‘What’s going on in there?’ Paloma asks, stepping up beside me. I could pretend I have X-ray vision and retort like a smart-arse, but I don’t.
‘What I hope is happening is that Leo is convincing Elle to stick this out.’
Paloma looks at me, horrified. ‘You really think she’d call it off? The relationship, everything?’
‘Based solely on the past fifteen minutes? Unfortunately, yes.’
‘Well, bollocks,’ says Paloma, being uncharacteristically common. ‘I’ve become quite invested in these two.’
‘Really?’ The word is out of my mouth before I can temper my amazement.
‘Do you really think I’d work at a matchmaking agency if I didn’t champion our clients’ love stories?’ she asks, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
‘Sorry,’ I say. And I am. Paloma and I may have been colleagues for five years, but this is the first time we’ve actually worked together on a case. I’ve clearly underestimated how much she cares about what we do here.
She shrugs. ‘It’s all right. With Sask being “The Swan” – always serene and magnanimous – I’ve had to be the tough one. Perhaps that makes me “The Crow”.’
If I were drinking something, this would be a spit-take moment.
‘Wait, so you know the rest of us call her “The Swan”?’ I don’t dare even mention ‘The Crow’ comment, but wait until I tell the others! George may wet himself.
Paloma’s laugh is low and throaty. ‘Of course, and so does she.’ She laughs again, louder this time. ‘Your face, Poppy.’
Elle’s raised voice draws our attention, although I can’t make out what she’s saying. Paloma and I exchange a worried look, both suddenly sobered. It’s a reminder that there’s far more at stake now than when we called Elle and Leo into the agency, barely an hour ago.
And what is with that, this case changing direction on an hourly basis? It’s certainly keeping me on my toes.
But it’s nothing compared to what Elle and Leo are dealing with – navigating their rekindled relationship and the risk to their careers. This could be a death knell if we don’t handle it exactly right. It was challenging enough when this was a ‘simple’ love triangle. But after the TV interview and the shocking news Marie just brought us, this case is careening towards the edge of a cliff.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Saskia leave her office and go into the conference room.
‘Do you think we should…?’ asks Paloma, indicating the toilet door.
I shake my head. ‘We should wait,’ I reply, sort-of pulling rank. Though, technically, this is still my case. I glance over to gauge her reaction, but she seems to have accepted my decision.
The truth is I’d love to barge in there and drag the two lovers out so we can get back to untangling this mess, but this is a critical moment for them and I’ve already interrupted them twice.
Eventually, the door opens.
‘Sorry to keep y’all waiting,’ says Leo. Elle is silent but gives me a close-lipped smile.
‘Poppy, we’ll see you all in there,’ Paloma says, stepping away.
‘Hey, you two,’ I say to Leo and Elle.
Looking between them, I’m reasonably confident what they’ve decided, but I’d like to hear it from them.
‘Before we go any further, I need to know where you’re at. And before you tell me, I’ll add that no matter what else happens, I’m on your side and I’ll work my bum off to give you the best possible outcome. Okay?’
Elle
‘Thank you, Poppy,’ I say. ‘That’s very reassuring.’ When she and Cassie revealed yesterday that they’d been conspiring, I was livid, but now… Well, Poppy and the agency may be our only hope.
‘Yeah, that means the world to us,’ says Leo.
‘So, where are you at?’ Poppy asks, looking between us.
‘We want to be together, so we need your help to figure this out,’ says Leo.
‘Elle?’ she asks. ‘That’s what you want too?’
I nod vigorously. ‘Yes.’ I look up at Leo and he gives me a wink.
‘That’s brilliant,’ says Poppy, grinning at us. ‘I’m thrilled for both of you, really.’
‘She made me work for it, though,’ Leo teases.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, backhanding him lightly in the stomach.
‘You did, but you’re totally worth it.’ He holds me close with one arm and smacks a kiss on the top of my head.
‘Right, so…’ says Poppy, the smile falling from her face, ‘now that’s settled, new information has come to light.’
‘Since we were in the bathroom? For real?’ Leo asks.
‘Yes and it’s… it’s not good. Come on, let’s get you into the conference room so we can fill you in.’
As Poppy leads us across the office, I lean close to Leo. ‘God, now what? We’ve already been chased by the paps and eviscerated on morning television.’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Well, we weren’t in the loo long enough for aliens to invade,’ I quip.
‘Or for a plague of locusts to descend,’ he replies.
When we enter the room, conversation ceases and all eyes swing towards us. God, whatever’s happened in the past fifteen minutes, it must be terrible news. The mood in here is markedly sombre.
Cassie rushes over and hugs me.
‘You all right, Bean?’ she asks quietly. I nod inside her embrace and after a tight squeeze, she releases me, then scrutinises me closely. ‘Wait, you look happy.’ A grin breaks across my face, despite the gloomy atmosphere, and I nod vigorously. ‘Oh my god! Really?’
A loud, ‘Ahem,’ bursts our bubble and we both look towards Paloma. ‘Sorry to interrupt…’ She doesn’t seem particularly sorry. ‘If you could please take a seat.’
I sit next to Leo, Cassie sits beside me, and both reach for one of my hands. Whatever we’re about to discover, at least we’re in this together.
‘And just quickly, introductions,’ says Paloma. ‘This is Saskia, the founder of the agency.’ An attractive, stylish woman in her mid-forties smiles at me across the table. ‘And our investigator, Marie.’ Marie is a woman of about seventy who’s even tinier than I am and, belying her age, is dressed like a throw-back to the punk era. Curiously, she’s also holding an unlit cigarette between her fingers as if she’s smoking.
‘Marie has made a pertinent – and timely – discovery,’ says Paloma. ‘Marie, over to you.’
Paloma sits next to Cassie and we all watch as Marie walks to the head of the table with a slight swagger. She may be diminutive, but she certainly knows how to command a room. She presses a button on the remote she’s holding and the screen above her head fills with an image of Franzia on the catwalk at Leo’s fashion show.
I draw in a sharp breath.
‘You all know this person as Franzia,’ says Marie in a thick French accent. After a brief dramatic pause, she continues. ‘But you probably do not know that she is actually… Karen Whitehead.’
Marie advances to the next image: a high school-aged girl, pretty, plump, and fresh-faced, posing with a girlfriend, their school uniforms askew and both holding melting ice cream cones.
‘What the hell?’
My head swivels towards Leo. ‘You didn’t know? About her real name?’ I ask.
‘Uh-uh,’ he says, his eyes riveted to the screen. He blinks a couple of times and shakes his head, then meets my eye. ‘To be honest, I’ve barely spent any time with her that wasn’t staged.’
‘Right, of course. And where is she from, Karen Whitehead?’ I ask Marie, thinking of Franzia’s all-over-the-place accent. ‘Given her real name, I’m guessing it’s not somewhere in eastern Europe?’
‘Shropshire,’ Marie replies.
I bark out a laugh. ‘Oh my god. So that means “Franzia the supermodel” is a construct, essentially a character!’ I say, my voice steeped in mockery. ‘Oh.’ I realise what I’ve said and turn to face Leo, AKA Lorenzo. ‘Sorry, that was thoughtless of me.’
He gives me a tight-lipped smile. I really didn’t mean to disparage him or lump him in with the Franzias of this world.
‘Oui, c’est vrai,’ says Marie, replying to my rhetorical question. ‘And,’ she continues, ‘we have all seen the public Franzia, but how many have seen this side of her?’
She advances to the next image of Franzia, one in which she’s stabbing a finger at a cowering makeup artist, her face contorted in fury.
‘Oh my god,’ I say under my breath.
‘Oh, wow,’ says Leo. I glance over and he’s clearly bewildered. ‘I mean, she was pissed when she came to the store this morning, but that’s out of control. Do you think this is a one-off or…?’ he asks Marie.
‘My sources tell me that this’ – she points to the screen – ‘it happens all the time. But never in front of the designers or photographers.’
‘I’m glad you’ve never seen this side of her,’ Cassie says to Leo. ‘She sounds like a right mare.’
There’s something in the way Cass says this that troubles me, then realisation dawns. ‘Wait, did you know? About Franzia?’ I ask her.
‘I… Yes.’
‘For how long?’
Her eyes flick towards Poppy and Nasrin across the table. ‘Er, we found out after Paris,’ she says, ‘but it didn’t change anything about your situation, so—’
‘So, you kept it from me?’
Cassie nods, her shoulders stiffening – possibly bracing herself for a verbal blow. But how can I be angry with her? She brought me and Leo back together.
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I think I understand.’
Cassie is visibly relieved. ‘Thanks, Bean,’ she whispers.
‘Bon, there is more,’ says Marie. I don’t know if I can take any more revelations. This has already been a day. Reluctantly, I return my attention to the odd little French woman.
She advances to the next photograph – one of a smallish balding man wearing an expensive suit and – wouldn’t you know it – a certain supermodel is hanging off his arm. ‘This is Franzia’s real fiancé,’ says Marie, ‘French financier, Jean Trudeau.’
‘What the fuck?’ Cassie and I ask in unison.
‘Wait, what?!’ Leo asks.
‘Ah, oui, Franzia is already engaged – for two years now. But, uh… Trudeau, he is married and until his wife agrees to a divorce, the engagement remains a secret.’
‘So, she announced she’s engaged to me to cover up her engagement to him?’ Leo asks. ‘What the actual fuck?’
‘Yes!’ I exclaim. ‘Why not just lay low with the French bloke until he’s divorced?’
‘Why else? Like most things in life, it is about money.’ I’m not sure I subscribe to Marie’s life philosophy, but she has me completely captivated.
‘A fidelity clause in the marriage,’ she continues. ‘He cheats, the wife, she gets an enormous settlement. Mais, she gets an even bigger one if they stay married for ten years. Alors… the wife, she has the control, non?’
‘So, when is the ten years up?’ I ask.
‘Six weeks from now,’ replies Marie.
‘Six weeks?’ I turn towards Leo again and the colour has drained from his face.
‘Leo,’ I say, ‘six weeks. This means all that rubbish about being a brand ambassador…’
‘It was a lie… She was just using me – well, I knew she was. We were using each other, but…’
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ I say, grasping his hand even tighter. ‘I mean, who are these people?’
‘Elle, Leo, there’s something else,’ says Poppy.
Leo and I exchange another look. ‘Oh god, it is aliens,’ I say, right as he says, ‘Can only be the locusts.’ Despite the gravity of the situation, we share a mirthless smile.
‘Okay, lay it on us,’ says Leo, dropping my hand and throwing his arms out wide.
Marie goes to speak, but Poppy cuts her off. ‘Before Marie tells you what else we’ve just learnt, I want you to know we have a way out of this.’
‘Yes, we are fully committed to helping you achieve your happily ever after,’ Saskia chimes in.
Our happily ever after… Right now, that’s difficult to envision. Though I suppose Leo and I did just declare our love for each other – even if it was in the loo. At least there’s that.
‘Okay?’ Poppy asks.
‘Like I said, lay it on us,’ says Leo. He inhales deeply, obviously girding himself for what’s to come. If only something as simple as taking a deep breath would help me, but my heart is racing and my throat feels like the Sahara.
‘Marie?’ says Poppy, handing back to her.
‘Alors,’ says Marie, raising her hands as if making an offering to the gods, ‘here, we have a faux engagement with the model, herself a fabrication, and she is already engaged to the billionaire.’
Good god. She could get a job as a psychic in a carnival with all these theatrics. Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Madame Marie! All she needs is a scarf and a crystal ball.
‘And who do you think is behind all this?’ Marie asks, pointing around the table with her unlit cigarette.
Leo raises his hand as if we’re in school. ‘Well, my aunt is – sorry, my publicist. She’s the one who arranged the engagement, but we all know that, right?’
Marie’s expression sours. ‘Ah, oui, of course – she arranged the engagement. But it is bigger, non?’
Just get to the point! My hands twitch with the urge to leap up and shake the little French woman by the shoulders. This isn’t a theatrical production, this is my life! Mine and Leo’s. Can’t she just hurry the fuck up?
Thankfully, Paloma steps in, echoing my exact thoughts. ‘Marie, if you could please just get to the point.’
She tosses an annoyed look towards Paloma, then presses the button on the remote to reveal a collage of photographs and graphics that can only mean one thing.
Oh. My. God.
