The Wrong Girl (21 page)

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Authors: Zoe Foster

BOOK: The Wrong Girl
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34

Lily repositioned her phone, smiling like she was having the best time in the world and wasn't aware there was a camera being held by her very own hand capturing this moment, and clicked again. She checked the photo. So . . . 
smug
. And too close! Her nose looked enormous. How come when Simone and Nikkii and all those girls did it they looked perfect? Probably because they did a hundred takes and employed strenuous filtering and editing, things Lily had no clue how to do.

Lily tried again. Just as she was about to take the photo, a couple of old men chatting loudly walked past Lily and down the steep cobblestone path, one leading a donkey with a vibrant rug and several crates of bright fruit and vegetables on its back. She quickly snapped the scene, marvelling at how everything on Santorini looked like it had been sent in by a TV props team.

She looked back to the view she was trying to nonchalantly capture in her selfie and took it in for the eightieth time that day. Her T-shirt flapped gently in the sea breeze, her arms were warm from the sun and her smile was full of pure joy.

Even after several days here, she found the view before her absolutely breathtaking. Enormous terracotta cliffs played host to higgledy-piggledy rows of restaurants, crisp white and azure-blue villas, and postcard-perfect spherical chapels, all facing the most spectacular, vast sea Lily had ever seen. It defied imagination, especially the enormous cruise ships that zoomed in and out of the vista all day, unloading wealthy Texans for lunch on the caldera before whisking them off again in the late afternoon. On the day Lily had arrived, she and Mimi had enjoyed some seafood and a couple of bottles of local white wine at a rooftop restaurant and soaked up the world-famous Santorini sunset. The sun shimmered on the horizon like a magnificent burning red orb, sending the clouds into a spin of pinks and oranges and red, each of them outlined with iridescent gold and bronze. Mimi had failed to tell a very jet-lagged and confused Lily that sunset was not until after nine p.m., despite the fact they began drinking at six p.m. What eventuated was a completely disoriented, giggly Lily, who, as Mimi had planned, slept soundly until seven a.m., therefore ‘kicking jet lag's arse'.

Lily had been here only a few glorious days, but instantly understood what Mimi had been on about all these years. The Greek islands were
special
. The people were warm and genuine, the sea and the sun and the sky played in a breathtaking visual symphony, and the food was outstanding. It was the perfect place to turn thirty and become a Proper Woman, Lily conceded. Which, just this morning – on Australian time anyway – she had. Annoyingly, because she was a clueless novice traveller, she hadn't set up her phone for international roaming before she left, so there were to be no birthday texts or calls, but she had put an autoreply on her work email sending people to her Gmail account before leaving
The Daily
, and hoped that when she checked it on Mimi's iPad later there would be at least one well-wisher.

This morning Mimi had requested two hours to ‘set something up', and Lily was banned from their small B&B until then. It was a peculiar little place, more like a cliff-side cave than functioning accommodation, but their caldera-side balcony came with a breathtaking view of the sea, and it made the sparse, dark interior worth it. Plus, the husband and wife who owned it, Paros and Eleni, were wonderful, generous, kind hosts, and the yoghurt with honey and quince they served for breakfast was unlike anything Lily had ever had before. She'd taken to having two bowls, with extra honey, and a sweet frappe each morning. It was possibly her favourite part of the day. The Greeks seemed to really understand sugar. She appreciated that.

It was finally time to head back. As Lily walked back along the top of the caldera, past the chintzy jewellery shops and overpriced dining options catering to the many cruise ship tourists who poured off the enormous boats anchored in the vast sea below, her mind snuck over to Jack. Their last week together at work had been a strange one. It was furiously busy, which was a relief, and not a word was uttered about his breaking up with Simone. Lily had to hand it to him, even if it did secretly annoy her; he was excellent at keeping his personal stuff personal.

‘Won't be the same without you,' he'd said at her lame, in-office leaving drinks, which was nice, professional enough. But when he'd followed it with ‘we're a good team, you and I', all the old feelings Lily had been stuffing down began to bubble back up. She told herself it was simply a throwaway line pertaining to the daring and inventive recipes and food-truck tours they could've masterminded. But there was something about the way he'd said it . . . Lily stored it away quietly for later analysis – to pull out slowly, like a precious photo – when she allowed herself a small, occasional moment to think about him.

‘Lilia!' Eleni came out from the small front room of the hotel and greeted Lily with wide-open arms.

‘Happy birthday to you! We will miss you!' And she hugged a surprised Lily, her short arms barely meeting around Lily's waist.

‘Thank you, Eleni . . . Uh, why, where are you going?' A frown settled on Lily's face.

Eleni laughed. ‘It is you who is going.'

Lily scrunched up her face. That was weird. They weren't due to check out for another four days.

Eleni smiled and winked. ‘It is surprise. Panos will be here in a moment to take you.'

‘Oh, okay. Do you know where Mimi is?'

‘Here is Panos now.'

Lily turned to see a tiny three-wheeled Mr Bean-style vehicle approaching down the narrow alleyway, a gruff-faced but kind-hearted Panos at the wheel. It sounded like a motorbike but looked like a shrunken truck, complete with a small tray on the back.

Panos stopped the ‘car' suddenly and got out, tipping his straw hat theatrically to Lily.

‘Yasou, yasou. Come, we must go.'

What the hell was Mimi up to? Lily wondered, a bemused smile on her face.

‘Jump in, jump in, is safe, go on.'

Lily surveyed the ridiculous truck cabin before her. Panos was not a large man, but he'd eaten his fair share of feta and could barely fit in himself, let alone with room to spare for a (just) thirty-year-old woman.

‘You will be safe, sit in the front there. Sit, sit!' Eleni took Lily's hands and walked her, bewildered and confused, to the toy car.

Lily realised she was genuinely not ready to leave this funny little cliff cave and her substitute grandparents yet. The whole island was just starting to feel real; it wasn't time to move on yet.

‘Okay, oh God, thank you, thank you for everything, I
really
loved my time here. You're wonderful hosts, the view is incredible, we'll write great things about you on TripAdvisor!'

‘Mention the new mattresses!' Eleni yelled over the sputtering vehicle, which was ready to reverse – there was no space to turn – back up to the main path.

Laughing, Lily gingerly opened the side door and perched on the edge of the seat before closing it again. Seconds later, Panos was inside, his legs crouched up under him like a clown in a box, and the two of them masterfully zoomed up the narrow alley in reverse. He shot out onto the street with a few beeps of warning and then put the truck into gear and tore forward, people scattering around him as he went, horn tooting wildly at each new turn and alleyway. Lily could not wipe the smile off her face. If someone had asked her whether, on her birthday she'd be in a truck-bike-car with an old man, hooning through the streets of Santorini, she would've guffawed. Yet here she was.

Twenty-five minutes later, having driven over hills and past small homes and rocky paddocks, the shops and hotels were getting more condensed, and she realised they were in Oia, at the far tip of the island.

‘We are here!' Panos reported suddenly, and yanked the brakes on. Lily put her hands out instinctively to stop herself from flailing seatbeltlessly through the window, but Panos only laughed.

Lily got out, stretching her legs urgently, as a handsome young man dressed all in white arrived at the bottom of some winding white steps.

‘Welcome, Miss Woodward,' he said, smiling at her with perfect, gleaming teeth set against a perfectly even, genuine tan.

‘Hi,' she said, smiling shyly.

Panos and the young guy exchanged some rapid Greek, then Panos came around and shook Lily's hand, looking her in the eyes, ‘Yasou, Lily, na'sai kala,' before tearing off in a sea of dust.

Lily raised her eyebrows, smiling, and looked at her host.

‘Please,' he said gently, motioning for her to begin her ascent up the winding steps before her.

‘With pleasure,' she said, meaning it with every cell in her body. He was rather lovely-looking, she noted. Greek men
were
a handsome bunch, she had to concede. Eleni had told her they made good lovers but terrible husbands, and Lily was forbidden to marry one.

Arriving at the top of the stairs, Lily was greeted by a chic, white open marble lobby offering a view of not only the most glorious, uninterrupted expanse of sun and sky she'd ever seen, but just in front of it, the kind of infinity pool high-fashion magazines plopped gleaming swimsuit models in.

Everything about the scene before Lily screamed luxury. Or honeymoon. One of the two. Lily saw a green and gold sparkly-kaftanned Mimi chatting to the receptionist, who immediately turned her head to Lily's direction.

‘Happy birthday, my darling girl!' Mimi cried, racing over and grabbing her daughter and pulling her against her glittery muu-muu.

‘Welcome to your new home.'

‘
Mimi,
' hissed Lily quietly so as not to ruin the moment. ‘You SO can't afford this, what are you doing? Have you gone mad?'

Mimi pulled back to look at her daughter, her face glowing with happiness and calm.

‘I
didn't
do it,' she said, smugly.

‘What do you mean?' said Lily, confused.

‘
Simone
. Darling Simone did it all. She contacted me last week and told me her plan, that she wanted to treat you for your thirtieth since she couldn't be here with you, and I told her we'd be in Santorini, and so she went and booked this place for us off the internet. Isn't it incredible?
This
is how you do the Greek islands, Bean. I mean, would you look at that
view
 . . .'

Before Lily could answer, a small voice interrupted from behind.

‘Would you like a fresh mint cocktail?' A petite, pretty waitress advanced gingerly, her eyebrows raised, her smile wide.

‘That would be lovely, thank you,' Mimi said on their behalves, taking the two drinks from her and passing one on to Lily. Lily was still trying to get her head around Simone doing all of this. Especially since they had not parted on the best of terms. Simone had spent the week after her break-up coming home extremely late and leaving well before Lily woke. Then a hair commercial in Singapore took her away for the week Lily had off before she went to Greece, so they didn't even get to say goodbye in person. Lily could feel tears well in her eyes. She had been such a wretched friend to Simone. She'd lusted after her boyfriend, and she'd allowed her to spiral back into her old ways, and then, as the finale, had lectured her and made her feel like a piece of shit. And how had Simone responded? With this.

‘I know, Beany, I cried too. What a
beautiful
thing to do. She's a keeper, that one.'

Lily wiped away the rogue tear that had slipped down onto her cheek and sniffed. If only Mimi knew what a friend Lily had been back. ‘I should call her,' Lily said with urgency. ‘Do they have wi-fi? I can Skype her –
we
can Skype her.'

Mimi laughed. ‘It's the middle of the night there, darling. How about for now we send her a photo of us with our drinks? She'd like that.'

Lily shook her head in disbelief. This was paradise; absolute paradise. And all thanks to Sim.

‘Perhaps you would like to drink this by the pool, and then we can show you to your room?' Lily nodded, as did Mimi and, linking arms, mother and daughter walked through the atrium and out to the pool and the heavenly blue vista. Lily had thought the view exceptional back in Fira, but this,
this
was the premium version, uninterrupted, untainted by competing villas jutting out either side, just cliff and cruise ships crisscrossing the sea below.

‘I quite like being thirty,' Lily turned to Mimi, a smile spreading across her face.

Mimi giggled then reached up and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

‘Life begins at thirty, my girl. It really does. And there could not be a better starting line than this. Aren't we
blessed
.'

They clinked their glasses, sipped their drinks, and Lily said a silent thank you to Simone. She was a lucky, lucky girl. And surveying where she was, both geographically and in life, she felt very strongly that everything was just as it should be. That everything was going to work out for the best.

‘Do you feel it, Bean?' Mimi asked.

‘What?' Lily said slightly too fast, wondering if Mimi was reading her mind.

‘There's a . . . 
vibe
I always get on these islands. A feeling of beauty and calm, but also of freshness, of invigoration. A lot of people say it's because this is a volcanic island. Women in particular seem to sense it.'

‘S'funny, I
was
just reflecting that I'm about to start an unknown new chapter but it's not scary . . . It just feels right, you know?'

Mimi looked at her and smiled softly.

‘That's exactly what I'm talking about.' She reached her arm around Lily and the two of them looked out at the sea, smiling.

35

‘I'm just going to do some emails. When are we going to lunch in town? One, did you say?'

‘If that suits you,' Niko said, smiling at Lily.

‘
Per
fect. Mimi, you need sunscreen, your back is burning.'

‘I think I know someone who might be able to help with that,' Mimi said, salaciously winking at Niko, who moved his eyebrows up and down several times in a sleazy Pepé Le Pew manner.

‘
Gross,
' Lily said, and walked away from the table, leaving the lovebirds to it. She secretly couldn't be happier, though. Since the two women had met Niko in Dubrovnik two days ago - a last minute decision that Lily hadn't minded one bit - Mimi had been like a sugared-up foal, buzzing with delight in his company, laughing and joking with him constantly and being far more tactile than Lily thought appropriate in front of her daughter. Niko was equally smitten, and fluent in several languages including witty bon mot, romantically suggestive and adoring flattery. Lily approved. A lot. If this was New Dad, then one who was utterly enchanted with her mother, cooked like a demon, and could pull off boat shoes and pastels on holiday was fine by her.

Lily schlepped back to the hotel room, which was more like a small house, with two levels, three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a wonderful view over the striking blue-green Adriatic Sea. Niko had booked it, wanting to impress the girls, which he had.

Lily found her mother's iPad and, settling into the couch, opened up Gmail. She needed to check Alice knew she was starting work next Monday, and to make sure Alice hadn't chucked in work altogether to go on the road with her Musical Jesus, whom she had fallen deeply and predictably in ‘love' with after their night of passion a few weeks ago. Lily doubted the longevity of the fling for several reasons, like the fact Alice wasn't familiar with the word longevity.

There were a bunch of emails, she noticed briefly, before seeing that the first one was from Sasha. Which was
very
odd. Maybe that breadboard she'd nicked from the set was coming back to haunt her. She opened it right away.

To: Lily Woodward

From: Kirk, Sasha

Subject: Question

Lily,

I trust you've been enjoying your time in Europe.

Wanted to gauge your interest on something.
Iron Chef
starts filming here in a couple of months, and they're looking for a senior producer. Thought it might be something you'd be keen on. I think you'd do a great job. Be a big role, baptism of fire, etc., but sometimes that's the best way.

Let me know your thoughts. I know the EP very well, he is a dear friend, and my recommendation will be taken seriously, just as I hope you know I expect you would take the role seriously.

S

Lily read the email three times, trying to make sense of the electronic gift from above.

Iron Chef.

Senior producer.

HER
.

Did she want this job . . .? It would be very full on. Terrifying, quite possibly well above her skill set but still food-based. She realised there was no choice to be made when compared with a temp job producing a music festival.
Of course she wanted this fucking job!
She immediately replied to Sasha, so excited her fingers kept tapping the wrong letters. Alice would understand. Thank GOD she hadn't emailed her first.

To: Kirk, Sasha

From: Lily Woodward

Subject: Re: Question

Hi Sasha,

Currently in Dubrovnik, home of the clearest and most clean water you've ever seen. And no stingers or biteys at all! A huge treat for a girl from Oz. Thank you for your email. What an exciting prospect! I am so grateful you thought to ask me about this, and want you to know I am definitely keen.

Do you have any idea when it might start? I had some freelance work about to commence and just wanted to check.

Thank you again for thinking of me, I am so flattered.

Lily

High on adrenalin and excitement, and unable to believe her good fortune, Lily shook her head, smiling. Man. Sometimes it just does all work out, she thought, thinking fondly of Simone's prophecy. Maybe she wasn't
meant
to get the job at
The Daily
for this exact reason. If she had, she'd be stuck there for at least another year. Who even knew if the show would be something she liked by then? But now she had a chance to be a senior producer on an internationally known reality show, which could lead to multiple seasons or even just awesome new contacts or skills, or just, God, ANYTHING. Her heart was racing. This was her dream outcome. She felt a powerful and immediate urge to tell Jack, to prove that she
had
made the right call to quit. (And to impress him.)

She went back to her inbox and looked at the other emails. She'd been waiting on one from Simone, who had, over a mutually teary Skype a few days ago, revealed she was looking at a rehab place in Arizona. A model friend had been to it with great results, and Simone was waiting to hear back from them. Lily was so relieved. Simone finally seemed to be doing something about her problem.

‘Hey-hoo, are you decent?' she heard Mimi holler as she opened the front door.

‘Where's Niko?' Lily asked.

‘He ducked to the spa to book us a massage for this afternoon.'

‘Get you two . . .'

‘I know! And yet, for some reason I thought it might be odd, being away with Niko like this. An overseas trip after only a few months is . . . quite
accelerated,
after all.'

Mimi walked over to the table, sunlight streaming in from the huge sliding doors facing out to the balcony, and took off her wide-brimmed straw hat, gently tousling her hair as she did.

‘Pah, life's too short, especially for geriatrics like you two. I'm
kidding
, don't give me that face. Just enjoy it. He'll be gone soon and you'll be Nigel No Mates eating fettuccine in Rome and missing him like mad.'

A grin crossed Mimi's face.

‘That's true, I suppose.'

‘So. I have news. Sasha, my old boss, emailed me about a job. They're doing an Aussie
Iron Chef
series! And she thinks I could be a senior producer!'

‘Oh, how wonderful! What's
Iron Chef
?'

Lily laughed. ‘It's a stadium type cook-off, where top chefs battle a new chef each week. It's
awesome
.'

‘Right up your rue. When do you start?'

‘No, no, she's just recommending me to the EP. Hopefully I can meet up with him next week. Production starts soon, so I think they'll need to get moving . . .'

‘I'm SO happy to hear this, Bean. Didn't much like the idea of you all jobless and broke.' Mimi walked to the kitchen and poured them both a glass of water.

Lily clapped her hands and did a little jump, her face beaming with glee.

‘I've bloody well got my mojo back, Mimi!'

Lily thought her jet lag when she
arrived
in Greece was bad, but that was only the baby sister of the jet lag she'd been feeling since she'd arrived home three days ago. She was trapped at the intersection of fatigue and confused, and couldn't seem to shake it. Waking at four a.m., gasping for naps at four p.m., showering three times a day in order to ‘reset', Lily was not quite the jetsetter she'd like to think she was.

And now, as she sat in the reception of the production studio she might soon be working for, her eyes lined and wearing a simple navy dress she'd picked up at Zara for this very appointment, she began to feel the demons of fatigue start clawing at her.

‘Excuse me,' she said to the receptionist, a woman in her late forties with immaculate, shiny pink nails and an airline-hostess-worthy chignon.

‘I'm a little early; I'm wondering if there's somewhere I could grab a coffee nearby?'

‘There's a coffee cart down by the foyer, it should still be open,' she said kindly.

‘Thanks, I'll be right back.' Lily stood up and walked to the lift, pressing the button with urgency. The reception phone rang.

‘Yes, Mr Riley. She is. One moment.' The receptionist hung up.

‘Miss Woodward? Mr Riley is available to see you now.'

Fuck, thought Lily, shaking her head slightly in a dismal attempt to clear the cobwebs. Ever since she'd replied to Sasha's email, this process had been set to warp speed. The interview had been immediately set for Tuesday, the highly confidential show outline had been emailed through for Lily to familiarise herself with, and straight-off-the-plane impressive haircuts had been urgently booked.

Lily, wanting to be straight up, had emailed Alice about what was happening. Alice had been half excited for Lily, half sad they might not be working together again, but mostly concerned with dribbling and gushing about Musical Jesus and his extraordinary penis.

‘Wonderful!' Lily said to the receptionist, painting a smile on her face and spinning on her heels. She'd noticed when she'd put them on they were still a bit trashed from her big night out with the band a month back, but hopefully Evan Riley wouldn't notice that.

Within seconds of being in his office, Lily realised he was precisely the kind of person who'd notice that. Apparently the male version of Sasha, Evan wore thick-rimmed, round glasses, had a shiny bald head, and sported a light-grey suit with a lilac shirt and mint tie. He looked impeccable.

‘Lily, hi, thanks for meeting me so quickly. Sash told me you were in Greece, and I know how hard it is to drag yourself away from those boys, let me tell you,' he said, followed by the kind of bawdy, staccato laugh that flirted between hysterical and highly irritating.

‘Oh, gosh, my pleasure. I am so excited to even be meeting with you.'

‘Well, you have some good experience. I mean, you probably don't quite have the
skill
level I need, and you will need to get it tout-suite, because you'll have a team looking up to you, but I believe good people can learn anything technical – it's finding the right personality that's hard, and
eesh
, if I could teach personality, let me tell you, I'd create a full-time college.'

Lily's tiredness only compounded Evan's manic conversational speed and delivery. She started to feel a bit like she did when she took too many cold and flu tablets.

‘Ha,' she offered, smiling as he looked at her from his chair, across a lovely wooden desk featuring several small rubber rabbit toys. He caught Lily looking at them, and picked one up.

‘Kidrobot; amazing store in New York. My partner Matt buys me one every time he goes, which is far too often, as you can see from my zoo here. Anyway, so you like food, you're into food, you worked with that
gorgeous
human being Jack Winters on
The Daily
 . . . Tell me, which team does he bat for? It's yours, isn't it?'

Lily was taken aback before realising he meant men or women, not Lily
specifically
.

‘Oh, yes, he does, I'm afraid. Had a girlfriend for some time.' She was careful not to mention that she knew her, or that they'd broken up, aiming to appear distant and professional.

‘Figured as much. Terrific talent though, hard to believe he's fresh off the farm. So, you want to stay in food? It's easy to find a good producer, but when they're passionate about the content, it flows better, you know? And I think it shows, personally. Dreadfully obvious when you're lacklustre.'

‘I do, yes. I produced cooking at
The Daily
for just over two years, and before that I did it for six months on
The Barbara Bates Show
, filling in for Naomi Giles, who was on maternity.'

‘Och, Babs, what a dame. True star, she was. Such a pity they took her off. Never mind, that's how the margarita shakes, and she
was
nearing 200, I'm told. So, look, Lily, you know all about the show, you told me on email you're a fan of the format, I think you're pretty fab, Sasha gives you her golden thumbs up, which let me tell you, she does
nay
hand out to everyone, so you should feel very lucky. If you're available to start next week, then I would love to see you back in here Monday morning.'

Lily looked at her new boss, wide slightly agape, her eyes wide.

‘Really? Ohmygod, thank you, that's incredible. Thank you, Evan. Thank you so much, this is all, it's just amazing timing, for one —'

‘Sasha's loss is my gain.'

‘Thank you, Evan, I won't let you down.'

‘No, you won't. Now, before you go: Jack Winters. Do you think he will – and this is terribly out of school, and obviously not for Sasha's eagle ears – but do you think he's happy over there? Wouldn't consider a station jump like you, would he? I don't imagine it will come off, but
oh
, the idea of him as a host, it's too much.'

Lily gulped, her heart racing as she immediately fast-forwarded to working with Jack again.

‘Oh, I have no idea; I'm sorry, Evan. You might need to talk to his management?'

‘Yes, of course, just being a weasel. Never mind.' He stood up, puffing out his chest ever so slightly, which, with his paunch, was mildly reminiscent of the fat controller from
Thomas the Tank Engine
. Walking around to open his office door, which featured a print of an old bar sign saying ‘Beware of Pickpockets and Loose Women', he smiled at his newest staff member.

Lily stood up and took the hand he held out to her, shaking it with an enormous smile on her face, in utter disbelief at what had transpired for her professionally in the last week.

‘Stephanie will email you all the details, pay, contract, blah blah blah. You know we shoot out at the old Wonderland, yes? I recommend spending the weekend making a couple of new playlists for the drive.'

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