There is complete silence in the room as we all stare at the screen, the elements clicking into place. But even when it seems irrefutable, how we’ve got to this point, I still can’t believe it. Conspiracy theorists couldn’t have dreamt this up.
And poor Leo!
‘Does this mean…?’ he says. ‘So, Aunt Serena…?’
His questions dangle unfinished, and his brows knit together, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
‘Are you all right?’ I ask.
His eyes remain fixed on the screen, but he manages to shake his head. ‘No, no I’m not all right. Can someone please explain this to me because I’m having trouble getting my head around it?’
‘But of course, you see—’ Marie begins, but Paloma talks over her.
‘Thank you, Marie, I’ll take it from here.’
Paloma stands and crosses to the screen while Marie strolls over to the doorframe. She leans against it and inhales from her unlit cigarette. I’d thought it was merely a prop she was using to punctuate her points, but apparently not.
‘Right,’ says Paloma, and I shift my focus to her. ‘We have three key players in this plot.’
It’s unclear if she means ‘storyline’ or ‘ploy’ but both apply.
‘Karen Whitehead, or Franzia; the French financier, Trudeau; and Serena “Ser” Robbins. As we all know, Ser is Leo’s publicist. What we didn’t know until today – and thank you to Marie for this additional intel – is that she’s also Franzia’s publicist.’
Ah, so I have deduced correctly. When I glance at Leo again, he’s turned ashen, almost greenish. I cast my eyes about for a bin in case he’s about to vomit, spying one in the corner.
‘Hold on,’ he says, ‘that can’t be right. Aunt Serena would have told me.’ He looks to me. ‘She would have told me.’
Feeling helpless, all I can do is offer a commiserating smile.
‘It was hard to determine,’ says Marie from the door. She pushes off the doorframe and swaggers back to the head of the table. ‘But it is true. Madame Robbins masked the connection with a… How do you say…?’ Her hand flutters in the air as she tries to find the right word. ‘…an intermediate.’
‘Intermediary,’ chorus several people around the table.
‘Oui, as I said.’ Marie steps in front of Paloma and stands directly under the screen. ‘But this connection is at the heart of this arrangement,’ she says, drawing the line between Ser and Trudeau. ‘Robbins and Trudeau, they know each other for thirty years, possibly longer. She was acting in his interest all along.’
‘But she wouldn’t…’
Again, Leo’s words trail off, and no wonder – this woman is a close family friend and he’s known her his whole life.
‘She would and she did,’ says Paloma. ‘In fact, it was Serena Robbins who took an obscure girl from a working-class family, who had striking looks coupled with dogged ambition, and jettisoned her into the supermodel stratosphere.’
‘Wait, so how long has Serena been Franzia’s publicist?’ asks Leo, seeming even more baffled.
‘Six years, give or take…’ Paloma responds.
‘Oh my god. I was the ring-in. She was using me as a red herring. She didn’t give a fuck about furthering my career.’
‘Leo, that may not be the case,’ I offer.
‘You’re being too kind,’ he says, insistent. To himself, he says, ‘Deep down, I knew something was off and now I know why.’
‘And don’t forget: the real fiancé is Robbins’ lifelong friend,’ says Marie, brows raised. ‘She may even have introduced them.’
At this, she shrugs, her lips pursed, so I’m assuming this is conjecture, not fact – though it tracks with the rest of this morning’s revelations.
Serena Robbins better hope we never meet again. I may be little, but I am fierce when it comes to protecting my loved ones. I once kicked a much older boy in the bollocks because he made fun of Cassie’s boobs at school. Totally worth getting detention for.
‘La situation,’ Marie continues, ‘est très compliquée. This is why it takes me so long to untether the threads.’
‘Untangle,’ corrects Nasrin.
‘Oui, as I said. Many connections, many lies. It is a giant mess.’
‘A giant mess,’ Leo echoes wanly, and I rub a hand along his arm. I wish there was something more I could do. I can only hope the agency really does have a way out of this.
A phone starts ringing and, as often happens in a group when a phone rings, everyone checks theirs despite the distinctive ringtone.
‘Mine,’ says Leo feebly, reaching into his front pocket. He swallows hard when he sees who’s calling. He holds it up for us to see. ‘It’s Aunt Serena.’
‘Wait as long as possible, then answer it,’ says Paloma, already on the move and heading to the door. She signals for Leo to follow, and I instinctively rise from the table to go with him.
We follow her into the office next door, where she snatches a pad off the desk and scribbles something. She hands it to Leo as he answers.
‘Hello, Aunt Serena.’
I read the note over his shoulder.
You have a new publicist – me.
I look to Paloma and she nods assuredly. Leo is listening to Ser and although I can’t make out everything she’s saying, I detect her soothing tone and catch snatches of reassurances – ‘everything’s under control’ comes up at least twice. Eventually, Leo must tire of her shit, and he sets the phone on the desk, pressing the speakerphone button.
‘Aunt Serena,’ he says, interrupting her faux-soothing monologue about his ‘best interests’. She prattles on a few moments longer until he raises his voice. ‘Aunt Serena, stop talking.’ She does. ‘Listen to me. I’m in a meeting right now with my new publicist and you’re on speakerphone.’
‘But you can’t—’
‘Nope. It’s my turn to talk.’ His rage infuses the air in the spacious office and I’m barely aware that Poppy joins us.
‘I know what you did,’ he says, his voice a low growl. Ser is so quiet, I wonder if the call has dropped, but Leo continues regardless. ‘I know that Franzia is someone you created, just like Lorenzo, and all about the French billionaire and how they’re engaged. I know you used me.’
‘Leo, listen… please.’
He huffs out a breath from his nose, his complexion now red with fury. ‘Go on then. Make your excuses. How about I roll camera so we can submit your performance to the Oscars?’
‘That’s unfair—’
‘Is it?’
‘Hey, I worked my arse off to get you where you are.’ Ah, there she is – the cutthroat publicist who creates personas from thin air. ‘And now you’re accusing me of collusion? What the f—’
‘Serena, this is Paloma Martinez-Pérez. I’m advising you that your former client has now engaged my services and will no longer be needing yours. We’ll have the paperwork to you by close of business today, New York time.’
‘So, you won’t let me explain myself?’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Paloma replies. ‘My investigator has been particularly thorough.’
‘Your investigat—’
‘Yes, and fair warning, we are launching a counter campaign. You may want to warn Ms Whitehead and Mr Trudeau. Good day.’ She reaches across her desk and ends the call. ‘Right,’ she says with a broad smile, ‘let’s get to work.’
‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask Leo.
He nods, expelling a heavy sigh. ‘Yeah… yeah, I am. But, just one question,’ he says to Paloma.
She lifts her brows inquisitively.
‘You’re not really my publicist, are you?’
‘I absolutely am – that is, until you can find someone who won’t compromise your best interests and of the calibre you’ll require – you will both require – once we sort out this current situation.’
Leo and I share a glance and I suspect he’s thinking the same as me.
‘Paloma,’ I say, broaching the subject with caution, ‘it’s just that—’
‘Oh, forgive me,’ she says, that winsome smile making another appearance. It’s clear that on some level, she’s enjoying this. ‘Before the agency, I was head of European campaigns for Four Corners PR.’
Wowser – only one of the top PR agencies in the world.
‘Oh, wow. That’s awesome,’ says Leo.
Paloma chuckles at that and so does Poppy. ‘Shall we?’ she asks, indicating for us to vacate her office.
As we move next door to the conference room, I take Leo aside.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘About Aunt Serena?’
‘Yes.’
He rubs a hand along his jawline. ‘It’s a lot, and I’m going to have to talk to my mom…’
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘You’ve got to figure out stuff with Cassie, too. She kept quite a bit from you.’
‘Cass and I will be okay – we’re sisters. Sisters can forgive almost anything.’
‘I’m glad.’ His eyes twinkle as he dips his head for a quick kiss. ‘Because, if she hadn’t done all this, we wouldn’t be together.’
‘And there’s that. Your aunty, however…’
Anger clouds his expression. ‘I don’t know if I can think of her like that any more – as my aunt. I wonder how my mom will take it. Not well, is my guess.’ He stares past me, his scowl deepening.
‘Look,’ I say, hoping I can be helpful when I feel so helpless, ‘we just need to get through this “counter campaign”, whatever it may be, then you can take the time you need to process everything.’
He abandons his thoughts and fixes me with a piercing look. ‘I’m really glad you’re here. Not just ’cause you’re you and I love you, but it’s been rough and it’s probably going to get rougher for a while, and yes, I have my mom and Brandy, but with you… It’s just… I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side through all this.’
A thousand doubts and just as many niggling questions are swept away in an instant. I may have acknowledged I love him, but now I know, without a single doubt, that I would never let him navigate something like this on his own.
And although I have my sister, like Leo has his family, I feel the exact same way about him. He’s my person. Only the words don’t come, as I’m engulfed by emotion. Instead, I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck and whisper, ‘Me too.’
Poppy
Giving Elle and Leo a few moments alone, I follow Paloma back into the conference room, finding a hum of activity. Cassie and Nasrin have their heads together, Marie is working on her laptop, sucking on her ever-present cigarette, Saskia is taking a call, and Anita has joined us and is taking coffee orders. I ask for a flat white.
Saskia waves Paloma and me over.
‘Brilliant, Anjali, thank you. Speak soon and love to Gordon and the children.’ She ends the call. ‘Nouveau is on board.’
Paloma, showing a minor chink in her typically flawless armour, is visibly relieved. ‘Oh, thank god.’
‘Anji loves the idea and has promised she can get Amelia Windsor to sign off.’
‘And the leaked photograph?’
‘Their website and socials have lit up since this morning. The leak actually works for us.’
‘Brilliant. Thank you, Sask. That could have been the fly in the ointment.’
‘Sorry, could you possibly fill me in?’ I ask, taking extra care not to sound stroppy. ‘I feel like I’m missing something.’
I’m missing all of it, as I have no idea what they’re talking about other than a new item on the recently wheeled-in whiteboard that reads ‘Nouveau’ and is underlined three times.
‘Soz, Poppy,’ says Saskia. ‘Anjali is the features editor at Nouveau and our old school chum. She’s the one who’s been helping us on this case.’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ I knew that part. ‘And what exactly have we asked Anjali to do?’
‘Nouveau is changing their approach to the Bliss Designs–Lorenzo feature,’ Paloma explains. ‘They’ll embrace the long-lost love angle and they’re bringing forward the publication date. It will go out in the summer issue in June.’
‘Wow, nicely done.’
Paloma smiles, clearly chuffed. ‘Why, thank you,’ she says with a modest head tilt. ‘Now we just need Hello Britain to fall into line. We’ve asked for a spot on this Saturday’s show.’
‘This Saturday?’ I ask, thinking of Jacinda’s plan to move Shaz into Lauren’s (whether she likes it or not).
‘Yes, is that a problem?’ Paloma asks.
I give them my Poppy-the-Professional smile. ‘Not at all. I just need to move a couple of things around.’ As in, move the moving of my bestie into her girlfriend’s flat. Jacinda will not be pleased but, despite our new understanding, Paloma is still ‘The Crow’ and that makes her even scarier than Jass.
‘Sask,’ says Paloma, ‘I’ll need your help on a contract for Leo. He’s signing over his publicity management to me in the interim.’ Saskia was once a solicitor and I’m reminded yet again the breadth and depth of the skills in our small (but mighty) team at the Ever After Agency.
As I’m basking in thoughts of how very special we are, in walk our clients – accurate now that Paloma is signing Leo. ‘Hello, you two,’ I chirrup. ‘Let me fill you in.’
‘Fill us in?’ asks Elle, looking to Leo. ‘We were just with you two minutes ago.’
‘Ah, yes,’ says Nasrin, swivelling in her chair, ‘but things move quickly when we’re on the case.’
As if she’s been cued, Ursula pops her head in.
‘How are things with the “Elle and the Shoemaker” case?’ she says loudly. ‘Need anything?’
I can tell the exact moment she realises that both Elle and the shoemaker are present.
‘Oh, my apologies.’ Ursula’s face may be immobile, but her complexion is not impervious to blushing and she turns a fantastic shade of red before scuttling away.
I stifle a laugh right as Elle says, ‘Poppy, who was that woman and what did she say about a shoemaker?’
