Page 48 of Meet Me at Sunset

The story coming out in the national newspapers had been one of the worst times of her life.

She’d been utterly humiliated, and for a few days had been a virtual prisoner in her own home whilst journalists knocked on the door, offering big-money deals to tell her side of the story.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted.

Ironically, Stuart and the Goddess from Girona had broken up a couple of weeks later, and he’d been begging Isobel to come back, but she had steadfastly refused. Thanks to Camille, she had other options.

‘Bonjour,’ Isobel smiled brightly as she entered the Camille Andre building on Avenue Marceau, calling hello to Francoise on reception.

Isobel passed through the light, airy offices, which hummed with activity, looking at the sketches being drawn by the design team, and exclaiming over some material samples which had just arrived.

She sat down at her desk, putting down her handbag – a ‘Camille’, naturally – and firing up her computer.

Whilst she waited for her emails to come through, she pulled a sketch pad towards her and began doodling.

She had an idea for a bridal gown that would be perfect for closing the next runway show …

‘Isobel?’

René appeared beside her desk, and she smiled at him. ‘Yes?’

‘Camille would like to see you in her office, whenever you’re free.’

‘Of course,’ Isobel replied. ‘I’ll be right there.

’ She quickly added a few pencil lines to the sketch then stood up, smoothing down her dress.

It was her own design, a light sundress in a bold, lemon-print fabric, which was part of her final collection for the boutique in Edinburgh.

For now, Isobel had left it in the capable hands of the manager, Freya, giving her a substantial pay rise and free rein over which designers to stock.

Isobel made her way over to Camille’s glass-fronted office, at the far end of the atelier.

She couldn’t help but think how different the company was from when she’d first interned there, almost a decade ago.

Back then, Camille Andre had occupied one floor and were still relatively unknown outside the industry.

Now, the company had taken over the entire building and was a household name, thanks to the ‘Camille’ bag.

A lot had changed for both women over the past ten years.

‘You wanted to see me?’ Isobel asked, as Camille saw her coming and beckoned her in.

‘Yes. Take a seat.’ Camille smiled, gesturing to the Eames chair opposite her own. ‘I wanted to catch up and see how everything’s going. You’re doing a wonderful job, and I hope you’re enjoying being here.’

‘Yes, I am. Every minute. I can’t thank you enough for giving me a second chance.’

‘It was the least I could do after … well, you know.’

Isobel smiled, smoothing over any awkwardness.

Shortly after the show at the palacio, and its chaotic aftermath, Camille had got in touch with Isobel.

The two women had had a heart-to-heart during a long telephone conversation, and Camille had offered Isobel a trial in a senior design position at Camille Andre.

It meant a new start and a new city – exactly what Isobel needed.

She hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Her house was being staked out by journalists, and Isobel simply packed a bag and took a taxi to the airport, eager to leave her old life with its memories of Stuart behind.

Paris was exactly what she needed. Who wouldn’t adore living and working in the City of Light?

Isobel had enjoyed brushing up on her French once more, and had made a lot of friends in the office, who invited her for after-work drinks and to the hottest parties in the capital.

She couldn’t deny that she was loving the glamour.

But mostly she wanted to design and create.

She was overflowing with new ideas and inspiration, and she was often the first to arrive in the office and the last to leave at night.

‘In fact,’ Camille continued, ‘I was wondering how you’d feel about stepping in for me for a while …

Possibly permanently … Taking charge of the atelier and leading the creative side for the new collection.

You’d be fully credited of course,’ Camille added hastily.

‘We’d put out a press release. How does “interim creative director” sound? ’

Isobel gasped. Her head was spinning as she tried to take in everything Camille had said. It was an incredible opportunity, but a huge responsibility at the same time. ‘I don’t understand … You’re not retiring, surely – you’re far too young.’

Camille sat back in her seat, looking levelly at Isobel, as Isobel tried to read her.

Camille was fifty-one years old and had been in the business almost as long as Isobel had been alive.

She was poised and elegant, driven and ambitious, and, knowing everything she had been through, Isobel had nothing but respect for her.

Camille was a formidable force who had reached the very top of the fashion world. She had seen and done it all.

‘It’s time for me to take a step back – for now at least,’ Camille said thoughtfully.

‘Take life a little easier and make time for what matters. You’re hungry and passionate, I can see it in your eyes.

And you’re incredibly talented. That’s exactly what the company needs – new input; someone fresh to shake it up. ’

‘I mean …’ Isobel blew out the air in her cheeks. ‘It’s a yes, of course. I’m honoured. But how long for?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘But where are you going?’

Camille paused, a smile spreading across her face as she spoke. ‘New York.’