Part 18 (1/2)

'I only want to meet you, sis,' he said smoothly. 'I only want to get to know you. After all, blood's thicker than water.'

'I told you. If you don't p.i.s.s off, I'm calling the police,' I told him. 'This is hara.s.sment.'

There was a short pause and then he asked, 'Louise have you seen last week's edition of The Stage?'

'No, why?' My stomach lurched. What did he know that I didn't?

'It was Mum who spotted it,' he said. 'She's so proud of you, our mum. She bought the magazine to see if there was anything in it about you. Imagine how upset she was when she saw an article with the headline: The Show That Never Was. She's really upset for you, Louise.'

My blood ran cold. I'd no idea that the news was buzzing around the business already, but at least it was only the trade paper. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' I bluffed.

'Oh, I think you do,' he said softly. 'I bet your family in Bridgehampton are p.i.s.sed off for you. Or maybe you ain't broke the news to them yet, eh?'

I caught my breath. 'Look, just leave my family out of it,' I said. 'If you were thinking of blackmailing me, forget it. I've got no money left, and after tomorrow I won't be here so don't bother trying to ring again.'

I cut him off before he could reply and switched off my phone. Something about that voice of his chilled me to the marrow. Maybe I should buy another mobile and throw this one away. I only hoped I'd be able to persuade Di to take pity on me tomorrow. I looked at the remains of my meal, congealing in its plastic tray, and tossed it into the bin, my stomach churning. For the second night I hardly slept, tossing and turning as I tried to think of ways to stop the man who called himself my 'brother' from persecuting me.

The bridal boutique was called Camilla and I soon discovered that it was the name of the boutique owner and designer. I arrived bright and early and she looked me up and down.

'It's a nice suit,' she said.

I nodded. 'It's Chanel.'

'Mmm.' She pursed her lips. 'The best thing about Chanel is that their suits keep their shape however old they are.'

That was me told! She showed me around, drawing back the velvet curtains on the rails. The gowns were beautiful but some of the price tags took my breath away anything from a 'humble' two grand as she put it, to over 5,000. Camilla, as she asked me to call her, caught my expression and smiled.

'You get what you pay for, I always say,' she said smoothly. 'All the highest-priced dresses are unique one-off, so the bride who wears them can be sure that no one else can upstage her.' She fingered the material. 'Nothing but the best fabrics, French lace and silk from manufacturers in Belgium where I have a standing order. Here, feel for yourself.'

I touched the material reverently, feeling that it might mark if I as much as looked at it. 'It's lovely,' I said. 'And you design them all yourself?'

'All the best ones, yes. In my studio upstairs.'

'And do you do the actual sewing?'

'No. I have four expert out-workers,' she told me. 'And two embroiderers, one of them a young man.' She turned away. 'Follow me and I'll show you the staffroom where you can take your breaks.'

After the showroom and the luxurious fitting rooms with their mirror-lined walls and little gilt chairs, I was surprised at the so-called staffroom. It consisted of a sink unit with a kettle and toaster, a Formica-topped table and two wooden chairs. The floor was covered in cracked vinyl. I looked at her. 'Isn't there a microwave?'

She looked down her nose. 'No. If you want a hot lunch, you could always go out. I'm told there's a McDonald's in one of the side streets. Personally, I like to watch my figure.'

My first customer arrived when Camilla had popped out to the bank. A very pretty young girl and her mother stood looking around them self-consciously as I approached.

'Good morning. Can I help you?'

The mother spoke first. 'We're looking for a wedding dress,' she said.

'I love the one in the window,' the girl said. 'But there isn't a price tag on it and we ...' She looked at her mother uncertainly and I guessed that Camilla's prices were going to frighten the pants off them.

'That one is very expensive,' I told them. 'Camilla herself designs all the expensive dresses and they cost a lot because they are unique. Would you like to try something on?'

The young girl's cheeks flushed. 'Oh, could I?'

'How much is the one in the window?' the mother insisted. She cast a warning glance in her daughter's direction. 'Before we get too carried away.'

'I'll just check.' I drew aside the curtain at the back of the window and peered at the price label, concealed inside the back of the neck. Holding my breath, I stepped out again and turned to look at them. 'It's 3,500,' I told them. 'But of course, as I said, it is ...'

'I think we'll leave it, thank you.' The mother grasped her daughter's arm and began to hustle her towards the door.

'That is one of our most expensive dresses,' I said quickly. 'We do have some lower-priced gowns, if you'd like to come this way.'

At the back of the showroom were two rails of what Camilla called 'budget dresses'. I drew one or two out and the faces of mother and daughter relaxed a little. The girl picked out a couple to try on and eventually chose one. As I packed it carefully in tissue paper and one of the distinctive black and pink Camilla boxes, I was thrilled to think I'd made a sale and when Camilla returned, I couldn't wait to tell her. She looked pleased until I told her which dress it was.

'I told you to push the designer gowns,' she said, looking cross.

'I did but they were obviously out of their price range.'

'What does that matter? You'll find that if you push in the right way they usually give in. After all, they can always economize on something else.'

'How do you mean, push in the right way?'

Camilla sighed. 'Flatter them, of course. Tell them the dress was made for them that they have the perfect figure for it. Point out that they'll regret it for the rest of their lives if they don't get the very best that sort of thing.' She glared at me. 'Use your two and a half brain cells for once, dear!'

I opened my mouth to give her both barrels but I bit my tongue just in time. For two pins, I could have walked out there and then but like it or not I needed this job and after all, she was paying me what I asked. But as she turned away, I promised myself that the minute one of the agents I'd contacted came up with a half-decent job, I'd be out of here in a flash.

As the day went by and more customers came in, I observed Camilla's sales technique. She really did go over the top with her flattery and oiliness. The amazing thing was that it seemed to work. I wondered how much mark-up there was on a dress designed by her and reckoned it couldn't be far off eighty per cent. No wonder she pushed so hard. After each sale she was impossible; so conceited and overconfident that I longed to bring her down a peg.

Di had only just got in from work when I arrived at the flat. She looked tired and took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured us both a gla.s.s. I'd had nothing to eat since breakfast and I secretly hoped she'd ask me to stay for supper.

'So ...' she said as she handed me my gla.s.s. 'Tell me your news. What's this West End job you've landed?'

'Not what you think.' Perched on one of her kitchen stools at the breakfast bar, I told her about Paul Fortune's treachery. I went on to describe my first day as sales a.s.sistant at Camilla's. As the wine relaxed me I found myself camping it up a bit imitating Camilla's voice and mannerisms and soon Di was in fits of laughter.

'Oh, Lou, you are priceless,' she said. 'I'd love to have been a fly on the wall. Looks as if you've met your match in the formidable Camilla.'

I wasn't sure what she meant by that. Somehow it didn't feel like a compliment, but I decided to let it go. 'Look, Di, I might as well cut to the chase and tell you why I'm here,' I said. 'I've got this horrific bedsit in Stoke Newington. It takes ages to get up to the West End in the rush hour and I wondered ...'

'If I could put you up,' she finished for me.

'It would only be temporary,' I a.s.sured her. 'I'm expecting an offer from my new agent any day now.'

'Your new agent? What about Harry Clay?'

'He's decided to retire,' I told her. 'He put money into the show too and it's just about finished him. Of course, if Mike isn't happy with the situation, I'd look elsewhere. I don't want to ruin your relations.h.i.+p.'

'Mike and I aren't together any more,' Di said.

I'd suspected as much but I feigned surprise. 'Oh, Di I'm sorry to hear that.'

'I found out that he was only using me and my flat as a stop-gap until he found somewhere else to live,' she said with more than a hint of bitterness. 'Plus the fact that he met someone else.' She shook her head. 'I won't go into details but it wasn't the happiest of partings. It'll be a long time before I trust another man!'