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dull.’
    ‘And our job is to bring in some character. You don’t want to live in a big boxy house that’s like everyone else’s, filled with –’ Julian gestures at one of Amber’s favourite pieces, an old cherry sideboard that held all her silver photographs – ‘tacky pieces of junk.’
    ‘Oh. Right. Of course.’ Amber’s face falls. She loves that sideboard.
    ‘Not that Julian is saying your furniture is junk,’ Aidan says quickly, noting her face.
    ‘OH NO!’ Julian feigns horror. ‘Our job is to bringbeauty and grace to your home. We can rearrange your furniture so that it looks like new. We’ll bring in wonderful pieces that we find on our antique buying trips. Amber,’ he leans in to her and drops his voice, ‘we will make your home the envy of all your neighbours and friends.’
    ‘Well how’s a girl expected to say no after that?’ Amber laughs, and with that she takes them on a tour of the house.
    ‘But they’re really talented,’ Amber pleads with Richard later that evening, having cooked him a huge fat juicy steak to try and soften the blow.
    ‘I just don’t understand why suddenly you want a decorator. You’ve always said you never understood why people used decorators in the first place. Didn’t you go on that house tour last year and say every home looked like a show house? Isn’t it you who’s always saying you love your house so much precisely because you and I chose everything in it?’
    ‘Ah, well. Yes. I suppose I did say that. But I think that was just because I hadn’t found the right decorators. Honestly, Richard, I really didn’t know how talented the really good ones are, and Amberley Jacks are the best. They do everyone.’
    ‘Everyone? Who’s everyone?’
    Amber reels off the list of celebrities and society people whose lives Amberley Jacks have transformed.
    ‘I still don’t get it. And lavender in the formal living room? Are you absolutely sure?’
    ‘Yes, I’m absolutely sure, and you’ll love it, Richard. Honestly. And anyway, they’re really not that expensive.’
    ‘Uh oh. Here we go. How much is not that expensive?’
    ‘They’re $200 an hour, plus everything we buy through them is practically wholesale.’
    Richard thinks for a while. ‘But how many hours does it take? Can we put a ceiling on it? What do they expect it to be?’
    ‘I don’t know but I’ll find out!’ Amber throws her arms around Richard and kisses him, knowing she’s won. ‘I love you, Richard! And I’ll call them tomorrow and ask. I’m sure it’s not going to be that expensive. How many hours can it take?’

Chapter Four
    Janelle Salinger, esteemed editor of Poise! , regular guest on shows like Through the Keyhole , glamorous, gorgeous, and still as giggly as a girl, casts her shimmering smile around the room at her ‘girls’.
    ‘Okay.’ She claps her hands together. ‘Everybody got coffee? Everybody ready?’ Her team of editors smile as they lean forward slightly, getting ready to throw their ideas out for the next issue of Poise! .
    Although December, they’re already working on their huge spring issue, preparing their readers for the beginnings of summer. The fashion department is strewn with bikinis, elaborately embroidered and beaded kaftans, thongs so studded and bejewelled they are almost works of art in themselves.
    The editors all know what spring and early summer means to the women who buy the magazine – sun, sea, sand and sex, even to their thirty-something young mums who are up to their eyes in baby food and nappies. ‘A girl has to dream,’ Janelle always says, although despite having her own child it’s hard to imagine that Janelle was ever up to her eyes in anything other than Crème de la Mer.
    ‘My Yummy Mummies,’ Janelle calls their readers, referring, as she so often does, to their demographic ofwomen in their thirties with successful careers, loving husbands, beautiful children, stylish homes, fantastic friends, and wonderful