THE DEVIL
IS IN THE
DETAIL
BY DAISIE ATWOOD
BEFORE YOU EMBARK ON A JOURNEY OF REVENGE, DIG TWO GRAVES. Confucius
WEAK PEOPLE REVENGE.
STRONG PEOPLE FORGIVE.
INTELLIGENT PEOPLE IGNORE.
Anonymous
IF YOU PRICK US DO WE NOT BLEED?
IF YOU TICKLE US DO WE NOT LAUGH?
IF YOU POISON US DO WE NOT DIE?
AND IF YOU WRONG US SHALL WE NOT REVENGE?
Shakespeare
IN REVENGE AND IN LOVE, WOMAN IS MORE BARBARIC THAN MAN IS.
Nietzsche
IT'S A FUNNY THING ABOUT MOTHERS AND FATHERS. EVEN WHEN THEIR OWN CHILD IS THE MOST
DISGUSTING LITTLE BLISTER
YOU COULD EVER IMAGINE, THEY STILL THINK THAT HE OR SHE IS
WONDERFUL.
Roald Dahl
DEAR READER,
PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT THIS IS A STORY FILLED WITH PUTRID CHARACTERS, ONE GHASTLIER THAN THE NEXT.
IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR A SWEET ROMANTIC STORY, OR AN INSPIRATIONAL UPLIFTING TALE FULL OF MORALS, THEN PLEASE PUT THIS BOOK DOWN AND WALK AWAY NOW…
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JADE
The Astro: Your feelings matter, and because you feel so profoundly, you have the strength to love others deeply.
Sixteen year-old Jade sat up in her sun lounger, enjoying the view of the gentle lapping waves of the Caribbean sea, loving her latest young adult novel, full of the trials and tribulations of teenage love. She adored the hotel that her mother had booked for them; truly luxurious and all-inclusive with the most divine porn star martinis; she approved.
Their deluxe suite had a private swim-up pool, a private butler and access to all the bars and restaurants on the sumptuous hotel site. The staff were so attentive and could not do enough for their family of four.
Her new Versace neon green bikini fit in all the right places. She looked hot, she thought smugly, her tanned body shimmering in the December sunshine. She had posted several photos on social media, capturing her pert bottom and breasts in mirror selfies, emulating all of her favourite Love Island celebrities, with instant gushing responses from followers that she barely thought of as friends, acquaintances at best, with lots of sizzling fire emoji's:
Beach babe
Fit though
Can't cope
Vibes
She wondered where her brother Derek was. Probably still asleep, missing out on this beautiful sunshine, what an idiot.
Looking over at her mother, Audrey, on the next lounger, she groaned internally. What an overweight lump! Wearing a bikini – when in all honesty, her bikini days were long gone, sagging breasts on full display, the bikini top barely covering her nipples, a glutinous stomach and thighs that spilt over the lounger looking like they were trying to escape from the cellulite city – and a wide-brimmed hat, ordering Abraham to get her another glass of prosecco, get her a bowl of chips, rub suntan lotion on her. What did your last slave die of, Mother Dearest?!
And watching Ham, her long-suffering boyfriend, run around after her mother broke her heart. Why did he put up with her crap?
She listened to her mother on her phone, adopting the usual patronising tone that she used with everyone from her boss to her cleaner.
'No, Manuel, I asked for the giant Buddha statue to be placed at the back of the villa, not the front. How can I see him at the front when the pool and views are out the back, Manuel? Pause.
'No, Manuel, it's not good enough. Bring the crane back, move the Buddha to the back. And do not wreck the villa in the process.' Pause.
'Manuel, is this clear please? Please tell me you have understood.'
Jade conjured up a memory from when she was about nine years old on a holiday to Ibiza. It was of a time when Jade was battling puppy fat and was quite a chubby little girl. Her mother, on the other hand, was in her prime, in fantastic shape, still in the throes of new-found love with her new very good-looking boyfriend – who Jade had a bit of a puppy crush on herself. Audrey had made Jade stand next to her, and had Ham take a photo of them from behind. Ham looked embarrassed and protested a little, but the bossy Audrey insisted he do it.
Jade didn't really understand what was going on until she saw her mother giggling at the photo on her phone.
'My arse is skinnier than my own daughters,' she giggled in a loud whisper to Ham. Ham had looked over at nine year-old Jade mortified, and Jade blushed a deep shade of red. She passed on the second helping of ice-cream that night and the memory of her mother laughing would never leave her.
She remembered another time when a friend had gushed to Audrey just how beautiful Jade was, when she was starting to blossom into a teenager. Audrey had grimaced in Jade's direction and whispered to her friend;
'Yes, but not as pretty as the original. Sadly, she got her father's chin.'
Bored of the pool, and in search of some excitement, Jade decided to go and visit the hotel bar, see if she could find someone her own age to hang out with. She pulled on a tank top emblazoned with 'I'm a ray of fucking sunshine' and some daisy duke denim shorts.
'Ham, sweetie, get me another glass of prosecco, there's a lamb,' called out her mother from her sun lounger. 'And while you're there, pop into the buffet and see if they have of those amazing shrimp cocktails, but make sure they look fresh, get one from the back. And a bowl of crisps would be nice, I'm starving over here.'
Watching Ham jump up to this command and scurry away, Jade swore then and there that she would never be like her mother, inside or out.
DARCY & TALBOT
'Audrey is a liability, Keith, and you know it. Get rid of those damn blinkers,' said Tracey, her voice full of venom.
'I am loyal to her, you know this. She has put us on the global map, single-handily. Can I ask what other directors have done this?' said Keith, CEO of Darcy & Talbot, his patience starting to wear thin, with the constant badgering from his self-important team of directors. 'And she's not even here to defend herself.'
'She will bring this store down. We are a national institution, a British treasure, not social media whores,' said Sanjeev, helping himself to a helpfully handy plate of biscuits that had magically appeared out of nowhere. Rosee, their PA, smiled as she walked away, mentally clapping herself on the back for always anticipating the director's needs.
'I don't think our systems can cope with all the additional web traffic that she has generated,' complained Anthony.
'I am getting loads of complaints on the shop floor from our old dears for her saucy campaigns,' said Elliott, Director of Customer Experience cattily, 'and they are our bread and butter, we need to stop offending them.'
'I don't think I can cope with many more complaints about Audrey from her department,' said Karen Cousins, Director of Human Resources. 'I am consistently hearing the words 'vile', 'toxic', 'bullying'. Do you know she refused a team member a day off for her own Dad's funeral so the poor girl had to call in sick, and then she fired her? And she gave another colleague a written warning for having chipped nail varnish? We cannot continue to have a senior member of our staff talk to colleagues in this way. We need to be conscious of our brand.'
Notty shook his head in anger, and Vicky's eyes flashed.
Keith looked around his board table of directors.
'Enough!' he said loudly, making Rosee jump. 'Stop ganging up on her. She is a credit to our business and I won't hear another word. Unless you can bring me proof of her corruption, I won't tolerate this back-stabbing.' And with that, Keith walked out of the board-room, leaving his Directors staring at each other.
AUDREY
The Astro: When the world doesn't operate like you expect, it's forcing you to adapt and grow, opening you up to new and unexpected ways of living and being.
Audrey Cunningham's life changed forever on Boxing Day when her rotten cheating scumbag boyfriend left for a younger prettier woman.
After an exhausting Christmas Day, with bloated bellies full of food delivered by Harrods, a bottle of pink champagne for breakfast, three bottles of finest Spanish Rioja with dinner, expensive and endless pile of presents ending with an indulgent bottle of Bailey's, Boxing Day had taken on a slow and fuzzy glow.
Audrey had slept until 11am, and at 1:12pm, she was still in her pyjamas (hot pink and silky – Victoria's Secret), bra-less, no make-up, hair in a pony-tail. She hadn't brushed her teeth, or showered, although she had thought about doing both several times. In her younger days, Audrey was mistaken for Kelly Brook – in fact, she had given out several autographs, pre-selfie days – however those days had long gone. Bloated, overweight, and not a whiff of Kelly left to be seen.
She was snuggled on her couch with her sulky sixteen-year-old daughter, Jade, under a brand-new buttery-soft animal print blanket, watching The Hangover. She is a mini-me, thought Audrey proudly. Kellie, eat your heart out! The luxurious blanket was a Christmas present from her boyfriend of nine years, Abraham Chase. Abraham went by the nickname 'Ham', an affectionate name from his childhood, and never seemed embarrassed by his pig-meat moniker, even as a grown man.
Her nineteen-year-old son, Derek, spoilt, lazy and entitled, was stretched out on the other couch, cracking up at the film. Audrey couldn't help thinking, quite smugly, that her boyfriend Ham could be Bradley Cooper's twin, who was smiling down at her from her brand new 60-inch 3D Ultra HD LED television (thanks, Santa!). Ham was hard at work in another room, despite the festive holiday.
Ham was also well-built, with sexy wavy hair and twinkly brown eyes, just like Bradley. Ham was ten years younger than Audrey, which had never bothered her until recently as the half-century call was beckoning to her. She would be fifty next year, intolerable really, and Ham seemed ageless – a classic Peter Pan whose looks improved with every aging year - whereas Audrey's face, bingo wings and chafing thighs were screaming: 50, 50, 50!
Audrey was the Marketing Director, at a luxury brand retailer, Darcy & Talbot, a standalone department store based on Oxford Street in London, and was still glowing after launching a smashing Christmas advertising campaign that had catapulted the ancient fuddy-duddy shop to global superstardom.
Her billboard posters, window displays and social media campaigns had featured a curvy blonde soap actress called Imogen Lewis. Imogen was an up-and-coming star - or 'trampy talentless little slut with huge tits' as Audrey had referred to Imogen in several internal emails to her colleagues - and so had come nice and cheap for the campaign, excited to raise her own profile. And raising it was an understatement.
Back in September, Audrey had met Imogen, along with a small team of photographer, hair and make-up artist, in a rented London abode that she often used for photo shoots, and disliked the young actress immediately. Not only was she ignorant – Imogen thought that Scotland was part of Ireland – but she was also disrespectful of Audrey's position, even asking Audrey to fetch her a bottle of still water at one point. Imogen carried an air of entitlement as if she were an Oscar winner, rather than playing a shop assistant in a corner shop.
She dressed Imogen in a skimpy white bikini that barely covered her nipples or her gravity-defying bosom. Working with Imogen had infuriated the lumpy and sagging Audrey, reminding her of her own youthful body, long gone.
She added an ankle length blood red cashmere cardigan to the bikini, snow-white baby calf leather high-heeled boots that caressed her taut young thighs, making Audrey hate her even more, and dripping with DeBeers diamonds, Imogen looked like a succulent and decadent Miss Claus.
The image of the delectable Imogen draped over a black leather couch, all red lips, obscene cleavage and suggestive thighs was stunning. With the strapline 'Darcy & Talbot can satisfy all your Christmas desires' Audrey had to fight the board of directors to get the campaign signed off, and her job had been on the line, but she understood what the public wanted, unlike the dinosaurs who had reigned supreme at Darcy & Talbot for years and she fought and pushed and cajoled like never before.
Her predecessor, Burt, would run the same chaste Christmas campaign every year, showing a tasteful wreath, maybe a sprig of holly, and a glass of something sparkling. YAWN!
Eight years ago, Burt had an unfortunate accident and had fallen down the stairs at work. Luckily, Audrey was able to step right into the role whilst poor Burt convalesced at home and had to take early retirement. She was also the only witness to the accident, after she had been sharing a flask of whisky with Burt in his office.
Rumour has it, Audrey had been on her knees, sucking Burt and his wrinkly old cock dry for years, desperate to keep her role as his second-in-command, but this was all speculation, Reader.
When Imogen's lush image appeared on billboards around London, and distracted drivers started smashing into each other, Audrey knew her job was safe.
When Imogen started getting harassed daily by the paparazzi, such was the obsession with the nation of this steaming hot girl, Audrey rubbed her hands in glee. Imogen couldn't leave her house, her life had dramatically changed overnight.
When sales of the diamonds, bikini, cardigan, boots, lipstick, nail varnish, and even the couch, shot through the roof, and became the most sought-after product in the UK, Audrey smiled smugly at her previously-doubting colleagues.
When Darcy & Talbot started trending on twitter, #darcy&talbotishot, Audrey signed a watertight three year big fat contract.
When Imogen was captured on film snorting several lines of cocaine - Audrey had tipped off a Daily Mail reporter as to where to find the silly girl - she secured a £100k bonus for elevating the profile of Darcy & Talbot. Imogen was the lead story on all the UK newspapers, her drug video trending overseas also, during a slow December news month, with Audrey's advertising photo featured in every article.
For a luxurious standalone London department store to be trending worldwide and with quadruple like-for-like sales during Christmas was quite something. Savvy Audrey had also been squirreling away shares and cashed them in, taking Ham, Jade and Derek on a luxurious holiday to Barbados in December.
Poor Imogen had spent December at a rehab centre in Arizona, on the hasty advice of her management.
*Sex sells, Reader!