Angel pulled the magazines she'd brought for Simone from her bag and settled down to read.
***
It was nearly six when Simone stirred, opened her eyes and whispered, “Chérie? C’est toi?”
Angel smiled down at her. “Yes, it’s me, Maman. You’ve had an operation, but you’re going to be fine.”
Simone frowned. “I can’t stay here.” She tried to sit up and gasped, pulling at the oxygen tubes and her drip.
Angel gently pushed her back down. “It’s okay, Maman, you’re in the hospital. Just rest.”
Simone stared up at her and Angel saw the same fear in her face that had haunted her in the weeks after the surgeon had told them that, despite all their hopes, Papa’s final operation had not succeeded and he would need full-time care.
Angel’s stomach churned. “What is it, Maman?”
Simone plucked at the sheet. “I heard them talking. They are sending me to a rehabilitation home, but I know our medical insurance won’t cover it.” She clutched Angel’s hand. “We can’t afford it, chérie. Your father … Most of our money—”
“Went to his care,” cut in Angel softly. “I know, Maman, but it’ll be okay. If the insurance company won’t help, I can ask Philip.”
“No!”
The tortured cry made Angel flinch.
“Promise me, you will not accept charity from Philip,” whispered Simone. She moved restlessly in the bed. “I have never—I will never take charity from him and you must not either!”
“No, I won’t—of course not.” Angel managed a tiny smile. “Don’t worry. First thing tomorrow I’ll talk to the insurance people. It’ll be okay—I promise. Just focus on getting well. Please, Maman.”
Simone seemed suddenly aware of the worry in Angel’s face. She stroked her cheek and said softly, “I am being foolish, chérie. Do not listen to my crazy talk, it is only the drugs for the pain that make me speak so. Certainement, all will be well.”
The nurse came in. “The doctor’s here. He wants to talk to you.” Angel followed her into the hall.
Outside, the doctor was talking to a smartly dressed woman. Angel blinked. It was Margot.
The doctor turned. “Here she is,” he said heartily, “the lucky young lady whose mother got to the hospital in the nick of time.” Noticing Angel’s pale face, he added, “But all’s well. Your mother has acute pancreatitis and biliary colic. She had several large gall stones so I’ve had to remove her gall bladder. We are treating her pancreatitis,” he patted Angel’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion, “and I’m confident that with the right care your mother will make a full recovery.”
He gestured to Margot. “I’ve been chatting with Ms. Kane and we have a plan.”
Angel stared. Margot was smiling at her. Not a nasty, malicious smirk, but a gracious, caring smile.
Margot stepped forward. “My dear,” she said gently, “your mother has had a serious operation and what she needs now is rest and the finest care.” She took Angel’s hand. “Doctor Somers and I agree that a rehabilitation home in Florida would be ideal.”
“Florida!” exclaimed Angel. “No, I—”
“Sunnydale is one of the finest facilities in the country,” said Dr. Somers. “With an outstanding patient recovery record.”
“Good food, rest and sunshine are what your mother needs now,” added Margot.
Dr. Somers nodded. “Ms. Kane has generously agreed to fly your mother down on Saturday with a private nurse and pay all the expenses.” He patted Angel’s hand. “Your mother’s very lucky to have such a kind and generous employer.” He looked at Margot. “You’ll leave it to me to make all the arrangements?”
“Certainly, Dr. Somers, and you’ll send me the bill?”
He nodded and she smiled graciously. “Then I’ll take this young lady home now, it’s been a long day.”
As shaken as she was by Margot’s change of personality, Angel could not agree to this. “I’m not tired and Maman—”
“Needs to sleep,” said the doctor. “You can come back on Saturday to say goodbye. Tell your mother that Ms. Kane is looking after you and the bills and she’ll have nothing to worry about.”
He smiled at them as Margot put her arm around Angel’s shoulders, her face a picture of tender concern as she walked her down the corridor.
Angel was trying to think of how to express her gratitude when they reached the exit door. As they passed through, Margot whipped her arm from Angel’s shoulders.
“Right,” she snapped. “Follow me.”
Minutes later Angel found herself in the back of the Rolls. The kindly Margot of the hospital corridor had vanished and the woman Lily insisted was the real Margot sat beside her, calmly lighting a cigarette.
“Clarissa tells me there was some sort of mix-up with her designs,” she said, sending a thin stream of smoke towards Angel. “My daughter is so excited at having sent off her Teen Couture entry to Paris. She’s made the most beautiful blue velvet ball gown.”
“She didn’t make it,” declared Angel.
Margot inhaled and regarded Angel through narrowed eyes. “Clarissa has her heart set on a career in fashion design. Becoming a finalist in the Teen Couture will ensure she succeeds.”
“Those are my designs,” said Angel.
Margot’s eyes glinted and she leaned forward. “Dr. Somers told me it was touch and go with your mother. She nearly died. Without the proper treatment she may never recover fully. You are lucky that I am able to send her to Sunnydale.”
Angel shifted uncomfortably. She was incredibly grateful to Margot. She was helping save Maman’s life and how could she ever repay her for that?
“You’re very kind—”
“It would be so unfortunate if anything should happen to upset the arrangements I’ve made for Simone’s recovery.” Margot inhaled deeply. “Clarissa has worked so hard on her Teen Couture entry. She was very upset when that Japanese silk proved to be sub-standard and I won’t have her upset again. I’d find that very distracting. I might even forget to pay my bills, and that,” she stubbed out her cigarette, “could be fatal.”
She smiled. Like a snake about to eat its prey, thought Angel.
“But I’m sure I’ll have no trouble remembering so long as I’m convinced that Clarissa’s Teen Couture entry will have its chance in Paris without interference.”
Angel stared at her. What could she say? Her mother had almost died—she might still die without proper care. She thought of Papa and how much she missed him. If she lost Simone, Angel would be all alone …
She pushed the vision of Clarissa wearing her midnight-blue velvet ball gown from her mind. What did the Teen Couture matter, when Maman’s life hung in the balance?
The car pulled up outside the townhouse and Margot laid a hand on Angel’s knee. “There's no need for you to say anything to anyone about our … arrangement,” she said silkily. “I’m so glad we’ve had this little chat, it makes everything so much clearer.”
The door closed and Angel was left alone in the dark.
Chapter Ten
Angel didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind seething with images of her mother in the hospital, of Papa—so frail and gentle and loving—and of Margot smiling triumphantly.
Those that have the power make the rules. Her mother's words echoed in her head. Papa had never believed it, but now Angel knew it must be true. In a few hours Clarissa’s forged sketches and the Harrington’s-made copies of Angel’s designs would arrive at Vidal’s and there was nothing she could do about it.
If she contacted Vidal’s, Margot would know and Maman’s recovery would be jeopardized. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Angel felt the tears gathering and bit her lip hard; this was no time for self-pity.
A sudden tap on the car window made her jump.
Roberts opened the door. “Sorry, Angel, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay, I’m holding you up.”
Roberts w
alked her to the door. “Sorry to hear about Simone—will she be okay?”
“I think so,” replied Angel, slipping inside.
It felt strange to be all alone downstairs and when she turned on the kitchen light, the sight of her mother’s apron on the bench was too much.
She gathered it up, went into Simone’s bedroom and burst into tears.
Eventually Angel stopped crying and sat up. On her mother’s bedside table were the two pictures Lily had taken last Thanksgiving when Simone had taught them how to make chocolate soufflé. Maman had been triumphant when Angel’s had emerged from the oven perfectly risen, and Lily had snapped them grinning at each other.
She’d also captured the look on their faces a moment later when the soufflé had collapsed.
Angel carried the photos to her room.
Her ball gown was where she’d left it, with the needle still waiting for its silver thread. She stood there for a moment looking at it, then squared her shoulders and turned resolutely away.
Putting the photo frame on the desk, she picked up her Teen Couture entry form. She was about to rip it in two when the photo caught her eye. She gazed at her mother smiling so proudly, considered her ball gown, and then slowly put down the entry form.
***
It was after three a.m. when Angel quietly opened Lily’s door. Groping through the darkness, her foot hit something hard.
“Ow!”
Lily turned on the light. “What are you doing?”
Angel glared at the four large Louis Vuitton suitcases in the middle of the room.
“I stubbed my toe on what I can only imagine is your entire wardrobe. I thought you were going to Paris for two weeks, not forever.”
Lily scowled. “Margot insisted the maid pack everything in plenty of time. Left to me, I’d just shove a few clothes in my duffel bag tomorrow morning.” She patted the bed. “Come here.”
Angel sat. Lily massaged the offended toe.
“Are you okay? How’s Simone? Clarissa told me about Florida. Not that I’m speaking to the evil diva since she stole your designs. You know the courier picked up her Teen Couture entry while we were at the hospital yesterday? Clarissa was so smug, I nearly—”
Angel interrupted. “Do you still want me to take your place in Paris?”
Lily stopped massaging.
“Well, do you?”
Lily squealed.
“Shhh! You’ll wake Margot.”
“Do you mean it?” whispered Lily.
“Margot’s told me that so long as I let Clarissa enter my designs in the Teen Couture she’ll pay for Maman’s recovery.”
“That blackmailing bitch! She’s not going to get away—”
“With it,” finished Angel. “No, she isn’t, and nor is Clarissa, which is why I need to go to Paris.”
“So you can pretend to be me and tell Vidal in person?”
Angel shook her head. “No one at Vidal’s can know Clarissa has cheated until Maman is completely well. I need Margot to pay for her to go to Florida, but if she gets even a hint that I’m in Paris she won’t do it. I can’t risk that.”
“But if you’re not going to expose Clarissa, why go to Paris?” asked Lily.
“Because there’s no way I’m letting Clarissa enter the Teen Couture with my designs,” declared Angel. “Papa always used to say that sometimes in life you have to roll with the punches, but sometimes you have to stand up and fight.”
“And you’re going to fight?”
Angel nodded. “If I can get into Vidal’s, then I can swap my designs for Clarissa’s. By the time anyone finds out, Maman will be better and there’ll be nothing Margot or Clarissa can do. And if I win the Teen Couture prize money, Maman will be cared for and nothing Margot can say or do will prevent it.”
“And getting into Vidal’s should be easy, because Jacqueline Montague said that Antoine Vidal is my grandmother's favorite designer,” said Lily enthusiastically.
“Just so long as the Comtesse thinks I’m you.”
“Of course she will. All you have to remember is your name is Lily.”
“My name is Lily,” repeated Angel. “I’m Lily de Tourney.”
“That’s it.” Lily grinned. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to Paris and I’ll go to London. You’ll swap your designs, I’ll earn my place at the London Academy and in two weeks you’ll fly home. Once you’re back in New York and we’re sure Simone is better, I’ll fly to Paris and tell the Comtesse the whole story.”
“And you’re sure you want to take the rap?”
“Definitely.” Lily did a jig. “It’ll totally be worth it. I'll book my flights online tonight.”
“So how do we explain my disappearance?”
“Summer camp,” she said firmly. “You’re going next month anyway, so we’ll just tell Simone and Margot that you’re leaving early. That way, Margot won’t be suspicious and your mom won’t worry about you while she’s recovering.”
“Okay.”
“Which just leaves our passports,” said Lily.
“Maman got me a new one to go to Grandpère’s funeral, only we never went.”
“Where is it?”
“In my room.”
Lily pulled her passport from her bag. “Come on.”
Downstairs, Angel found her passport. She held her breath as Lily compared the photos.
“It’s okay. They were taken a year apart, but we’ve both got blue eyes and dumb expressions. My hair’s lighter than yours, but we can put some blonde highlights in yours tomorrow. We’ll need to work on our eyebrows, but, really, who’s gonna care about a couple of high school students?”
“Security,” said Angel suddenly.
“Only a problem if they’ve got biometrics at the Paris airport, but I asked Elizabeth Montague and she said not until next year.”
“Well, they’ve got ’em at JFK, so what’ll we do there?”
Lily thought for a moment. “Going out we can swap them after we’ve passed through security and coming home we can send our passports to each other before you leave Paris.”
Angel nodded. “And visas?”
“Not necessary for visits under ninety days.”
“Great,” said Angel. “So all I need now is for you to tell me everything you can remember about Paris and your grandmother.”
***
Angel spent Friday afternoon at the hospital. Simone seemed a little better but she was preoccupied and Angel suspected she was worrying about the hospital bills. For a moment she thought of telling her about Margot's generosity and then she remembered what Margot had said about keeping their “arrangement” secret. Instead, Angel took a deep breath and recited the speech she and Lily had rehearsed over lunch.
It was a convincing account of her imagined conversation with the medical insurance company. Angel hated to lie, but it was worth it to see the fear fade from her mother’s face as she explained that her policy had a new provision for rehabilitation that would cover most of the cost of her stay in Florida.
From there, it was just a short step to telling Simone about summer camp and how awesome it would be to spend two extra weeks there.
“You’ll come and see me tomorrow, before I leave?” asked Simone anxiously, as Angel kissed her goodbye.
“I’ll be here at nine, Maman, all ready for your last-minute instructions about how not to get lost in the woods at camp.”
Simone smiled faintly. “And you will be all right?”
“So long as I know you’re getting better,” said Angel, hugging her again.
“Jean-Pierre has promised to drive me up to Camp Wilderness as soon as I am back from Florida, so you can see how well I am.”
“Can’t wait,” said Angel.
Chapter Eleven
The international terminal at JFK was crowded. Angel scanned the hall, but couldn’t see any sign of Lily or the four Louis Vuitton suitcases she’d promised to repack with Angel’s clothes and Teen Couture outfits.
Angel smiled a
t the thought of Lily having to run up and down the stairs swapping their clothes while Margot and Clarissa were at the hair salon. They’d agreed that Lily would leave her clothes in the closets in the butler’s old room in case Clarissa went snooping around before she and Margot left for the Hamptons.
Angel gripped Lily’s duffel bag and wondered if she should call her. She’d meant to touch base after she’d left the hospital but all she’d been able to think about was Maman.
It had been hard saying goodbye, despite the agency nurse’s assurances that Sunnydale was exactly what Simone needed. “She’ll be feeling much better in a week and quite fit in a fortnight. You’ll be surprised. You can ring her tonight and see how she is because she’ll want to know you’re all right. After that you may ring her once a day,” she’d held up a warning finger, “but not for too long.”
Angel had made a mental note to ring Sunnydale from the airport.
She moved towards the Air France counter and saw Lily standing at the first-class check-in. Angel frowned—was Lily wearing Prada? She moved nearer. Yes, it was definitely a cream Prada two-piece—gorgeous, but totally out of character for Lily, who always wore jeans and a sweatshirt when she travelled.
Angel was about to call out when the words died in her throat. Standing next to Lily, looking superb in a burnt-orange Tommy Hilfiger shirt and black trousers, was Margot.
Angel looked around wildly for somewhere to hide. She saw Lily catch sight of her and Margot turning to see what she was looking at. She ducked down behind the crowd waiting in the economy class line and almost tripped over a honeymoon couple with confetti in their hair.
“Hey, watch it,” cried the man.
“Sorry.” Crouching low, Angel made a beeline for the bathroom. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder she saw Lily grab Margot’s arm and point to the luggage.
Angel burst into the bathroom and made for the last stall. She closed the door and waited.
It seemed like hours before she heard Lily’s piercing whisper.
“Angel.”
The Cinderella Moment Page 7