In Fashion

by Jody Klaire

  She winked at the camera and wrapped her arm around Marge, taking the microphone. “As Darcy would say, ‘every designer needs her sprouts.’”

  The white backdrop became a picture of Mikey and Susannah. The noise from the crowd built higher. The doors opened, and Susannah led Mikey out, both in body paint and shorts and T-shirts. Mikey strutted like Zoë and Blanche had shown him, stuttered, yes, but he flicked fake hair back and pursed out his lips. Susannah giggled and followed his lead, posing all the way up to Blanche.

  Susannah took the microphone. “This whole show is about finding a smile.”

  “Yup!” Mikey yelled out. “Smiles!”

  The crowd chuckled.

  “So we need someone very special for that, right, Mikey?” Susannah leaned down and gave him the microphone.

  Mikey grinned at the camera, then took a breath so hard his shoulders rose. “Kate-oh!”

  The cameras pointed to the white backdrop. Kate’s picture filled it, and the crowd fell silent.

  Chapter 46

  Kate rubbed at her hands, not daring to mess up the paint or her hair. Zoë was worse than Darcy when it came to being bossy. She wasn’t sure how Mikey had just pulled off hitting the runway like a pro, but… Yeah, he was something special.

  “Kate-oh!” he called out with his full, joyful cheer. The two ladies controlling the doors nodded to her, and they slid apart.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  A sea of faces. As in the entire street was people. Shit. The music burst into life, and she swallowed. She needed a pee. Maybe she could just nip to the toilet?

  “Go.” One of the ladies shoved her out of the door, and she stumbled on her heel. Oh, shit. She was only in body paint on a catwalk in front of half of flipping London. Why? Mikey waved at her and strutted about as if to show her.

  She rolled her eyes. Frank would be laughing his ass off. Forget promoting pencils; she would be a comedy by herself. She stuck her shoulders back, hoping the flesh-coloured bra would hold, and went for it—probably looked like a farmer. She stopped at the LGBTQIA people and twirled. Ooh. Dizzy. Hadn’t picked a spot like Zoë had taught her. Not good.

  The closest model righted her and pulled her into a hug. “You got this,” he whispered into her ear. He urged her on and she strode—farmer with a limp this time—to the disability team. She twirled again. Picked a point to fix on. Ooh. It worked.

  The closest model pulled her into a hug. “Keep going. Just breathe.”

  She pushed her into motion, and Kate tried to ignore the crowd yelling and cheering. So weird. So very weird. She headed to the multicultural models, turned, twirled, and breathed out. Better.

  The closest model pulled her in and pecked her on both cheeks. Then said something, but she didn’t speak whatever language it was. She could say ‘Hello, I like coffee’ in Welsh, though, so she kissed the model back. “Schmae. Dwi’n hoffi coffi.”

  The model fanned herself.

  Really? Kate shrugged. Easily pleased there.

  She headed to the kids, the teens, the older models, who gave her a group hug and didn’t let her twirl at all. She’d take it.

  “We love you, Kate!” the kids yelled out.

  The crowd yelled it back.

  Kate swallowed. Scary coming from thousands of people. Really flipping scary. The models of all sizes cuddled her senseless, and the models and designers she recognised from adverts on TV all struck poses for her. She waved. That elbow in, wag-the-fingers wave. So cool.

  She strode up to Mikey and hoisted him into the air. “How was that?”

  He shook his head, the microphone thrust near to him. “Kate-oh…you’re not supposed to hug everyone.” He kissed her on the forehead. “But…” he sighed, “not bad.”

  She chuckled, hearing it echoed back at her by all watching.

  “As we do with every reveal,” Marge said, quietening down the crowd, “Darcy gives her round-up on the patient and her thoughts.”

  Darcy appeared on the large screen that was the backdrop. “My thoughts on Kate? She shines whatever clothes she wears. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Kate swallowed. Darcy so needed glasses.

  “My round-up is that style shows some levels of who you are, beauty helps people to like you, but it is who you are beneath the skin that makes you worth more.” Darcy beamed, her full aqua-bliss eyes on show. “So, Mikey, thank you for helping me find my smile… And Kate, thank you for rejuvenating me. I love you.”

  Kate shut her eyes. The “I love you” echoed out and fused into a melody. The backdrop lit up with that image, Zoë and Darcy side by side on the catwalk, and the doors opened.

  Chapter 47

  Darcy was fuming. She’d been dressed—or painted—and a floor-length trench coat thrown on her. She was not in the mood to fire up the runway, and she was not in the mood to hear her own heart-bearing report blasted out to an entire street.

  She stomped up the steps to the doors. She hadn’t seen Zoë, but she was going to insert her heels up her—

  She stopped: Zoë stood in a matching trench coat waiting for her.

  “Of all the ridiculous ideas you’ve had, this has got to be the most…” she sighed, “sweet.” She kissed Zoë on the lips. “Where did I find you?”

  “Where you left me.” Zoë met her eyes. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you. Do you know how much therapy I needed for this thing?” She tugged at her trench coat. “And even more therapy for you.”

  “Not enough. You’re still crazy.” She held out her hand. “I’m scared.”

  Zoë smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Wear it like no one is looking, baby.”

  The doors slid open, and Darcy nodded to her. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Bam.

  The music burst into life, and they strode out. Lights. Cheers. More people than she’d ever seen. Stop. Turn. Challenge Zoë with her eyes. “Can you keep up?”

  Zoë narrowed hers. “You’re the one getting old, McGregor.” She twirled, struck a pose. Sharp, skilled. Poised.

  Darcy tutted, and they burst down to the next group. “Old?” She scoffed. “You’re the one with a wife, Windermere.” She flipped her hair back. Focused on the panning camera, snapped the eyes open, flooded the screen with her focus. Click, click, love the camera.

  “Ask me that again in a few years.” Zoë bent forward and flicked her head up—sharp shape, potent look. Crowd lapped it up. “Kate’ll put a ring on it.”

  Darcy “hah’d.”

  They strutted down to the next group.

  Snap, turn, pose.

  Zoë snapped, turned, posed.

  A cheer building, the crowd so loud, the music so loud.

  “She going to get to drive your Ferrari, honey?” she spat at Zoë, crossed her. They twirled. Perfect timing as always. “Does she know I got to drive it?”

  Zoë snapped to glare over her shoulder. Potent. Perfect model poise. “Does Kate know how often I got under your trench coat?”

  Darcy growled. She crossed Zoë’s path again. They’d always fought down the runway. Always pulled out that extra. She missed it. “I miss you.”

  Stop, turn, pose. Zoë winked at her. “Bet you do.”

  She strode past her. “Not as much as you miss me.” She struck an arching pose. The crowd groaned, and she winked at the elderly model pursing her lips at her. “Think of it as a back stretch.”

  “That’s right,” Zoë shot at her, striding on. “You need to take care of the back at your age.”

  Ooh. Now she was asking for it. Stop, turn, pose. All sizes of model beaming back at her. “Do I need to check her ID?” She flashed Zoë a smug grin. “Did she make it out of nappies before you proposed?”

  Zoë charged at her. They reached each other, turned, strode on to the models. “Do try not to
make me look bad.”

  Darcy stepped her leg over Zoë’s. Zoë intertwined their arms. Dual pose. Trademark. Eat that, up-and-comers. She shot a smug look at Zoë; she echoed it. “We’re still the best.”

  “One thing we agree on,” Zoë shot back.

  They strode to the top of the runway, and Darcy fixed her eyes on the top of the street. No looking at Kate. No gut churning. Focus.

  She and Zoë stopped back to back. That pose. She grabbed Zoë’s coat. The music pounded, as did her heart, and Zoë clenched her coat.

  “I love you, you intolerable ass,” Darcy hissed as they stood there, crowd’s gazes riveted to them, Kate, Blanche, Mikey, Susannah, Marge’s gazes riveted to them. Waiting.

  “Back at you, you bitch,” Zoë snapped back. “Now.”

  Pose, grip, pull.

  The coats dropped away. The crowd roared into life. The music stopped, and camera flashes rippled like a single wave of light.

  Zoë kissed her on the cheek and went to Blanche.

  Darcy began to move, but the crowd yelled for another pose. She struck it. More flashes, more cheers. Her knees trembling.

  “Can you see why I love her?” Kate said into the microphone.

  The crowd yelled out their approval.

  Darcy turned to meet her eyes, gave Susannah and Mikey a squeeze on their shoulders. Kate held out the microphone to her. “It’s your show,” she said. “We can’t do everything, you know.”

  She snatched the microphone off her. “I don’t know what to say.” She motioned to Zoë, Blanche, Marge, and hugged Susannah and Mikey. “But thank you.” She shrugged and turned to the crowd. “Thank you.”

  They cheered.

  Kate cleared her throat and strode over. She looked far too appealing in body paint. Very awkward in public. “Say it.”

  Darcy placed Susannah’s hands over Mikey’s eyes, then placed Marge’s hands over Susannah’s and pulled Kate to her. “I love you.” She held Kate inches from her lips. “I really, really love you.”

  She yanked Kate into a kiss, and paint sprayed up from the stage, from the runways, from the shops. The crowd squealed, cheered, and laughed, and Darcy ran her hands through Kate’s hair. #Perfect.

  Chapter 48

  Christmas was once again in the air, and Kate stamped her feet and slapped her hands together to try and avoid them falling off. Mikey’s school had another disco. It was starting to rain, and if she kept her focus on the school, she could ignore the flipping great big billboard with her on it, advertising pencils.

  “Hey, Kate,” two parents called out with a cheery wave. “You’re home for the weekend?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. She spent her time shuttling back and forth from London to Cardiff. Darcy had bought her a Bentley, telling her that she had to look good travelling. Susannah had backed her up, and when two McGregors got going, there was little she could do but nod. Still, it had taken five seconds to enjoy the Bentley.

  “Hey, Kate…” One of the older kids ambling out of school flashed his jacket at her. One of Darcy and Zoë’s new high-street collection. “What you think?”

  Looked warm. That’s all that counted in her eyes. “Cool.”

  He grinned like she’d proposed, thumped his mates, and ran off. People did that a lot these days. Even ones that weren’t in junior school.

  “Kate-oh!” Mikey yelled out his happy call.

  “Yeah, Kate-oh!” Susannah was with him. How’d she get here so quickly? Susannah grinned like she could read her. “Mum flew us up this morning.”

  Kate held open her arms, caught Mikey, then frowned down at Susannah. “She flew you up and let me drive three hours?”

  “I think she was attempting to surprise you by picking Mikey up.” Susannah chuckled and sank into a hug. “Although. She said she had something to do first.”

  Kate ushered them both to the Bentley and glanced up at the billboard. “Maybe getting that thing off?”

  Susannah and Mikey piled into the back, breaking out into “Silent Night.”

  “She happens to like it.” Susannah waved at three people grinning then shut the door. “Don’t knock it. She’s not even picked holes in how you hold a pencil.”

  Kate chuckled and purred the car into life. “Guess we’d better wait for her here and keep her happy, then.” She tapped out a tweet: Picking up Mikey needs for one Darcy McGregor to be on time. #FashionablyLate?

  Central Cardiff. A winter wonderland of ice rink and rides filled the City Hall grounds with a festive cheer. It wasn’t snowing but raining – which Darcy had come to realise on visits was a common occurrence – as she darted from opening a new modelling exhibition in the National Museum out into the deluge.

  She flicked through her tweets and stopped, then grinned like a complete besotted teenager. Kate knew her so well. Fashionably late indeed. If she didn’t hurry up, Susannah would nag, and she seemed to nag far more. She was working hard shadowing Marge, and she was taking her A Levels. Teenagers; what could you do with them?

  So much had changed. Marshall had been forced to apologise for his behaviour—worse acting than normal—and seemed to spend most of his time unemployed. Darcy couldn’t imagine why. John had begged to reinstate the show after the live reveal, but oddly, she’d signed with a rival network instead. Marge had been most pleased.

  Zoë and Blanche were pregnant, as they kept telling everyone. Darcy did like to remind them that only Zoë was. Where would the baby grow on a twig? Still, Susannah seemed delighted she’d have a sister. Darcy would remind her of that one day when the baby was stealing her clothes.

  Mikey was, as he always was, happy, carefree, and a super-vegetable. They’d even created a toy in his honour. Mikey the Sproutman was a kid’s hit. She tried not to say too much about him eating peas and carrots. She still wasn’t sure about the violence issues that raised.

  She stared at the line of people outside the museum waiting for a cab and pursed her lips. Why weren’t there more cabs? Maybe she could text Kate and have her pick her up? She tapped her nails to her phone. No, no. She wanted to show she could navigate this city as well as her own.

  She pulled her slick collar up to the rain. Kate, well, she was imperfectly wonderful. How else could she be described? She got Darcy free pencils, for a start. She’d spent every night by her side to the point Marge wanted them to have their own show. She wasn’t quite sure about that. The public were crazy for Kate as it was. If they weren’t careful, Kate would be too busy to see her. She was not putting up with that. Oh no. She’d captured Kate, and she was not going anywhere.

  Darcy glared up at the rain as a mother of three muttered through the window of the remaining cab. Yes, Darcy had changed, and she hadn’t changed. She had her own clothing company with Zoë, had a best-selling, critically acclaimed book—yes, literary award. The literary community had listened, but she kept much of herself hidden from the camera. She was still not the best at talking about her feelings. They knew of Kate—she grinned, not caring if her flush was on show—but they didn’t know the half of it.

  Mother of three was taking too long. Did she not understand the principle of catching a cab? What was so hard? All she had to do was get in, tell the driver where she was going, and pay. The rain got heavier. Kids would get soaked. They bounced around, yanking at their mother’s arm. Darcy looked up at the sky. No, she hated getting soaked. She ducked into the cab and pulled a wad of money from her pocket. “Three hundred if you get to Mikey’s school before Kate has to wind down the window and sign autographs.”

  “You’re on!” The cab driver screeched the cab into life and she smiled, leaning back into the nice warm seat.

  #EmbraceDesigner had moved so many, revealed the woman inside: the model, the mother, the girlfriend, the Style Surgeon. She glanced back at the stranded mother of three. And, yes, she was still a bitch…but a loved one.


  She flicked out her phone and tweeted, tagging Kate in for all to see: Kate, whether late or not, I’m worth the wait. #LoveDesigner.

  Yes, love was officially in fashion.

  Acknowledgements

  It’s exciting to start a new adventure in writing. I’ve been very blessed to have been inspired, helped, cheered and supported by many people on my writing journey so far. Whether mentioned below in name or not, I hope that you know your part in my own story is truly treasured.

  First to you, the readers, whether you know my work well or you’ve just opened the book. Thank you for giving me the chance to tell you a story. I hope that it fills you with a smile and uplifts you. I’m so very honoured that you keep with me and support me whatever genre I’m throwing at you.

  Thank you to everyone online, in social media or in the writing community who have touched my heart and my mind: Gena, Dani and Karen, John Taylor, Katherine Hetzel, Debi Alper and all the cloudies, the GCLS community including: the team and students at the Writing Academy, Liz McMullen, Beth and Joy; Ann, Salem and Cheryl (and Lynn.) Thank you for cheering me on. Jen, Vicky and Nikki, Cari, Tig and everyone in the UK lesfic community who make it so much fun to be around. To Carol Poyner and Ashley who in particular always let me know you’re enjoying the stories. To Elisa Rolle from The Rainbow Awards for her tireless work that raises so much for charity and lifts the authors involved. In particular, thank you to Maddy who has worked so hard to see my books on the library shelves, you are truly wonderful. Thank you.

  Britt, thank you for reminding me how much I love to write and to show you all the cool things I’ve picked up along the way. Hopefully you’ll be writing acknowledgements yourself very soon!