Page 12 of Meet Me at Sunset
Camille hesitated, as though deliberating over something, then seemed to make up her mind. ‘We’re setting up right now. Would you like to come and see?’
‘I’d love to.’
Isobel followed Camille back through the door leading to the Sunset Room, ignoring the No Entry sign.
Inside, the room was large and beautiful, with huge west-facing floor-to-ceiling windows, but it was currently in a state of disarray.
An elevated catwalk was being constructed in the middle of the room, and all around were stacks of chairs, cardboard boxes with bubble wrap spilling out, half-finished displays and a partially assembled lighting rig.
A dozen people were dashing to and fro, and the place was a hive of activity.
Isobel felt the crackle of electricity in the room.
The situation looked chaotic now, but she knew that in a couple of days’ time it would be completely transformed.
She remembered the excitement of fashion shows from when she’d been an intern – months of hard work went into it, and all for barely twenty minutes of showtime. It was exhilarating, and a team effort.
‘We’re keeping it under wraps for now, but the show is a collaboration between Camille Andre and American Athletics,’ Camille explained enthusiastically.
‘We’re producing a diffusion line, and it will be the first time our brand will be available at affordable prices.
Still luxury, but accessible. And this …
’ she continued, as she reached into one of the boxes and carefully opened a dust bag, ‘Is the new Camille bag.’
Isobel gasped. ‘It’s incredible.’ Camille bags were known for being chic and classic, a staple for society women who wanted to look polished and elegant.
This bag was clearly aimed at a much younger, cooler audience, made of soft leather to give it a slouchy look with an adjustable, woven strap that gave it an urban edge.
‘I adore it,’ Isobel continued. ‘It still has that classic Camille feel, but this is far more modern. You know, you should make a crossbody version. For the working woman, or a young mother, who needs to be hands free.’
Camille looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You have great instincts, and a real eye for fashion.’
‘Thank you,’ Isobel breathed, flattered by the compliment. ‘I actually design a little myself. I run a small boutique, back in Edinburgh.’
‘You do? You clearly have a talent, Isobel, and you must come to the show. I’ll put you on the VIP list.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Isobel smiled, her eyes glinting. ‘As a matter of fact—’
But whatever she was about to say was lost as a screech and a cry of ‘Camille!’ came from behind them. Isobel turned to see a tall, leggy blonde strut into the room, wearing a dress that was so short it skimmed her bottom and showed off acres of tanned thigh.
‘Oh,’ Camille faltered, her face falling. ‘ Salut , Elle.’
Elle sashayed over and looked Isobel up and down, as though trying to work out whether or not she was important.
‘Elle, this is Isobel MacFarlane,’ Camille introduced them. ‘She’s a guest at the palacio, and her husband was involved in Lucas’s surgery. Isobel, this is Elle Mettier, and she’s—’
‘Camille’s future daughter-in-law,’ Elle interrupted, with a throaty laugh.
‘I’m Lucas’s girlfriend, and soon-to-be fiancée,’ she explained to Isobel, though it was obvious that the performance was for Camille’s benefit.
‘And hopefully the future face of Camille Andre,’ she added, snatching the bag from Camille’s hands and throwing it over her shoulder, striking a series of poses. ‘See how good I can make it look?’
‘Elle,’ Camille began, and Isobel could hear the irritation in her voice.
‘You’re a very beautiful woman, and I can understand why my son wants to be with you, but I’m sorry, you’re not the right fit for Camille Andre.
Besides, we’ve already signed someone, and the announcement is imminent.
I know that you’re dating Lucas, but I have to do what’s right for the brand. Camille Andre always comes first.’
As Elle stood there, open-mouthed, Isobel saw her opportunity to escape the awkward atmosphere. ‘I’ll leave you two to it. It sounds as though you have business to discuss. It was good to meet you, Elle. See you later, Camille.’ Isobel walked away with a smile.
Back in her hotel room, Isobel moved with focus, all thoughts of massages and boutiques and cocktails banished from her mind. Right now, she had something else to think about.
The room felt different without Stuart – no swim shorts drying out on the balcony, or loafers taking up space by the door.
His laptop was gone from the desk, his shirts taken from the wardrobe, leaving much more space for Isobel’s clothes.
Housekeeping had been, so everything was clean and tidy, the air con turned on and the room a delicious temperature.
It was cool and quiet, with no one to disturb her.
Isobel lifted down her suitcase, from where it had been stored at the top of the wardrobe.
It appeared empty, but she unzipped the hidden inner compartment and slid out a document folder.
She carried it over to the king-size bed and took out the papers inside, laying them out across the crisp, white sheets, then stood back to observe the scene.
There was a newspaper article with the headline: Fashion Mogul Killed in Horror Crash.
Another entitled: Andre Fontaine Funeral in Paris , with a photograph of the celebrity mourners supporting a black-clad Camille in the centre.
There were other things too, a cutting of Camille in dark glasses taken with a long-lens camera being bundled into a car outside a hospital.
Pictures of her with Nicolas. There was a copy of Stuart’s notes relating to Lucas Fontaine’s reconstructive surgery, beside a cutting from Vogue announcing that Camille Andre would be launching its new capsule collection at the Palacio del Sol Radiante in Mallorca.
The dates had been circled in red pen, and Isobel had dropped very unsubtle hints to Stuart about where and when she wanted to go on holiday.
She would make sure that Camille didn’t forget about her VIP invitation to the upcoming launch. Isobel couldn’t wait to be a guest of honour – she would make sure it was an event that no one would ever forget.