“The Bartell woman? Pfft.” Véronique spat out the name like a curse. “Good riddance to be free of the insane one. Natalii, where are my cigarettes?”

“No!” Maddie said. “I mean, yes, she fired me, but she tried to re-hire me. Everything kind of went crazy before she could.” Her chances of getting Elena an audience with Véronique were rapidly going south. “I mean, she published my story and was so great at mentoring me. But then she knew I had to move on, so she…” Maddie faded out, realising this was possibly the least flowery endorsement anyone had ever offered. “And, um, I like her. So…”

Okay, getting worse. Uggh.

Natalii found a packet of cigarettes and passed one over to her mother while shooting Maddie a knowing look.

“Mm.” Véronique ran her finger along the cigarette and tapped it against her gold metal lighter. “And does she feel the same? Your boss that you like?”

Oh hell. Of all the questions, this was one that stumped Maddie most. She stared at the mercurial designer and wondered what to say. “God, I hope so?” Or “not like that”. Or “she’s the queen of mixed messages”.

“I’m not exactly sure.” Maddie looked down and blushed under Véronique’s scrutiny. Christ. She could hire herself out as a heater at this rate.

Véronique lit her cigarette and drew in a deep breath. Then she gave Maddie a slow, teasing smile. “Oh, Madeleine, I think there may be a secret you keep from the flower lady.” The tone was light, but her eyes were perceptive, curious.

Maddie groaned to herself. “She’s married,” she said in a whisper. “Well, was. It’s complicated. She’s not…I mean…not into women. Or me. I know it’s all kinds of pathetic. Just ignore me.”

Véronique appeared to consider that as she smoked, then shifted her gaze to her daughter, who looked more than a little interested in her mother’s reaction.

“The only thing pathetic, ma chérie, is the soul incapable of amour.” Véronique gave Maddie a stern look. “If she hurts you, though…” She jabbed her cigarette at the air in a vague threat.

“It’s…nothing. I know it’s silly. It’ll pass.” God, she was starting to tear up just thinking about it.

Véronique looked her square in the eye. “Madeleine, if the heart is involved, it is never silly. Although I do not recommend the French rugby hommes, as you know. Do not brush aside these feelings as nothing. They are real to you.”

Maddie nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “Would it be okay if I brought her to meet you tonight? After the show?” she asked, her tone tentative. “I know you don’t like meeting strangers, so it’s okay if you say no. But I was just hoping…”

Véronique’s expression became speculative. “This would make you happy, me meeting her? The Bartell woman?”

Maddie nodded.

“Why? Because it would make her happy?”

Maddie nodded again.

“Hmm.” Véronique Slid her gaze around the room. It landed on a sketch on the far wall. She stalked over to it. “This is the centrepiece of my show.” She traced the lines.

Maddie glanced at it, impressed at the beautiful flowing piece of couture. “It’s stunning.”

“Oui,” Véronique said without a trace of modesty. “Especially here.” She tapped the bodice. “And yet it accentuates a vital something les modèles lack.”

She turned and studied Maddie. “I will do the deal with you. Wear my centrepiece for me tonight, show it as I intended when my thoughts gave it life, and I will grant your Bartell woman a meeting.”

“W-what? Me?” Madeleine’s throat closed over in panic. “I’m not a model! I’ve never modelled in my life.”

Véronique gave a faint snort. “The model of this garment must do but un single pass of the runway. No more. Can you not walk only so far, pause, turn, and walk back? Are you capable of this much? Mm?”

Maddie gulped. “I don’t know. Seriously. I mean I have two left feet. What if I fall over? What if…everyone laughs. And Elena will be there, too, watching. I can’t! I’d die.”

“Madeleine,” Natalii said, “I will show you how. Maman taught me from a small girl. I know the way it is done.”

“Excellent!” Véronique clapped her hands. “It is settled. Pascal! Cancel this call for the more bosomy models. It is done.”

The assistant appeared, nodded, and disappeared again.

“Oh God.” Maddie gasped, staring at both Duchamps in horror as they gave her matching wide smiles.

“Stop looking as if the world has ended.” Natalii grinned and elbowed her. “You said you had no job, oui? Well then! We are, as you say, here to save the day!”

Maddie gave a faint, strangled moan.

CHAPTER 26

On with the Show

Elena settled herself into her reserved front-row seat at the Duchamp show. She looked around, taking in the colourful tent and an empty trapeze swinging from the rafters of the structure. The room was at capacity, as to be expected for the premier event of Australian Fashion Week.

She could not see Madeleine. Surely, being friends with the daughter of the designer, her former assistant could have scored herself a front-row seat? Although the seat to her right was empty, so perhaps she would be here soon. Anticipation shot through her, and she chose not to analyse it too hard. It was natural to miss a…friend.

Elena waited, her patience tested, as the rest of the crowd filled in. However, by the time the lights dimmed and the music started, there was no still sign of the world’s suddenly famous fashion reporter.

Perry, at her left, inched forward in his seat, looking excited to see what lay in store. Véronique Duchamp always had some surprises up her sleeve in her exotic shows, so his enthusiasm was well placed. In a seat two rows behind her and just to her right, Felicity fanned herself with the program. Felicity, not being an official “someone”, would never score a front-row seat at any fashion week, much to her irritation.

A shadow appeared to Elena’s right, and she turned, a little more eagerly than she’d care to acknowledge. The word finally died on her lips. Instead of her former assistant, Emmanuelle Lecoq lowered herself into the seat.

Elena offered a glittery smile. “Emma. So lovely to see you again.”

The CQ editor’s lips gave a slight twist, offering a hint of a mockery. “Elly. I believe congratulations are in order. However did you get that story?”

Her words were almost lost as the music increased in volume.

“One of my enterprising employees,” Elena replied.

A lime-green spotlight slashed a line up the stage and back. The limelight? Literally? How Véronique.

“You mean one of your ex-employees, surely? I was under the impression you fired her, almost a week ago, if industry gossip is to be believed.”

Elena frowned into the darkness, wondering who the stool pigeon was. “Madeleine wished to seek new opportunities.”

“Not quite how I heard it, dear.” A bony hand lightly patted her wrist. “If she’d been one of mine, I’d never have let her go. In fact, I even offered her a job.”

Anger surged. Elena snatched back her hand and folded it in her lap, well out of reach. The music drowned out any possibility of further talk. Elena had an irrational urge to rip the woman’s large, pretentious Chanel sunglasses off her smug face. It was night, for heaven’s sake. Instead, she gave an indifferent sniff and turned back to the catwalk, fixating on Emmanuelle’s job offer. Had Madeleine taken it?

As the first model pranced out, she returned to wondering something else. Where on earth was she?

* * *

Véronique Duchamp really did know how to put on a show, Elena decided. The zoo theme was well executed, with models in sparkling, geometric animal heads lurking and prowling around fake bushes along the edges of the platform, as other models swished along the catwalk. Nature sounds and wildlife calls could be heard behind the stirring beats.