Love Is a Four Letter Word by Claire Calman Page A

have a look if you like, or get someone who actually knows what they’re doing.’
    â€˜Of course, I’ve no idea what’s fashionable any more,’ Alessandra said, plucking a blouse from her walk-in wardrobe to offer Bella. ‘But this has always been useful.’
    And it has to be better than that awful shirt.
    â€˜It’s gorgeous,’ Bella said, stroking the slippery satin sleeve against her cheek. ‘Are you sure you don’t want it?’
    â€˜We don’t go out as much as we used to. I’ve far more evening clothes than I can use.’
    If I were your age, I’d be out dancing very night, fending off strings of suitors.
    Bella held up a silk chiffon top and looked at herself in the mirror. It was delicious, red and rich as cherries.
    â€˜The colour’s wonderful with your hair. I’ll never understand why young people seem to wear so much black all the time. Take it.’ Alessandra pulled out a matching skirt from the rail. ‘Here – I can’t get into it any more. All part of the joys of ageing.’ She patted her still slender hips.
    You won’t be young for ever.
    â€˜And you could do with some decent things. With your looks, it’s such a waste not to make the most of yourself.’
    Why don’t you try harder? You won’t catch a man if you don’t.
    With the blouse and skirt on, Bella felt different – unfamiliarly elegant, graceful, grown-up. The skirt swirled softly about her legs as she walked up and down the bedroom. The voluminous sleeves of the top were translucent, semi-revealing, more alluring than bare flesh.
    â€˜That’s really very glamorous on you,’ said Alessandra, assessing. ‘Lovely for a special occasion. Or if someone takes you out to dinner?’
    â€˜Women don’t get taken out to dinner any more.’ Bella ignored the implied question. ‘We all pay our own way nowadays, I think you’ll find.’
    â€˜Oh. Well, yes. I just meant …’ Alessandra gave a small laugh. ‘It needs high heels, of course,’ looking down at Bella’s weekend boots.
    Don’t you want anyone to notice you?
    â€˜I do have some smart shoes, you know – just because I don’t—’
    â€˜No. Well, of course, we can’t expect you to waste your best things on us.’ She turned and left the room.
    Alone in her parents’ bedroom, Bella faced herself inthe mirror. Her reflection looked back, coolly appraising. The cherry top and skirt seemed suddenly ridiculous, absurdly glamorous, too obviously not her own – like a little girl all got up in her mummy’s high heels and feather boa. Who would be fooled by it into thinking she was really beautiful? They would know she was a fraud, a cuckoo in the nest, trying to acquire something she could never have. She tugged at the zip, jamming it in the fabric before pulling it free, and reached for her jeans.
    â€˜Don’t forget your house-warming present,’ Gerald said as she was marshalling her things by the front door. ‘Have you space on the back seat?’
    â€˜Gerald-dear, can you manage it, please?’
    She didn’t need to unwrap it to see what it was. There were two bits: one large and heavy piece that was evidently some kind of lamp base, and one awkward-looking shade. Even without seeing it, Bella could tell it wouldn’t look right in her house. It was too large and, knowing her mother, too grand. Chances were the base would have exotic birds painted on it or tasteful flowers. It was bound to have been expensive. She could have had some decent new towels for the money. Or a couple of seriously good saucepans.
    â€˜Gosh, how wonderful,’ she said. ‘How exciting to have a proper present.’
    â€˜Aren’t you going to open it?’ Alessandra stood poised behind it proprietorially. It was evidently of her choosing.
    â€˜But it looks so well protected as it