Free Guilty Pleasures by Tasmina Perry

to make it to the top, my dear,’ she said, perfectly seriously, ‘you need to know how to make money.’
    At that point, Miss Lamarr, head of the Sixth Form rose to her feet. ‘I think that’s enough questions now,’ she said briskly. ‘Miss Grand is a very busy woman. I’m sure she has plenty of fashion shows to attend,’ she added light-heartedly.
    A burst of eager applause bounced around the wood-panelled room. As Cassandra descended from the stage, she was surrounded by girls wanting to shake her hand or get an autograph. A flustered Miss Lamarr motioned to Cassandra who escaped through a side-door into a quiet corridor, shutting the pandemonium behind her. She took a deep breath, energy buzzing around her body. She felt like a movie star.
    ‘Hiiiiiii,’ squealed a loud voice to Cassandra’s left. Before she could even turn, a lanky female body wrapped itself around her, almost toppling her over.
    ‘Can you believe they wouldn’t let me watch the lecture?’ gushed the voice, not releasing the embrace. ‘No year nines allowed, apparently. Rules are rules even if it’s your mother speaking they said!’
    ‘Darling, how are you?’ said Cassandra, disentangling herself, before kissing the girl warmly on the cheek. Cassandra hadn’t seen her daughter Ruby since Christmas and couldn’t believe how much she had changed in only eight weeks. She had always been tall and gangly, but Cassandra was convinced she must have grown another inch since New Year. Already she was five feet eight and even the drab Briarton school uniform could not disguise her blossoming figure.
A size six,
thought Cassandra, trying not to feel envious: the perfect sample size. If there was one thing Ruby’s father had given her, it was good genes, with olive skin, raven hair spilling down her back and eyes that could change from grape green to emerald depending on the light and time of day. She would have looked like Pocahontas were it not for a long vivid orange streak across Ruby’s fringe.
    ‘What on earth is that?’ she exclaimed in horror.
    ‘I know,’ said Ruby, shrugging her shoulders. ‘It didn’t quite work out as I imagined. Sienna said I’d look good with some contrast in my hair. Now I look like a sun-tanned skunk.’
    ‘What were you thinking? What the hell did you use?’
    ‘Bleach.’
    ‘Don’t you know some of the best hairdressers are at my disposal? Do you never listen …?’ she exhaled dramatically. ‘Maybe Daniel Galvin will do a house call,’ she said thoughtfully, still angry that this was yet another problem she had to sort out.
    Cassandra had been 21 years old and on a photo-shoot in Miami when she had met Narcisso, a half America/half Cuban male model. She had been too young to say no to sex with someone incredibly good looking – and hell, why not? So they’d had a one-night stand. It was the most fantastic sex of Cassandra’s life. It was not until five months later that she found out she was pregnant. As a rule, Cassandra ate very little to keep her rail-thin figure, which had sent her menstrual cycle haywire to say the least. Cassandra had thought it was the end of the world: it was too late to abort it, too far gone to hide it and she had no intention of contacting the father again. The thought of adoption had crossed her mind for a moment but – against all previous instincts – Cassandra found she had a maternal side. The baby was
her.
A part of her, a product of her. How could she give that up? She quickly came to regret such romantic thoughts. Holding Ruby in her arms was the first time she could ever remember feeling helpless and she hated the feeling. Added to which, almost immediately, having a baby interfered with her career. She couldn’t travel, couldn’t work late, couldn’t attend all the parties so essential to maintaining a profile in the fashion world. Cassandra had no choice: she moved her daughter in with her mother and went back to work. At eight, Ruby was sent to