Finding Monsieur Right (2010) (31 page)

There had been an awkward scene the other day when she had returned with absolutely the wrong brand of miso: Savage had locked herself away in the bathroom and refused to come out until the right one was produced. This had lost the team half a day's work on the collection. Savage was exhausting: swinging from elation to fury with alarming suddenness, only to break into the odd incoherent pseudo-poetic oracle.

Yet Isabelle was not overly irritated by these antics, perhaps because only a superficial part of her consciousness was actually engaged with the daily drudgery of serving under Savage's regime. Really her mind was on other things - namely the location of Meredith Quince's manuscripts. She had come to the melancholy conclusion that they did not reside in Tom Quince's house. That meant she had no reason for going there again. Or indeed for ever seeing Tom again. And this was melancholy because ...

Well, because Isabelle now had to begin her search all over again after wasting valuable time - time she might have spent writing more of her thesis. Now that Clothaire was out of her life, she must think about real things, solid things, like her academic career in France, where she would be returning for good in a few months' time. It was pointless to wonder about ... well, other possibilities, letting her imagination run away with her. Utterly,
utterly
pointless, Isabelle told herself several times a day and as she lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling.

28 Daisy

'It could be
totally
extreme,' Raoul said once again, stroking Daisy's naked back.

'Yes, yes, of course it could,' Daisy said, turning over on her side to lie facing him. 'But ... tell me again what your idea is, exactly.'

'It's all about rock 'n' roll! These cool 1950s fashions would look great on you.'

'Ye-es, I like that bit,' Daisy conceded. 'But the thing is ...'

'What, honey?'

'Well, you're not really a fashion illustrator, are you? Your speciality is, you know, er, nudity.'

'But, baby, I have drawn you naked lots of times.'

'Yes, but that was private. This would be ...'

'I thought you liked my work,' Raoul said, pouting a little.

'I do, Raoul. Of course I do.'

They kissed.

Later, as they pushed a trolley down the aisles of the local Monoprix supermarket together, Daisy asked light-heartedly, 'Can you give me an idea of my character's storyline? Won't it involve sex and stuff?'

Raoul grinned at her wolfishly. 'You think I am an
obsede sexuel
or something? I am, a little bit, it's true! OK. I'm thinking Cadillacs, drive-ins, bobby socks, cute ponytails. A lot of
rock acrobatique
,' he said, twisting his wrist around to suggest complicated dance moves. 'Elvis Presley. Hey, you know what, let's get some of those nachos. The really spicy ones.'

As Daisy reached for a couple of packets, she all but crumpled them in her hands, so forcefully was she struck by a terrible suspicion. 'Hang on, did you say
Elvis Presley
?'

'Yeah, baby.'

'You mean ... Oh, God. Raoul?'

Raoul had parked the trolley to look at the jars of Tex-Mex salsa. 'What, sugar?' he said absent-mindedly.

'If you think I'm going to shag Elvis Presley, you've got another think coming!'

'Just listen to this, honey. Your character, she could be this cute cheerleader - you know, with the pom-poms and the miniskirt - who runs an Elvis the Pelvis fan club at her high school and then ...'

Daisy stared at him and raised her forefinger. 'And then nothing! It's completely out of the question!'

But a few days later, Raoul tried again. 'Just let me explain, OK? He picks her out of all the cheerleaders because she is the most beautiful. That's cool, no?'

Daisy paused in the careful application of her eyeliner and made a small face at him in the mirror.

'Her first lover is the King! How extreme is that?'

'Way too extreme, actually.'

Raoul laughed, kissed the top of her head and said, 'Ah, but don't forget it will not be you - just a sexy character
inspired
by you. It will be done with taste.'

It probably would, Daisy thought wearily. And yet the whole idea made her feel uneasy. Did that make her incredibly British and uptight?

Raoul began to pace the room, insouciantly freestyling. 'Later on I am thinking she will meet Marlon Brando and his friends in, you know, the movie where they have the big motorcycles and dress all in black leather?'

Daisy plonked her make-up wand down and looked up at the ceiling.

'OK, stop right there! This is getting completely out of hand. I will
not
be portrayed as someone who sleeps with a lot of famous people. Not even cool vintage ones. What do you take me for? A groupie?'

'Why are you getting so upset, baby? I don't get it.'

'No, I can see that,' Daisy said slowly, looking at his puzzled expression.

'I thought you were cool with all this.'

'Um, yes, so did I,' Daisy said pensively, buttoning her dress.

Raoul fell silent, and dropped the idea, for a little while. But later, as they made their way to Marie-Laure's house on the leafy western fringes of Paris, Daisy was painfully aware that he was puzzling out a way to bring it all up again. She sat fidgeting in the taxi, keeping up a stream of constant chatter in order to silence him. She was beginning to realise how like a child Raoul was in many ways: self-centred, endlessly playful and very, very stubborn.

On arrival, she leaped out of the car and was already ringing the doorbell when Raoul caught up with her. The door was opened, somewhat to Daisy's surprise, by Octave.

'
Bonsoir
, Daisy,' Octave said charmingly, without a trace of embarrassment. 'It's nice to see you again.
Bonsoir
,' he said again, shaking hands with Raoul.

They followed Octave into the drawing room, where Marie-Laure lay on the sofa wearing glamorous black silk pyjamas and with one leg in plaster. A stunned Daisy dropped her bag on the floor and rushed to her friend's side.

'Marie! What happened to you?'

'I fell down the stairs. But it is not serious - please do not worry.'

'You should have called me! Are you OK?'

'I am fine,' Marie-Laure said, smiling and squeezing Daisy's hand. 'You are so kind. And,' she added quickly, 'Octave has been very helpful. Because, in fact, he was with me when I fell, you know, so he took me to the hospital and then brought me home.'

Daisy glanced at Octave, who grinned at her and said, 'I'd better go to the kitchen to check on things. I'm cooking dinner tonight.
C'est moi le chef!
'

'He means we are having blinis and
tarama
from the
traiteur
and salad out of a bag,' Marie-Laure said, smiling. 'That is what Octave calls cooking.'

'Maybe I can help him,' Raoul said, following in Octave's wake.

Momentarily distracted - what on earth were those two going to talk about in the kitchen? - Daisy turned back to look at her friend.

'Actually, you're looking really well, Marie,' she said. 'You look ... like something incredibly nice has happened to you.'

Marie-Laure bit her lip, glancing in the direction of the kitchen, before breaking into an irrepressible grin. Daisy smiled back.

'What happened exactly?'

'Oh, I just tripped and fell down the stairs here. I was not looking where I was going.'

'It's lucky that Octave was there.'

'Yes, it was very lucky.'

Daisy reached over to touch one of her friend's earrings. 'Oh, these are lovely! What are they? Coral?'

'Yes.'

'Are they new?'

'No, they are not new. In fact ... you know what they are?' Marie-Laure shifted a little on the sofa and looked away from Daisy for a moment. 'They are my old earrings, the ones that I ... lost. Do you remember?'

'The ones that you lost,' Daisy repeated slowly. 'Oh. But you don't mean ... the ones that Octave ...'

'Yes. He gave them back to me.'

Daisy was silent for a moment, then smiled and said, 'Was this before or after you fell down the stairs?'

'Before. It was before Christmas. He just turned up here, with a ridiculous amount of flowers,' Marie-Laure said, demonstrating with both arms outstretched. 'And he was so sweet, Daisy. And I think he is really sorry for the way he behaved.'

'So, the surprise I would have got at your New Year's Eve party ...'

'Was Octave and me.' Marie-Laure became a little agitated and tried to sit up. 'I didn't know how to just ... tell you, because I was worried that maybe you would feel ...'

'Oh, no, no! Don't worry about that. That was, like, in another life.'

'And then when you said you were so happy with Raoul ...'

'Oh, I am. Yes. Absolutely. Perfectly happy,' Daisy said with many an emphatic nod.

'He seems really nice.'

'He is,' Daisy said, sighing very slightly. Now was not the time to consult Marie-Laure about her pornography dilemma.

'So now we can all go to the ball together in April!' Marie-Laure exclaimed happily. 'You will really enjoy it, Daisy. The Opera House is very beautiful.'

Daisy smiled back, her mind on other things. Octave had been nothing more than a crush, she knew that now. But she had a niggling sense that the same was true of Raoul. Perhaps the problem lay with her. Perhaps she just didn't feel things very deeply.

Meanwhile, Marie-Laure started to laugh. 'You know, it was funny when I fell down. Octave was chasing me all over the house and tickling me. I am very ticklish - he remembers that from when we were little. I was laughing so hard when I fell that I didn't feel any pain. And then he was so good at taking care of me.'

'That's great. Tell me, what do the other
Pique-Assiettes
think?'

'Octave has renounced the
Confrerie
. For me. They are still his friends of course, but ...'

'No more competition? No more little book? No more trophies?'

'No. Because,' Marie-Laure ended simply, her face radiant, 'we want to be with each other all the time.'

Later, in the taxi home, as Raoul fell into a snooze with his head on her shoulder, Daisy stared out of the window, smiling wistfully. It had been lovely to see Marie-Laure looking so happy. Of course she and Octave were a great match, one that had been a long time coming but that would probably last. You only had to see them together for five minutes to know that. And now the uber-cynical Jules, who had always snorted derisively at the very idea of romance, was in a fantastic relationship with Karloff. Jules had even started talking of the pagan wedding they were hoping to have in the Yorkshire moors at midsummer. It seemed that, one by one, all her friends were being blessed with romantic love. As for the bond between herself and Raoul, perhaps it had only ever been lust? There was nothing wrong with lust, of course. Lust was fun. But it would be nice, for a change, to feel the other thing and be sure ... Oh well, it didn't matter all that much, really, did it? And what
was
love, anyway? Nobody appeared to know for certain. The important thing was to have a good time. And she and Raoul were having a great time together! He was fast asleep now, bless him. Daisy felt in her coat pocket and removed from it the small object Octave had pressed wordlessly into her hand as they said goodbye. The car stopped at a traffic light and she opened her hand in the red glow. She was glad to have her heart brooch back. She had actually missed it quite a lot.

29 Isabelle

'Don't you think it is a little bit too tight?' Isabelle asked, looking down worriedly at her outfit.

'
Non
sense, darling!' Chrissie said, smoothing his own black all-in-ones complacently over slim hips. 'It's
got
to be as
tight
as
sausage
skin, don't you see? Else it wouldn't be a proper
cat
burglar's outfit, would it, hmm?'

'OK, if you are sure,' Isabelle said, pulling ineffectually at slinky Lycra.

'Karloff, baby!' Chrissie exclaimed, as Karloff emerged diffidently from behind a screen, also clad in a black catsuit. 'Look at
you
! See, that is the
beauty
of Savage's "all together now" concept. One size fits all - give or take an inch or two ...'

'Right,' Jules said, staring coldly at her housemate. 'Are we all ready?'

Chrissie stalked across the room towards Ivy, whose small serious face peeped out of her black balaclava.

'Gosh, darling, you are
so
petite that the thing is actually
creasing
on you! Let me just, ah, straighten it a little
here
, and
there
, like so. That's
much
better. As for you, Bella, well, you look
edible
, my lovely. Simply curvylicious.'

'Can we go now and get on with it? I've had enough of standing around!'

Chrissie narrowed his eyes.'In a minute, Legend, darling. Listen, are you
positive
that you want to wear your leather jerkin over your outfit? You
are
? Well, OK, though the only thing I'd say is that you are
kind
of going against the
grain
of the whole thing, you know, with this sort of
rampant
gothic individualism.'

'Look, mate, I'm not one of your fashion victims, all right?'

'Well, I was just
saying
, you know,' Chrissie went on as they all walked out of the room in a single black-clad file. 'I mean, these samples may not be my own design but they are my
responsibility
as a fashion person. And
besides
,' he said as Isabelle and The Coven trickled down the stairs and out of Savage's East End warehouse, 'I still think that it was a mistake on your part, Ju-Ju, to get me to separate the outfits. We should have kept to the original design - it's so much more
organic.
Then it really would have been all for one and one for all, darlings!'