Then she added, ‘I’ve got a feeling he’ll be big. I know that already, but musically speaking.’
Elisabeth raised an eyebrow. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘And anyway,’ Jessica fiddled with her earlobe, ‘he practically is a count. Or something. His family’s major-rich. I think we’re well-suited.’
‘Good for you.’ She stirred the sugar at the bottom of the cocktail.
‘It’s the Italians who really know what they’re doing …’
‘Not if Alberto Bellini’s anything to go by,’ muttered Elisabeth, wondering why the old man had sprung to mind. It must be the champagne.
‘What do you mean?’ Jessica leaned forward, keeping her voice hushed. ‘Has he tried it on with you?’
Champagne bubbles fizzed down Elisabeth’s throat. ‘He’s forever trying it on, you must know that.’ She added without a trace of arrogance, ‘It’s no secret he’s in love with me.’
‘But I mean, has he ever tried it on … physically?’
‘God, no!’ Elisabeth giggled. ‘He’s ancient.’
‘The old ones are the worst,’ Jessica said sagely.
‘Maybe.’
Elisabeth looked out at the bustling square. Against her will she felt a stir at the mention of Alberto; the memory of what he’d said about her dear mother; his unconcealed adoration such a far cry from Robert’s recent behaviour. It was the cocktails, that was all.
‘Let’s get another,’ she said on impulse. Jessica beamed. ‘I’m feeling reckless.’
18
London
‘Just hold steady, that’s it, eyes wide … Perfect!’
Chloe had been in hair and make-up for what seemed like for ever. The catwalk show was a star-studded fundraiser for a children’s hospital, a cause she felt passionate about–she was desperate to hit the runway, if for nothing else than to stretch her legs.
Jared, her make-up guy, was a paunchy artiste with a shiny black Mohawk and shockingly dark, sculpted eyebrows. He stood back.
‘Voila. My work here is done.’
In the spotlit mirror, Chloe absorbed her reflection–her hair, normally worn long and loose, was secured in an elaborate cascade of curls; her eyes a smoky grey. The other models, with many of whom she had worked but none she had become great friends, watched her from gaunt, pale faces, eaten up with envy. Chloe was naturally lovely–she didn’t have to try.
‘Thanks, Jared.’ She smiled. She could hardly wait for Nate, in the front row in the audience, to see her tonight.
The show went off brilliantly. Chloe was the main attraction and first out on the walk, donning a striking collection of silver high-necked, short-length dresses from a debut designer. The heels they put her in made her about six-five and she had visions of toppling over and landing with her face buried in Anna Wintour’s lap. A row of slim, neatly crossed legs lined the length of the runway, sharp suits and straight backs, as famed spectators knew they were as much on show as the models.
Afterwards Melissa Darling met her backstage. It was like a mannequin production line, with long, slender limbs in various states of undress.
‘Melissa!’ Chloe greeted her, giving her a kiss on both cheeks. She was half-naked and struggling into a pair of jeans–Melissa didn’t seem to notice.
‘You were fabulous,’ said Melissa. She was in her twenties, with light brown hair that was pulled into a thick, swinging ponytail. Always managing to strike a balance between glamour and ‘What, this old thing?’, she wore leggings with chunky boots and a cashmere wrap.
‘Thanks! Did you see Nate?’ Chloe let her hair down, tried to get a brush through it before it got well and truly stuck, and laughed.
Melissa shook her head. ‘No, but listen, if I could just grab a word—’
‘Somebody said my name?’ a cocky voice interrupted. A pair of hands covered Chloe’s eyes from behind.
‘Nate!’ Chloe broke free and turned to kiss him. He wore a white shirt, tight tweedy waistcoat and skinny jeans. His hair was styled to within an inch of its life and Chloe thought he must have spent longer getting ready than she had.
‘What did you think of the show?’ she asked.
‘Not bad, babe,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘You were the best thing in it.’ He leaned in to kiss her again.
Melissa cleared her throat. ‘Chloe?’
She pulled away. ‘God, sorry! You were saying?’
‘Can we have a chat?’ Her agent’s eyes flew to Nate.
‘Oh,’ said Chloe, waving her hand, ‘anything that concerns me concerns him, too.’
They took a seat. A blonde model with glittering blue eyes and an upturned nose flitted past, catching Nate’s attention and batting her lashes.
‘Do you know her?’ asked Chloe.
Nate shrugged. ‘Never seen her before in my life, babe.’
‘OK,’ said Melissa, ‘it’s about LA.’
Chloe’s hands flew to her face. Nate frowned.
‘The part’s yours, if you want it.’
‘Oh, Melissa!’ Chloe jumped up and embraced her agent, who was caught off guard and took in a mouthful of black hair. ‘I’m ecstatic, truly. Thank you thank you thank you.’
‘What?’ said Nate, looking from one to the other.
Ignoring him, Melissa went on. ‘You’ll need to meet with the director, but it’s just a formality. As soon as the producers saw your photo, they knew you were it. You’ve got the right image, the right reputation’–she threw a glance at Nate–’and the right profile. Congratulations.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ he interrupted. ‘What’s all this about?’
Chloe was unable to contain her smile. ‘I wanted to wait till it was confirmed before I told you. The right part finally came along, Nate.’
‘It did?’
She nodded happily. ‘And I’m filming with Lana Falcon.’
Nate was taken aback. ‘Lana bloody Falcon?’
‘That’s right!’
Nate’s mouth fell open.
‘I know–unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Chloe
