by Rosie Clarke
Jilly was different; she would have liked to spend more time in Cornwall with her grandmother on the farm. It was her gran who had forced Jilly’s parents to let her have a year at the expensive college.
‘Gran has all the money,’ Jilly told Francie when they were talking over a bottle of pop and some biscuits they’d smuggled up to the dorm for a midnight feast. ‘Mum wanted me in secretarial college so that I could start earning a living, but Gran wouldn’t hear of it. I know Mum expects that Gran will leave the farm and her money to her and my stepfather, but I don’t think she will… I know I could go and live with her when my year is up, but I want to be independent for a few years, find myself a job and make something of my life, though I shall spend all my holidays with Gran because she’s a darling…’ Her face was alight with enthusiasm and she looked pretty, fairer than either Francie or Averil, with bright blue eyes.
‘I’m not sure what I want,’ Francie had told her friends. Her long black hair was swept up in a ponytail because it was easy to control that way, her eyes blue but a softer colour than her father’s, though her colouring was very like Sebastian’s. ‘Dad is convinced I can be a great artist and I don’t want to let him down, but I’m not sure I’m good enough and I’d like to have some fun before I settle down…’
Francie knew she was lucky. Her parents were loving and generous and she was given most things she wanted, but in return she was expected to work hard and she knew her father was expecting her to pass all her exams and reward his faith in her. She wanted that too, but there was a bit of a rebel inside her and that girl wanted to kick over the traces and have fun. It was the feeling that she needed a break from the intensity of her art rather than any real desire to be a model that had made her send in pictures of herself. She’d been delighted to win the tickets for the show, especially as she was allowed to bring two friends with her.
She, Jilly and Averil had booked into the hotel, which had been paid for in advance, and was pleasant, quiet and respectable and close to the venue for the show, and then headed straight to the fashion show. None of the girls had asked permission from their parents for the visit and all of them had told the school they were going to stay with Jilly’s family for the weekend. None of them felt guilty, because it was an adventure and all three had decided that after working hard for months, mostly at their art, but also at the normal curriculum lessons they were expected to attend, they were entitled to some fun.
‘Gosh this is great,’ Jilly said, grabbing at Francie’s arm. ‘Look at all the clothes on those rails! Do you think we’re allowed to go through them? I’d love to try some of them on…’
‘It said in the magazine that there would be loads of things to see, some available to buy, others just to look at, and if we’re lucky we might get some free samples. I think they’re giving away Elizabeth Arden samples over there…’
‘I love Elizabeth Arden’s perfume and make-up, but it’s so expensive,’ Averil said and pulled at Francie’s other arm. ‘Let’s get in the queue and see if we can get some samples…’
‘I’ve got to present myself to Styled first,’ Francie said. She fished in her handbag for the tickets for the show. ‘Look I’ll give you your tickets and I’ll meet you there when the show starts if not before…’
‘Oh, I thought you would be with us,’ Jilly objected. ‘Can’t we come with you and then look round the stands afterwards?’
‘Yes, why not?’ Francie said and laughed, flicking back her long straight dark hair. Her eyes were a soft greenish brown that some people called hazel, and she had a generous mouth that smiled easily. ‘I probably shan’t be long and we don’t want to get separated in this crowd.’
‘It’s over there!’ Averil cried, pointing doubtfully at the large stand, which was surrounded by girls of a similar age. ‘They seem to be very busy…’
‘Well, it’s their show,’ Francie said. ‘They organised the competition and I’ll bet there were thousands of girls of our age who went in for it, because the lucky one got a contract to be a model…’
‘I wish I’d sent my picture,’ Jilly said, ‘but my mother would kill me if I left college to become a model. Even though Gran paid I should never hear the last of the money I’d wasted…’
Francie smiled sympathetically. They’d all heard about Jilly’s mother before. Francie knew she was lucky, because her parents never questioned what she wanted, they just gave her everything. Sometimes, she thought it wasn’t fair that she had so much when others struggled to buy the paints and brushes they needed. Francie was always passing on tubes of paint she’d half used on the pretext that she didn’t like them. Jilly didn’t have a lot of spending money but gave her friends holidays to her grandmother’s home in the country. It was lovely there and all the girls liked staying at half term. It was where they were supposed to be now. A flicker of unease went through Francie, because her father would be angry if he knew she’d allowed her mother to think she was in the country with friends when she was in Manchester. Francie shook her head, she wouldn’t let herself worry about that now.
She pushed her way to the head of the queue, Jilly and Averil following close behind, and ignoring the angry looks and remarks of the girls who didn’t want to give up their place.
‘Sorry, but I have to report in,’ Francie apologised to one pretty girl who just refused to let her past. ‘I’ve got a pass… see.’ She held it so that the girl couldn’t mistake it and she reluctantly moved aside. Francie mounted the steps and went up to one of the desks. ‘I’m Francie Winters…’ she said and handed over her pass.
The woman glanced at it, snatched it from her hand, and looked relieved. ‘Thank God, you’ve turned up,’ she said. ‘Come with me. We’re behind with the shoot now…’
‘The shoot?’ Francie looked at her in surprise. ‘I was the runner-up not the winner…’
‘And that makes you our reserve if the winner defaults,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Kathy and I’m the commissioning editor. We’re here to do a big spread for the magazine – and you’ll be modelling some of the clothes for us…’ She looked over Francie’s shoulder. ‘Who are these girls?’
‘My friends. I got three tickets to see the show as my prize.’
‘Yes, well, you’ll be getting rather more now.’ Her eyes went over Francie’s friends, then she smiled and invited them with a gesture of her hand, ‘Do you want to come and watch – we might take photos of you just for fun if you like…?’
‘Can we try on some of the clothes?’ Jilly asked and Kathy smiled at her.
‘Why shouldn’t you? We’re selecting a few girls to model clothes – as well as our winner. You two will get a free hairdo, make-up and the chance to try some designer clothes…’
Jilly and Averil giggled and looked at each other and they all trooped behind Kathy as she led them behind the screens at the back of the stand, down a narrow hall and into a large room. Cameras on stands were set up with lots of lighting pointing towards a large white screen.
‘The dressing rooms are over here,’ Kathy said, leading the way. ‘I’ll show you what we want you to wear, Francie – and there are some spare rails your friends can pick from… what are your names, by the way?’
‘Jilly…’
‘Averil…’
‘Well you two pick something you like and then go over to that lady there. Mabel will do your make-up and Roger will style your hair…’ She fingered Averil’s frizzy red hair and frowned. ‘A wig to cover this mop, I think… Come along, Francie. Your friends will be fine…’
Francie felt as if she were being swept along on a rushing tide. She couldn’t believe this was happening. When she’d entered the competition she’d vaguely hoped she might win the tickets and when it happened she hadn’t been able to believe her luck. Now she felt as if she were caught in a dream… they couldn’t really be saying that she was to take the place of the winner and have a modelling contract? No, this was just for today and the real winner would claim her pri
ze as soon as she could…
Francie didn’t have much time to think about what was happening to her, because she was asked to try on a succession of clothes until the styling team were satisfied they’d got the right colours and sizes for her. A few adjustments were made with pins and while she was having her hair styled and her face painted with what felt like heavy make-up, the seamstress got to work.
Francie caught sight of her friends; they seemed to be having a great time. She saw them both wearing fabulous dresses and posing for the camera, giggling and enjoying the fun. Then Kathy was telling her how to walk down the catwalk and how to hold herself.
‘You’re not a professional model, but that’s the whole point of today and it’s our pictures that matter most. You go on, pause to let the audience look at you, and then walk down the catwalk, turn and walk back, keeping a faint smile on your face – do you think you can manage that without falling over?’
Francie looked down at her very high heels. ‘I think so, though I’d rather have bare feet than these…’
‘You have to wear them; they’re part of the ensemble…’ Kathy said, but a man came over to look and he disagreed, his assessing gaze making Francie feel a little like a filly in the show ring being put up for sale.
‘I think that’s a wonderful idea, Francie,’ he said. ‘Let her carry the shoes, Kathy – it could cause a sensation. I’ll do a shoot of her with the shoes – and without.’
‘Well… if you think so, Roger…’ Kathy looked doubtful, but Roger led her across to the set and told her how he wanted her to hold the shoes and then set a wind machine going; it lifted her full skirt and swirled it around her legs, and her hair blew across her face. He showed Kathy how it looked through the viewer and she nodded, a big smile spreading across her face.
‘Yes, I see what you mean… Stylist…’ she summoned the make-up girl.
The hair stylist and the make-up artist came over and smoothed Francie’s hair into place and a powder puff was dabbed at her cheeks. Roger then shot a variety of pictures with Francie wearing the shoes and Kathy checked the stills with him, nodding.
‘Time, Kathy…’ Someone called and Kathy sped into action, propelling Francie towards some curtains and giving her last minute instructions. ‘Remember what I told you about keeping a confident smile, and hold the shoes as Roger showed you… imagine you’re on a beach with the man of your dreams…’
‘OK,’ Francie said, though she didn’t have a man she idolised or fantasised over, as some of her friends did, but she remembered a wonderful holiday with her parents and Betty in Cornwall when they’d spent ages riding ponies along a deserted beach, so she decided to think about that holiday, which had been the best of her life, because it had been one of the rare times her father had been with them.
As the curtain was drawn to one side and Kathy gave her a little push forward and an encouraging smile, Francie stepped into the bright lights of the stage and walked down the red carpet, swinging her beautiful but impossible shoes from her right hand with a casual air, as if she owned dozens of pairs of designer shoes and couldn’t care less about them. She was thinking of one particularly lovely day in Cornwall when they’d galloped across the deserted beach and then dismounted, taking off their boots, rolling up their jodhpurs and walking in the sea, leading the ponies. It had been such a perfect day and she couldn’t ever recall being happier.
Francie posed at the end of the runway, giving a little twirl so that the full pleated silk skirt fanned out about her legs as it had when the wind machine was playing, then turned, glanced back mischievously over her shoulder as she had at her father that day on the beach and walked back with an unconsciously sexy sway that the audience appeared to find appealing because there was a burst of clapping as she reached the curtains. The clapping made Francie aware of the audience and she half ran through the curtains as she was suddenly covered in confusion, because for a moment she’d forgotten where she was and had been lost in her memories.
‘Ooh, you clever thing,’ Jilly said. ‘You looked like a professional out there. We were peeping from the side of the stage…’
‘Well done,’ Kathy congratulated her with a warm smile. ‘I think it was a lucky day for us when the winner defaulted. After that little display I think you’re going a long way in the business, Francie. Now, there’s no time to lose, you’ve got two more outfits to model and then Roger wants some pictures of you and your friends together…’
‘What do you mean – a long way in this business?’ Francie asked, suddenly apprehensive. Never for one moment had she expected to win the contract, even though it was an exciting idea, and yet there was her scholarship for a year studying art in Paris and she really wanted that… and what would her father say? ‘I only won second prize…’
‘Didn’t you read the small print?’ Kathy asked slightly annoyed. ‘When you signed that form and entered our competition you agreed to work for us as a model for a year if you won – and you have, which means the contract is legally binding…’ Kathy pushed her towards the changing rooms with a smile. ‘It’s going to be wonderful, Francie. You’ll earn a fortune… hurry up and get changed, you’ve got ten minutes and you’re on again…’
Francie went through the motions as if she were in a gorgeous dream for the rest of the day. Her next visits to the catwalk were greeted with spontaneous applause and she repeated her little pause to look back on each occasion and was aware of lots of cameras popping in her face. After the fashion show, of which she’d seen only the briefest glimpse as the other models got changed and walked past her, Francie and her friends were given a fizzy drink and cream cake – though Kathy warned her not to eat too much, and then Roger took some pictures of them in their own clothes, looking like the schoolgirls they were.
‘Thanks a lot, girls,’ Kathy said to Averil and Jilly. ‘You can both pick something you like from the rails there, as a thank you for today – and you too, Francie, but you’ll be getting paid, of course.’ She whisked a form under Francie’s nose. ‘Sign this and we’ll post your cheque on Monday…’
Francie scribbled her name hastily, not bothering to read what it said. According to Kathy, she’d already signed to work for them for the next year, but Kathy’s assurance that she would only be needed when there was a specific contract from a clothing store had reassured her. She could still take up her art scholarship, which wasn’t due to start until next spring anyway, and it was easy enough to come back for a short visit from France these days.
Her arms tucked blithely through her friends’ arms, she went out into the pleasant autumn afternoon, clutching the bags with free samples of clothing and make-up and giggling at how much fun they’d had…
Chapter 6
It’s no use,’ Matt said as they left perhaps the fortieth bar they’d visited over the past evening. ‘We’ll never find Betty like this…no one seems to have seen or heard of her.’
‘I thought someone might have noticed her, perhaps her hair – and the fact that she’s English…’ Frank sighed. ‘I’m bushed. Let’s go back to the hotel and get some sleep, we’ll start again tomorrow.’
‘You do know it’s useless,’ Matt frowned. ‘They could’ve gone anywhere in the world. We have no proof that they came to Paris…’
‘I was told he lives here,’ Frank said stubbornly. ‘I’m going to ask round the cafés tomorrow…’ He broke off as he saw a man leave a café and stand on the pavement opposite. Clutching at Matt’s arm, he directed his gaze. ‘That’s him – I’m sure it is…’
Matt looked but, before he could answer his friend had gone charging across the road, narrowly avoiding a collision with a passing cycle. ‘Frank – wait a minute…’ he said, but Frank had grabbed the man by the arm and was haranguing him. As he approached, he caught part of what was being said…
‘I ’ave no knowledge of this girl…’ Pierre protested. ‘You madman…let go my arm…’
‘I’m damned well not going to let you go until you t
ell me what happened to Betty Oliver,’ Frank snarled and twisted the Frenchman’s arm behind his back, making him yell out in pain. He slammed him up against the wall, making the man’s nose bleed. ‘I know she was with you, you bastard – I saw you at Gatwick…’ He jerked Pierre’s arm up again. ‘If you’ve harmed Betty I’ll kill you…’
For a moment Matt thought he saw panic in the man’s eyes but then it had gone and he was sneering at Frank. ‘If your lover leave you it not my fault…’ he said and broke free of Frank’s grasp. ‘I know not this girl…she not with me…’
‘I’ll make you sorry you laid a finger on her…’ Frank threw himself at Saint-Jacquez again but he surprised him by punching him in the stomach and then dashing into a nearby café as Frank doubled over, winded. ‘Bastard…why didn’t you stop him?’ Frank demanded as Matt reached him.
Matt helped him to stand upright. ‘Sorry, but I don’t see where this gets us…he’ll never tell us anything now…we should’ve tried to talk to him, asked where she is and if she’s all right…’
‘I’m going after him…’ Frank said and rushed off, disappearing into the café.
Matt followed reluctantly. Frank seemed to have lost his reason. Searching for Betty was one thing, but attacking a man they didn’t even know had taken Betty anywhere was another. Being a large strong man, Matt had always been careful to use his strength in the right way, but Frank had lost his temper because he was so upset over Betty.