A feeling compounded when he said, ‘I’m still waiting for your reference contact details. Is there a problem?’ His expression was a mixture of part-annoyance and part-disappointment.
It was a world away from how he’d looked at her in the Caribbean. He’d made her feel like the most stunning woman on the planet. Now she felt like a drunken mistake, the woman he’d woken up with the following morning, causing him to instantly regret his decision to get plastered the night before.
‘There’s no problem,’ she said, avoiding eye contact. ‘I’ve just been flat out. I’ll get the details to you later today.’
‘Please make sure you do. I need them for insurance purposes.’
More likely he needed them because he was questioning his decision to hire her. Her stomach clenched a little tighter. She was on borrowed time.
‘Megan’s over there,’ he said, pointed to a stunningly beautiful woman having her hair fixed. ‘Get her in the dress as quickly as possible. The director wants to set the lights, and he’s not a fan of being kept waiting.’
She bit her lip. She wasn’t a fan of being given a week to design and make a royal ballgown, but she figured pointing this out wouldn’t help relieve the tension fizzing between them. ‘Fine,’ she said, walking off, while trying not to trip over the trailing bin-liner.
Was this what being a designer was like? Unrealistic deadlines? Stroppy bosses? Constant criticism? She’d foolishly thought it would be glamorous and joyous. So far it’d been exhausting and demoralising.
And they’d yet to see her work. They might hate it.
Whether they liked it or not, it was out of her hands. She’d done all she could. She’d carried out extensive research. Studied the gowns worn by other fashionistas of the era, and taken inspiration from the couture designers of the time: Dior, Givenchy and Chanel. The end result was a dress she was extremely proud of.
The question was, would anyone else like it?
She was about to find out.
Megan Lawrence was even more stunning close up than she was at a distance. She had glossy black hair that shone like a mirror. Her blue eyes were wide and cat-like and her lips formed a perfect blood-red bow. She was perfection. A goddess. Like something from a Renaissance painting. No wonder she’d been cast as royalty.
Lily had seen numerous photos of Megan and she knew the woman’s measurements intimately. She’d been given a custom-made tailor’s dummy especially for the project, but this was their first face-to-face meeting.
Approaching the glamorous actor whilst looking unkempt and scruffy and carrying a large bin-liner wasn’t the most professional of introductions. In fact, when Megan Lawrence glanced up and saw Lily approaching, she visibly recoiled, as though Lily was an unstable stalker who’d recently escaped incarceration.
‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,’ Lily said, hoping her smile would alleviate any concerns the woman had about her mental stability. ‘I’m Lily Monroe, costume designer.’
The woman raised a perfectly micro-bladed eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Excuse my appearance, I haven’t slept for days. I’ve been racing to get your dress finished.’
The man tending to Megan’s hair turned to Lily. ‘Hi, I’m Zac. I’m in charge of hair and make-up.’
‘Nice to meet you, Zac. Great hair-do.’ She pointed to Megan’s sleek chignon, with a hint of beehive. ‘It looks amazing.’
Megan flashed Zac a full-watt smile. ‘Talented, isn’t he?’
Zac’s cheeks flushed. He couldn’t be more than early twenties. He radiated youth and exuberance, helped by strong cheekbones and startling blue eyes. In fact, with his tall frame and black quaffed hair, he looked like the male equivalent of Megan Lawrence. They made quite a pair… which only made Lily wish she’d stopped for a shower and a change of clothes before leaving the B&B. Still, it was too late now.
‘Would you like to try your dress on?’ she asked, gesturing to the bin-liner, which in hindsight probably also didn’t look very professional. ‘I’m hoping it fits.’
‘It better fit,’ a voice yelled from behind. ‘We were ready to start filming an hour ago.’ The film’s director appeared out of nowhere and tapped his watch. ‘Time is money.’
‘Well, go away then so I can get changed,’ Megan said, pinning him with a glare. ‘Or it’ll be another hour before I’m ready. Do you want that?’
He clearly didn’t, and walked off, tutting.
Megan tutted. ‘He’s always so stressed.’
Megan Lawrence clearly could stand her ground. No one wanted to offend or alienate the leading lady. But as the costume designer, Lily was learning rapidly that she didn’t have anywhere near such sway. At least at Clothing Connexions she’d only had the one draconian boss. Here, she was surrounded by them.
Megan turned to her. ‘I’m excited to see the dress.’
Crunch time.
Lily carefully unwrapped the outfit and held it up. ‘I hope you like it.’
Megan gasped when she saw it. Her hands covered her mouth. Whether this was through good shock, or horrified shock, was yet to be determined.
Lily held her breath.
Zac let out a low whistle. ‘She’s going to look stunning.’
Lily breathed out.
Megan squeezed Zac’s arm, dazzling him with an enigmatic smile. ‘Darling man.’
The colour in Zac’s cheeks intensified. The lad had a major crush.
Not that Lily could blame him, she was a bit smitten herself.
Megan’s elegant fingers skimmed over the ice-white fabric. ‘It must’ve taken you hours to attach all these crystals.’
Days, more like. But the effort had been worth it.
The dress had a fitted bodice with a sweeping neckline and off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. A full skirt expanded from the narrow waist, and the entire gown was covered in clear Swarovski crystals.
Megan smiled. ‘I can’t wait to try it on.’
Lily was about to suggest they move to a quiet area without the eyes of the film crew looking on, when Megan untied her satin robe and let it drop to the floor.
The space stilled, as if someone had pressed pause.
With her model physique and nude stiletto heels emphasizing her longs legs, Megan Lawrence made quite the impact standing there in her revealing flesh-coloured corset and sheer hold-ups.
Lily sighed. How wonderful it must be to have that level of confidence in your body. She held open the dress for Megan to step into and slid it up over the woman’s slim hips and zipped up the side. It fitted perfectly. Thank goodness.
Megan did a twirl. The dress gently lifted as she did so, making her look like a fairy tale princess. Or rather, the newly appointed Queen of the Commonwealth.
Lily could sense everyone watching.
She felt overcome with relief. Megan liked her dress. No, she loved her dress.
And then Lily’s attention was drawn to the archways behind. Two men in suits were approaching. One of the men carried a briefcase, handcuffed to his wrist.
A woman shouted something, and then Lily became aware of Frankie Roberts marching towards them with a clipboard. ‘Move out the way, please.’ She pushed past various film crew. ‘Ms Lawrence’s jewellery has arrived.’
What followed was a flurry of security checks and the signing of papers, before the briefcase was opened to reveal two glittering diamond necklaces, a matching bracelet, and a pair of clip-on diamond drop earrings. The contents were inspected, before being approved, and then removed from the case.
Frankie pointed to the elegant neck piece designed to look like a waterfall. ‘The cascading platinum one, I think.’ She held it up for Megan’s approval.
Megan nodded her endorsement and turned so that Frankie could fasten the necklace around the woman’s slender neck. With the bracelet added to Megan’s wrist and the earrings in place, the outfit was complete.
Megan Lawrence sparkled like a precious jewel.
Will came over. He too
k a long moment to take in the beauty of the tour guide’s leading lady, before turning to Lily. ‘Nice.’
That was it. One word. Nice.
Still, she was happy to take it as a compliment.
At least her work was done for today. She was exhausted. She just wanted to go home and sleep.
But Will shattered any hope of an early finish when he said, ‘What about Isaac’s suit?’
She frowned. ‘Who’s Isaac? And what suit?’
Will looked at her like she’d said, Who’s Father Christmas, and what red suit?
‘Isaac James,’ he said, nodding to where a man wearing sunglasses was relaxing against the iron railings. ‘The lead actor playing Prince Phillip. Where’s his formal suit? Please tell me it’s here?’ But he could sense by her horrified expression that it wasn’t. ‘You do know what suit I’m referring to?’
She shook her head.
He rubbed his forehead. ‘Didn’t you read the brief I sent you?’
‘I didn’t have time,’ she admitted, panic beginning to build. ‘I’ve been working nonstop to make the dress. There’s no way I could’ve made a man’s suit as well.’
‘You weren’t supposed to make it,’ Will replied, sounding frustrated. ‘You were supposed to hire it.’
Frankie handed Lily the clipboard, pointing at the website details for a vintage suit-hire company in Milton Keynes. ‘All the details are here. Sizing. Style. Colour. All that was needed was the order placing. Or at least delegating the job to one of the assistants.’
Lily could feel the anger radiating off Will. ‘And I was supposed to do that?’
He frowned. ‘You’re the costume designer, who else would do it?’
Lily looked at Frankie, hoping for an ally, but she shook her head as if to say, Don’t look at me, it’s not my job.
Lily had messed up. She hadn’t read the brief.
Her disguise was unravelling.
She dug out her phone, her hands shaking. ‘I’ll call them now.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it.’ Frankie was already on the phone. ‘Mr Patrick? Hi, Frankie Roberts, TaylorMade Events. Sorry to be a pain, but we need an urgent delivery,’ she said, retrieving the clipboard from Lily. ‘An order should’ve been placed with you and it wasn’t.’ She shot Lily a look. ‘I know… Apologies… Totally our fault… Very inconvenient… completely understand… But any chance you could help us out of a jam?’ She walked off, her annoyance palpable.
Everyone was glaring at Lily. It was like a giant arrow had descended from the sky and was pointing at her, lights flashing, sirens blazing. The guilty party. Exposed for her incompetence.
She felt sick.
The director bellowed through a loudhailer for the actors to take up their starting positions, ready for a lighting check.
‘Great.’ Will audibly groaned. ‘I’d better go and break the news that we’re not ready to start.’ He walked off, grumbling, ‘Our leading man doesn’t have a bloody suit.’
Lily realised she was crying.
She wasn’t sure whether it was the humiliation, frustration, or a lack of sleep undermining her resolve, but she suddenly needed to sit down, before she fell down.
Trying to keep it together, she ducked through the archways and disappeared into the quiet cobbled section of the closed shopping area.
So much for thinking she’d made progress today.
She might have finished the dress, but she hadn’t ordered the suit. Her efforts had been in vain. All that hard work and sleepless nights had been undermined by a schoolgirl error. She hadn’t read the brief.
Sinking to her knees, Lily buried her face in her hands, and let the tears fall.
She had a lot to learn about being a costume designer, that much was for sure.
The question was, would she be found out before she’d had a chance to prove she had what it took?
And did she even have what it took?
After today, she wasn’t so sure.
Chapter Thirteen
Friday, 25 June
Will cursed when a speed camera flashed in his rear-view mirror. That was all he needed, more points on his licence. He was already on six. Last time, he’d avoided further punishment by attending a speed awareness course. But the officer’s advice that he needed to ‘leave earlier’ to avoid running late and risk a further fine, wasn’t helpful on days when his kid was poorly.
He glanced over at Poppy. She was wearing her bunny onesie and cuddling the large panda he’d got her for Christmas. ‘Tell me if you’re going to be sick so I can pull over, okay?’
She nodded, looking forlorn and small as she sunk down into the seat. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay, as in you’ll tell me? Or okay, as in you’re going to be sick?’
‘I’ll tell you.’
That was something.
He turned into Chobham high street, feeling bad for dropping Poppy off with his parents when she was unwell. But it wasn’t like he could leave her alone in the house, was it? He was needed on set. He couldn’t be in two places at once. So he’d made a few frantic phone calls, and eventually persuaded his mum to cancel her golf lesson and look after Poppy.
He felt guilty for leaving his daughter, guilty for ruining his mum’s social life. And guilty for ignoring the multitude of texts he’d received from various work colleagues wanting to know where the hell he was. He was a bad employer.
He was an even worse dad.
Not that Poppy’s condition was serious. In fact, he wasn’t even sure she was ill. She’d woken up complaining of a tummy ache and a headache. But she had no temperature, no fever, and had eaten her breakfast just fine. He suspected she didn’t want to go to school.
Why, he wasn’t sure – she normally enjoyed school. Maybe she was being bullied? Or hadn’t done her homework? Had she fallen out with a teacher?
All he knew was that his daughter had looked at him with a forlorn expression and begged him to stay at home with her so they could curl up on the sofa and watch a film. Something he would have loved to have done, but something that was an impossibility when he was in the middle of planning such a big event.
He turned off the high street. ‘Are you missing anything important at school today?’
‘Not really.’ She cuddled her panda closer. ‘Elliot’s mummy is coming into school this afternoon to make lanterns with the class.’
‘Seems a shame to miss that. Sounds like fun.’
She sniffed. ‘I guess.’
‘Maybe if you’re feeling better later, Nanny can run you into school, so you don’t miss the lesson.’
Poppy gave an imperceptible shrug.
‘Wouldn’t you like to make a lantern?’
She nodded.
‘Then what’s the problem?’
She buried her face in the panda. ‘The other mummies are coming in to help.’
So that was it.
‘And you’re sad because you won’t have anyone there?’
Another nod.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened, though it never got any easier to deal with. His daughter wanted something he couldn’t give her, and that hurt. For both of them.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘Not all the mummies will be there, will they? A lot of them work.’
‘I guess.’
‘So you wouldn’t be the only one without a mummy.’
This didn’t seem to appease her.
Why wasn’t there a manual for dealing with this kind of crap? He was way out of his depth. But he knew he couldn’t ignore the issue. ‘Is that why you don’t want to go to school?’
She didn’t answer, she just fiddled with the ears on her cuddly toy.
‘You can’t skip school every time an activity involves a parent, sweetie. You’ll miss out on so many things. Fun things. And that would be a shame.’
‘But it makes me sad.’
‘I know, but not joining in with stuff won’t make you any less sad. It’ll make you feel worse.’<
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‘Can you come into school instead?’ She gave him a hopeful look.
Oh, hell. ‘I can’t today, I’m busy. Sorry, I wish I could.’
Her expression turned quizzical. ‘Are you going to see the lady you have a crush on?’
‘What?’ He nearly crashed the car. Where had that come from? ‘No, of course not… I mean, yes, I will be seeing her, but I don’t have a crush on her. That was just Aunty Gemma being silly.’
A classic example of why you should never discuss certain topics in front of children. Their memories were far too good. Something he’d be reminding Gemma about later.
‘Why did she say it then?’
He rubbed the back of his neck. He hated lying to Poppy, but admitting he’d fallen for someone would not help the current situation regarding her desire for a new mummy. If things had been different, maybe he would have done. If his reunion with Lily had gone as he’d imagined and they’d resumed a relationship, then maybe, just maybe, after a few months of dating, he might have been in a position to introduce her to Poppy. Maybe.
But as it was, Lily and him were barely on speaking terms. The chances of anything happening between them was zero. Inviting speculation about his feelings wouldn’t be helpful. Poppy was struggling enough as it was. She didn’t need another let down in her life. And neither did he.
He turned into the lane leading to his parents’ farmhouse. ‘Because that’s what sister’s do. They like to tease.’
Poppy gazed out of the window. ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a sister… Or a mummy.’
Ouch.
His daughter certainly knew how to push his buttons. ‘But you do have a daddy, who loves you very much, and doting grandparents, and lots of extended family who adore you, which is more than a lot of kids have, okay? So try and focus on what you do have, rather than what you don’t.’
Poppy sighed. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Good girl.’
As he pulled into the gravel driveway, his mum appeared in the doorway, smiling and waving. She came over and opened the passenger door. ‘I hear somebody’s poorly today?’
Poppy nodded mournfully, ramping up the need for sympathy. ‘My tummy hurts.’
Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance Page 16
