The Overnight Fame of Steffi McBride

Chapter Seventeen

Once the news got out that I was up for an award all the big London designers contacted me, trying to tempt me to wear one of their dresses. I went to see them all because it was such a laugh. It was like being a little girl with the biggest dressing up cupboard in the world, but I didn’t like many of the frocks they tried to talk me into. What surprised me was how grown-up some of them made me look. I didn’t think I was ready to look like that yet. I would have felt like a fraud swanning up the red carpet in some slinky Valentino or Chanel number. But that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy all the attention I got from their public relations people, all the champagne they plied me with while incredibly posh people rushed around suggesting jewellery I should borrow and shoes I should try.

     It was like they were all looking at me and none of them could see that all I was was a South London girl who’d got lucky. Through their rose-tinted shades they seemed to be seeing Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn or someone, while I still felt like Steffi from the squat.

     None of the things they showed me were a patch on Maggie’s dress. By the end of our evening together I had actually felt quite fond of her. I mean I didn’t want to think too hard about the state of her maternal instincts or her morals, but as a friend I thought she might turn out to be a bit of a laugh. As a gesture I said I would be happy to be filmed for her make-over documentary if she thought it would help to pull in a few more viewers. It seemed to me she was going through an awful lot of agony just for one more shot at the big-time, so maybe she deserved a bit of support, especially as it was no skin off my nose (pun not intended, there).

     Quentin rang me the next day to see if I had been serious in the offer. Now that I knew he was an old friend of Maggie’s I felt a bit of an obligation to be nice to him, like I might be to a lechy old uncle at a wedding. It was set up for me to come along to see her once the transformation was done, so they could film my reaction.

     ‘I’ve got a lot of plans for your mother,’ he said. It sounded funny to have her referred to like she was a big part of my life, but I let it pass. ‘And your friend Pete.’

     ‘Pete?’

     ‘We’re getting together a record deal for him. He’s very talented.’

     ‘You’re behind that?’

     ‘Absolutely. I told you no one escapes me for long.’

     I had mixed feelings about that. It did seem like he was snooping around every part of my life, but at the same time I was happy to think that Pete might be getting his big break because of me. I felt that made up a bit for me messing him around with Luke.

     After the first visit to Maggie’s I found myself thinking about her a lot, and thinking about her led to me getting back in a taxi again a few evenings later. This time I went armed with flowers and was shocked to see her eyes watering up when I gave them to her. I guess it had probably been a while. She had her wig on which made her look less shocking, and the plasters were coming off, although her skin still looked terribly raw. She had lost the dark glasses and her eyes had scars all round them where the surgeon had removed the loose skin. She’d just spent the day at the dentist having major stuff done to her teeth and the immaculate white results looked a bit shocking, like a brand new Bentley parked in the middle of bombsite.

     ‘I’ve got to do it, haven’t I?’ she said once we were sitting down with the gin bottle.

     ‘Do what?’

     ‘Give up smoking. I can’t put myself through all of this and then turn everything yellow again, can I?’

     ‘Might be a bit of a waste.’