I took two weeks off, in July, to fly to Japan. I had passed my exams (perhaps just a little too averagely for my liking, but things had been a little too hectic and I had done the best I could), the studio sessions were going well and I was now to enjoy my family with nothing else on my mind.

I made a somewhat big dent in my advance money, to buy my brother’s birthday present. It was a shady type of second-hand store deal but still, I managed to get him a Nikon 35Ti camera, as he had told me he had started to go to an after-school photography club. The shop owner told me that the camera was, not only great, but also almost brand new and so I trusted him. I do not think I would have done it, if Peter and Simon weren’t with me as well, my guides to the questionable world of second-hand and thrift stores.

Tommy and Clara had both grown so much in a mere matter of months since I had last seen them. Clara was now well into her magical girl phase and had started to answer only to Kiki, as it was easier to pronounce at school, so I just went along with it. She had only recently discovered a passion for painting and drawing and, of course, I was going to capitalise on that for Christmas. Whatever they showed interest in, I would do my best to provide, always.

And she was good at it too, for a six-year-old. My dad also thought that she showed some promise and had enrolled her in art classes, on Saturday mornings and, very soon, they became her own happy place. Dad had even semi-converted my bedroom into an office/studio for both of them, as I wasn’t using it anyway.

I did feel a little cast aside, but I could point no flaw in that logic, so I held my peace.

Besides, Tommy was over the moon with the present and promised me that, one day, he would be the author of one of my future album covers. I promised I would cash in on that promise and we have probably created a promise paradox that is still unfolding, somewhere.

I took my time to enjoy their presence, their happiness and their free spirits because I knew I would need it in the time that would come.

I told my dad all my woes and he said he would help me, if and when I needed him to, but I told him that I should be the one solving the problems I had gotten myself into.

- Well, if you ever decide to put that blasted Somerset pride aside, you know I’ll be here for you – were his words, when he left me at the airport.

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We doubled our efforts at the studio and Hallburn was certain we would not need all the allotted time we had set to record the album.

So, for me, that meant that things were all going wonderfully. And, in my still very much childish mind, that led to a series of utopian scenarios in which all my problems would go away… The album would be released, I would earn enough money to maintain Somerset Hall, my grandmother’s cancer would magically disappear and I would still have many years with her. Who knew, maybe I would even travel the world, singing my songs for people of all nations to hear… Such a sweet Summer child with musical UN dreams…

I had a photo shoot set for mid-August, but I had also been told that I had an appointment with stylists two days prior to that. Whatever that would mean.

Peter had his driver’s license already and he was really keen on keeping up with it all, as much as he could before going to Uni, in September, so he came along with me.

Annie Wilson was the one who would lead me down this makeover road, and she took both me and Peter to a room, where she introduced Paul, who would be responsible for hair and make-up, and Colleen, the stylist. There was a full-length mirror, a rack with a bunch of clothes and a vanity with the largest assortment of makeup I had ever seen.

- Paul – Annie called, as I sat on the chair in front of the vanity, the bright lamps highlighting every aspect of my face – Tell Eleanora what you’re planning for her.

- Wait, wait – I lifted my hand – Just rewind it a little bit for me and tell me why do I need a makeover in the first place?

Annie rested her face on my shoulder, both of us looking in the mirror – Have you taken a good look at yourself? Do you think anything about you says you’re an artist? That you’re edgy?

I locked eyes with my own reflection. All I saw was a thin, pale girl, with long, braided, blond hair, a round face and a pair of large, blue eyes. - Is anything wrong with how I look?…

- Paul! - she called again and Paul came over and unbraided my hair.

- I was thinking – he said as he parted my hair in two and rested each half over my shoulders, running his fingers incessantly through it – we could cut it into a straight long bob, maybe some long bangs for impact, and we could dye it jet black.

I saw myself furrowing my blond eyebrows – I don’t want to dye my hair…

- What do you mean, you don’t want to dye your hair? Paul is a pro, he knows what he’s doing – Annie’s voice was harsh.

- It would make you look more like an adult – he said, still running his fingers through my tresses – We could go platinum, it could suit you as well. Maybe some highlights to frame the face.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with how it felt my individuality was being questioned – No, no, leave my hair alone. I’m not even sure I want to cut it anymore. Style it for the photo shoot all you like, but don’t touch it any further.

Annie huffed – Why are you being so difficult? Do you really want to get your photos taken looking like that? - there was almost a note of disgust in her voice, as she pointed at me from the mirror.

I gave her a sly smile – Just pretend it’s a case of capillary integrity.

- I’m going to have a word with Johnny. - she threatened, hands on her hips, as if she was chiding a little child – He will set you straight.

- You may have all the words in the world with him. I have the final decision on the album art and, seeing as I’m on it, I believe that extends to the hair department as well.

I heard a stifled snicker from where Peter was sitting. I could not see him, but I knew him well enough to know exactly the sort of sardonic smile he was sporting.

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- Hallburn was right when he said you were a little monster to work with – she spat, contemptuously.

My mouth just dropped at those words and I turned back and saw that Peter was just as surprised. Except for a few episodes in school, in Roppongi, no one had ever called me anything like that to my face. I felt a wave of haughtiness and straightened my back, facing the mirror. She would get nothing out of me now.

The stylist tried to break through that murkiness that was hovering in the air, showing me some clothing she had picked for me. Except she had clothes in red, blue, all those very 90s colours.

- I don’t wear colours, I’m sorry – I told her and she back-pedalled to the rack and brought me some options in black, which included some platform boots and a long skirt which I took a liking to.

- What are we doing about the eyes? - Paul asked, grabbing a brush and putting it back down immediately, as if he was still unsure of what to do.

I told him I thought about doing a dark, heavy eye with a red lining.

- No, I meant your eye – he pointed at his own eye. - We’re doing contacts, aren’t we?

- Contacts…? - I realised he was talking about the anisocoria and felt the warmness of anger in my chest – Is it not presentable, Paul?

- Let’s face it, it’s weird and it won’t read well, in photos. And it could look normal, you know? You’d be much prettier if you did.

I saw Peter getting up, but he stopped when I lifted my hand – Listen, Paul… It’s Paul, right?

He nodded.

- Take the rest of the day off, alright? In fact, take all the time off. I already have a makeup artist, thank you.

I shook the stylist’s hand and thanked her for being the only reasonable person in the room. I then left, hearing Peter’s steps just after my own.

- What the fuck was all that about? - he groaned as we were walking down the street – Ellie? Ellie? - he called and grabbed my elbow, making me stop and face him – Don’t let any of that get to you.

- Peter – I said, but he cut me off.

- You’re not a doll for them to dress up as they like. You’re here to make music, not to be their little goth and edgy Barbie.

- Peter…

- If you don’t feel like any of that is you, then you have your final word…

I pulled my arm back, releasing his grip – I don’t. That’s why we’re going to find Patricia right now.

- Oh…

I started walking down the street again, headed for the nearest tube station – I’ll ask her to do my hair and makeup. It’s fine.

- But… - he ran after me, falling back in line – What they said…

I smiled – About being a little monster? To be quite honest, I liked it. A girl needs to build a reputation for herself to be taken seriously in this world, doesn’t she?

- What about the rest of it? - there was concern in his voice. He was always overprotective.

- About looking normal? - I asked and he nodded – I wasn’t born to be normal, my dear.

Of course, that was just bravado because, after we had secured Pat and having headed back home, sitting alone in my room I felt like the biggest misfit in the world.

I had been taught to be pleasant and nice and, in my grandmother’s words, to talk to people as if I always had honey in my mouth, meaning to always say nice things. But lately, I felt so combative and contrary that I seemed to be tossing everything she had taught me out the window.

And my eyes… I could not hide my eyes, could I? Could I pull an Elton John? Because, if all went well, I was to have my face plastered on several places in about two months time. Would people take one look at my photo and say I was not normal?…

I got up and tiptoed to my grandmother’s bedroom, and sat at the foot of her bed as I had gotten into the habit of doing, when it became only the two of us and my night terrors flocked in.

- What’s bothering you, my dear? - I guessed poor sleeping habits did run in the family…

- I didn’t mean to wake you up, Mami.

- Sleep tends to not come easily when you get to a certain age. Or ever, in your case – she laughed softly – Come here and tell me all your woes.

And so, I poured my heart out to her. I told her everything that was troubling me. It came easy when it was her.

- Let us divide and conquer all your problems, then. - she said, as I laid my head on the pillow next to hers – To be agreeable does not mean to allow yourself to be stepped upon. You may have all the honey in the world, but remember that bees have stings and they are allowed to use them. And remind yourself of the name you carry. You know it well enough.

She shifted a little bit and flattened the bed linen.

- About your eye… Do you think anisocoria has ever held that handsome man David Bowie from ever stepping on a stage?

I laughed at the thought of Mami finding David Bowie handsome – I don’t know. I don’t think so. But his is different from mine.

- Does it matter if you were born with it, or got it later in life? Or are you afraid of being judged for being different?

I nodded, shyly. Of course I was afraid of being judged, what teenager was ever bold enough to go about life uncaring about what other people thought?

- In the olden days, our family built a name based on the prowess on the battlefield. When that changed, we kept building our name in the political arena and now… You will be the one building the family name on stage, with your talent, and your uniqueness. Don’t be afraid to be different, my dear. That is what makes you, you.

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Pat’s jaw was almost dragging on the floor, as she parked her car in front of the Hall.

- You never told me you were rich! - she shouted, as Collins opened her door and she got out, twirling to take everything in.

I pursed my lips, trying not to smile at that graceful black-clad sylph – That’s because I’m not. I only have enough money to buy an old van and that’s that.

She faced me, with a serious visage – Who are you, really?

I curtsied, as best as I could – Eleanora. I had no idea you had amnesia, dearest Pat.

I showed her in and she just kept stopping to gape at everything – Are you like a Countess, or something like that? Like Elizabeth Bathory? That would be soooo goth.

- I am nothing, really – I said, as I opened the door to the yellow drawing room, letting her through and she stopped short when she laid eyes on Margaret, sitting in the sunlight, with a book on her lap, a fluffy cat by her feet – My grandmother on the other hand, is the Duchess of Somerset.

Pat opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, so she just curtsied clumsily.

- You don’t have to do that, my dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Margaret. – she smiled, and apologised for not getting up – A friend of Eleanora is a friend of mine.

- How… How should I address you…?

I made a flourished bow to my grandmother – Well, if you’re looking to be extremely formal, that would be Your Grace. If you want to take it down a notch or two, Lady Somerset and, if you’re already acquainted, Lady Margaret.

Mami shook her head – Incorrigible… - she then turned all of her attention to Pat – It is a pleasure to meet you and to have you here, Miss Lewis. I trust the trip went well.

They exchanged pleasantries and Collins served a sort of late breakfast, as Pat had been late and gotten lost along the way, having skipped her own. She showed me the sketch she had made, from the ideas we had talked about earlier on and it was just what I had envisioned, with a bold and very distinctive eye and subdued lips, almost invisible, so the focus would go straight to the gaze. My insecurity boiled over once more and my darling Patricia picked up on it right away.

- Don’t you like it?

I told her about what was getting to me, even after the pep talk from my grandmother, and Pat just listened and nodded, not a shade of judgment or dismissal in sight.

- Let’s do one thing then, doll. When is the photographer coming ‘round?

- At two.

- Then, let’s do it this way first. If you like it – she turned to my grandmother – and if Lady Margaret likes it as well, we’ll keep your idea. If not, we’ll do it over until we get it right.

She sat me by the window, where the light was shining in and started working her magic, both on my hair and on my face. I did not see the end result until she took a mirror from her case filled with everything we could ever need, and more, and held it in front of me. She had straightened my hair, which now cascaded in a stream of gold, semi-concealed by a black veil, until it hit my waist. The red lining around the black khol made my eyes seem brighter and bluer.

- So, how do you like it? Should we have a do-over?

I shook my head. It was just perfect. Misfit or not, I just had to embrace the weirdness, because that would be the only way forward.

We did the photoshoot in the greenhouse and it came out so great that we ended up using those photos as my first promotional material. The cover, from The Hanging Gardens came from that very shoot, a very enlarged photo of the lower half of my face.