Vanity by Lucy Lord

wasn’t tempted. She didn’t have to go to vile offices, was paid pretty handsomely for her painting, and her life was, just about, perfect.
    Yet … It was just the bloody weather, she told herself, and a niggling loneliness. One of the reasons she loved Andy so much was his innate goodness, which manifested itself in his dedication to his work, but sometimes she wished more of that dedication could be sent her way. Like coming home in time for dinner.
    She clicked onto Poppy’s next photo, in which she was giggling with loads of people Bella didn’t know, in a club that was probably the Studio 54 du jour. Damian was conspicuous by his absence. Bella hoped that all was well with them. She opened another bottle of wine and started to think about all the fun she’d had in the past. She used to be that clubbing chick, the one with the cool photos and funny stories.
    Then her phone beeped.
    Bella my love, I’m outside. So sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Bloody job. I love you! Come down. Anything you want to eat and drink is on me, wherever you want to go. And everything you want me to do to you, I’ll do double. Triple. Xxxxxxx
    Bella looked out of the window and saw Andy, arms outstretched, smiling up at her. Her heart soared as she ran down the rickety steps of her flat and realized she wouldn’t trade any of her hedonistic, uncertain past for what she had with him, right now.
    â€˜I mean, I love her, you know I do, but it’s just so fucking annoying!’ Bella looked over her glass of Pouilly-Fumé at Andy. They were in her favourite restaurant, The Wolseley. Enormous iron chandeliers glowed overhead, the excited hum of chatter buzzed around her, she was with her favourite person in the whole world. Yet her second favourite dish in the whole world (moules marinières; spaghetti vongole was her first, but they didn’t do it here) lay practically untouched in front of her.
    â€˜Poppy’s life is just so bloody exciting, and EVERYONE loves her!’
    â€˜I don’t love her.’ Andy leant across the white linen’d table and held both Bella’s hands in his. ‘In fact, I think she’s a self-centred pain in the arse, but I do love you.’
    Bella smiled and kissed both his hands.
    â€˜Thanks and sorry. I love you too.’
    â€˜Not bored with me already, are you?’ He said it lightly, but Bella could tell he meant it.
    â€˜I’ll never be bored with you, my love. I just sometimes get a bit bored with life in grey old London, with its endless depressing news, when everybody else seems to be having so much fun, in such exotic places. Bloody Facebook.’
    â€˜You spend far more time on that site than is healthy, my darling. And let’s look at it mathematically: you have – what? – 350-odd Facebook “friends”?’ Andy did the inverted commas fingers signal and Bella nodded, slightly shamefaced.
    â€˜Most of us go on holiday at least once a year, so let’s divide that by twelve.’
    â€˜Um – nearly thirty people on holiday every month?’
    â€˜Exactly! It may look as if everyone is having the times of their lives on beaches or mountains, while we’re stuck in dreary old London, but it’s a snare and a delusion. We were in Ibiza only a couple of months ago, after all.’
    â€˜Oh, I know, I know, I’m being horribly spoilt.’ Bella sighed and took another swig of her wine. ‘But Poppy IS getting her huge bite of the Big Apple, even during this horrid recession. I don’t know why I can’t be more pleased for her.’ In the old days she’d have been happy, unreservedly , for Poppy, but ever since the Ben thing, something sour had crept in. She had loved helping her plan the wedding, and the nuptials themselves had been wonderful, of course, but this new, extra level of success was a little galling.
    Six weeks earlier, three weeks after Poppy and Damian