smile as he presses the handset to his ear. Sliding over the cold seat, I adjust my dress before pushing myself to my feet. Aldo marches on ahead and I follow behind, taking extra care not to step in any puddles in my very expensive shoes.

  Our building is quite something to look at, although the magic of the place doesn’t have the same effect on you after many years of calling it home. Situated on a leafy lane, the apartment block is set back from the road, safely hidden behind a set of tall, iron gates. Due to its secluded location, you don’t really see many people milling about. Well, apart from the photographers who are desperately seeking a shot of the latest United signing. The white frontage is kept pristine by the many cleaners and maintenance guys who work so hard at making sure not a single leaf is out of place. The glass doors that lead you inside give the impression of a high-end, boutique hotel. Minimalistic, sleek and luxurious.

  Aldo jabs at the lift button with a black fingernail and the doors immediately swing open. Quickening my pace, I step inside and sneak a peek at Aldo’s phone.

  ‘Who was that?’ I ask casually, already knowing the answer. ‘Edward?’

  Aldo purses his lips and I roll my eyes in response. Edward is Aldo’s latest squeeze and just like the rest of his futile relationships, I expect this one to fizzle out any day now. Unlike Aldo, Edward is as extroverted as can be. With a peroxide quiff, acrylic nail extensions and a mahogany tan, he is most definitely Aldo’s polar-opposite.

  ‘Is he coming over?’ I ask, as the lift comes to a stop and we step out onto our floor.

  Aldo yawns and shakes his head. ‘No, he’s travelling to London. He’s got a modelling shoot in the morning…’

  ‘Does that mean he’s having an early night?’

  ‘It means he’s drinking tequila shots from the photographer’s crotch and wants me to join him.’ Taking a set of keys out of his back pocket, he fiddles with the lock and lets us into the apartment.

  I let out a giggle, knowing that Aldo’s Friday nights usually involve this kind of thing anyway.

  Following him inside, I immediately kick off my shoes and wander over to the balcony. It might be damp and wet outside, but the air is thick and humid. Throwing open the doors, I take a deep breath and look out over the expansive woodland below. The last of the leaves rustle in the breeze, creating a calming soundtrack to the eerie silence of the forest. A lot of people would find this darkness unnerving, but it makes me feel free. I don’t quite know why, it just does. The bareness, the nothingness. It’s like a blank canvas, just waiting for someone to pick up a pen and colour it in.

  Tearing myself away, I throw myself onto one of the plush loungers and stretch out my legs, just as Aldo appears with two glasses of fizz. Placing them on the table, he feels around in his pocket before producing an electronic cigarette. Attempting to take a drag, he shakes it vigorously and frowns before tossing it onto the floor in anger.

  ‘Damn thing…’ Cursing under his breath, he disappears inside and returns with a packet of Marlboro Lights.

  ‘Aldo…’ I mutter disapprovingly, watching him light up and inhale deeply.

  Shaking my head, I look up at the black sky and take in the blanket of stars. The more I look, the more seem to appear. I trace my eyes from one sparkle to the next, completely transfixed by their presence.

  Reaching out for the glass of bubbles, my fingers don’t reach the stem when I hear a ping from inside the apartment. Begrudgingly rolling off my lounger, I head off in search of my phone. Quickly discovering it on the kitchen island, I use the control panel on the wall to put on some gentle music. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I wander outside and tap at the handset with my finger. An email pops up on the screen and I feel my heart pound as I take in the text.

  ‘Yes!’ I exclaim, fist pumping the air happily. ‘Finally!’

  Aldo looks at me curiously as I do a little victory dance around the balcony.

  ‘Precious have sold three of my paintings!’ I squint at the email, double checking the number of zeros.

  Nodding in approval, he drains the contents of his glass and smiles. ‘It’s about time, isn’t it? It’s been months since you last sold anything…’

  ‘I know!’ I shout over my shoulder, dashing to the champagne fridge for more bubbles. ‘I was beginning to question my creative flair…’

  ‘Creative flair!’ Aldo scoffs, throwing back his head and laughing. ‘Please! You know what they say about fools and their money…’

  Popping the cork on the chilled bottle, I turn my back to the wind to stop my hair from sticking to my lip-gloss. ‘And this is coming from the man who charges two hundred quid for a cut and blow dry?’

  ‘Touché…’ He lets out a laugh and holds up his glass for a refill.

  In case you are wondering, Precious is a bar in a neighbouring village that displays my artwork to its customers. Frequented by the glitterati, it is easy to scoop four figures for a painting. Not long ago I was selling ten pieces a week, giving me more money than I really knew what to do with, but things have changed quite a bit over the past twelve months. I can’t remember the last time I received a cheque from Precious and between you and me, I was getting a little worried.

  It’s true that I own the apartment outright, but running a place like this doesn’t come cheap. In fact, it’s downright extortionate. I know what you’re thinking. Poor little rich girl being made to stand up to the plate and pay her way, but I did find it tough. When you haven’t had much guidance in your life, it’s scary to try and fend for yourself for the first time. I’ve never had a good relationship with my mum, but when she handed over the keys to this place things went from bad to worse. It’s almost as though the apartment was given in exchange for abandoning her role as a mother. Don’t get me wrong, we exchange the odd text message and go for a coffee once in a while, but close we most certainly are not.

  To be completely honest, a lot of it is down to her boyfriend, Mick. Despite my efforts to make him like me, we never got along. He believed that I was spoilt. I can still hear him now.

  You’re ruining her, Linda. You’re creating a monster. If you don’t put a stop to this now, she will still be living here when she’s fifty.

  Kind of rich coming from the man who spends my mum’s money like it’s going out of fashion. They were only together for six months before she bought him a Range Rover. I laugh silently and take a sip of my drink. My mum swears it’s not about the money, but it’s hard to agree when you see him flying around Wilmslow with his mates in the back of her Bentley. For a guy who prided himself on being a beer-swilling man of the people, he soon got comfortable with the champagne lifestyle.

  I look down into my glass and watch the bubbles race to the top, each one disappearing with a pop as they hit the surface. Just like my relationship with my mother, slowly fizzing away one bubble at a time.

  My eyes start to feel heavy as Aldo clears his throat, catching my attention.

  ‘Cheers, Shirley.’ Raising his glass in the air, he clinks it against mine and winks. ‘Congrats on your sale.’

  Replying with a smile, I take a gulp and allow my eyes to close. Money doesn’t buy happiness, I can testify to that, but it does provide stability and at this point in my life, stability is exactly what I need.

  Chapter 3

  Studying the canvas in front of me, I screw up my nose as I take in my latest piece. Splashes of black and grey fill the once white space, creating a complicated blur of metallic smears. My eyes tra
ce the strokes of my brush as I try to envisage the final effect. Deciding that a dash of scarlet wouldn’t hurt, I scour my pots for the correct shade and coat the tip of my brush. I promised myself this canvas wouldn’t be monochrome like the rest of my work, but no matter how hard I try to use the brighter end of the palette, I just can’t seem to work with those colours. It’s like they don’t speak to me in the same way that dark tones do.

  My friends joke I would sell more pieces if they weren’t as solemn and gloomy, so I’ve been making a conscious effort to play around with colour more. Flicking my brush across the fabric, I grimace as splashes of red land amongst the black, instantly regretting it.

  When I first moved here, I found it quite difficult to make friends. Not drinking buddies, I had more of those than I could keep track of, but actual relationships were hard to find. As a self-confessed tomboy, I had more fun filling a backpack and losing myself in the local woodland. Breaking a sweat whilst exploring the many nature trails gives me more of a high than any bar or club ever could, but trying to find a mate who had the same interests proved tricky to say the least. I soon discovered that most girls my age were more interested in bagging the next footballer or millionaire playboy.

  After a year or so of struggling to fit in, I eventually gave up on the idea of having a hiking pal and kept my forest adventures a secret. My, if you can’t beat them, join them attitude soon resulted in me gaining a few additions to my phonebook. Aldo aside, Piper, Ivy and Zara have become my closest allies and the four of us are often seen together in Cheshire’s celebrity haunts. It was actually Piper who encouraged me to dive back into the dating game, although I must admit it doesn’t come as easily to me as it does to her.

  Born to the richest power couple in the village, Piper used her blessed upbringing to start a life coaching business. Teaching others how to recreate her lifestyle for themselves has resulted in her gaining a reputation in the Cheshire triangle as a mastermind guru. It’s unbelievable what people will pay for tips on how to obtain a rich husband and the latest sports car.