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Authors: Tasmina Perry
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of the house. There was even a nursery with a fairy-tale mural along one wall and a cot in the shape of a carriage. In the final bedroom, a huge suite in the eaves with a claw-foot bath under the skylight, Sophie threw herself on the bed, laughing out loud at the crispness of the expensive linen.
She felt giddy with excitement. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t experienced luxury before, but she supposed her brief brush with relative poverty had made her appreciate the beauty of Lana’s home all the more. Pulling out her mobile phone, she scrolled to Francesca’s number, desperate to share her excitement with someone.
‘Fran, is that you? It’s Sophie.’
‘Darling, can I call you back? We’re in Browns Bride and I am about to try on the most amazing Alberta Ferretti dress.’
‘Sorry,’ said Sophie, her excitement fading a little.
‘I’m just freaking with the choice,’ said Francesca in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘The Lanvin I’ve just had on was incredible. The Valentino with the cap sleeves was adorable too and I’ve not even started with Wang or Monique Lhuillier.’
‘You carry on,’ said Sophie brightly. ‘Do you want to meet up tonight? You can tell me more, and besides, I’ve got something fabulous to show you.’
She could hear Fran’s mother in the background, ordering Francesca to get off the phone. Francesca was her only daughter and she was taking the wedding very seriously.
‘I don’t know, Soph,’ sighed her friend. ‘All I’ll want to do tonight is flop.’
‘Come on, Fran. You’ll like it.’
‘All right,’ she said after a long pause. ‘Where? Don’t think I’m coming all the way to Battersea, because I’m exhausted as it is without trekking south of the river.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Sophie, trying to suppress her smile. ‘I’ve moved. To Egerton Row.’
‘ Really? ’ replied Francesca, her interest clearly lifting a notch.
Smiling, Sophie gave her friend the address and said she’d expect her later.
By the time Sophie made it back down to the kitchen, she felt quite light-headed. She crossed to the fridge, an enormous American-style brushed-steel refrigerator with two doors. One side was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables, much of it in the distinctive brown and green Whole Foods packaging; the other was given over to exotic-looking fruit juice, bottles and bottles of sparkling water and at least a dozen bottles of white wine. Sophie pulled one down and looked at the label.
Château Olivier 2005 .
‘Gosh,’ she said.
At her mother’s insistence, Sophie had taken a wine-tasting course a few years back – ‘You don’t want to look stupid at a dinner party, do you, darling?’ Julia had said – and to her surprise, she had really enjoyed it, partly because it was run by a handsome older man named Charles whose enthusiasm for grapes was infectious, and partly because Sophie discovered she had a natural flair for tasting. Encouraged by Charles, she began reading up on grape varieties and the history of vineyards. She was only a keen amateur, but she enjoyed her little hobby: the imagination she’d always wanted to channel into writing or art had found an outlet in wine appreciation. And if she remembered correctly, Château Olivier was one of the finest Sémillons in France.
She looked around the fridge for something cheaper, as she did not want to abuse Lana’s hospitality, but every bottle reeked of quality. And Lana had said to help herself, hadn’t she? I’ll only have a glass, anyway , she thought as she rummaged in the drawers looking for a corkscrew. She quickly opened the bottle and splashed the wine into a big glass. It was delicious; clean and flinty. She held on to the glass as she lugged her suitcase upstairs. Lana hadn’t specified where she should sleep, but there was something magical about having a bath under the stars, so she chose the room in the eaves.
She unpacked, hanging her few outfits in the empty wardrobe as
She felt giddy with excitement. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t experienced luxury before, but she supposed her brief brush with relative poverty had made her appreciate the beauty of Lana’s home all the more. Pulling out her mobile phone, she scrolled to Francesca’s number, desperate to share her excitement with someone.
‘Fran, is that you? It’s Sophie.’
‘Darling, can I call you back? We’re in Browns Bride and I am about to try on the most amazing Alberta Ferretti dress.’
‘Sorry,’ said Sophie, her excitement fading a little.
‘I’m just freaking with the choice,’ said Francesca in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘The Lanvin I’ve just had on was incredible. The Valentino with the cap sleeves was adorable too and I’ve not even started with Wang or Monique Lhuillier.’
‘You carry on,’ said Sophie brightly. ‘Do you want to meet up tonight? You can tell me more, and besides, I’ve got something fabulous to show you.’
She could hear Fran’s mother in the background, ordering Francesca to get off the phone. Francesca was her only daughter and she was taking the wedding very seriously.
‘I don’t know, Soph,’ sighed her friend. ‘All I’ll want to do tonight is flop.’
‘Come on, Fran. You’ll like it.’
‘All right,’ she said after a long pause. ‘Where? Don’t think I’m coming all the way to Battersea, because I’m exhausted as it is without trekking south of the river.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Sophie, trying to suppress her smile. ‘I’ve moved. To Egerton Row.’
‘ Really? ’ replied Francesca, her interest clearly lifting a notch.
Smiling, Sophie gave her friend the address and said she’d expect her later.
By the time Sophie made it back down to the kitchen, she felt quite light-headed. She crossed to the fridge, an enormous American-style brushed-steel refrigerator with two doors. One side was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables, much of it in the distinctive brown and green Whole Foods packaging; the other was given over to exotic-looking fruit juice, bottles and bottles of sparkling water and at least a dozen bottles of white wine. Sophie pulled one down and looked at the label.
Château Olivier 2005 .
‘Gosh,’ she said.
At her mother’s insistence, Sophie had taken a wine-tasting course a few years back – ‘You don’t want to look stupid at a dinner party, do you, darling?’ Julia had said – and to her surprise, she had really enjoyed it, partly because it was run by a handsome older man named Charles whose enthusiasm for grapes was infectious, and partly because Sophie discovered she had a natural flair for tasting. Encouraged by Charles, she began reading up on grape varieties and the history of vineyards. She was only a keen amateur, but she enjoyed her little hobby: the imagination she’d always wanted to channel into writing or art had found an outlet in wine appreciation. And if she remembered correctly, Château Olivier was one of the finest Sémillons in France.
She looked around the fridge for something cheaper, as she did not want to abuse Lana’s hospitality, but every bottle reeked of quality. And Lana had said to help herself, hadn’t she? I’ll only have a glass, anyway , she thought as she rummaged in the drawers looking for a corkscrew. She quickly opened the bottle and splashed the wine into a big glass. It was delicious; clean and flinty. She held on to the glass as she lugged her suitcase upstairs. Lana hadn’t specified where she should sleep, but there was something magical about having a bath under the stars, so she chose the room in the eaves.
She unpacked, hanging her few outfits in the empty wardrobe as
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