In Another Life

“Bryn, love of my life, keeper of the key to my heart, my one and only—”

Amused, I look away from the computer screen and catch sight of Holly, a floor manager, leaning around the doorframe and smiling at me. “Yes?”

“Your 11 o’clock is here,” She replies before she disappears once again. And then her bright red hair pops back around the corner. “Which means that your lunch break is, in fact, over. Melissa wanted me to tell you.”

“Because I couldn’t have gathered that on my own,” I laugh as she walks away. I listen to her heels clicking away before I take the last few bites of my sandwich and sign off of my online class, where I’d been working studiously for the last 30 minutes on my break.

After throwing the wrapper away and checking my makeup in a mirror, I straighten out my top and start to walk towards the front of the store. The necklaces around my throat clink together quietly and I take a bit of comfort in the way my heels sound against the hardwood shop floor. I sound authoritative, like I’m in complete control.

Which, I suppose, is a good thing if I want to do well in my job. Because if I don’t look like I know what I’m doing, then there’s no point in my customers returning again and again, is there? There’re plenty of other people in the city who’d be more than willing to do my job for me. And while I might not work 40+ hours a week, I still love and appreciate how much creativity and freedom my job allows me.

Being a personal shopper is a dream come true. What girl doesn’t like shopping? And to be paid to shop for someone else is amazing. I get these dream budgets and I dress busy businesswomen and fashion ignorant socialites with Daddy’s credit cards. Some people loathe going into work, but not me. I love each and every moment of it.

Rounding the corner, I quickly spot my 11 o’clocker. Janet Stewart is a 30-something-year-old business woman with an IQ of nearly 180 and yet she can’t seem to dress herself properly. She’s been coming to Melissa’s shop for almost 10 years now and she’s taken quite a liking to me. So much so that it’s not uncommon for me to receive an urgent email at least once a week about clothes.

“Janet,” I call out as I draw closer, so as not to distract everyone else on the store floor.

She looks up from her Blackberry and smiles, revealing the sweetest dimple on her left cheek. “Bryn! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know,” I answer as I embrace her lightly. “And I’m sorry about that, but school’s been horrible. I had exams the past couple of weeks. Come on back,” I motion for her to follow me.

She knows the routine and she trails after me, still clutching her mobile. “How did your exams go? Did you do well on your art theory practicum?”

I push open the door to my dressing room and wait for her to enter. “You know, it never fails to amaze me that you have a huge empire on your hands and you still can remember an exam I told you about weeks ago, but picking out an outfit on your own nearly reduces you to tears.”

“Ah yes, well, mixing and matching has always eluded me. I get nervous with frills and colors,” Janet sits down on a plush ottoman and peers back down at her Blackberry.

I know better than to interrupt her. We have a routine down by now. I’ll let her work in the corner while I bring out the outfits I’ve assembled beforehand and then I’ll have to coax her into setting her mobile on vibrate. The first few times I ever worked with Janet, her curt replies had scared me and I always left her appointments feeling a bit hurt and bruised. But now I know better. It’s just how she is; though she means well.

“Alright then,” I announce, running my palm across a silk blouse to sweep away a few wrinkles. “Ready, Janet?”

She types a few more characters before she places her phone in her bag and then turns to me with childish curiosity. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I stand back and motion to the first mannequin. “Business suit #1, what do you think? Keep in mind that we said we were going to start introducing some color into your wardrobe the last time we met.”

“Well I know,” She says slowly, doubt shining through in her eyes. “But is green really appropriate for the work space?”

I take a few steps forward and slip the jacket off the dressing doll. “It’s a very dark green, Janet. You can hardly tell it’s not black unless you stand under a bright light. Besides if you wear a champagne colored blouse or even a white shirt, it’ll soften it up a bit. If you’re still not sure about the color, I can get this suit in black or gray. But you have to promise me that you’ll let me put the color in elsewhere in your wardrobe.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Janet replies feebly, casting a distrusting glance at a pair of cheetah print heels that a previous client had left in my room. “Color sounds disastrous.”

“Not if it’s done properly,” I say firmly. “Now let’s at least try the suit on, just so we can see if we like the cut, shall we?” I wait for her nod before I continue. “You know the drill. Call me in when you’re ready. Do you want champagne?”

“Please,” She answers as I carefully slide the clothes off of the mannequin and hand them to her. “What shirt am I to wear with this?”

I smile brightly at her. “That is for you to decide. This is just the blazer and the skirt—I want you to pick out a blouse that you think would look good with this. Can you do that for me?”

“I can make presentations to powerful businessmen and make executive decisions about accounts worth billions of pounds without batting an eye and yet, the thought of picking out a shirt to match this,” She picks at the material as if it were poisonous. “It frightens me to death.”

“Good thing I’ll be the only other one seeing it,” I smile, moving for the door. “I have the utmost faith in you, Janet.” And before she can reply, I step out into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

Some trendy techno song is playing over the speakers as I quickly make my way down the corridor to the employee station where we store the refreshments. I carefully pour out a flute of champagne and grab a soda from the fridge before I pour the caffeinated beverage into a coffee mug so Mel won’t know that I’m drinking in front of customers.

“Bryn.”

Immediately I freeze when I hear my manager’s voice behind me and guiltily, I throw the can away into the recycle bin before I turn around. “Hi Mel, what’s up?”

“You’re with Janet right now, aren’t you?” She asks, not even looking at the two drinks in my grasp. Without waiting for my answer, she plunges ahead. “Do you need any help?”

I slowly look at the girl standing next to Mel. It’s April, one of the workers I started out here with, she’s nodding her head up and down yes frantically behind our boss’s back and confusedly, I look back at Melissa. “Yes?”

Though it comes out as more of a question, Mel seems to buy it. “April will assist you. I scheduled one too many assistants on the floor today.”

I nod. “Alright then. Well, Janet is probably done changing, so we’ll be off now then.” And without another look at my coworkers, I start back towards my dressing room. I can hear April just behind me and I wait until Mel’s out of ear shot before I speak. “What is going on?”

“She was going to send me downstairs to work shipping with Roger,” April whispers, barely repressing a shudder.

I know right away what a huge favor I’ve just done for April. Working with Roger is awful. He’s just a bit dodgy and he’s Mel’s nephew, so we can’t say anything about it to her. He’s quiet and breathes noisily and he just watches whoever’s working down there with him. Needless to say, us girls band together whenever possible so that we never have to be alone with Roger downstairs.

“You’re welcome,” I grin before I knock on the door. “Janet, it’s me, are you ready?” I hear a faint yes before I open the door and walk in. “You remember April, don’t you? She’s going to be observing today. Here’s your champagne.” I hand her the flute before I take a sip of my own drink.

April sits herself down on a spare ottoman and busies herself with filling out some of my paperwork. I flash her a grateful smile which she waves away as she begins to work.

“Alright then, Janet. Let’s see what you’ve picked out,” I rub my hands together and then turn to observe her outfit. “I’m so proud of you! You’re experimenting with color, well done.”

Janet peers down at her suit and then back at me. “But…?”

“But purple is really too overwhelming with this particular pattern,” I move towards the table where I’d laid out the blouses. “When you’re working with a stiff dark color like this, you want to wear a lighter color to sortof neutralize it. So while, in theory, purple and green look acceptable together, you’d be better off with softer, lighter color. And bonus, if you’re wearing this in the winter, you can go all dark and black would work just as well.”

“This is just way too overwhelming,” She murmurs, eyeing the clothing warily. “It’s almost like you’ve contradicted yourself. Wear it with a light color, but you can also wear it with black.”

April pipes up suddenly from behind us. “It’s all about how you want to look. If you want to look approachable and gentle, you go with the lighter colors. If it’s a more somber affair, like a funeral, go with the black.”

Janet bites down on her lower lip and then sighs. “I need to write all of this down.”

“No you don’t,” I coax, pulling her towards the second mannequin. “Here, we’ll step you through the next one.”

Nearly an hour passes with Janet and by the time the clock chimes 12:30, I’m just wrapping up her appointment. While I help her gather up all of her newest purchases, April works on drawing up the paperwork, for both the receipt and the schedule for her next appointment with me.

“Did you see where I put my pen, Bry?” April calls out, looking all around her ottoman. “I swear I just had it.”

“No I didn’t,” I call back as I fold up a blouse neatly. “But there’s one in my bag; go ahead and grab it. Janet, you’ll be sure to not roll up your sleeves in your suits, okay? You’ll ruin the material.”

She nods, picking up her bags. “Got it. And I’ll be sure to pay attention to the washing instructions this time around.”

“Good,” I grin as April hands me the paperwork. “Can I pencil you in a month from now?” When Janet nods, I write the date down in shorthand before I give the paperwork back to April, keeping Janet’s copy of the receipt. “Alright, well it’s been lovely, Janet, as always.”

“Thank you, Bryn.” She smiles and leads the way to the cash tills. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

“If only everyone else thought of clothes that way,” I muse jokingly while I hand off the receipt to the sales clerk behind the counter. “Take care, Janet.”

I walk back to my dressing room, intent on getting the last of my work finished so that I can go home and finally relax. Humming softly to myself, I reach for the pen and pull Janet’s file towards me before I start to write.

However, a few seconds later, I frown at my pen, annoyed with the felt tip for screeching against the table. Pulling it away from the paper, I shake the pen lightly and then continue writing, glancing at my copy of the receipt.

April clears her throat and I look up from my work, raising my eyebrows in the process. “Can I help you?” I ask, smiling inwardly at my co-worker. She looks ever so pensive.

April is perched on a stool, her legs crossed neatly and her arms folded across her stomach. She looks thoughtfully at me, her forehead puckered slightly. “So how long have you been attending polo matches?”

My heart leaps up in my chest and I tense slightly, already wondering how she knows. But then I remember that she’d gone through my purse for a pen and I still had the flyer from Thursday in my bag.

“That’s just from Olivia,” I reply easily, turning back to my work so she can’t see how panicked I’m feeling. “She had an extra ticket and I went so it wouldn’t be wasted.”

“How boring was that?” April asks, sliding off of her chair and moving towards the discarded clothing left behind from my appointment. “I can’t even imagine—a bunch of stuffy chavs and airheaded socialites all talking over one another about how hard and demanding their lives are. I mean, I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather be doing.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly, feeling a bit insulted at her words. Not everyone at those things acts like that. I mean, Olivia goes to these functions a lot. And yes, she is a bit airheaded at times, but she’s not selfish or conniving. “Totally.”

“I mean, really,” April continues on, despite my obvious dismissal of the topic. “I bet all they do is sit around and bitch about how difficult it is spending all of Daddy’s money or how they can’t stand to eat another crab leg.”

There’s a weighty silence that follows her words and it is then that I decide not to turn this into a big affair. She truly has no idea what she’s speaking about, so there is no point for me to get all riled up over her assumptions. There is no reason for me to get offended. After all, she has no idea that I went to that polo club of my own free will.

“You can pick any stereotypical rich person food and you pick crab legs?” My lips twitch as I stand up and gather together my completed paperwork. “You do realize that you can get crab legs for, like, eight quid at a restaurant, right?”

She flushes and then shrugs her shoulders. “Well it was the first thing that popped into my head. Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m off for the day,” I answer brightly, placing my paperwork in a ‘To File’ bin on the manager’s desk. “So I am going home and then I am going to open a bottle of wine and unwind in front of my television.”

“You’re no fun,” April pouts as I retrieve my bag and clock out. “I still have three more hours here and you don’t want to keep me company?”

I shake my head, bowing my face so she can’t see my dancing eyes. “Somehow I think Roger will do quite nicely.” And then I duck to dodge her slap before I wave and start to walk towards the exit. “Have a lovely time with your boyfriend, April.” I wave at Mel before I push open the glass door and step out into the humid afternoon sunshine.



My mobile ringing drags me back into consciousness. I frown and then stretch, the sofa creaking under me as I haul myself up into a sitting position. The telly is still running, though my program has been long over.

I lean forward, squinting at the caller ID as I hit the mute button on my remote control and bring the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Bry, are you at home?” Jeanette says briskly and in the background, I can hear the sound of other people moving about and talking. “Because I’m in the neighborhood and I have the coursework that you missed on Thursday at school.”

“Oh right,” I run my free hand through my tousled hair and nod. “Yeah, I’m home. You can just drop it off, if it’s not too big of a problem.”

“Nope, that’s why I called. I’ll see you in ten then?” She doesn’t wait for my answer before she disconnects.

I shake my head and put my mobile back on the table in front of me before I move to gather up the pretzels I’d been snacking on earlier. The bag crinkles loudly as I fold it over and then clip it shut.

I stretch again, my back cracking deliciously before I unmute the television and move towards the kitchen, the news broadcast providing my background noise. Listening idly to the weather, I put my snack back in the pantry and move for the fridge to find something cool to drink.

But just as I go for my second glass of water, the buzzer goes off in the front room. I quickly pour myself another glass before I return the pitcher to the shelf and scurry towards the front door.

Knowing Jeanette, she’s going to be annoyed with all of the humidity and heat, so I undo the locks and pull the door open to reveal the girl in question. True to my predictions, she looks a bit wilted, so I step backwards and motion for her to come inside.

“Bit hot then?” I remark cheerfully as I shut the door behind her. “Do you want something to drink?”

She nods, kicking off her shoes and leading the way back into my kitchen. “I was going to have one, whether you offered or not. It’s hotter than hell outside. When is the temperature supposed to go down?”

“I have no idea,” I admit, picking my glass of water up again. “I was just watching the news report before you came in. But I thought Amanda said something about it going down next week sometime.”

“Amanda also thinks that we’ll catch our deaths from pneumonia if we get wet from being in the rain,” She replies dryly before she drains her glass and goes back for a second. “I do not fancy walking all the way back to the tube in this humidity.”

“Then wait for the sun to go down,” I suggest, arching an eyebrow up at her. “It’s not like it’ll be that long anyway, just a few hours.”

“Well if you insist,” She smiles before she moves towards my pantry and begins to rummage through for something to eat. “Oh, I’ve written the assignment down in my planner—it’s in my satchel, go on and get it.”

I move towards the counter and pull out her worn lime green planner before I flip open to this past Thursday. “Read chapters 8 and 9?”

“Yeah,” Jeanette turns around with a bag of crisps in her grasp. “And there’s a worksheet or something, too. I grabbed you a copy. It’s here,” She tugs it out of the back of the planner and then unfolds it. “Oops, I got grease on the side. Whatever, he’ll never know.”

“Thanks,” I laugh, running my fingertips across the crease the fold has left behind. “I appreciate it. I didn’t think you’d remember and I totally forgot about texting you.”

“Yes well,” She fans herself and flutters her eyelashes. “Not everyone can be as perfect as I am.” I start to laugh and she fakes an injured look. “I wasn’t kidding, Bryn.”

“And I’m the next Lily Allen,” I laugh, pushing myself away from my counter. “I’m going to go watch the news.” I enter the living room and pad over to the sofa, sinking down onto the soft cushions and focusing on the current newscast.

Jeanette follows, still munching on my chips, before she plops down next to me and begins to watch the television. But it doesn’t hold her attention long. She places the bag on the coffee table before she stretches out, placing her feet on the table comfortably. Even though she knows that it bothers me immensely.

“So where were you?” She asks abruptly as a commercial for Cadbury’s chocolate comes on.

My mouth starts to water at the advert and I barely pay her any attention. “I was at work and then I came home—”

“No,” She interrupts, waving my words away easily. “I meant on Thursday. Why weren’t you at school? You’re rarely ill.”

Immediately I snap out of my chocolate induced trance and I turn to look at her, feeling a bit panicky. I am the worst liar in the world and Jeanette has this unnatural ability to tell if one’s lying or not. In all of my years of knowing her, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to successfully pass a fib off to her.

“I, uh… I had an appointment,” I manage carefully, trying to offer up a nonchalant smile. “And it was the only time I could get in to the doctor, so I had to take it. Plus I haven’t missed a class all term yet and we’ve one free absence, so I decided to use it.”

“What kind of appointment?” She asks, examining her nails with a frown on her face. “Do you have a file?”

I rummage through the drawer in the table by the arm of the sofa before I hand her a purple emery board. “Just a regular check-up, nothing too major.”

“I’m on to you, Miss Matthews,” She brandishes the file in my face threateningly. “You’re hiding a secret from me.”

I wince at her words and then shrug, busying myself with straightening up the stack of magazines in front of me. “No I’m not. I’m not hiding anything from you.”

There’s the sound of the post being slide through my mail slot and Jeanette’s gaze flickers to the front door before she looks back at me, her head tipped to one side. I fidget uncomfortably at her gaze as I rise up to my feet, intent on getting the mail to use as a distraction.

“I’ll figure it out soon enough,” She sings as she files away at her index finger. “Trust me, I always do.”

I laugh at her words as I bend over to gather up the letters and magazines. “God, I know. It’s like you were bloody Sherlock Holmes in another life or something,” I start to go through my stack hurriedly, pulling out the trash mail and tossing it away.

“I know,” Jeanette says smugly, blowing at her nail and holding her hand away from herself as she examines it. “It used to drive Mum insane. She had the hardest time at Christmas and birthdays. She ended up having to hide everything at Gran’s house.”

I chuck a new issue of Cosmo at the back of her head and grin to myself as I hear her shriek and following curse. “Put that on the table for me, won’t you?” She grumbles darkly, but does as I ask as I move towards the kitchen.

I have a system for mail. All of the bills go in the basket on my counter and at the end of the week, I sit down and pay everything off and then it gets filed away. Coupons go in a neat stack next to my bills and I normally toss pretty much anything else. Aside from the odd magazine subscription I hold, my post is pretty much full of junk that I’ll never use.

I put my rent bill in the basket and start to crumble up a wrinkled takeaway coupon insert for a restaurant that I never eat at before I realize that there’s something stuck between the pages of the advert.

Placing the rest of my mail by the sink, I open the insert and pull out a thick creamy envelope with spidery black writing slanting across the front. A slight frown appears on my face as I look at the unfamiliar return address in the left corner and then at the raised family crest on the back of the envelope.

But it’s my name. It’s right there in plain black and white.

Miss Bryn Matthews
13 Pratt Street, Camden Town
Greater London, United Kingdom

Hurriedly I break the seal and pull out the stiff cardboard wedding invitation. My frown deepens as I go over the strange names and titles. There has to be some kind of mistake, I’ve no idea who these people are. Why would I be invited to their wedding?



I stop at the RSVP date and my heart leaps up into my throat. May the first? That was nearly two months ago. Why am I just now receiving a wedding invitation if the wedding is in exactly one week?

I flip open the envelope and glance at the post office mark in the right-hand corner. It’s postmarked just yesterday, so it’s not like it got lost in the post for the past month and a half. Someone deliberately mailed me an invitation even though—

A scrap of paper lands on my bare feet and I quickly pick it up, scanning the handwritten note for any answers to my questions. But reading over it does nothing but confuse me even further.

Darling Bryn—
We met ages ago at a charity dinner and it’s taken me until now to track down your address. You’re certainly a difficult young woman to get a hold of, I must confess! I know this is short notice, but I simply must have you at my wedding. Do say yes. It would make me so happy to have you at my special day.
Call me as soon as you get the invitation and I won’t take no for an answer!
~ Jazz Xxx

I scan over the intimidating heading at the top of the note—“From the desk of Lady Jasmine Collins”. And then I look over the hastily scrawled digits at the bottom of the paper.

I can’t say that Jasmine Collins rings any bells in my head. I’d met so many people at that charity dinner and table-hopping with Olivia is a proper nightmare. I might have met Jasmine and I just don’t remember it.

But why would she go through all of the trouble of inviting me to her wedding if she doesn’t even know me?

As soon as I ask myself that question, I already know the answer. It’s why I reach for the phone and punch in Jasmine’s mobile number before I can talk myself out of it. It’s why I find myself confirming my attendance for a wedding between two people that I don’t know.

And my reason is a certain blue-eyed prince.