‘There’s nothing else?’
Janice shook her head. ‘This is the best I’ve got.’
Amy glanced at her watch. ‘The yellow dress is too bridesmaidey. Let’s go with that red one for the cover and shoot against a white backdrop,’ she said, clapping her hands together.
Miranda tottered out of the dressing room in the red dress. It looked hot and heavy, with a high, tight neckline, and already she was sweating, her grim expression indicating her displeasure.
‘She wanted serious,’ whispered Gemma, trying to raise a smile.
‘Let’s just do this,’ said Amy, folding her arms across her chest.
She felt a flutter of anxiety in her belly as she watched Elise get to work. She knew she could not afford another duff cover. Under normal circumstances, Miranda’s miserable appearance could always be construed as street. But two sober covers on the trot looked like a repositioning. Which would be fine if Amy wanted to make Verve more serious and achingly fashionable. But she did not.
She glanced at her watch: 1.45. In another half an hour Elise would be gone. Liz Stewart had already left, but Amy wondered if she could speak to Karrie and maybe squeeze out a phone interview.
She went into the dressing room, but there was no one there except Josie, who was clearing up the coffee cups and food leftovers.
‘Thanks for doing that,’ said Amy.
Josie threw the rubbish in the bin. ‘Are shoots always like this?’ she asked.
‘Creative egos can be delicate.’ Amy smiled.
‘Do you like that dress? The red one.’
Amy looked at her in surprise. ‘The craftsmanship is incredible . . .’ she began, then stopped herself. ‘But she looks like a lobster, doesn’t she?’
Josie laughed, and then fell silent for a moment.
‘Do you know why I buy Verve?’ she said eventually.
‘Tell me,’ challenged Amy.
‘You make other-worldly people seem more ordinary.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
‘Absolutely.’ Josie nodded. ‘The other fashion magazines . . . sometimes they make celebrities seem scary. They put them on a pedestal in clothes that cost more than a car, and if they think that makes them aspirational, they’re wrong. It makes them irrelevant.’
Amy had never really considered this before and had to concede the younger woman had a point.
Josie took a step towards her, coming up so close that Amy thought she was going to whisper in her ear.
‘I heard something before,’ she said, in a voice so low Amy could hardly hear it. ‘Miranda was talking to her manager. She told her she’s getting married. To Leif Tappen.’
Amy looked at the younger woman wide-eyed.
‘When did you hear this?’
‘Ten minutes ago. When everyone was having lunch. Apparently he proposed at the weekend. She’s not wearing a ring, but he’s given her one.’
‘You’re sure about this?’
Josie looked at her without blinking. ‘I’m sure.’
Amy had noticed Josie’s quiet self-assurance the very first night they had met in Notting Hill. But now it was clear that it was coupled with the smarts to get on.
‘That’s the story I want to read,’ Josie added. ‘I want to read about Miranda Pilley the bride-to-be. I want to see her happy and in love. I want her to tell me that’s it’s possible to tame the bad boy . . .’
Amy put a grateful hand on her shoulder. ‘Great work,’ she said, her mind fizzing with ideas. ‘So good I think you have to stay at Verve another week. If you want to, that is.’
‘Totally.’ Josie grinned eagerly.
Amy returned to the shoot and went straight over to the rack of clothes, pulling out the yellow dress. Yes, it looked like a meringue, but now that was exactly the look she was after. She beckoned to Janice, who came running with grips between her teeth.
‘Hmm?’
‘Get Miranda out of the red dress and into this,’ she said, aware that the shoot would soon be winding to a close.
‘I thought you said it was too bridal’
‘Change of mind.’
Elise came over with her hands in her pockets. ‘I think we are done here.’
‘I need another set-up. The yellow dress. I want the shot to look clean, white.’
Elise let out a soft sigh to register her disapproval at being asked to do one more thing. Janice took the dress to Miranda, who agreed to put it on.
‘Then we’re finished, right?’ she asked.
Amy instructed the hair stylist to unpin the actress’s severe bun, then switched some music on. She took a stem of hydrangea from a vase and handed it to Miranda, who took it with surprise.
‘Smile,’ said Amy, throwing her hands in the air as Miranda’s mouth curled upwards.
Elise fired off some frames and showed Karrie and Amy on her laptop. ‘Looks like the homecoming queen, yes?’ She shrugged, pleased with her work.
Amy nodded with excitement.
The yellow was still more primrose than ivory, though that could be sorted with Photoshop. But most of all, the image made her smile, made her swoon, made her want to celebrate what it was to be young, successful and happy. It wasn’t inaccessible or lofty, as Josie had pointed out about so many other fashion shoots. Instead it was an image that simply celebrated what is was to be in love.
‘The love issue,’ she said, smiling to herself, imagining the photo of Miranda surrounded by joyful, upbeat cover lines.
And the timing would be perfect. When pap photos and engagement rumours began to trickle out to the tabloids, Verve would have the glossy, glamorous exclusive that everyone wanted. The readers were going to love it. Douglas Scoles was going to love it. And what was more, as Douglas Proctor and the decision-makers at Mode magazine were going to love it.
Chapter 4
Amy glanced at the time on her screen. It was gone six. The day had slipped through her fingers like sand, but at least most of the next issue was finished. Elise’s shots of Miranda had worked perfectly as spreads inside the magazine. The art team had added inset photos of balloons and confetti, while Liz Stewart’s bland interview had been cut to just a couple of columns and beefed up with a quick ‘Things I love’ sidebar that Amy had extracted out of Miranda as the shoot had wound to a close. Not that anyone would really be looking at the words. They rarely did these days, and although that fact was heartbreaking for someone like Amy who had grown up believing in the power of the written word to entertain and illuminate, she had to admit that it was perfect editorial: punchy, visual, exclusive.
‘Are you ready to go? Everyone’s left already,’ said Chrissie, poking her head around the door.
After nearly forty years in charge, their boss, William Bentley, was stepping down from the top job to retire and indulge in a spot of quality time at his estate in rural Gloucestershire. Although his last day at Genesis was tomorrow, his retirement party had been arranged for tonight, with all senior editorial staff being invited to attend.
‘What time does it start?’ said Amy, printing off the Miranda Pilley shoot. She folded it up and put it in her handbag, knowing that William would love to see it even if he had one foot out of the door.
‘Seven o’clock sharp. Speeches at eight thirty. Then no doubt on to a strip club.’
Amy laughed. Chrissie had been at Genesis longer than she had, and they both had affection for their outgoing boss.
William was a lovely man, happily married in the proper sense. His idea of a good time was a fine cigar or a brisk walk across the fields with Gina, his wife, and Winston and Nelson, his two grey lurchers. Amy had always rather hoped that she and David would end up in a similar place.
‘Right, I’m on my way. Can you just send Josie in if she’s still here?’
Her lipstick was in her pocket, and she us
ed her reflection in the window that overlooked the South Bank as a mirror as she swiped a slick of colour across her lips.
‘You wanted to see me?’
Amy sat back in her swivel chair. ‘I’m at an event tonight and in meetings out of the office most of tomorrow, so I’m hardly going to see you. But I just wanted to tell you how great you’ve been over the past couple of weeks. The Miranda Pilley feature looks incredible, features say you’ve submitted some fantastic ideas, and the fashion team say you’ve been so helpful with the returns and the coffee runs.’
Josie beamed a broad smile back. ‘I’m just glad to be given such an amazing opportunity. Thank you for letting me stay for two weeks. You didn’t have to do that.’
‘Thank David and Tilly. I had ulterior motives to keep you. They were just happy to have you.’
‘Really?’ Josie said, wide-eyed.
‘Really.’ Amy wondered if she sounded a terrible liar.
She paused. She knew she had to let the young girl down gently.
‘Look, I know you want a job, and I’ll be honest, there isn’t anything just at the moment. But I’ll give a reference to anyone you want me to and keep my ear to the ground for any position that comes up. There’s always something for the right sort of person, even if you have to wait a few months.’
‘It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting a job. But anything you can do to help when I’m back in Bristol would be appreciated.’
Amy opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a paper bag, handing it across.
‘I think you love the beauty cupboard as much as I do, so I’ve sorted out a few bits and bobs I thought you might like. Just some make-up, couple of body creams. I don’t get sent as much as the beauty girls, but it’s nice stuff, and you can never have enough products, can you?’
She was aware that she was babbling. The truth was, she was finding this a little awkward, playing the boss at work, then seeing Josie coming out of the guest bathroom at home. She knew it mostly stemmed from the guilt she was feeling about having effectively abandoned Karen and her daughter all these years. Yes, she had given Josie some valuable media experience, but a fortnight’s unpaid skivvy work and a little bag of beauty products seemed pretty inadequate for ignoring her supposed best friend for almost two decades.
‘Are you going out with David?’ said Josie, loitering by her desk.
‘No. William, our MD, is retiring. He’s having a big party.’
‘Will there be any celebrities?’
‘It will be lots of advertisers and suits. But William knows everyone, so you never know. Why don’t you come?’ she added rashly. ‘A few people from the office will be there, and you’ve met Juliet. I can introduce you to our HR director too, so you’re on her radar.’
The moment they walked into the Bankside Café, Amy knew she had made a mistake. The idea had, of course, been to show Josie that the media wasn’t all queuing for lattes and licking stamps, to show her the glamour of the boardroom and management level: high-powered media moguls sipping champagne and discussing the Cannes Lions. And already, at first glance, it was full of the great and the good. Bigwigs from the luxury goods companies, and a smattering of showbiz faces: theatre directors and well-known models.
Juliet was standing with a group of young men in sharp suits who Amy guessed were her advertising team. Designers dressed like teenagers, editorial wore whatever they could cadge from the fashion department, and ad people looked like salesmen from a Park Lane car showroom.
But she had hoped that more of the Verve team would be here for Josie to chat to. Certainly all the department heads had been invited, but with no one in sight, she knew she had to stay with the girl until she could leave her talking to somebody else.
She saw William through the crowds and gave him a cheerful wave.
‘What a turn-out,’ she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
William lowered his voice. ‘Loved today, ignored tomorrow.’ He smiled. ‘The moment your byline slips off the masthead is the moment half these people won’t even smile at you on the street.’
Amy laughed and knew he had a point. She’d heard rumours that the Printroom, the pub across the road from the Genesis building, had been booked for tonight’s shindig and had only been upgraded to a finger buffet at the smart South Bank restaurant when the group’s New York-based CEO Marv Schultz had said he would be flying in to wave William off.
‘William, this is Josie Price. She’s been interning at Verve. She’s also an old family friend.’
‘I know people disapprove of nepotism, but I’ve always rather been in favour of knowing what you’re getting,’ he chuckled.
‘Don’t let HR catch you saying that,’ said Amy, taking a glass from a passing waiter.
‘Don’t be too hard on me. If it wasn’t for a little word in my ear many years ago, the world of journalism might have lost you to teaching or PR. Speaking of which, here’s Juliet.’
‘You know it’s not too late to change your mind. Genesis needs you.’
‘I think we both know that Douglas has already had my security pass deactivated,’ he quipped.
‘Really?’ said Juliet in surprise.
‘No. But I have a round of golf at Wentworth pencilled in with your father on Monday. I aim to start my retirement as I mean to go on.’
‘Jules, you remember Josie,’ Amy said.
Juliet extended a pale, slim hand.
‘I love the new issue of Living Style,’ gushed Josie.
‘Why, thank you.’
‘I know it’s not really aimed at me, but I love looking at the interiors and the gardens. The party pages too: it makes me feel as if I’m at the Oscars or something.’
Juliet raised her eyebrows at Amy. ‘The girl has taste,’ she said.
‘And talent,’ added Amy.
Josie blushed a deep red and looked down into her glass. William excused himself to talk to Marv Schultz just as Douglas pushed through the crowd.
‘You two. A word,’ he said in a low voice, steering Amy away from the crowds into the foyer of the restaurant. Juliet followed them and Josie disappeared to the bar.
‘We have a problem,’ said Douglas, his face serious. It was only then that Amy noticed that Grace, Douglas’s PA, was trailing behind him.
‘What’s up?’
‘What’s up,’ he said through tight lips, ‘is that we have lost William’s leaving gift.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Juliet, putting down her drink.
‘“Oh shit” is exactly right,’ said Douglas, glaring at Grace. ‘Apparently it has been delivered to the Genesis building, but no one can locate it.’
‘What is it?’ asked Amy.
‘A humidor, hand-made at Purdey’s with exquisite marquetry in the shape of his bloody house. Not to mention two grand’s worth of cigars inside.’
‘Stolen? Lost?’
‘No, no,’ said Grace, looking visibly shaken. ‘I’m assured it was delivered and signed for.’
‘So where is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, shamefaced.
Douglas waved a hand to silence her. Amy had never seen him so angry. ‘She thinks it’s in the post room,’ he said. ‘Only the bloody post boys have all gone home, which means someone’s going to have to run out to the newsagent and see if they can get William a box of Milk Tray and a couple of packets of Hamlet.’
Grace began to speak, but Douglas shook his head. ‘I was being ironic, Grace. Any ideas?’ he said, looking from Amy to Juliet. ‘You get on with William. What would he like? Preferably something we can get biked over within the next forty-five minutes, before he’s scheduled to make his speech.’
‘Forty-five minutes?’ said Amy glancing at her watch. Half past seven: it was very unlikely any fashion PRs would still be at their desks, so no favours could be called in.
‘I can send our fashion director to Selfridges. She has excellent taste,’ said Juliet quickly.
Douglas shook his head. ‘She’ll never get there and back in time.’
‘Then we can put back the speeches,’ suggested Amy, her mind searching for a solution.
‘Can’t. Marv has to leave for Paris at nine.’
Amy looked back at the party, where William was deep in conversation with Marv Schultz. She pulled out her mobile and nodded to Douglas. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Juliet disappeared to find Carlo, her luxury editor, to see if he could rustle something up within the hour. Amy stood in the foyer and hit her address book, mostly coming up against annoyingly breezy recorded messages or numbers that just rang out into the void. A call to Berry Bros, the exclusive vintner’s in St James’s, was more promising. They were closing soon but could bike over a case of good Bordeaux immediately and arrange for William to spend an afternoon with the fine wine team at a date of his convenience. He would love that, she felt sure. It was job done, unless Juliet could come up with something even better.
Catching Douglas’s eye, she gave a discreet thumbs-up and flashed her hands open and closed to signify twenty minutes. She doubted if it was possible to get from Pall Mall to South Bank that quickly in rush-hour traffic, but Douglas was close to having a coronary and she wanted to calm him down.
She felt a tap on the shoulder and spun round, wondering if Berry Bros had worked miracles, but it was only Josie.
‘I think I’ll be off now. Unless you need me to do anything.’
‘Actually, I do need something,’ she said, filling her in on William’s missing present. ‘I’ve got a replacement gift on its way. It will probably come gift-wrapped, but just in case, I need you to go to the office, pick up ribbon, tissue paper, anything you can find. Quickly,’ she added as Josie ran obediently out of the restaurant.
Amy returned to the party and was swept into a gaggle of advertisers whom she greeted with a broad and welcoming smile, instantly indulging in easy small talk that belied the behind-the-scenes panic that was going on. She was not a naturally gregarious person; didn’t know the precise moment she had learnt to switch on the charm, although it had struck her recently, when she had met Karen, that it was probably not the countless hours at fashion dinners and product launches that had done it. At Oxford, when she’d worked at the Bear, she’d mixed with some of the grandest students from Christ Church, Oriel and Magdalen, students who thought nothing of coming for a drink in white tie, tweed or subfusc, students who seemed a world away from her friends down the road at Oxford Brookes.
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