Arriving at Bliss Designs, I’m annoyed, but not particularly shocked, to find a small clump of paparazzi outside, chatting amiably and sharing cigarettes.
‘Excuse me,’ I shout, waving my hand passive-aggressively as I push through the cloud of smoke.
‘All right, love, don’t get your knickers in a knot,’ one says.
I round on him with a glare so potent it could strip paint. He raises his hands in conciliation, and I hold his gaze a moment longer. But, of course, as soon as I turn around, he mutters, ‘Must be that time of month,’ to his peers and they all snigger. Toads.
Inside the fashion house, it sounds like I’ve wandered into a wildlife sanctuary. There’s wailing (Elle), cooing (Cassie), and bleating (Zara). Two other staff members I’ve yet to meet are chattering at the back of the workroom like a pair of budgerigars.
My appearance in the doorway silences everyone, including the two budgies at the back.
‘Poppy!’ Zara bleats. ‘What are you doing here?’
I can only imagine where her mind has gone – amid the media mayhem, here comes the journo from the world-renowned fashion magazine.
‘It’s all right, Zara,’ says Cassie, ushering her past me. ‘We were expecting Poppy.’
Zara’s panicked eyes ping between me, Cassie, and Elle, who is slumped on the sofa, her head in her hands. I flash Zara my warmest smile but that seems to make it worse. Seeming bereft, she wanders over to her colleagues, who gather her into a group hug.
You’d think someone had died.
I face Cassie. ‘Mind if I…?’ I ask. She stands aside, then closes the office door behind me.
‘You may as well show her,’ says Elle, her voice muffled by her hands.
‘Show me what?’ What could possibly have happened in the hour it took me to get here?
Cassie holds out her phone.
‘From today,’ she says.
On the screen is a series of poor-quality (but irrefutable) photos of Elle and Leo in this very spot, taken through the front window of Bliss Designs – close proximity, intense eye contact, and in one, they appear to be holding hands.
Fuck me, this case has more twists and turns than Nemesis at Alton Towers! (I will never forgive Shaz for making me ride it. ‘It’ll be fun’ my arse!)
I hand back the phone to Cassie and we lock eyes. The very first time I met her, she said that Elle could never know she’d engaged the Ever After Agency. If successful, Elle’s reunion with Leo had to seem organic, happenstance, kismet.
But we appear to be way past pretending this is fate. For the first time in my career as a matchmaker, I might have to lift the curtain. But before I can ask Cassie for a word in private, there’s a knock at the door. One of the staff I’ve yet to meet is standing there, seeming apologetic but determined.
‘Yes, Prue?’ Cassie asks wearily as she opens the door.
Poor Cassie. After this case is closed – no matter which way it plays out – I hope she’s planned a long and luxurious holiday.
‘Um, we were just thinking, with the paps outside and all…’ Cassie blinks at her, waiting patiently for her to get on with it. ‘What if me and Elle swapped clothes? I’m the closest to her in looks, see? A bit taller but we wear the same size and we’re both blondes and all.’
I glance between Prue and Elle, weighing up their similarities – and their differences, namely Prue’s outfit, a Harajuku-style, wildly patterned pair of pyjamas (or what look like PJs) worn with mid-calf, light-purple Dockers.
They could actually pull this off. The paps may be wily, but Elle wouldn’t be the first person to deceive them with a decoy.
Elle lifts her face from her hands. It’s blotchy and red and she’s obviously been crying – tears of frustration, no doubt, as my experience of Elle Bliss is that she’s no wilting violet.
‘Elle?’ asks Cassie. ‘What do you think?’
Elle sniffles and her expression brightens. ‘I think you’re a genius, Prue. But do you really want photographers following you home?’
‘I’m not going home, see. Me and my mates are heading out.’ She then walks us through an itinerary for the evening that’s so extensive, I’m exhausted just hearing about it. ‘And then my mate, Zsa Zsa, is DJing at this club in Camden but their set don’t start till one, see, so I won’t be home till at least three.’
On a school night? I think, appalled – mostly because at thirty-six, I already think like my mum.
‘But do you really want to go out looking like this?’ Elle asks, gesturing at her outfit: jeans and a T-shirt with a baseball cap perched on her head.
‘Might be fun to go out as a “normal”,’ Prue replies, as if she hasn’t just insulted three people. ‘We just need to switch outfits and I’ll borrow Gaz’s dark sunglasses. We’ll be right as rain.’
Elle leaps up and hugs her.
‘You’re the best.’
They leave the office to swap outfits in the fitting room, leaving me with my client – my actual client.
She falls into her office chair. Again, I hope she has something nice planned for herself after all this is settled.
‘So…’ I say, knowing that we have minutes at best, but I also need to couch what I’m about to propose carefully.
‘Remember when I asked you if it was worth it?’ she says, unwittingly pre-empting what I was about to say.
‘On that…’
She looks me square in the eye. ‘You think we should tell her, don’t you?’
Something I appreciate about Cassie Bliss: she always gets straight to the point.
‘Yes.’
‘She’s going to hate me.’
‘She won’t hate you. You’re her closest person.’
‘All right, she’ll be furious with me.’
‘Very possibly.’
In reality, this is almost definite, but agreeing may make Cassie decide against telling her sister what she’s done – what we’ve done.
She glances through the glass wall towards the back of the workroom – clearly, like me, she’s aware we have little time. But it’s her call and I won’t rush her. Besides, if she does agree, I’ll need approval from either Saskia or Paloma – likely both.
Cassie looks at me, her eyes heavy with sadness, and nods.
‘All right. So, how do we—’
‘Before I walk you through it, I need to talk to my higher-ups – get their sign-off.’
She nods again and I excuse myself to make the call, heading to the only place where I’ll have privacy – the loo.
Saskia answers her mobile immediately. ‘Poppy, brilliant timing as we were just about to call you.’ Uh-oh, that does not bode well. ‘Right, you’re now on speaker.’
‘Poppy, it’s Mia,’ she says. ‘Spill the Tea and The Juice have both published new photographs of your client with the love interest.’
Wonderful – just two of the biggest gossip sites in the world. This means that in little over an hour, this story has already gone global.
‘Nasrin updated us that the engagement is a publicity stunt,’ says Paloma, ‘but even so, this doesn’t look good.’
Bugger. They’re going to ask me to close the case. The last time I stepped in it this badly, I’d fallen in love with the client.
‘Poppy?’ Saskia prompts when I don’t respond.
‘Uh, sorry. I’m here. Two things. First, this latest… uh, development… it’s not surprising. The paparazzi are currently camped outside Bliss Designs.’
‘Do you need an extraction?’ Paloma offers. These are so rare, there hasn’t been one since I joined the agency and I’d forgotten we offer them as a service.
‘All good in that department – we’re going with a decoy – but thank you.’
‘A convincing decoy? Because I could have a team there in twenty minutes,’ Paloma responds.
Before Paloma goes all ‘Impossible Mission Force’ on me and puts in a call to Tom Cruise, I leap in. ‘No, no, we have a convincing decoy. And the paparazzi will be going on the wildest of goose chases, I promise.’
‘Good,’ says Saskia. ‘So, what was the second thing, Poppy?’
Before I continue, I inhale a long slow breath through my nose. This is it – either the only thing that can get this case back on track or the end of the line.
‘I think we need to read in the client,’ I say, my tone measured.
‘Sorry, did you say—’ Saskia starts.
‘You mean the publicist?’ Paloma asks to clarify.
‘I mean the client – not Cassie Bliss, who engaged us – but Elle Bliss. I’m asking to read her in and, after she proceeds as I suspect she will – revealing all to Leo – we regroup and determine a way forward.’
I love it when ‘Professional Poppy’ takes over and I sound all… well… professional.
‘And Paloma?’ I add before they can respond. ‘My best guess is that from tomorrow, we’ll need to PR the hell out of this.’
‘Oi, Poppy,’ says Nasrin.
‘Uh, yes?’
‘You forgetting that I brought in this case – and I’m your second. You should have—’
‘Nasrin,’ says Saskia, interrupting her rant, ‘those are both salient points but let’s revisit them when we’re all back in the office.’ Great, can’t wait for that convo.
Other than a muffled harumph, which sounds like Nas, the line goes quiet. I suspect that Saskia and Paloma are having one of their ‘mind-meld’ chats through the air.
‘That’s sorted then,’ says Saskia a few moments later. ‘Poppy, read in the client.’
Relieved, I exhale with a ‘phoof’ that echoes around the toilet – oops.
‘And don’t forget the NDA,’ says Paloma.
Right, so potentially blow up my client’s world and have her sign a non-disclosure agreement. Got it.
‘Oh, and Poppy, can you be in by eight tomorrow?’ she asks.
‘Yes, absolutely.’
‘Good,’ she says. ‘Then we’ll get started on the PR campaign – you, me, Nasrin, and Marie.’
‘Cool.’
Cool? I must be more rattled than I thought.
I end the call, thrilled but stunned I got the green light, and when I get back to the office, Prue has already left on ‘Project Decoy’, and Zara and Gaz, the third staff member, have gone home for the day.
‘Are you all right, Poppy?’ Elle asks.
‘Uh, yeah, why?’
‘Just wondered if you were sick or something. You were in the loo for an age.’
‘Oh,’ I say, laughing loudly at myself. ‘Dodgy curry,’ I lie. I flick a glance towards Cassie, who’s staring at her desktop, then meet Elle’s eye and smile broadly.
The poor woman – she has no idea what we’re about to tell her.
