land, then I’ll give you a score out of ten now.’
She’d give each of them ten out of ten. She could see, though, that her assertion disconcerted them. They didn’t like being judged on their looks alone and the discovery pleased her.
‘But if you choose to know the score then know this—I will not accept you into my Thursday evening meetings. So, girls, what’s it to be?’
There was a round of murmured ‘Thursday evenings, miss.’
‘Good. Now, one final thing. If I ever hear any of you make a comment like the one I heard as I was coming out through that door then we will have serious words—understand?’
Nods all around.
‘Excellent.’ She dusted off her hands. ‘Now, I’m sure you ladies have much better things to do than hang around here all day.’
They didn’t need any further encouragement. Three of the girls shot off in one direction. Stevie took off in the other.
‘Stevie, wait.’
Stevie stopped, stiffened, and then whirled around. ‘You heard it all, didn’t you? And you know I’m Stevie because I’m not as pretty as they are.’ She waved a hand in the direction the three other girls had gone.
‘I didn’t hear it all,’ Blair countered, ‘but I certainly heard enough. And I know you’re Stevie because you’re walking on your own while the others took off together.’
The younger girl’s shoulders unhitched a fraction.
‘I really hope you didn’t pay any attention to what those girls said. You have as good a chance of being Miss Showgirl as they have.’
‘It’s not true, though, is it? Not even my dad thinks I have a fighting chance of winning!’
It took all of Blair’s strength to prevent her jaw from dropping. Any father worth his salt would be trying to build his daughter’s confidence, not undermining it.
Stevie flung an arm in the air. ‘No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to look like those other girls.’
‘Good Lord, why would you want to?’
She was rewarded when Stevie’s chin shot up. ‘What?’
She held up a finger. ‘When you are speaking in public or being interviewed it’s always: I beg your pardon. Not, What. And, sure, those girls who were teasing you are pretty, but they’re blonde clones. It’s hard to tell them apart.’
Stevie choked. ‘You’re not allowed to say that.’
‘Why not?’ Blair steered them towards the gate in the fence. ‘I’m blonde, and some would say pretty, but believe me, if you saw me first thing in the morning before I’d had a chance to fix my hair and make-up you’d get a right fright.’
Wasn’t that the truth!
Exactly how true it was had nausea rising up through her. She swallowed it back. ‘You work with what you have, and, Stevie, you have a lot—the most wonderful olive skin and gorgeous hair.’ Stevie’s hair might be short, but it was shiny and dark, and full and thick. ‘Your eyes are the most amazing colour.’ Blue-grey. ‘Miss Showgirl will be awarded to the contestant who stands out, who proves herself. It won’t go to blonde clones the judges can’t tell apart.’
Stevie thought about that for a moment. ‘But if one of the blonde clones can make herself stand out, if she proves herself …’
‘If she’s worked that hard,’ Blair said gently, ushering Stevie through the gate, ‘then she might deserve to win.’
Stevie stopped. Blair stopped too. ‘You really, truly think I have a chance and you’re not just saying that because you’re our mentor and that’s what you’re supposed to say?’
‘I really, truly mean it.’ Blair crossed her heart. Then she frowned. ‘Is winning that important to you?’
The younger girl shook her head. ‘I just want to know that I have as good a chance as the others, that’s all.’
She sensed there was more. ‘And?’
‘Sometimes I want to be … just more than jeans and T-shirts!’ she burst out. ‘My mum died when I was little so I don’t have anyone to show me how to do all that girly stuff, and when I try I just look stupid!’
No mother? And a father who didn’t think she was pretty? Blair’s heart started to throb for this lovely girl. ‘Scarves,’ she suddenly pronounced.
‘Wha—? I beg your pardon?’
‘I don’t think frills and lots of jewellery are your kind of thing, Stevie. You’d probably find them too fussy. But you can add the most gorgeous feminine touch by using a scarf. And if you wake up in the morning and don’t feel like doing feminine you can change the scarf to something funky or something classic instead. With your lovely cheekbones and long throat you’d look great in a scarf. I’ll do a class on them.’
Stevie stared. ‘Really?’ she breathed.
Something inside Blair’s chest flickered. ‘Sure, why not?’
Stevie continued to stare as if Blair had just given her the secret to the universe. Blair cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Stevie, you want to know my secret?’
The younger girl leant forward, suddenly eager. ‘You mean your secret to winning Miss Showgirl?’ she breathed.
Blair nodded. ‘Bluff.’
Stevie’s face fell. ‘Bluff?’
‘Pretending, play-acting, fooling everyone into believing what you want them to believe—that you’re smart and pretty and confident. If you act like you think you’re pretty and smart and have something to offer the world, if you walk and talk and meet people’s stares head-on with that kind of confidence and belief in yourself, they’ll start to see that you really are something special. And they’ll treat you with respect. It’s not easy to begin with,’ she warned. ‘It’s really, really hard. But it works. And eventually you’ll realise that you’re not pretending any more. You’ll discover that you really are pretty and smart and confident.’
And then, sometimes, something happens that takes it all from you again.
She tried not to flinch at that thought. She tried to banish it to a place where it couldn’t batter her shattered self-esteem further.
‘Bluff?’ Stevie said as if testing the word out.
Blair lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. ‘Bluff.’ And if she said it a little too strongly then so be it. ‘So, will I see you on Thursday?’
Nick slammed his brakes on the moment he saw Stevie. He pulled the car over to the side of the road. What on earth …? She’d told him she was spending the day baking with her best friend Poppy and Poppy’s mother.
So what was his daughter doing here at the exit to the showground, talking
