Busy Woman Seeks Wife

by Annie Sanders

  “Are you Saff?” A tall man in a black T-shirt ripped open the door. “Alex tells me you need a hand?”

  “Sure do!” Saff hopped out of the van, checking vaguely that she didn’t look too hideous. There had just been time to change her food-splattered T-shirt before they left home but a hairbrush had been a detail too far. She pulled open the rear doors of the van and they began to unload, the large plates from her wedding dinner service going in first to act as serving platters. Well, you can’t offer a muffin to the leading fashion journalists from around the world on a baking tray, can you?

  As she entered the hall for the first time, Saff’s jaw dropped as the scale of the event hit her. In the cozy atmosphere of her kitchen, a breakfast for three hundred seemed like a joke, but this was serious. The decor, the lighting effects and the industriousness of the people rushing about, even before the arrival of the press, was on a level Saff could not have imagined. With the children’s help, she laid out the food on the serving table they were shown by the tall man, while Max went to park the van somewhere it wouldn’t get a ticket. There was no sign of Alex, though Saff did spot Todd, who didn’t seem to notice her wave of greeting. He must be busy.

  “Wow, Mum—this is amazing. Can we stay?” Millie was beside her, suspended in motion and gaping at the room, a tray of tiny Danish pastries in her hand.

  “Of course not! The last thing they need is us knocking about. We’ll just set up and make ourselves scarce. Come here and put those down.”

  “Wow!” Saff turned at Alex’s voice and spontaneously they rushed into each other’s arms. “I can’t tell you…” Alex began, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Then don’t,” said Saff, laughing. “It was fun. Now we’re outta here.” She brushed some fallen icing sugar from the side of a plate, and put her hands on the children’s backs to steer them out. They were oblivious to her, having spotted a hugely tall black man in livid yellow gear. Their mouths gaped open.

  “Mumm!” Oscar hissed. “That’s only Malcolm Sanferino. Please can we stay for a bit? He’s mega!”

  “I hope you are bloody staying.” Alex turned sharply from the person who had collared her about a translator. “I need waiters. Any size will do. Do you think Max might help? I’m going to ask Frankie if he’s willing, though the poor man has just flown in from Turkey.” She stood on tiptoe to see if she could spot him. “But I think he may be permanently disabled from wearing several pairs of women’s shorts!”

  “What are you on about? Has he been on holiday? Only he never said.”

  “Don’t ask—I’ll explain later.”

  “But.” Saff was confused. “I thought he was waiting to hear about the audition?”

  Alex’s hand went to her mouth in horror. “Oh God, I’ve been so self-absorbed I didn’t even think to ask about what he was doing. Is it a big one?”

  “Pretty huge, yes. And he’s nervous as anything about it. Crikey.” Saff watched in horror as people began to take up their positions around the room and at the door in readiness for the event to get under way and the show to start. “We can’t waiter like this.” She tried pointlessly to brush down her clothes.

  “Wait there,” cried Alex, rushing off backstage only to come back a moment later with four company T-shirts. “Do this for me, you lot, and I promise Sanferino autographs and a photo opportunity if I can nab him. Is that enough pay?” Oscar and Millie laughed in excitement and promptly took off their tops to replace them with the T-shirts.

  “Er,” said Saff hesitantly. “Is there somewhere I could go to change? Otherwise you’ll end up with a topless waitress.”

  “Now that would guarantee us press coverage!” quipped Alex and they both roared with laughter, relishing the fact that they were communicating again.

  “Alex,” someone said, taking her arm. “You’re needed over here urgently.”

  Chapter 48

  What’s the problem?” Alex looked in the direction indicated by the roadie who’d interrupted her.

  “I don’t know, but the girl over there was very insistent that I got you over as soon as possible.”

  Alex made her way across the room. The tension of expectation in the place was palpable now. Last-minute wires left on the catwalk were being whisked away by crouching carpenters and electricians. The company’s PR managers, including Todd, were glued to mobile phones or briefing translators. Donatella was in and out of the backstage door like a ferret in high heels, checking lighting angles so she could brief her models and dancers on their routine one more time.

  Alex sighed. The girl was Ella and now she gestured to Alex frantically. “Ella, what in God’s name is this all about? You have been hassling me since last night! I don’t even know why you are here and this bloody earpiece is driving me mad! Besides, you have a bit of explaining to do to me—”

  “I told you, Frankie asked me to be here. Now listen; I need to get you somewhere quiet.” Ella was pulling her by the arm away from the noise of people arriving.

  “But it’s about to start!” Alex was stumbling behind her, looking back over her shoulder at the room that was poised and ready. Ignoring her protestations, Ella careered through the swing door to the backstage area, almost colliding with the crowd of models and dancers waiting to go onto the catwalk and all dressed in the new range. Alex just had time to register that they looked breathtaking before Ella did an about-face and pulled her down a corridor in the other direction to an area where it was quieter, and pushed her firmly behind an air-conditioning vent.

  “Sssh, now listen.” Ella was barring any escape route.

  Alex wasn’t sure what she was listening for. All she could hear was the chatter of the dancers in the distance and the hum of the earpiece in her ear. Perhaps Ella was going to tell her something. Though, judging by the deadly serious expression on her face, it looked more likely that Ella was going to beat her up. “What for?”

  “Just wait.” Ella was panting and out of breath.

  At that moment there was a rustling noise in Alex’s ear and the muffled tap of someone putting their fingers to a mike. “Alex, it’s Frankie.” His voice came deep and clear through her earpiece and she jumped. “I know you can’t say yes or no so I’m just going to have to assume you can hear me.” Alex nodded, then felt stupid. “It’s crap timing, I know,” he began and for a moment Alex thought he was going to talk about what had happened on Friday night. Then he went on. “But I need you to listen to something.” All she could hear then were footsteps, his presumably, going down a corridor and the squeak of a door opening. It shut with a quiet thud behind him and she could hear his footsteps, though more lightly now, and the faint noise of the fabric of his clothes rubbing as he walked. What was going on?

  “Ah!” he said loudly and suddenly. “Camilla? What on earth are you doing?”

  Chapter 49

  Frankie stared at the pale figure in the shadows. From out on the dance floor he could hear a hum of expectation building. The whole thing was about to start. He would have to be quick.

  Camilla had jumped when she heard his voice and turned around to face him. She was smiling and he wondered for an agonizing moment if he’d made an awful mistake, but then he noticed that she was concealing something behind her back and saw the way her eyes kept darting to the side. “Frankie! There you are. Alex has been looking for you everywhere. You’re in big trouble! You’d better go and find her, quick.”

  Frankie moved closer, hoping the mike Ella had clipped to his shirt would be sensitive enough to pick up Camilla’s words as well as his own. “I don’t think I’m the one in trouble, am I, Cam? What have you got there? Show me.”

  She sidestepped towards the door, keeping her back to him. Frankie glanced at the floor and there were what looked like the T-shirts Melik had given him. They were slashed to ribbons. “Did you do that, Cam?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Her expression was almost childlike, her eyes wide with innocence.

  �
��The outfits there. They’re ruined. Did you slash the outfits, Camilla?”

  Her eyes flicked to the pile on the floor and she looked almost manic. Frankie tried to sound gentle, as if talking to a frightened animal. “Did you do it so that Bettina couldn’t go on? So that it would look like Alex had messed up, Cam?”

  “Yes, I did!” Camilla hissed slowly, her teeth bared in an ugly snarl, and she produced a long pair of scissors from behind her back. “I did, and I’m glad I did. She doesn’t deserve this job. She’d be nothing without my support. Gavin’s realized it at last and now everyone else will too.”

  “You’ve been very clever, Cam,” Frankie said, more calmly than he felt. “All those other things you did—hiding the phone charger, sending the e-mail to Melik changing the delivery date.”

  Camilla shook her head dismissively. “That was nothing. Just the icing on the cake, you might say. I’ve been working on this for months. And she never suspected a thing!” She laughed shrilly.

  “Oh, but she did, Cam,” said Frankie, but Camilla didn’t seem to be listening.

  “You don’t know the half of it, Frankie,” she went on triumphantly. “There was the PowerPoint presentation in Toronto, the flights in Milan. I even knew Maurice wouldn’t be able to cope with the catering and would back out. His references were crap! He couldn’t make a bacon sandwich. But Alex was so trusting! She made it so easy. She even let me take her computer home with me. I deleted files, changed dates, sent all kinds of e-mails. What a fool she is! And now this! I was so disappointed when you arrived with the clothes, Frankie. I thought giving you the wrong address would stop you. It wasn’t very nice of you to mess up my plans. But I’ve taken care of that too.”

  “Ah, but you haven’t, Cam. That’s the thing. Bettina has the clothes. What you’ve just shredded was a present for me from Melik. I left them around as bait. You’re not so clever after all.” Camilla’s smile faltered. “Listen!” They could both hear music getting louder above them. “You’ve failed, Cam. And Alex has won—through sheer hard work and talent, Alex has beaten you.”

  The drumbeat above them was firm and rhythmic. “But,” Camilla faltered. “I don’t understand. You don’t even like her. I thought you were on my side?”

  Frankie took in her pretty face turned ugly now with spite and envy. “Well, you’ve got it all wrong. I like her. I like her very much. It was Alex who asked me to come in and help. She suspected someone was out to get her. She just didn’t know who.”

  “You bastard!” she hissed. “You stupid, interfering bastard!” And she hurled the scissors at him and fled through the open doorway.

  Frankie let out a sigh of relief. “Gavin, if you can hear me, you’d better alert door security. I hope you all heard that, ’cos I’m not doing another take.”

  Chapter 50

  Blissfully unaware of any drama backstage, Saff made her way among the growing crowd of people who had arrived, offering around the plate of muffins in her hand. The guests, if that was what you called them, didn’t seem as friendly as those at the parties she’d waitressed during teenage holidays. This lot were sour-faced and had the world-weary expression of people who had done this many times before. The range of nationalities was extraordinary; there were Asian and Mediterranean faces, American accents, and languages Saff didn’t recognize being spoken at high speed and even higher volume. As she approached with trays of food, several gave her a look as if she’d crawled out from under a stone. She only hoped they weren’t treating Millie and Oscar with such disdain. She peered around the various groups to see if she could spot them, but the crowd was too thick now. Max swept past at one point and pinched her bottom surreptitiously. “Hey, cutie,” he leered into her ear. “Doing anything after breakfast?” She giggled at him and moved on to wave Danishes under the nose of the Japanese delegation. Tentatively they picked them up and peered at them suspiciously, not sure if they were meat or pastry, and then slowly tasted them. Saff waited, holding her breath, until they nodded their heads in fervent approval and took more.

  Oscar came up beside her. “We’re clean out of coconut-and-raisin, Mum!” he squealed. “I told you it would be a winner.” Then he was off again to collect another tray.

  The volume of noise in the hall increased, helped by the constant thud of music from the huge speakers. Lasers began to flash across the roof and a deep and rhythmic drumbeat began. As the tension was cranked up, the gathered audience began to focus its attention on the stage. The lights overhead were dimmed and Saff began to search more seriously for Millie. There had been so much movement of people, she was worried her daughter might have gotten lost. Over on the other side, Saff spotted Alex coming through a swing door from the backstage area. Her eyes were on the stage but her expression was blank. Saff squeezed her way across to her side.

  “I know you don’t need this right now, but have you seen Millie?”

  Alex started and looked down at her friend. “Sorry?”

  “I’ve lost Millie.”

  Alex waved her hand vaguely. “She’ll be fine. The staff on the door wouldn’t let her leave.” Her eyes looked completely startled.

  “Are you okay?” Saff put her hand on her arm. “Has something gone wrong?”

  “Yes, but I think it’s sorted now.” Alex looked at her and smiled. “It’s fine. In fact everything makes sense now. It’s all falling into place. And Saff…” She gave her friend a warm kiss on the cheek. “You’ve been wonderful.”

  Anything more she may have said was drowned in the sudden gust of sound from the stage and they both turned as the show burst into life. What followed was so awe-inspiring that Saff forgot that she had been awake all night, that she hadn’t sat down since seven o’clock yesterday evening and that it was breakfast time in Brixton. Accompanied by a pounding beat that Saff recognized from one of Oscar’s CDs, a swarm of dancers cascaded onto the stage in a mass of color and clothing that cleverly mixed sportswear, casual wear and what Saff imagined people called urban. They spun and cartwheeled, swayed and strutted, all flat stomachs and legs up to their armpits. Some of it was so sexually electric Saff looked about quickly to see the children’s reactions, only to spot Oscar’s face lit up in wonder. It was not as awestruck, though, as his father’s behind him. Max was almost drooling.

  Images of the Zencorp logo, swooping and diving, lit up the screen behind the dancers, ramming home the branding. The words urban active flashed on the screen. This, thought Saff, was unashamed hard selling and she watched as the assembled audience scribbled on pads and flicked through the press pack looking for more information. Flashbulbs momentarily lit up the catwalk even more, and photographers crawled about to get interesting positions and angles. Then onto the stage came figures dressed entirely in white. No skin was showing, not even their faces, which were hidden behind fine white mesh, but on their feet was a glorious array of footwear in the colors of summer fruit. Not sneakers exactly but not fashion shoes either. Something in between, in pink and lemon, mango and lime green. So delicious you would want one pair in each color. Saff spontaneously clapped her hands in glee and then realized she was the only one doing it. Alex put her arm around her gratefully and to cover her friend’s embarrassment.

  Next came models—boys and girls, black and white—wearing alternately jeans or beautifully cut trousers, skirts and even business suits together with items from the new range. Saff could almost see herself in them, though she might be ten years too old.

  “What do you reckon?” Alex bent down and whispered loudly in her ear over the music.

  “It’s so clever, Alex. So clever. Millie will be nagging me to death about it. The punters will love it!”

  “How can you tell?” laughed Alex nervously. “This lot seem to be distinctly underwhelmed.” Saff looked at the amassed journalists and Alex was right. They were all staring at the stage, that was for sure, but their expressions were unreadable. One small woman in black with short bobbed hair and half-moon glasses was talking into some
kind of Dictaphone. It could even have been her mobile. At an enormous whooshing sound Saff’s attention was snatched back to the stage, where a fountain of silver fireworks had gone off at the back, and through the smoke came Bettina Gordino.

  “God, isn’t she gorgeous?” Saff gasped as the rake-thin model made her way like a pedigreed feline up the catwalk. The photographers went mad, catching every angle of her beautiful face, made up now with the lightning-like flash of the Zencorp logo, her back-combed hair transformed with gold and bronze highlights. The crop top she wore clung like cling film, and on her hips were the briefest belted white shorts cut somewhere between athletics shorts and a fashion item from the sixties. They looked as if they had been sprayed on. Saff nudged Alex. “How in God’s name did she get into them?”

  Alex snorted with laughter in reply. “She didn’t have as much trouble as Frankie did!”

  More dazzling variations on the theme pranced onto the stage, including a hip-hop posse who danced to a jerky track, the climax of which saw the enormous Sanferino strolling onto the stage in livid yellow. He was clearly not used to appearing as a model but, despite his size, he managed to be graceful and exude an almost intimidating presence. Bettina followed, transformed again by another outfit. The energy coming off the stage was extraordinary, and Saff could feel herself dancing along to the beat. The models and dancers seemed to be enjoying themselves, Bettina even managing to wave at someone in the audience, but Saff couldn’t see who. Then, as the music reached a massive crescendo, there was another explosion of fireworks and lasers and they all froze, their arms held out in a position of celebration.

  There was silence. Saff glanced up quickly to Alex, whose face was a picture of tension, her eyes trained on the audience. It occurred to Saff then just what this meant to her. Just how important this event was. Then there was another explosion but this time of thunderous applause. People stamped their feet and whooped, and Alex threw her arms around Saff in an embrace that almost stopped her breathing.