Free Miss Manners by Iman Sid

interrupted, ‘is there anything that isn’t in good condition?’
    ‘ Nope,’ he said. ‘It’s all in good condition.’
    ‘ So, how much will you offer for it?’
    ‘ In its current condition and for a classic model, I’d say around the two thousand six-fifty margin.’
    ‘ Sold,’ I said briskly, then shook his hand, signed the documents and finished the deal.
    Brilliant. Except, now that I was £2,650 better off, I was beginning to have second thoughts. I was extremely tempted to abandon Miss Manners after seeing all that cash in my hand! I mean, look at it this way, the chances of me winning were very slim and the odds were completely against me. I was completely at a crossroads as to what I should do next. Should I follow my heart and enter Miss Manners? Or should I follow my head and get a job? After all, like Tara said, ‘No bees, no honey. No work, no money.’
     
    FRIDAY, 22nd APRIL
     
    I was dreaming of shopping malls that had flumes in place of escalators. Just before I was about to go down a shoot, a phone shrilled from somewhere. As I made the transition from dream mode to reality, the ringing grew louder. I cleared my throat, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was 8.30 a.m.
    Who would call so early?
    ‘Hello?’ I mumbled, trying hard to sound as though I’d spent the past few hours working hard at something respectable rather than passed out dreaming about flumes in shopping malls.
    ‘ Good morning, is this Anna Blogstrom?’ a woman sang at the other end of the line, her voice full of sunshine.
    ‘ Borgström,’ I corrected in a deep, raspy, just-woke-up voice.
    ‘ Apologies. Sarah Bentley speaking. I’m just calling to let you know that Romilly was really impressed with your article and said she’s very much looking forward to working with you on the spring/summer internship programme at Couture . Congratulations. Are you able to come in at ten this morning?’
    Internship? Couture?
    I suddenly felt as if I were having an out-of-body experience. Wow, that was two bits of good news in the space of just twenty-four hours!
    Was I still dreaming?
    ‘Sure,’ I said without thinking, as my heart flip-flopped in my chest.
    ‘ Fantastic. I look forward to meeting you.’
    The phone was still glued to my ear hole in shock. I didn ’t blink out of my hypnosis until I heard the dial tone.
    Well, this was a turn-up for the books.
    I flopped back down on the bed. I couldn’t believe it. I had actually been accepted onto an internship at a magazine! Except, I had no idea about magazine publishing. I always thought fashion and lifestyle magazines contained hungry-looking models and glossy ads, not articles. What was I going to do? Bluff my way through the internship? Maybe this was all a big mix-up?
    I stopped thinking for a moment, then laughed out loud. I dragged my limp body out of bed, then stood up like a boneless chicken. I blacked out for a second as I was consumed by a rush of blood to the head. My head felt like it was about to explode.
    I panicked, realising I had an hour and a half to get washed, dressed and make my way from my flat in Camden to Couture House in Oxford Circus. This meant I had to allot an hour for travel and half an hour to get ready.
    But w hat was I going to wear?
    I sat on my bed and scoured the floordrobe with my foot for something formal.
    Although it looked like I ’d been burgled, the mess in my bedroom was organised. Everything I owned was strewn across my room so that I could see it and knew exactly where it was. Sometimes, my knickers somehow ended up perched on top of the bookshelves.
    T he best I could find amidst the ‘organised mess’ was a faded black shirt, plain black hoodie, baggy black trousers with a hole in the crotch and a pair of scuffed black trainers.
    That ’ll just have to do .
    I got myself washed, dressed and was out the door in twenty minutes – a record. But as I slammed the door behind me and stood on the front doorstep, I felt