Letter from Paris (13 page)

“What! You said WHAT? He told you that you said that?” Sarah’s eyes widened. She gaped at India. “Tell me you’re making this up.”

“You couldn’t make it up!” India said, suppressing a giggle. “That’s all I know. I have no recollection of it.”

“Mortifying.”

“I know…”

They sat for a moment, taking in the implications. Sarah broke the silence.

“Well, maybe it’s about time you did see someone else.”

“Even if I wanted to see someone else, Henry would be a really bad idea. I have to work with the guy, though I do admit I have a kind of chemical reaction to him. I feel a bit out of control when I’m around him.”

“That’s pheromones.”

“What?”

“Sex hormones; some animals produce pheromones that can attract mates from two miles away. They’re rendered helpless in their presence.”

“I seem to be okay up until about a three-yard radius.” India laughed.

“Stop beating yourself up. It’s not like you got blind drunk and slept with him. It could have happened to anyone. I read somewhere that people go on all kinds of insane trips on Ambien. I’m pretty sure if you’d done anything
that
outrageous it would be all over the news.”

“I suppose you’re right. I thought they were just to relax you. I’d no idea.”

“Yes well you know now, that’s for sure. Did you see that clip the other week of the woman who wouldn’t stop singing that Whitney Houston song ‘I Will Always Love You?’
They had to make an emergency landing and drag her off the plane.”

“That’s hysterical. Well, not if you were sitting next to her I suppose.” India laughed, admiring her freshly manicured nails.

“Anyway, don’t worry Indie. You’re just paranoid since that incident a few years back at Annie’s. Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place. You’re fine. Just promise me you won’t take that stuff again.”

“Promise.”

They both sat back contentedly. Sarah flicked over a couple of pages of
Mother and Baby
magazine. “By the way, did I tell you we’ve picked out a name for the baby?” she said, adjusting the top of her polka dot maternity swimsuit.

India put down the copy of Vogue she’d been flicking through. “Go on,” she said.

“Alana. What do you think?”

“That’s beautiful.” India sighed. “
Alana.
Lovely. Sarah, can we clear the air a bit? I know I’ve seemed a bit off lately but I want you to know that I really am delighted for you.” She hesitated. “I hate to admit it, but I’m also a bit envious. You seem so settled and content and…”

“Indie.” Sarah sat up and took her friend’s hand as India’s eyes filled with tears. “Your time will come. I’m sure it will. Hang in there.”

“You’re right. Tell you what, a day with you here was exactly what I needed to clear my head.”

“Me too. It’s not been all plain sailing at work since you’ve been away. Lots going on.”

“I want to hear all about it. You have the conch,” India said, lolling back in the lounger.

Leaving the spa, India decided to treat herself to a taxi home. It had been such a perfect day; why ruin it jostling for the tube? She sat in the back of the black cab, taking in the city as they edged their way through the snarled traffic past The Ritz and Green Park’s endless railings with displays of art. They cut through Hyde Park and passed Marble Arch with its landmark equestrian statue outlined against the sky
.
I take this city for granted, she thought. It’s as beautiful as Paris if you look at it with fresh eyes. Maybe I’ll see if Adam would like to come for a few days. I could take him to so many wonderful places we didn’t get to see last time he was here. She pulled out her phone and fired off the text.

Hey, I’m back from New York. How about you come to London next weekend? Miss you. Xxx000

After happily paying what she knew to be an outrageous amount of money for the ride, she skipped up the path to her house. Yes. I’ll plan out a weekend every bit as magical as the one we should have had in Paris.

“Sorry I’m late,” Luella said, sitting down opposite Henry in the conference room. “I had a stressful morning.”

“Peter?”

“Yes. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Tell me where we’re up to with the show.”

Henry opened his laptop. “I have good news,” he said. “I think you’ll be pleased. I’ve been trawling around for a fashion designer to host the show, someone uncontroversial who’s not going to be targeted by PETA. I thought of the French designer Jean-Luc. He’s always at the palace with Elton John or at charity events with Sting and whomever. I dug around a bit to see how we could best contact him.”

“I love his work,” Luella said. “His designs are kind of ‘out there’ without being insane like Galliano’s. He always uses such beautiful silks.”

“We struck lucky.” Henry grinned. “Jean-Luc graduated from LIFT.”

“Really? I would have thought he’d have trained in Paris.”

“He did his post-graduate degree at LIFT. I asked the dean of the college to approach him for us and she reached out to him and…wait for it…he’s agreed.”

“That’s brilliant,” Luella said. “Absolutely brilliant. My nephew’s in awe of him; he’ll be thrilled about this.”

“Not only that. She told me he’s donating his fee to the college.”

“They must be delighted too then.”

“They’re all over it. Here, watch this video. You’re going to love it.”

Henry swiveled his Mac toward her and Jean-Luc appeared on the YouTube video wearing an outfit that, to the untrained eye, could be mistaken for a dress. The sheath of fabric, hitting at the knee, was reminiscent of something Gandhi might have worn to lead the Salt March. His toned arms were swathed in tattoos, his head preternaturally shiny, making his eyes glint like buttons on a military jacket.

“There’s a revolution happening in fashion,” he said, bringing his speech to a climax. “The fundamentals remain the same – the silhouette, the balance, the color, the fabric – but the focus is on innovation, on forging new creative partnerships. It is about defining and redefining a designer’s philosophy. In this ever-expanding global market, it is no longer about keeping to a rigid set of rules or the latest trends. It’s about individuality, a respect for the environment and collaboration. Thank you. Thank you all.”

He smiled graciously at the camera before taking a bow with a flourish of his arm.

“He’s a real showman,” Luella remarked. “What he’s saying is absolutely on target for us. He’s absolutely perfect. Congratulations. That’s a coup.”

“He’s exactly what we need to get traffic to the sites,” Henry said. “Yes. I’m rather impressed with myself.”

“More so than usual?” she quipped. “I can’t believe how far we’ve come in just a few months. India is a real asset isn’t she?” She held his gaze for a moment.

“Are you fishing, Lu?” Henry grinned, pushing his seat away from the table. “And in case you ask, no we haven’t.”

Luella laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally come across a woman who can resist your sexual charisma, Henry. That would be too awful to contemplate.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock disdain. “Were ever such a thing to happen I agree, it would be quite awful.”

“So what about the female presenter? Do you have any thoughts on that?”

“This is where I’m hoping the lovely Miss Butler will come in handy. I think Annabelle Butler would be perfect, don’t you? She’s just been promoting her latest movie. She’s smoking as they say and she just happens to be India’s sister.”

“You know Henry, sometimes you still manage to surprise me. That’s what you had in mind all along isn’t it? That’s why you hired her. You had this planned from day one.”

“Well that wasn’t the only reason, but yes I have to admit it was a factor for sure.”

“I’ve a feeling India will be cool with it. Why wouldn’t she be? Shall I ask her tomorrow? We’re working from my house in the afternoon.”

“No. Leave it with me to talk to her. I need to handle the ‘ask’ carefully. Don’t say anything.”

“Okay,” Luella said, clicking her reading glasses into their case. “So Henry, if we’re all done here, it’s five o’clock. I’m not hungry, but I could do with a drink. I don’t want to go back to an empty house right now.”

“Absolutely,” Henry said, pressing the intercom. “All done here for today, Samantha. Miss Marchmont and I are leaving. There are some papers on the desk for you to collect on your way out.”

Luella picked up her purse, pulled on her jacket and followed him into the corridor.

“Tell me, Henry,” she said as they waited for the elevator. “Do you ever play it completely straight with anyone?”

“Rarely.” He grinned as the door slid open. “But of course, I always do with you my dear.”

“You’re very quiet. What is it?” Luella asked India the next day as they were checking the invitation list in her office.

“Am I? Sorry,” India said, snatching up some papers as the breeze caught them. “Nothing to do with work.”

“I won’t probe, but feel free to talk if it’ll help,” Luella said, closing over the window.

“I feel pathetic talking about it, especially as I know you have your own problems right now,” India answered. “Where do you want the rest of these illustrations to go?”

“Here. Just put them on Margaret’s desk. She can sort them in the morning. Look, we’ve made as much progress as we’re going to today,” she said, dropping a pile of photographs into a file drawer. “How about we go for a drink? It’s far too lovely an evening to be inside.”

“You’re right,” India sighed. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Let me grab my purse. How about Caprice? It’s pretty basic, but it’s just around the corner.”

“Sure. Do you want help putting the rest of this away?”

“Leave it. I’ll come to it fresh in the morning. Let’s go. You and I need some downtime. Let me get my coat.”

“Great news that we’ve nailed Jean-Luc don’t you think?” India said as they turned the corner of the street and grabbed a couple of empty chairs outside the wine bar.

“Yes. Brilliant,” Luella agreed.

“I’ve been researching him,” India said. “He’s incredible. He started out as a hairdresser. How do you go from working in a salon to becoming a world famous photographer, an art director and fashion designer? That’s serious talent.”

“And charisma. One hell of a trajectory,” Luella agreed. “He was awarded the Order of Arts and Letters last year too.”

“The project is coming together well isn’t it?”

“It is and you’re such a great addition to the team,” Luella said, shunting her chair underneath the table. “Will this do, by the way? It’s a bit cramped but at least we get to sit outside.”

“It’s fine. As long as they serve decent wine I’m happy.”

“So what are you going to have, red or white?”

“White for me.”

“Shall we split a bottle of Pinot Grigio?”

“Perfect,” India said. “So, I’m sorry if I’ve seemed a bit distracted today.”

“That’s okay. You’ve just been very quiet that’s all. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Well, it’s just that I’m in a long-distance relationship. The distance part is getting to be a major problem as in ‘no relationship because of the distance.’”

“I understand how that can happen. Sorry to interrupt, but hold on while I get this girl’s attention. We need that wine,” Luella said with a wave of her arm. She ordered and turned back to India. “Sorry. You were saying. Long distance…”

“Yes. Well, right now he’s on location in France, so I thought he could maybe come for the weekend. He says he can’t get away. Okay, so I know he’s working, but what I’m trying to fathom is if he’s making excuses not to see me or if he really
can’t
get away.
He’s an actor. He’s always going to be an actor and it’s starting to dawn on me that this is never going to change. He was married for a while. I can see maybe why it didn’t last.”

“So you’re not sure if the lifestyle would suit you long term.”

“That about sums it up.” India nodded.

“In the interest of full disclosure I have to admit that I Googled you a while back,” Luella said, as the waitress poured their wine. “I hope you don’t think that’s awful; it’s the writer in me. I can’t stop myself. I’m always looking for stories. But anyway the truth is, I can’t sit here pretending not to know that this ‘long-distance relationship’ is with Adam Brooks.”

“I really don’t mind,” India reassured her. “So now you know, you can see my dilemma; I mean he’s gorgeous right? And clever and funny and…” She stopped.

“Yes. I have absolutely no difficulty seeing your problem there.”

“So. Any advice?”

“A while ago I’d have told you to stick with it, to work it out, that love would conquer all. I’d have told you that marriages last even if there are chunks of time you spend apart. I’m afraid I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t think you’re talking to the right person to give advice.”