The It Girl by Katy Birchall Page A

around the whole celebrity aspect. The whole you and Helena being these big famous stars. I mean it sounds weird, but I’m used to seeing you in magazines and reading about you in the papers. And now here you are in person and we’re about to be . . . family.”
    Marianne grimaced slightly at the term “family” and then slumped back onto her bed. “I just hope it all works out.” She let out a long, dramatic sigh.
    I picked up a framed photo of Marianne with a group of beautiful girls, on a night out, hands on their hips, all posing perfectly for the photographer. I thought about the framedphotograph on my desk of Dog wearing a cowboy hat. I put the photo down, a sinking feeling in my stomach. How could this possibly work out?
    â€œSo do I. Honestly though, I’m not sure any of it has really hit me yet.” I picked nervously at the side of the table.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Marianne replied calmly, staring at the ceiling. “It will.”
    And it did. Sooner than I was expecting.

10.
    IT WAS DOG WHO GAVE me away.
    We had been safely holed up in the closet, tucked behind the vacuum. I had been consoling myself for the last fifteen minutes, after the stormy events of the morning. Dad had been making an idiot of himself trying to reason with me through the door of my bedroom—completely unaware that I wasn’t actually in it.
    Serves him right. Thanks to him, I am a goner. Yes, thanks, Dad, for destroying my hope for a normal life.
    If it wasn’t for him and his frankly thoughtless engagement to a famous actress, then my Saturday morning would have been extremely pleasant. I would have gotten up, put on my bathrobe, greeted my previously faithful yellow Labrador, eaten bacon, and then spent the rest of the day enjoying my life.
    Instead I got up, put on my bathrobe, greeted my traitorousyellow Labrador, and went into the kitchen to find Dad standing in the corner, arms folded, hair disheveled, and looking like he’d just found Dog eating his West Wing box set.
    â€œWhoa, Dad, too many whiskies last night?” I chuckled, grabbing the kitchen tongs and placing the bacon on my plate, careful not to wave it too near Dog’s snout, which was cunningly resting on the side of the table. Dog was looking the other way though, trying to play innocent. He couldn’t fool me.
    Dad shook his head and cautiously pushed the newspaper on the table across to me.
    On the front page was a picture of Helena at a recent premiere, and above it the headline read “Helena’s engagement: third time lucky.” It started with a nice introduction on her new engagement to “renowned journalist Nick Huntley,” gave details about how they met and that, according to their source, the pair’s current focus was “bringing the two families together.”
    But it didn’t stop there. Oh no. The writer then went on to share a nice paragraph about Marianne and “Nick’s preteen daughter, Anastasia,” who were both “thrilled” about the engagement.
    Thrilled? THRILLED? Who was this person?
    I looked up at Dad. By the look on his face there was more. I read on with a very odd feeling in my tummy.
    There was a smaller piece a few pages in, accompanied by a photo of ME strolling unaware down the road in my blouse and jeans with Dog trotting beside me yesterday evening after the dinner at Helena’s. WITH SOY SAUCE SPILLED ALL DOWN ME.
    Seriously. A little box in the corner of the article completely dedicated to me. The headline was “Britain’s new It Girl?”
    BY NANCY ROSE—THE DAILY POST
    Now that Helena Montaine is getting hitched again, all eyes will be on Anastasia Huntley, Helena’s almost-stepdaughter. While Marianne Montaine is no stranger to the spotlight, her new sister seems to opt for a more laid-back approach, choosing a simple—and casually “distressed”—outfit to take her dog for a