A Proper Family Holiday Read Online Free Page A

in the office, waiting for the film star’s PR to make yet more comments. Or should that be complaints?
    This was not the first time Chelsea had changed her plans to sort out a potential disaster at the magazine. And heaven knew losing a cover so late in the month would be a serious disaster. When she started at Society , Chelsea had stepped into the breach gladly, eager to make her reputation as a hard worker, but lately she was beginning to think all she’d actually managed to do was set a dangerous precedent. Now Davina didn’t think twice about asking Chelsea to stay late or blow off a long-standing arrangement to do something Davina probably should have done for herself, but that didn’t translate into any greater rewards. No pay rise. No promotion. Chelsea couldn’t help wondering if it was because there were aspects of herself she could never change through pure hard work: a state-school education and a family line that could only be traced back as far as the coal man. Among the daughters of aristocrats and generals who adorned the pages of the magazine and its office, Chelsea’s face just didn’t quite fit. In her heart of hearts she knew she would have to leave Society to progress. Go somewhere more egalitarian.
    For now, though, she was stuck, waiting for copy approval, while the rest of London started its weekend. She used the time to browse the job ads in the Guardian ’s media pages, making a note of a position on another mag. It was in the fashion department. Chelsea had always been in features, but she would love to be in fashion instead. That part of her teenage ambition still persisted.
    More changes came through. By eleven o’clock, Chelsea had rewritten the piece eight times.
    ‘This is hopeless,’ said the PR when Chelsea finally got her to return a call. ‘Eugenia says why don’t you come to the restaurant and she’ll tell you what she wants face to face.’
    ‘What? Now?’
    ‘Yes.’ The PR gave the address of one of the hottest new places in town.
    Thinking quickly, Chelsea grabbed a sundress from the fashion cupboard. It wasn’t strictly kosher to raid the cupboard without express permission, but she was sure that Carola would understand. Carola wore clothes from the fashion cupboard all the time. There was no way Chelsea could turn up at that restaurant to meet a film star in the jeans and sweater she had been wearing all day. The dress was perfect: a floral-patterned silk sundress by a new designer called Mebus. It looked like something Audrey Hepburn might have worn.
    As she took a taxi to the address she had been given, Chelsea felt her excitement rising. Perhaps it had been worth staying late after all. Perhaps this would be the moment that made her career. She was going to get a face-to-face exclusive with the biggest rising star of the year. Hopefully she was going to get something nice to eat as well.
    In the end, Chelsea did get a face-to-face exclusive, but only after having waited in the restaurant lobby for another hour, suffering the pitying stares of the reception staff, who would not even let her sit at the bar. When Eugenia, accompanied by her bulldog PR, finally deigned to come and speak to Chelsea, she added nothing whatsoever to her mystique. She was stupid and vain. Mostly stupid. She misquoted several religious leaders and philosophers, attributing the words of Homer Simpson to Socrates. Finally, she dismissed Chelsea with a wave of her manicured hand.
    ‘I know you’ll do me justice because I can tell you have a kind heart,’ were her parting words.
    Tired and hungry, Chelsea felt anything but kind. She finally got home at two in the morning. She worked on the article until three. She had to be up again at half past five.
    ‘I better not miss my flight’ was the last thought that ran through Chelsea’s mind before she fell onto her mattress without removing her make-up. ‘I better not miss my flight’.
    But of course she had missed her flight, and now she