I make my way into the walk in wardrobe and brush my hand across the silk of my evening gowns. I head towards the shelves of beautifully paired shoes and carefully select my black Christian Louboutins. My recently pedicured feet gratefully slip into them and I stand in front on my full-length mirror analysing my completed outfit. My red Stella McCartney evening dress is figure-hugging in all the right places, accentuating my recent weight loss and my heels help to show off my toned calves. I stare at my reflection and can’t help but thank my recently installed home gym for my new found self-confidence.
I’m suddenly in a black cab being whisked at high speed through the traffic of London, we speed past the red blur of the double decker buses but I fear that we are still going to be late. I swing open the car door and run along the narrow streets, my heels clicking on the cobbles. Finally, I spot the marble entrance of the Lancaster London Hotel and my speed increases, I’m not sweaty or out of breath due to my recent gym visits and my hair and makeup remain perfectly in place.
As I enter the main hall, I swim through the sea of cheap suits and apathy and straight to my colleagues, Les and James. We share a kiss and the mandatory smalltalk but as I turn to the main stage their faces blur into the background. The trophy glimmers in the hand of the speaker and as it catches the light I am blinded by it.
“And the award for Estate Agent of the year goes to…”
I smooth down the expensive fabric of my dress and make my way towards the front of the crowd. I am already half way up the stage stairs when I hear my name called. I realise that I finally have everything I ever wanted and I beam at the speaker as I take the award from him. The trophy fits in my hand perfectly and I wrap my fingers around it to feel the chill of the metal but I feel nothing. The speaker guides me to the pulpit and I lean towards the microphone, this is my moment.
‘Thank you, I would just like to thank…’
My mouth goes dry and I clear my throat to start my speech again.
‘Sorry. I would just like to thank…’
My mind goes blank, I know this is how I am meant to start my speech by acknowledging those who have contributed to my success; parents, siblings, significant others etc. but I cannot think of anyone to thank. The fabric of my dress begins to cling uncomfortably and my feet sting with pain from the height of my heels. As I look out into the crowd for reassurance, I notice that everyone has left even Les and James and I am standing on the stage alone with just the award for company. The truth suddenly hits me, in actual fact I have nothing.