by now and the sun was setting, a golden glow reflecting back at them from the windows.
‘Beautiful, eh?’ Alberto called.
Speechless, Sapphire could only nod in agreement. It looked like something out of a fairytale.
Up close, Casa Eleganza was even prettier, with jewel-coloured flowers tumbling from window boxes and immaculate green lawns stretching out in front. Despite the scorching heat, the grass was a dark emerald. Sapphire could see several gardeners hard at work. She was so busy taking in every detail she didn’t realise for a moment that they’d docked. Sapphire felt a warm hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Alberto smiling down at her. She blushed, wondering if all Brad Masters’ staff were this good-looking.
A plump, friendly-faced old woman with grey hair tied back in a bun was standing expectantly on the end of the jetty. ‘You be careful now, Alberto!’ she called. Sapphire noticed she had a strong Irish accent. As Alberto helped Sapphire off the boat, the old lady stepped forward and clasped both of Sapphire’s hands warmly.
Sapphire started to feel more relaxed. The woman had a kind, motherly air about her that just made you know she’d look after you. Yet somehow she also fitted in with the opulent, luxurious backdrop of Casa Eleganza, as if she was part and parcel of the place.
‘I’m Maggie O’Sullivan, housekeeper,’ said the woman. ‘And you must be Sapphire.’
‘Hi, Maggie,’ said Sapphire, suddenly feeling rather shy again. Maggie noticed and put a comforting arm around one shoulder. ‘You must be awful tired after your journey, so why don’t you come along and see your bedroom. I’ve had it made up extra-nice for you.’
‘What about my rucksack?’ Sapphire asked, but Maggie was already guiding her towards the house.
‘Ach, that’ll be brought up to your room shortly. Come along now.’
If Sapphire had thought the chauffeur-driven car and the yacht were mind-blowing, her bedroom was something else. In fact, the word ‘bedroom’ didn’t do it justice, as Sapphire found when she walked through her own private living-room on to a sweeping balcony overlooking the sea.
‘Maggie, this is amazing!’ she gasped.
The housekeeper smiled proudly. ‘Mr Masters does like to keep a nice house.’
‘It’s more than nice,’ said Sapphire, flopping on to a huge L-shaped sofa. Vases of exotic lilies stood everywhere, while the walls were cramped with modern art and expensive-looking paintings.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Maggie said. ‘You probably want a nice, long shower or something.’
Sapphire suddenly felt a bit awkward. ‘Er, when is the party? I mean, do I need to change now or anything?’
‘The party isn’t tonight, pet, don’t worry. Mr Masters is flying in tomorrow from a business trip. He sends his apologies and says he looks forward to meeting with you.’
‘Oh,’ Sapphire said, feeling somewhat at a loss. What was she supposed to do until then?
Maggie seemed to read her mind. ‘Why don’t you unpack and get yourself straight and then I’ll introduce you to the other guests.’
Sapphire felt a jolt of nervous excitement in her stomach. The other guests, she thought. I hope they’re nice.
It was 6:55pm and Sapphire was due in the drawing-room in five minutes. Unfortunately, she didn’t even know what the drawing-room looked like, let alone how to find it.
She gave herself one final look in the mirror. The vintage flowery tea-dress she’d bought from a second-hand shop in Covent Garden now looked a bit old and frumpy. Still, she didn’t have much else to choose from. As usual, Sapphire had left her packing to the last minute and had ended up throwing a mish-mash of random clothes in her rucksack. At least her dress for the party was OK – an All Saints puffball number her mother had bought her for Christmas last year. Sapphire had hung it up as soon as she’d unpacked, but like the rest of stuff she’d pulled out, it looked like it needed a good iron.
She looked at the photo of her dad that she’d brought, on the bedside table. Its presence comforted her. She still thought of her dad often, and loved to tell his photo what she’d been up to.
‘Wish me luck, Dad!’
Pulling open the heavy door to her bedroom, Sapphire slipped out on to a wide, marble-floored corridor. She paused to listen. Considering that there was supposed to be such a huge party tomorrow, she was surprised not to hear the sound of any other guests. Then again, the place was so big Sapphire doubted she’d hear them anyway.
The grandfather clock in the hall was chiming seven as Sapphire made her way down the sweeping staircase. The vast rooms yawning off the main hall were motionless and empty. Except for one. Sapphire strained her ears; a low murmur of voices was coming from somewhere. Following the voices, she set off down a corridor which seemed to lead into the heart of the house, pausing to admire the huge, blown-up photographs on the walls – most of them of the famous artists signed to Brad Masters’ record label, BMM. Oddly enough, there were no pictures of the man himself.
Finally, she stopped at a dark, wooden studded door. She held her breath for a moment before going in. From behind the door, she could hear what sounded like a young female voice. At least there were going to be people there her own age. Encouraged, she pushed open the door.
Inside, the drawing-room was just as opulent as every other in the house. The lights were turned down low, evening shadows starting to dance in every corner. Sitting in huge sofas opposite each other were two stunning girls – one dark-skinned and smouldering; the other blonde and icy-looking. While they were both slim, the dark-haired one had an angular look that made Sapphire think she might be a model. She was gazing round with a bored expression while the blonde talked in an affected American drawl. Both were wearing tight body-con dresses that definitely weren’t off the rack at Topshop.
‘So I said to Lauren Conrad, like get over yourself bitch, and she said—’
The blonde American girl stopped, suddenly aware of Sapphire’s presence. ‘Oh. Who are you?’ She gave Sapphire a snotty once-over and raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t realise tramp chic was in.’
The blonde looked to the brunette for a laugh, but the other girl yawned and went back to staring out the window. Feeling rather stupid, Sapphire introduced herself. The blonde looked disdainfully at her hair, which was still wet from the shower and curling round her shoulders. She sniffed.
‘I’m Madison Vanderbilt, and this is Simonetta…er…Mongolla, or something.’
‘I’ve told you, it’s Mastrangelo,’ Simonetta said, shooting Madison a death stare. Sapphire had already decided that she really didn’t want to get on the wrong side of these girls. Neither looked like they were about to get up, until Madison spoke.
‘You can come and say hello if you want to.’ She stuck out a hand as if she were royalty. Sapphire walked across and took it, before Madison snatched it back as if she’d just touched something unpleasant. She waved Sapphire
