She threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly. ‘I am your girl, and you’re my boy, and I’ve never been so happy, not ever…Larry. And today we’re starting a new life, our life together. I think it’s wonderful.’
‘So do I. And now I’m taking you to lunch at La Grenouille to celebrate.’
‘That’s a nice surprise, you didn’t tell me.’ M gave him a huge smile, and asked quietly, ‘It is just the two of us though, isn’t it? You haven’t invited anyone, have you?’
‘Of course not,’ he answered, put his arm around her shoulders, and held her close to him. All he wanted was her. Forever. She made his life complete, was his reason for living. He thought he was the luckiest man on earth. He counted his many blessings, of which she was the best of all.
On their way uptown to the restaurant for their celebratory lunch, M retreated into her private thoughts. In particular, her mother and father were on her mind, and she had to admit that in a sense she had cheated them because she had married in secret. She felt a little sad about that. It had always been her mother’s dream to have a big family wedding for her, since she was the youngest daughter, and now that would never be.
Neither she nor Larry had wanted a splashy marriage. But perhaps later, in the coming year, there could be a small ceremony at her parents’ home, just for the two families, with a little reception afterwards. If Larry would agree, and she felt sure he would if she wanted it to happen.
Quite suddenly she wished her mother and her sisters had been with her today, and for all of the sentimental reasons she had grown up with; all the English traditions that were upheld within their family. They were a family who had always shared things, done things together, and they enjoyed being with each other; there was great camaraderie and love between them. Never mind, she thought, as she looked down at her left hand and smiled inwardly.
She was married to Laurence Vaughan, the hero of her childhood. Whoever would have thought that this would come to pass? Certainly not she herself. It seemed quite extraordinary. But then everything had been extraordinary in the last few weeks.
After those first frustrating months of waiting, hoping, tramping around the agencies, and working at the cheese cake café, she had finally stumbled into her first big break. Almost by accident. Was it randomness or destiny? What had been at work? She didn’t know. But it was thanks to Geo, Frankie and Luke Hendricks, who had carried the ball forward. It was Luke’s incredible photographs shown as huge blow-ups that had sealed the deal with the French designer, in her opinion. And so suddenly. She was on her way to becoming a supermodel. And she was also a married woman. Mrs Laurence Vaughan. She had to pinch her arm from time to time, to remind herself she was not dreaming. This was her life.
Unexpectedly, she thought of her eldest brother, who constantly claimed that Lady Luck played an integral role in everybody’s journey to success. He was right. It seemed to her that Lady Luck had been with her of late.
When she had come to New York to reinvent herself, she had been a little apprehensive inside, and she wondered what would have happened if it had been another man she had met and become involved with, and not Larry. Nothing would have happened. She knew that only too well. Somewhat traumatized, she would have been self-protective, on her guard, holding back, unable to take the relationship forward. But Laurence Vaughan was known to her, a man she had idolized since childhood. And so she had not been afraid of him…and had relaxed because of his tenderness and caring, his genuine love for her. She was safe with Larry, and she had known that from the first. She would always be safe with him.
‘I want you to stand as still as you possibly can, M,’ Luke Hendricks said, and then glanced across at Caresse hovering near the doorway to reception. ‘Please come and help, Caresse. Run over and fix the edge of the dress, there at the bottom.’ He pointed, and added, ‘The hem seems caught up, it’s a bit bunched. I want it straight, and touching the floor. Skimming it.’
‘Right away!’ Caresse did as he asked, then remained on her knees, looking at the entire dress, making sure the hem was perfect on all sides.
Kate Morrell came to join her, walked slowly around M, nodding to herself, then told her, ‘You look superb, M, and the dress is magnificent on you.’
‘Thanks.’ M gave her a faint smile. ‘When are you putting the lace veil on me?’
‘In a few minutes. Luke’s going to get some shots of the gown without the veil first. And we’re waiting for the team from the magazine.’
‘Okay,’ M said, and pushed her elbows back to stretch her shoulders, but did not move otherwise.
Kate thought that this haute-couture wedding gown was one of the most spectacular pieces Jean-Louis Tremont had ever designed. It resembled a ball gown with its huge puffed skirt and strapless bodice above a narrow waist. The white silk taffeta hung beautifully from the waist down; the bouffant style of the gown was created by underskirts of white silk net. The strapless bodice was decorated on the front with a fan-shaped piece of finely pleated white taffeta that gave the gown just the right finishing touch.
Because of her height and slenderness, M carried the wedding gown well. As he began to shoot, Luke said, ‘Stay perfectly still, honey! Let me do the moving around today. Hey, I love that smile, M, keep it! Hold it. Move your shoulders slightly, just a hint, hey, right on, kid. That’s great. Twist your waist, face me. Great!‘
After fifteen minutes Luke stopped shooting, put down the camera and said, ‘If you’re stiff, or getting a cramp, why don’t you move within that boundary I showed you? Just don’t take too many steps, okay?’
‘I’m fine, I really am, Luke. Thanks anyway.’
Caresse had left the studio, and she now returned from reception with the fashion editor of Harper’s Bazaar and her assistant. The moment the two young women set eyes on M they looked at each other, smiled and clapped their hands. M waved and smiled back at them.
Kate went over to greet them, and they stood chatting together; after a few moments the women crossed the floor to say hello to M and Luke, and then they retreated to the back of the room and sat down next to Kate.
The shoot continued for another half-hour, and then Luke asked Kate to bring the long lace veil; the two women helped her to place it on the top of M’s head, slightly to the back. Her hair had been swept up into a marvellously chic chignon by Agnes and, at the front, just above her bangs, the hair had been smoothed into a flat coil on top of her head. It was just behind this coil that the women fastened the rosette attached to the veil.
It took them a few minutes to arrange the long veil over M’s shoulders, so that it floated down her back and around the bottom of her feet, but eventually they were finally satisfied it was perfectly arranged and went back to their chairs.
A few times Caresse peeped in, looked around the door, and smiled to herself when she saw Luke leaping about, circling M; he needed her to be absolutely stationary. Unexpectedly he suddenly reminded her of Frankie, who’d been a real prancer. He had always insisted the model remained absolutely still and in the same place. ‘I’ll do the walking and the jumping,’ he used to tell them. ‘You do the smiling and the posing.’ It seemed that Luke was following suit today, but then he had no choice. He had to work in this way with this particular gown. Closing the door, Caresse went back to the reception area to wait for Howard Dart and his client, who’d insisted on coming to see her. She had tried to dissuade Howard but to no avail.
At the behest of Kate and the magazine, Luke shot both colour and black and white film. He stopped occasionally to move a light, or turn one off, and he worked alone, which he much preferred on certain shoots. Finally, at the end of three hours, he walked over to M and said quietly, ‘Thank you, honey, you’ve been fantastic, and I know the shots will be super. You look fabulous. I’ll get Marguerite to come out and pat your face. I don’t need Agnes, though, your updo’s marvellous, not a hair out of place.’
M threw him a cheeky smile and said swiftly, ‘I shouldn’t thin
k there is, Luke, I haven’t moved an inch.’
He laughed. ‘When Marguerite’s touched you up, I’m going to do the final shots. Let me reload some of the cameras, and once I’m ready to start I’ll tell you in advance. It’s then, and only then, that I want you to walk forward towards me. I want your head held high, in that elegant way you have, and your back straighter than you’ve ever made it. This gown is so impeccably cut and tailored it would stand on its own. So just move forward, don’t think about the gown, it’ll be perfect.’
Once Marguerite had flicked a brush over M’s face and renewed her lipstick, Kate went over to M and unpinned the veil then carefully carried it away.
When Luke was ready, his camera focused, he said, ‘Okay, M, start walking, very slowly, small steps, come towards me. Don’t look down at the dress! It’s fine; it’s skimming the floor beautifully. Come on, smile, M. Give me that gorgeous smile of yours. Now, slowly turn. Oh God, that’s great! This is it, M, you’ve got it. Turn again, slowly. Now do a swirl. I promise you the gown will move with you and without…flinching.’
At four o’clock the shoot was finished. Kate, Agnes and Marguerite helped M to get out of the gown, and several minutes later she was sitting down, relaxing in her comfortable uniform of black trousers and sweater. Taking deep breaths, she sipped a glass of water; finally looking across at Kate, she asked, ‘Do you think it went well? Was I all right?’
Kate looked back at her for the longest moment before a huge smile spread itself across her face. ‘Not well—superbly, M, and you were just out of this world. God knows how you managed to stand so still for so long, but you did it.’
‘Discipline,’ Agnes announced. ‘M’s the most disciplined model I’ve ever worked with—disciplined person, I should add.’
‘Oh, Agnes, you’re so sweet to say that, but I’m not really,’ M said, laughing, and stood up. ‘I’ll be back in a moment, I want to give this to Caresse before I forget.’
As she hurried through the studio, making for the door, M heard a male voice, and hesitated for a moment before going into reception. Then she recognized it as the lawyer’s. Howard Dart. Suddenly anxious for Caresse, wondering if she needed moral support, M pushed open the door and went into the reception area.
Howard Dart was standing there with another man, but they both looked as if they were on the verge of leaving, were already wearing their overcoats. Ignoring them, M stepped over to Caresse’s desk and placed the envelope in front of her. ‘I believe you wanted this,’ she murmured, smiling at Caresse and raising a brow questioningly, indicating her worry in silence.
Caresse smiled confidently, wanting to reassure M, and looked across at the two men. ‘Thanks for coming in, but as I told you on the phone, Howard, Alex and I are keeping the studios. I also explained that Luke’s becoming our partner. The three of us are now running it.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s it.’
Howard said, ‘Have it your way, Caresse. But I think you’ve made a mistake. If you change your mind, or get into trouble, let me know.’
‘We’ll be available,’ the other man said in a clipped tone.
M swung around to look at them.
Both men stared at her intently. Howard inclined his head, then followed his client through the door.
Staring at Caresse, M said, ‘Who’s the other man? Howard’s client?’
‘That’s right. His name’s S. Herbert Samson. He’s a property developer. But their offer was lousy, and the guy is a bully. And so is that sleaze-ball Howard Dart. What’s in the envelope, M?’
‘My address in Paris, and various telephone numbers I want you to have.’
‘But we’re having lunch tomorrow.’
‘We are indeed, a festive lunch to celebrate everything. And so I’m getting rid of my bits of business today. It’s fun for me from now on, until I start working for Jean-Louis in Paris.’
Caresse nodded, and felt her eyes filling with tears. Turning her head swiftly, she blinked them away, not wanting M to see. Her heart felt suddenly heavy as she realized she was not going to see M for quite some time. Caresse had grown attached to her and valued her friendship. She would miss her so much.
With great speed, S. Herbert Samson managed to disengage himself from Howard Dart. ‘I’ve got to make a few of my European calls before it gets much later,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna grab a cab, Howie. I’ll be in touch.’
‘I’m sorry the deal didn’t work, S. H.,’ Howard answered. ‘I’ll continue looking for prime real estate, and I know something’ll come up, never fear.’
‘Great, keep at it, Howie,’ S. H. replied, and jumped into the yellow cab that had miraculously drawn up next to him. After giving the driver the address of his office on Madison Avenue, he settled back against the seat, pondering, reliving that moment in the Farantino studios when the black-haired woman had walked into reception. She had knocked the breath out of him. He focused his mind, assessing everything, and eventually knew he was right in his conclusions. Also, he knew exactly what to do.
Once he had paid off the cab, he rushed through the lobby of the building, went up in the lift to his fifth-floor office, a rented space that was more than adequate for his needs. He had no employees because he didn’t need any. He had a laptop, which he was skilled at using, a past master at it. He prided himself that he didn’t have one scrap of paper in this office. All of the filing cabinets were empty. Everything was in the laptop or in his head.
Once he was in the office, he locked the door and went to his desk. Taking out his mobile phone, he was about to dial, and then remembered how dangerous mobile phones were. There was so much ‘chatter’ these days, ‘chatter’ picked up by hundreds of surveillance organizations, investigation companies—the FBI, the CIA, MI5 and MI6, and other US and UK government agencies, not to mention agencies like the KGB. He slipped the cell back into his jacket pocket, and pulled the land line towards him. A land line was a bit safer, but not that much. He would talk in riddles, as the boss preferred.
After dialling the number, he sat back in the chair, waiting patiently.
‘Hullo?’
The voice was faint, but he was absolutely positive he had reached the person he wanted to reach. ‘It’s me, Boss.’
‘S. H., I presume.’
‘Correct,’ he answered, relief flooding him as he recognized that posh voice.
‘It’s rather late here. This must be something important,’ the upper-class voice intoned.
‘It is. I’ve found her.’
There was a silence. ‘Found who?’
‘You know who. The lady who ran away.’
‘Aha, aren’t you the clever one! How did you manage that?’
‘You know I’ve been looking for her for months, and with no luck. But my luck changed, I found her this afternoon, Boss. What do you want me to do?’
‘I don’t know. Fill me in. What has she been doing? Where has she been hiding? And exactly where did you…find her, if one can call it that?’
‘Stumbled over her at the Farantino photographic studios. I admit it, Boss, it wasn’t cleverness on my part. She’s become a model. I don’t know much, but I can find out more tomorrow. When I was up there a few weeks ago, I heard the woman who runs the place talking on the phone. She was telling someone that Luke Hendricks, the photographer, was tied up for a week doing a big shoot for Jean-Louis Tremont, the French designer. And that the new model they had discovered was going off to Paris to work for him. I know it’s the girl…she’s going to Paris to become a supermodel, Boss.’
There was a silence, and then a soft, amused chuckle. ‘A supermodel, eh? Ah, fame is the spur. So our little girl is going to become famous. Well, well, well, this is an unusual turn of events.’
‘Boss, what do you want me to do?’ S. H. pressed. ‘Shall I pay her a visit? Get it over with?’
‘Tut, tut, S. H.! Why would you want to do that? It’s far too soon to leave your calling card. Let’s wait, shall we? Once she’s famous, if that does inde
ed happen, we could have a bit of fun with her before completing the mission. Or at least you could.’
‘Shall I stay on in New York, Boss?’
There was a long sigh. ‘Find out as much as you can about her in the next few days and then move back to Europe. Permanently.’
‘Okay,’ he answered. ‘How’s Bart?’
‘He’s getting better. I would prefer not to talk about Bart. I’m afraid he blew his chance with me. Watch your step, Sam. I wouldn’t want you to follow in his footsteps. That would be a catastrophe.’
‘How can you think a thing like that? I’m smarter than him.’
The chuckles that flowed down the line from across the Atlantic were louder. ‘Good night, Sam,’ the man said, still chuckling as he hung up.
PART TWO
Dodging the Enemy January-April 2007
‘Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.’
From Macbeth by
William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
TWENTY-EIGHT
She felt different. Was it because she was head over heels in love? And marvellously loved in return?
Was it because she was now living in married bliss with the man of her dreams?
Or was it because she was about to be launched as a supermodel by one of the greatest fashion designers in the world? Then again, perhaps it was because she was in Paris, a city she loved more than any other in the world. Yes, it could be that. Paris had forever cast its spell over her. The very thought of it always made her drool.
Then again, perhaps she felt different because all of these wonderful things were rolled into one big ball of absolute perfect happiness. But whatever it was, she felt fabulous. And free as a bird…liberated.
Breaking the Rules (2009) Page 22