Wicked Games

3. Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White

                         3. CHERRY PINK AND APPLE BLOSSOM WHITE

It was madness.

You know, when you feel like you’re the smartest person in the room; you’re usually in the wrong room. Well, it was either I was in a room somewhere on Pluto among extra-terrestrial life-forms or these ladies were a few clowns sort of a circus. Really, though - how many times can somebody use the word ‘divine’ in a sentence? ‘Oh, Emilie these sandwiches are divine,’ ‘Darling, that dress is divine,’ 'Honey, let me tell you, this tablecloth is two flowers away from being simply divine’. Can you just imagine how divine my puked-up guts look on this shimmering excuse of a floor?

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the room was the uncanny resemblance between these women and Emilie in not only their prim and proper dress choices, their haughty expressions and attitudes towards each other but apparent inability to do more than nibble on bite-size sandwiches and not drink the cups of teas they must have been nursing for quite some time, too. Small clusters of them were separated off from each other, bent over in their own huddles and speaking only in hushed undertones. Despite this, from an outsiders view, it was abundantly clear that they were still very much a congregation as if being pulled by some unseen force of magnetism. That magnetism being their obvious role on the influential hierarchy of Manchester.

I was completely thrown, - a fish out of water; these ladies looked like they stepped straight out of the pages of those women’s weekly magazines, all floral and divine.

Even though I had changed into somewhat presentable clothing, I felt so out of place, it was ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous. I was currently situated slap bang in the corner of the room, appropriately next to where the food was.If it was possible, this room was even prettier than the living room. I presumed this was the dining room; the immaculate frost-coloured walls complemented the beautiful rug of the same shade and a marble table held an assortment of appetising-looking cuisine. Keeping with the dainty-white theme, there were delicately folded table cloths adorning the tables and white leather sofas were seated near the walls.

 

The women were stood around a gushing Emilie whilst Jason and I blankly stared on at their other-worldly behaviour. To be frank, I think they were yet to even notice me there.

As if on cue, Emilie turned around and flashed me one of her million dollar smiles, signalling for me to come over. In an attempt to ignore her, I promptly executed a one-eighty and busied myself with daintily chewing on – stuffing - food onto the fragile looking china plates on the table. From standing within touching distance of the enticing palates displayed, I was practically salivating a waterfall, then and there. It smelt so good. Then something amazing happened. It was like the skies opened, to allow the angels to break into a melodic ‘Hallelujah’. My eyes zeroed in on the cheesecake.

Feeling the after-effects of the visual natural high, I shifted my dreamy gaze from that piece of heaven on a plate to a completely oblivious Jason, my pupils darting back and forth between the source of my eternal contentment and the reason it was there to provide me such sheer joy, all the while tugging enthusiastically on his jacket.

Head bent over his phone, he was religiously tapping away while furrowed brows and a frown took over his facial expression.