‘No, I’m fine, honestly. I had a flutter of nerves earlier, but Kate kind of put the fear of God into me. I don’t dare have any nerves. I’ve got to go out there and be…nerveless.’
‘No, fearless,’ Luke corrected, and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Here comes your dresser, Claude. I like her a lot. She’ll get you into the clothes with the greatest of ease.’ He grinned. ‘See ya out there, kid! Break a leg!’
Peter Addison appeared at M’s side as Luke left, and he said swiftly, in a quiet voice, ‘I won’t keep you, M, I know the dresser’s waiting to help you into your first outfit. But I did want to wish you the very best.’
She gave him a huge smile. ‘Thanks so much, Peter, that’s kind of you.’
‘A word of advice,’ he now said. ‘Be prepared for the flashbulbs going off. The best thing to do is to keep your head up high, look towards the back of the room, staring straight ahead. That way you’re not blinded too much. There’s a lot of photographers out there, I must warn you, waiting for that first glimpse of you…so be ready.’
‘I will, and thanks for the tip, Peter.’
A moment later Kate was taking hold of her arm. ‘Let’s get you into the hot pink, sweetie.’ As they walked over to Claude, who was waiting with the outfit, Kate added, ‘Jean-Louis is contradicting himself again. I know last night he said he wanted you to go out first, but he’s now changed his mind. He feels we need the audience to be warmed up a little, and also by not seeing you immediately there’ll be more anticipation about you out there. So you’ll go after the first two models. Be relaxed, M, don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.’
M could only nod; her mouth was dry, her chest tight.
Waiting in the wings, M watched the first two models go onto the runway, one after the other, both walking at a relatively steady pace. She felt suddenly slightly sick to her stomach, a feeling of nausea rising, and then she stood up straighter, pushed the peculiar sensation away. She was taut, and she knew she would be until her feet hit the catwalk. It was impatience and pent-up excitement that was making her so terribly tense. But she was certain the moment she was out there she would be perfectly fine.
Kate whispered, ‘Now! Go! Knock ‘em dead!’
As M walked out of the wings and into the middle of the stage, she thought of her mother, her eldest sister, and Birdie. She had to succeed. For the three of them. She had to make them proud of her. Then she erased all thoughts, wiped the slate clean, focused entirely on the job she had to do.
Walking forward, adopting a rapid pace, stepping boldly onto the catwalk, M did not hear the music or the number of her outfit being announced. The only thing she heard was the applause. It was deafening.
She moved with her usual grace and fluidity, slowing slightly at times, then turning, swirling, strutting, showing off the impeccably cut hot pink wool coat, making sure it flared out behind her for full effect. And all the time she kept her head high, stared out into space, avoiding eye contact with everyone. The flashing camera bulbs did not stop, but they did not bother her.
Sliding the coat off her shoulders, but holding it tightly to her chest, she turned, walked slowly back, again turned and took the coat off completely, held it in one hand, now displaying the purple silk dress and its flurry of pleats. The smashing colour combination of purple and pink coupled with the superb tailoring were impressive. And so was she. They let her know that, clapped until she left the catwalk, dragging the coat behind her as Jean-Louis had shown her last night.
Claude, full of smiles, was waiting for her with a white silk suit and a black and white polka-dot blouse. ‘Fantastique, M,’ she said, admiration glowing in her dark eyes. ‘You have the knack,’ she added. M was out of the purple dress and into the white suit, and out on the catwalk again, everything done in record time.
And so it went on. All manner of day suits, coats and dresses for afternoon, and cocktail outfits were shown, and applause for M and the clothes was overwhelming. During this time she held one thought in her head: self-confidence. That’s the key, she reminded herself—and she kept hers. And was happy she had always had enormous self-assurance, which she attributed to her upbringing. It stood her in good stead.
Time was running on, and M knew that they would probably run late, but it was not her fault. There had been a snag with another model that had delayed them briefly. Still, they might catch up.
Soon it was the moment for her to appear in her first evening gown, and the crowd went wild when she flew onto the catwalk amidst swirls of pastel-coloured chiffon. The gown was a confection of spring colours, which looked as if they’d been borrowed from a bunch of sweet peas. Pink, lilac, white, pale blue, yellow and rose were combined in the delicate floral pattern; M appeared a dreamlike creature in clouds of chiffon skirts below a strapless top and pale pink pearls.
Suddenly it was the finale. When M appeared on the edge of the stage before gliding forward onto the catwalk, she received a huge round of applause. She was wearing the extraordinary white taffeta wedding gown in which Luke had photographed her in New York, for the cover of the April issue of Bazaar. The net-and-lace veil, pinned on the crown of her jet-black head, was draped over her shoulders and fell gracefully to the floor. Holding herself as tall as she could, she moved forward slowly, not wanting to trip, and knowing that this particular gown seemed to have a life of its own.
M was elegance personified as she stepped slowly down the runway, her back straight, her head high. She was regality itself, in fact.
M received a standing ovation at the end of the show. And so did Jean-Louis Tremont when he stepped out onto the stage to join M and the other models. The show had run twenty minutes longer than anticipated, for a full hour, but nobody seemed to care. In fact, everyone seemed to be delighted.
And Jean-Louis Tremont knew that he had a triumph on his hands; there was no doubt in his mind about that. Two triumphs, if he counted his collection of clothes.
Larry, slightly dazed, and still sitting in his chair, had been mesmerized by his wife’s ‘performance’. Because that was what it had been. She had all the qualities that made a star: beauty, self-assurance, utter belief in herself and an hauteur that was undoubtedly bred in the bone. Kate Morrell may well have stage-managed everything, and for months, but it had only worked because of what M herself was.
‘So be it,’ he said to no one in particular. It was Geo who answered him.
‘That’s right, Larry, she’s going to be a star. An overnight sensation. That’s what you meant, isn’t it?’
‘You hit the nail on the head, my love,’ was his response. He looked at James, and murmured in a lower voice, ‘I have a feeling we’re going to need some security, and as quickly as possible. Unless I’m mistaken, there’s going to be a feeding frenzy with the press. I need her protected at all times, James, and I don’t care what it costs.’
‘I agree. She was absolutely magnificent, and the press are already crazy about her. You can see in their behaviour here this afternoon that she’s got the “it” factor. I’ll get onto it right away. The best plan is for us to get you your own car, and I’ll provide a proper driver and an assistant—the second chauffeur, in other words. Both are ex-SAS. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Larry exclaimed, looking at James in horror. ‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m only kidding. But they’re as tough as steel, and that’s what you need. Experienced operatives who have the training and the guts, and can spot danger before anyone else is aware of it.’
Caresse hugged M, and clung to her arm. ‘You were the dream girl, the supermodel, and I was bursting with pride, as if I was your mom. Congratulations.’
M hugged her again and laughed. ‘I’m glad I made you proud, Caresse. And I’m proud of you, the way you’re running Farantino’s.’
Looking pleased by this unexpected compliment, Caresse grinned. ‘Luke’s pleased, and a bit surprised. He said he’d no idea I was such a good businesswoman.’
>
‘I’m glad he realizes just how valuable you are. You’ll do well with the studios, Caresse, and Kate is keeping him on to do all the photographs of me for this collection and prêt-à-porter, that I do know.’
‘Yes, he told me. Here’s Kate now, coming our way.’
‘There you are, sweetie!’ Kate exclaimed as she joined them. ‘What are you doing hiding away in this corner? Jean-Louis wants you to come over and have a glass of champagne, perhaps something to eat. Also, he would like to introduce you to a few people.’
‘Of course, Kate. Oh, is that my lot? Over there.’ She waved to Larry, Geo and James, who were hovering near the window. ‘Oh, look, isn’t he a darling? He’s blowing kisses to me. That’s so sweet. I’d better go and give him some real ones.’
‘It’s nine o’clock, darling,’ Larry said, after she’d hugged and kissed him. ‘Aren’t you done in?’
‘Not really,’ M responded, linking her arm through his. ‘More like exhilarated, on a big high. Surely you know what I mean, my lad. Isn’t it like that after a first night?’
‘It is indeed, and you were fabulous, my darling M. A real star.’
‘Not a star, no. That’s you, and only you, Laurence Vaughan. I am just a model.’
Changing the subject, Larry said, ‘Peter Addison is a nice chap, and he seems to have the press eating out of his hand—’
‘But what?’ she interrupted.
He laughed. ‘You know me too well already, Mrs Vaughan. I was going to say I just hope he’s not working you too hard. You’ve been photographed nonstop from four thirty to eight thirty, first at the Grand Palais and now here. Aren’t you tired?’
‘No, I’m fine. Honestly, darling. Anyway, they’ve a right to get something for all that money.’
‘What money?’
‘The money they’re paying me. But I can’t go into it now. Later, I’ll tell you later. Let’s go and rescue Geo from that plump chap who’s almost but not quite making her his dinner.’
THIRTY-ONE
On Tuesday 30 January, M was hailed as the biggest new supermodel in years, guaranteed to join the ranks of the top girls. The day after this showing of the Tremont spring/summer collection, her picture was in every newspaper across the world.
Two days later, on 1 February, Jean-Louis Tremont and the House of Tremont invited the entire press corps to attend an afternoon champagne reception. The idea behind it was to meet M on a more casual basis, talk to her and take candid photographs. It was soon after the arrival of the press that Kate Morrell announced that their new discovery, M, had been recently married. Within minutes, she entered the reception room holding hands with her groom, the famous actor Laurence Vaughan. That he was also a movie star added to his appeal.
The press went wild, took the couple to their hearts, and in a sense sent them spinning off into another stratosphere. Overnight they became the new ‘in’ couple. The interview at the champagne reception at the House of Tremont was glamorous, charming, and also touching because it was obvious they were so much in love, and it immediately went online. By the end of the first ten days of M’s modelling career, that interview had been viewed by a hundred million people on YouTube, and M and Larry had become international phenomena overnight. Remarkably, they remained calm, held themselves together, coped with everybody in a pleasant way; they were never impolite or temperamental. In other words, they were highly professional and took everything in their stride.
M’s family were happy for her immense and sudden success, and somewhat amused by all the fuss. Certain members of Larry’s family acted in a similar way; however, a couple of them were nasty about it, making catty remarks to their mother. Miranda called it a disgusting display of vulgarity; Edward, eaten up by jealousy, said that his brother had found his true forte at long last—as a celebrity married to a model.
Larry, as independent as always, did not care what his family thought, or anyone else for that matter. All he cared about was the wife he adored. His priority was keeping her safe. He was more than satisfied with James Cardigan. From the very first, James had been extremely capable, devoted and efficient, and he had put two ex-SAS soldiers in charge of them; both were crack officers at the top of their form: tough, experienced and dedicated. Fortunately, M and Larry found them compatible. They genuinely liked Stuart Nelson and Craig Lowe, who were extremely alert and always on the ready, but also polite. Most importantly, their presence comforted Larry, made him feel secure about M’s safety.
By the end of February, a number of things had become their daily routine. M was busy with the last of the prêt-à-porter shows, and completing Luke’s photographs of her in those clothes.
Larry had finished learning his lines and was impatient to start filming at the beginning of March, tired of having too much time on his hands.
On the last Sunday in February, Larry and M were sitting relaxing in their suite at the Plaza Athénée Hotel. M was going over her schedule for the week, and Larry was flipping through the script, looking at sides on which he had made notes. Suddenly a thought struck him, and he looked across at her.
‘Will you be able to come to London with me when we move the production over there in April?’ he asked, instantly dreading the thought that they might be separated if M had commitments for Tremont in Paris.
‘Yes, I will, Larry,’ she answered, turning the pages of her engagement book which was on the desk. ‘I just have one thing outstanding, and that’s the charity fashion show I promised Jean-Louis I would do. It’s on the twenty-second of March, and then I’m free as a bird.’
‘I’m glad, darling, I couldn’t bear it if I had to leave you here and go alone to London.’
‘Neither could I, and listen, after that I’m actually free until July. That’s when Jean-Louis will be showing the fall/winter collection, both haute couture and prêt-à-porter. And incidentally, Luke told me the other day that Kate Morrell wants him to photograph the shows. He’s thrilled, so you can imagine how Caresse feels. Except that she misses him, I think.’
Larry’s dark brow lifted, and he asked, ‘Is there something developing between those two?’
‘I’m not sure,’ M answered with a laugh. ‘Maybe it’s too soon after Frankie’s death—but then again, maybe it isn’t. And I would think she’s a bit lonely in New York, although the studio is booked solid, Luke says, and there’s Alex to look after.’
Larry burst out laughing. ‘He’s just turned eighteen, for heaven’s sake!’
‘I thought he was younger,’ M muttered, and closed her engagement book. Changing the subject, she said, ‘Will you mind living in a very girly-girly flat in London?’
‘No, as long as it’s your girly-girly flat.’ He threw her a sceptical look, asked, ‘Is it really like that? All frilly and full of pink? I don’t
think I believe you, M. You’re not the type.’
‘What type am I?’
‘The delicious type,’ he answered, flirting with her. He put the script down, stood up, walked over to where she was sitting near the window, and put both hands on her shoulders. Bending down, he kissed her on the cheek, and said, ‘How about a little siesta, pretty one?’
‘When you say siesta, are you using it as a euphemism for a little of the hot stuff?’
‘Absolutely and most definitely.’
‘Then I’d love to have a siesta, mister.’
‘I wish we could have a siesta every afternoon,’ M murmured a short while later, snuggling up to Larry, putting her arm over his body. ‘I always feel wonderful afterwards, so relaxed and happy. Do you think that’s how the Spanish feel after their siesta?’
Larry chuckled, held her close to him, loving her so much. She could be so quaint at times. He said, against her hair, ‘I think the famous Spanish siesta is a little different to ours, my love. But I can’t be certain, of course.’
‘Neither can I. Well, never mind. Listen, Larry, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. How long will Stuart and Craig be with us? L
ooking after us, I mean?’
‘Funny you should ask, I was discussing that with James yesterday afternoon. He agreed with me that we should keep them on for the next few months, until everything normalizes. If it ever does. James has the feeling there’s always going to be enormous press interest in us, paparazzi chasing us, that sort of thing. But the excitement about us will probably taper off by the end of the year. The chaps don’t bother you, do they?’
‘No, not at all, and they’re ever so discreet, so nice—unobtrusive, actually. I was just curious, that’s all.’
‘I can only say I’m glad we’ve had them around this past month, M. It got chaotic at times, with the overwhelming press turnoutswherever we went.’ Putting his hand under her chin, tilting her head, he looked into her face and asked, ‘So, how does it feel?’
M stared back at him, looking puzzled, and asked, ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘Being you. The famous, mysterious M. The supermodel, born overnight. Some are even calling you the new Gisele Bündchen. Tall, thin, gorgeous. The darling of the paparazzi. The most photographable woman in the world. The favourite face on magazine covers.’ He grinned at her a little cheekily. ‘I’m glad to see it hasn’t gone to your head, missus. Yet.’
‘Gone to my head? It’s actually gone to my feet! Which I’m constantly standing on for twelve to fourteen hours a day at the moment.’
‘You must be tired, sweetheart, it’s been pretty tough,’ he said sympathetically, even though he knew she had tremendous energy and stamina.
‘Yes, it has. And yet it hasn’t, because I’ve…enjoyed it. Enormously. Anyway, what about you? You’ve had quite a month yourself, Larry. But I suppose it’s a bit different for you, because you’re used to fame. You come from this famous family, theatrical royalty they call you…all of you great Vaughans. And have you forgotten that you became a star overnight? When you played Hamlet on the stage when I was ten and you were twenty-two. Younger than I am now, actually.’
Breaking the Rules (2009) Page 25