London

by Carina Axelsson

  “Although—and I realize this sounds awful—some of us had the feeling that if it had been Johnny who’d died, she might never have recovered. He was her obvious favorite, and she didn’t hide the fact too well. You see, even at that young age, Johnny showed a strong talent for drawing and a fascination with style—hardly surprising considering who his mother was. Clarissa was very proud of him and she liked to show him off. She saw a lot of herself in him, I think…much more than in Julian, I would say.”

  “Was she a good mother, do you think?”

  Jodi was quiet. “I’m not sure, really. Possibly not, to be honest. She was flighty and liked parties. Some people thought she was rather shallow. And staying at home to look after the children was certainly not her sort of thing. She traveled a lot, so she had to have help in the house. And after her husband died, she was a bit lost. He was the more solid of the two.

  “She partied to hide the pain, I think. But after Julian died, Clarissa made a real effort to clean up her act and tame her demons. She went into rehab and came out looking wonderfully well. I remember thinking at the time that at least Johnny and Georgie had her at home, healthy and present…until she died.”

  That, I thought with surprise, didn’t tally with what I’d read in the newspaper reports about Clarissa being under the influence of something when she fell. I’d have to ask Jodi more about that later.

  “You mentioned that Clarissa had help in the house,” I continued. “Do you happen to know of a model—I think she was more of a fit model than a fashion model—named Jane Wimple? Didn’t she become Clarissa’s private secretary?”

  “Yes, I do remember Jane Wimple, absolutely. We worked together as fit models when I was just starting out. She wasn’t exactly my cup of tea though.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, you know I said some people were envious of Clarissa?”

  I nodded.

  “Jane was one of them. At least that’s how it seemed to me. Not that Clarissa noticed a thing. She loved Jane—but then lots of people did. Jane was good at ingratiating herself with people. She’d start by getting you a cup of tea, then she’d pick up some little trifle she thought might interest you, and then the next thing you knew, you couldn’t live without her. She always seemed very devoted to Clarissa though, and to the children—no question. But I didn’t like her.

  “Sometimes, when we worked together, I’d catch her looking at Clarissa and the other couture clients, and the Queen isn’t English if I didn’t see hatred burning in her eyes. I know it sounds dramatic, but that’s what I saw when she thought no one was looking. But then one day she suddenly stopped working as a fit model and went to work full-time for Clarissa. She seemed very happy doing that. And she became very devoted to the children. Especially Johnny. He always credits Jane with nurturing his love of fashion.

  “She was the nanny who was with them on the Thames the day of Julian’s death. And then, after Clarissa’s death, she became even closer to the children, a sort of surrogate mother. Clarissa’s younger sister was their legal guardian, but she was flighty and wanted to party—like her sister, in many ways, really—so it was Jane who looked after the children.”

  “Do you know anything about Jane’s upbringing or where she came from?”

  Jodi shook her head. “Not much, I’m afraid. She was very good at hiding her past.” She suddenly went quiet for a moment.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to paint a bad picture of Jane just because she wasn’t my sort of person. She was very devoted to the Vanes. And lots of people liked her. I think it was just hard to really get to know her.” Jodi shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, I didn’t see Jane anymore after Clarissa died.”

  “Really? Not at all?”

  Jodi shook her head. “Not until about fifteen years later when Johnny graduated from Central Saint Martins with a big splash. Suddenly she reappeared. I was stunned because the Vane children had disappeared off the face of the earth after their mother died—and Jane did too. Apparently they’d all moved away from London. Nobody blamed them for wanting to leave a place that had so many unhappy memories. I think it was Jane who very much wanted the children to have a fresh start somewhere.”

  I thought of how Jane had never married or had children of her own. The Vanes were her family—had become her family.

  “What was it like seeing Jane again after so many years?”

  “Oh, she’d become quite grand, very much in charge, and inordinately proud of Johnny—as well she should be. But I can’t say I sought her company…and she didn’t exactly look for me either.”

  “And is there anything you remember about Clarissa’s death? Any rumors you might have heard at the time? Or anything you read about that caught your attention?”

  “Well, I knew the house on Dawson Place. I’d been there a few times for dinner and some fabulous parties. The house was beautiful then—big and grand and very alive. It was furnished with an eclectic mix of old things, bright colors, and gorgeous paintings. Clarissa was a popular subject for many painters, as I’m sure you’ve found out by now, and dazzling portraits of her hung throughout the house. Anyway, I wasn’t surprised when I heard that she’d tripped and fallen on that staircase because I had done the same thing—but, thank goodness, I only hurt my knee.

  “The staircase was made of that Italian floor material…what is it called? Terrazzo or something? Anyway, my point is that it was slippery. Somebody seemed to fall on the stairs every time I visited that house. With young children around, they should have installed a runner, but that was Clarissa for you—style over practicality. Anyway, I was furious for her and her children when I heard reports of her death in the papers. They suggested Clarissa had been drunk or under the influence of something, just to make her death more sensational. They weren’t interested in the truth then, and they aren’t now—not all of them anyway.

  “I think you realized that this morning,” she added, looking at me. “But don’t worry,” she said when she saw my lips purse, “it will all blow over. I’ve had that sort of thing happen to me in the past. It used to exasperate me! Anyway, where were we?”

  “Clarissa’s death. You were saying that the papers insinuated she’d been under the influence of something when she’d fallen.”

  “Yes, exactly, thank you. It shocked me all the more because I know for a fact that she’d finally been in really good, really healthy form—though some people were expecting her to slip back into her old habits.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, don’t forget that’s always a possibility for an addict—but I truly didn’t think Clarissa would for a moment. She was so determined to stay clean for the sake of her children. No, I think in this case there was some gossip going around that something was making her…well…scared. I never found out what it was.”

  “Scared? Not worried or anxious?”

  “Perhaps. But the word I heard was ‘scared.’”

  “And you never found out why?”

  Jodi rapidly shook her head. “I saw her just a few days before she died, at a birthday party for a friend of ours, and considering the recent loss of Julian, Clarissa was on good form—and had been for a good three months. She told us all about the holiday plans she’d made for herself and the two children. She didn’t touch a drop of alcohol throughout the celebration. And during lunch she told me she wanted to stay healthy for the sake of her family—and that she felt much better.”

  Jodi stopped for a moment and tugged at her sleeves before continuing. “Later on, however, I met Clarissa again in the powder room. She was alone and looked agitated and nervous. Of course, I pressed her to tell me what was wrong. Clarissa was hesitant, but she did admit in a whisper that something was scaring her—her words. Then another friend walked in and Clarissa became quiet. We didn’t have another moment alone. We met briefly when we were get
ting ready to leave, and Clarissa told me she’d call me, but a few days later she died.”

  A thought was forming in my mind. I took another sip from my tea as I tried to make some sense of it. Why, if Clarissa had in fact been clean and healthy at the time of her death, had the papers suggested she wasn’t? Was it purely for the sake of a sensational story? But it seemed unlikely they’d have risked publishing the story unless they’d had some source to back it up. Could someone have planted the rumor? And if so, why? Why make Clarissa look bad? Who stood to gain from it? Furthermore, why was she so scared? What was worrying her?

  “Jodi, I have one last question for you if you don’t mind.”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  “You mentioned Clarissa’s sister. That’s Caro Moretti, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, yes! Carolyne. She worshipped her big sister and was shattered when Clarissa died—though I think she suffered from being in Clarissa’s shadow. She didn’t have her sister’s looks or her easy way with people. After Clarissa died, Carolyne disappeared for a few years too, until she resurfaced as a stylist at one of the big fashion magazines. She certainly worked her way up the fashion ranks. Now she’s one of the most sought-after stylists in the business.”

  “Did she get along well with Clarissa?”

  “I think so, yes, although I do remember hearing about some man trouble between the sisters. Caro accused Clarissa of stealing her fiancé, I think. There’ll be something about that in the social pages of the papers, around 1976—about a year before Clarissa died.”

  As I put my teacup back in its saucer on the table, I noticed that my hour was up. Jodi had been generous with her time, and I thanked her for everything she’d told me.

  “Any time, Axelle,” she said as she led me to the kitchen where the dogs were. (Halley had consumed a fair number of biscuits, apparently.) “I hope I’ve been helpful, and more importantly, I hope your friend gets better soon.”

  “Thank you. Yes, you have been very helpful.” It was difficult to sound grateful and vague at the same time, I thought, but details concerning Gavin and the case were something I did not want to get into right now with Jodi. “And I’ll let you know how my friend gets on,” I answered as I bent down and clipped Halley’s leash back on.

  “Well, I’m happy to have helped, and if you have any more questions, you know how to reach me,” Jodi said as she smiled at me. She had a twinkle in her eye, and for a fleeting second it was as if she understood everything I was trying to do. But how could that be possible? I thought, dismissing the idea. There’s no way she could know.

  I was happy to get out into the fresh air. I had so many thoughts crowding my mind that the only hope I had of bringing any rapid order to them was to feel the blast of a London breeze. Plus my phone had been buzzing nonstop while I’d been talking to Jodi. A quick glance at my screen told me that the fuss about my photo with Josh had definitely not died down.

  Speaking of which, I could see Josh across the street. A moment later he was by my side. “Are you going to the show at Belle’s?” he asked as I checked my messages. “I’m on my way there too. I could give you a ride if you like.”

  I looked up from my phone and into Josh’s brown eyes. I didn’t know how to tell him what I felt, but I had to be honest. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Josh, it’s really, really sweet of you to offer, but until the mess about the photo is cleared up, I don’t… I’m not sure…” The words got stuck in my throat as I looked at him. His eyes searched mine.

  It would have been easy at that point to just accept his invitation, sneak into his car, and go with him. He wasn’t pushy, but I could feel he wanted to spend more time with me…and maybe in another time and place I would have given in. But for me, right now was definitely not the time. Besides, I had Sebastian.

  “Axelle?”

  I gave up trying to explain. There were too many conflicting thoughts running around in my head at the moment. In lieu of a verbal explanation I simply handed him my phone. “Scroll through it all,” I said.

  Josh took it and did just that. He carefully looked at the long list of emails and Instagram and Facebook messages featuring both our names that I’d received just since I’d been with his grandmother. He handed me back my phone. “I get it. You don’t really want to be seen with me because of all of this.”

  I said nothing, but I felt a sort of awkward half smile freeze on my lips. “Hmm…”

  “Don’t worry, Axelle. Your honesty is refreshing.” He laughed suddenly. “You’re the first person in I don’t know how long who hasn’t jumped at the chance to be seen with me in public. I mean, some people will even call the press to let them know that they’ll be showing up with me.” He watched me for a moment. “But stop looking at me like that,” he said as he teasingly pulled my beanie down over my eyes. “I totally understand. You haven’t upset me at all. So relax.” He suddenly went quiet and then looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You certainly are different.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I think he meant it in a good way.

  THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  Halley Undercover

  “Halley,” I said as we jumped off our train and walked toward the exit of Bond Street Tube station, “you’re about to get your first proper dose of the fashion world.” She hadn’t accompanied me to a show yet, but I already knew there was one thing Halley would love about today’s fashion show—the fully loaded buffet table Belle was sure to provide backstage!

  Ellie was waiting for me just outside the station. She was wearing aviator sunglasses, long skinny jeans, and a T-shirt under a really cool light-peach-colored jacket. A pair of strappy gladiator-style heels and an enormous, slouchy shoulder bag rounded off her outfit. Her long hair was tied loosely on top of her head.

  “Axelle,” she said as she bounded toward me, “your hair! What’s happened?” I couldn’t blame her for asking. A glance at my reflection in a shop window revealed that my hair hadn’t calmed down at all since I’d left home earlier that morning. In fact, the moist London weather had worked its magic. My hair was frizzier than ever. Forget the tumbleweed effect—it looked as if a giant sponge had sprouted underneath my beanie.

  “I’ll admit it’s not my best look…”

  “At least your beanie puts it under some kind of control—although I’m surprised you can keep it on your head over that.” She laughed.

  “Thanks, Ellie.” She had a point though.

  “Well, you know what I mean… Did you leave home with wet hair again this morning or—” She stopped suddenly midstride and looked at me, eyes wide, before saying, “Wait, wait! Your hair and the beanie and glasses have nothing to do with leaving your house early this morning, have they? Or the case you’re working on. I bet this is all to do with the photo of you and Josh, right? You’re in disguise!”

  I nodded.

  “In that case, have you talked to Belle about it?” Ellie put her hand on my arm, abruptly stopping us both again.

  “With Belle? Why would I talk to her about it?”

  “Because it’s highly probable there’ll be a few paparazzi waiting for you outside the main entrance to the store. You’ve got to keep out of their way. So let’s go in through a different entrance.”

  I hadn’t thought about any of this! If just spending a few minutes with Josh Locke at a party was this complicated, then what was it like being his girlfriend? I said nothing as Ellie took her phone out and called Belle. I was just thankful to have Ellie thinking about all of this on my behalf. A minute later she hung up and said, “All done. Belle understood and she’ll send someone over here to take us in through a mews entrance. We can go out the same way afterward. Anyway, I totally get why you want to avoid more photos, Axelle, but didn’t you see Josh this morning? Or was it his grandmother?”

  “Both.” I brought Ellie up to date on the morning’s events.

  “And Josh is goi
ng to be here for the show too, right?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh…he offered to drive me here from his grandmother’s.”

  “But?”

  “But I didn’t want to be seen and photographed getting out of his car with him. I’ve had enough attention—crudely manipulated, I might add—to last me a long, long time.”

  Ellie laughed. “You must be driving him bananas,” she said. “I bet it’s been a long, long time since anyone has refused anything Josh has asked for once, let alone twice! I think it’s great!”

  “Well, I’m not doing it intentionally, you know.”

  Ellie turned to look at me. “All I can say, Axelle, is that I think Josh Locke likes you…and I have to tell you that the more you refuse him, the more he’s going to want to spend time with you. So just be careful.”

  “Careful of what?”

  “Hurt feelings—his.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does he know about Sebastian, Axelle?” Ellie asked as she turned to me.

  I didn’t say anything. Why hadn’t I introduced Sebastian to Josh as my boyfriend when I’d had the chance last night?

  “I know about the distance between you and Sebastian and all of that…but you two really fit together, and besides, I’ve seen you together. You guys click.”

  Ellie stopped and laughed at the confused look on my face. “Typical! You should focus a bit on your own life, Axelle, not just on those of your suspects.”

  Honestly, I didn’t feel like looking into my own personal life too deeply right now. It was too confusing. Because although I really, really liked Sebastian, the main question circling around my brain was: how could it ever last?

  Ellie’s words were still reverberating in my mind while I had my hair styled fifteen minutes later. Inspired by the Alice in Wonderland theme of the collection, our hair was to be worn stick-straight, with the bare minimum of product, depending on the hair type. A tiny headband was the finishing touch. I’d met head hairstylist Xavier when I’d walked for the La Lune show in Paris, and he’d flown in especially to do this show. He wanted lots of movement in our hair for this show. “Think that you are zee Alice, girls,” he told us backstage in his heavy French accent. “Your hair must reflect your innocence as you go down zee rabbit tunnel!”