Page 5 of Meet Me at Sunset
Stephanie Moon finished her gruelling workout with a series of yoga stretches, feeling the muscles in her body lengthen and relax, her breathing slow and deep.
Inhale … exhale …
As she leaned into warrior pose, she focused on the stunning view through the gym’s floor-to-ceiling windows, where dappled morning light pooled through the citrus trees in the courtyard area at the rear of the striking villa.
A Mediterranean garden stretched away into the distance, bursting with brightly coloured flowers, sprawling shrubs and prickly succulents, as water trickled over a stone fountain and cicadas hummed their incessant tune.
Beyond lay a tantalizing glimpse of the Balearic Sea, a wide strip of ever-changing shades of blue, dazzling in the sunshine like a diamond reflecting light.
It was hard not to feel motivated when you had such an incredible location to inspire you, Stephanie reflected.
She’d come so far in the last few months, and was still acclimatizing to the glamour and grandeur of her new life. It was a complete contrast with everything she’d known growing up in Brighton.
Following a final sun salutation, Stephanie brought her hands together in the prayer position.
Opening her eyes, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirrors on the opposite wall and couldn’t resist checking out her reflection.
All her hard work was paying off, she thought happily, and she was more than satisfied with what she saw.
In black Lycra shorts and a minuscule crop-top, her body was slim yet strong, slender yet toned.
Her new training regime had whittled her into the best shape of her life – her waist was tiny, her bottom high and toned, her small breasts perfectly proportioned.
Her shining copper-coloured hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, highlighting her dewy skin and deep blue eyes that were framed by pale lashes.
Her agent kept impressing on her how important it was to be on top form, how she was hot property right now and they needed to capitalize on that.
Stephanie was ready. The buzz around her next movie, Fields of Barley , was intense, and she was already being tipped for Oscar success – an idea which seemed crazy for a twenty-two-year-old from East Sussex who’d been practically unknown this time last year.
Stephanie felt the familiar crunch of anxiety in her stomach when she thought about the current situation.
Frowning, she forced herself to make a final, deep exhalation, then picked up her water bottle and walked out of the gym, contemplating whether to shower first or make herself a smoothie to quell the rumbling in her stomach.
She decided on the former, and was about to head to her room when she heard female voices coming from one of the reception rooms at the front of the house.
They were speaking in Spanish, and she could identify one as the housekeeper, Maria, but not the second woman.
Curious, Stephanie moved closer, her feet quiet on the tiled floor.
There was no door on this room – just a double-width, open archway that led directly from the expansive entrance hall to the immaculately decorated lounge – and Stephanie peered in.
Sitting elegantly on one of the pale blue damask sofas was a woman in her fifties, with a sleek, long bob in a deep shade of chestnut brown.
Her posture was excellent, her back straight and her chin tilted slightly upwards, and she was immaculately dressed in a crisp white T-shirt and slim-fit navy trousers.
‘ Sí, claro, ’ the housekeeper was saying, as the woman replied, ‘ Gracias ,’ and Maria walked away, acknowledging Stephanie as she passed. ‘Oh, senora, you have a telephone call, I was just coming to tell you.’
‘Oh,’ Stephanie said, her voice wary, ‘who is it?’
‘The same woman who called before … Her name is Victoria Hyde-Williams, you will take the call?’
Stephanie blanched, her heart fluttering at the sound of her agent’s name. ‘Please tell her I’ll call her back, thank you.’
Maria hesitated for a moment then shrugged and said, ‘OK, bien .’
Stephanie glanced towards the elegant woman on the sofa, who glanced up, her almond eyes following Maria out of the room. In that instant, Stephanie realized who she was.
‘Oh!’ she burst out, before she could stop herself. ‘Camille Fontaine! Oh my God, I love your bags! And your dresses!’
Camille smiled at Stephanie’s enthusiasm, seeming genuinely pleased with the compliment. ‘Thank you,’ she replied in English, with a French accent.
‘I’m Stephanie Moon, by the way,’ she said, stepping forwards and offering her hand. ‘I’m … staying here with Catherine for a couple of weeks.’
‘Lucky you,’ Camille laughed, as they shook hands. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Stephanie. If you don’t mind me asking, your face is familiar – would I recognize you from somewhere?’
‘Maybe …’ Stephanie said, a soft blush stealing across her face. This was happening more and more recently, and she was still getting used to it. ‘I’m an actress.’
‘ Mon dieu , yes of course, I saw you on stage last year when I was in London, in The Tempest at the National Theatre. You were Ariel. You were electric, and you’re even more beautiful in the flesh.’
‘That’s very kind of you. It’s been a crazy year and everything is so intense.’
‘Didn’t I read that your new film is in production in England somewhere?’
Stephanie paused, unsure what to say. ‘Yes, I’m in Fields of Barley with Colin Firth and Jude Law.
I’ve been … taking a break from it for a short while …
’ She quickly ploughed on before Camille could ask her anything awkward about why she was in Mallorca in her yoga pants and not being shouted at by an angry director on a cold and grey Yorkshire film set.
She set her face in a winning smile. ‘Catherine’s been so wonderful letting me stay here, to give myself a moment to recharge. She’s been like my fairy godmother.’
‘She’s fabulous, isn’t she? I’ve been longing to dress her for years, and now I finally have the opportunity.
That’s why I’m here,’ Camille explained.
‘Michael is receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award in Hollywood this autumn, and Catherine wants to wear something truly special. Today, we have our first meeting.’
‘That sounds incredible. I honestly do love your dresses,’ Stephanie gushed, genuinely, remembering as a teenager seeing footage of her idol Kate Moss sashaying down the catwalk in a flowing Camille white tuxedo suit. That was when life was very different, before everything changed.
‘Well perhaps we could work together too?’ Camille suggested. ‘You have a premiere coming up, non …?’
Stephanie let out a gasp. ‘Do you mean it?’
‘ Absolument. The pleasure would be all mine.’
The two women beamed at one another as Maria re-entered the room, carrying a tray with traditional Mallorcan pastries, a large silver pot and two cups, which she placed down on the marble coffee table in front of them.
‘The lady said please call her back urgently.’ Maria said. ‘She sounded very … tensa .’
Tense? Hardly surprising , Stephanie thought to herself.
‘Thank you, Maria.’ She quickly changed the subject.
‘So how did you end up being a fashion designer?’ Stephanie asked Camille, as she sat down in the adjacent armchair.
‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to have an idea in your head, and then see women all around the world wearing the clothes you’ve envisioned. ’
‘It is rather surreal sometimes,’ Camille agreed, pouring them both a coffee.
‘But wonderful too. People tend to think that fashion is frivolous, but the right clothes can change your life. They can give you confidence, boost your mood, and make you feel a hundred times better about yourself. When you’re wearing something beautiful, you can’t help but feel beautiful too. ’
Stephanie nodded. ‘I did a photo shoot recently for Vogue , wearing vintage couture gowns. The hours of work that had gone into them … They were like works of art.’
Camille nodded in agreement. ‘It’s true, that’s exactly what they are.
It’s how I started, you know – in couture.
I trained at the most prestigious institute in Paris.
It seems like such a long time ago now,’ Camille continued, her eyes misting over with memories.
Then she shook herself. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t want to listen to me droning on about the past. My goodness, I founded my company before you were even born! ’
‘No, I’d love to hear all about it.’ Stephanie slipped off her trainers and curled her legs up on the armchair. ‘Tell me all about how you started Camille Andre.’
Camille smiled sadly. ‘Andre, my husband, founded the business with me. We met at the Chambre Syndicale and we were instantly inseparable. We were very much in love. When we left the school, it was only natural that we would set up a business together. And get married, and have a child …’
‘That’s so romantic,’ Stephanie sighed.
‘Don’t misunderstand me – it wasn’t all moonlight and roses.
It took a long time for us to be successful, and that meant many years where money was tight, where we worked what felt like twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, all whilst trying to raise our son and keep our marriage strong.
We could have cut corners and aimed for mass-market appeal with a lower price tag, but we didn’t want to.
Andre insisted on quality,’ Camille smiled.
‘He always wanted the best, but success didn’t come immediately. ’
‘What changed?’
‘This,’ Camille said simply, indicating the iconic red calfskin handbag nestled on the sofa beside her. ‘We knew we had something special, but we didn’t understand the impact it would have. Everyone was carrying it, everyone wanted it. It changed our lives.’
‘Wow,’ Stephanie said softly. ‘Wait? Is Andre in Majorca with you? I’d love to meet him.’
Camille swallowed, her expression faltering. ‘He … he died,’ she explained quietly. ‘Just over four years ago now.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Stephanie burst out, feeling terrible. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘That’s all right,’ Camille insisted. ‘He was in a car accident. It was the most devastating time of my life. My son was also in the car and he was almost killed. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost them both …’
She trailed off, and Stephanie leaned across, taking Camille’s hands in hers.
She didn’t speak, just squeezed them reassuringly.
Words weren’t needed. Camille squeezed back and Stephanie knew she’d appreciated the gesture.
Even though she barely knew this woman, and their lives were very different, she felt a connection to her. Stephanie liked her immediately.
Camille sat up, extracting her hands to wipe away a stray tear.
‘Andre used to love Mallorca,’ she explained.
‘His mother was from the island, and we had so many happy times here. That’s why I’ve come back to launch the new Camille Andre collection.
But it’s bittersweet. I’m seeing him everywhere, remembering everything we used to do – our favourite bar where we’d drink a palo con sifón ; the little bakery where we’d buy fresh ensa?mada every morning; even the doorway by the monastery where we sheltered once during a summer rainstorm … ’
‘I’m sure he’d be so proud of you, continuing his legacy like this,’ Stephanie murmured.
She could see that Camille still carried a lot of pain, but imagined that she’d had no choice but to carry on.
It was something that Stephanie understood well; she’d endured struggles in her own life too …
but things had changed now. You can still lose it all, Stephanie , she heard a little voice in her ear say.
She ignored it and tried to focus on Camille.
‘I hope so. My son, Lucas, lives on the island now.’ She smiled gently. ‘He owns a restaurant, Il Paradiso.’
Stephanie tilted her head to one side, the name stirring a memory. ‘I’m sure Catherine said that’s where we were going for dinner tonight.’
‘Of course! I invited her and Michael for dinner, and she asked to bring another guest, so that’s perfect! They are both so welcoming, you can see how much friends and family mean to them. I can’t wait for you to meet Lucas.’
‘I’d love to.’
Camille sat back in her seat and beamed at Stephanie. ‘I can see that you’re a wonderful person. So talented and charming. You deserve all the success that’s coming your way—’
‘Camille, darling!’
Camille broke off as a throaty Welsh voice called her name, and she turned to see the beauty that was Catherine Zeta-Jones walking across the room towards them.
She was wearing golf attire, but still looked utterly stunning in pristine white trousers and a pink polo shirt, her raven hair pulled up in a topknot with a white visor perched on her head, as she surveyed them with her mesmerizing feline eyes.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she purred. ‘Michael and I completely lost track of time.’
‘Don’t worry at all,’ Camille reassured her, standing up as the two women air-kissed. ‘Stephanie and I have been having a lovely chat.’
‘Isn’t she a doll?’ Catherine beamed, turning to Stephanie who couldn’t help but smile back. ‘She’s going to be the biggest star.’
‘I can tell,’ Camille agreed. ‘I look forward to seeing you at Il Paradiso, Stephanie. It was so nice to meet you.’
‘And you. See you later,’ Stephanie smiled, as Catherine and Camille left the room, already talking about their ideas for Catherine’s gown.
Stephanie felt awestruck – she’d met the legendary Camille Fontaine!
Stephanie had hugely enjoyed speaking to Camille, full of admiration for everything she’d achieved.
Camille had clearly been through a lot, but she was a fighter, and Stephanie could relate to that.
And now Camille had offered to dress her for her film premiere!
She could almost explode with excitement.
A couple of years ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing a Camille dress in real life, but she’d been forced to up her game recently, poring over glossy magazines and becoming familiar with the most on-trend designers.
Her agent had even put her in touch with a stylist who’d taken her shopping on Bond Street, to ensure she looked every inch the sophisticated, upcoming starlet.
Her agent … Stephanie let out a small groan, thinking of Victoria’s call and imagining her steely, no-nonsense agent tapping her perfectly manicured nails on her desk and weighing up her next move.
‘You can’t avoid her for ever,’ Catherine had told Stephanie, and she was right, she couldn’t, but she hoped she could avoid her for a bit longer. For now, the Mallorcan sun was shining, and it was time for a refreshing dip in the Douglases’ amazing pool. Fame would have to wait.