Chapter One
‘Okay people, just ten minutes until show time! Ten minutes! Pippa, can you remind Suzie that I asked for bronze shimmer on the girls’ cheeks, not fake tan? And where in heaven’s name did she get those lashes? They look like the bristles from cheap toilet brushes. Come on, these niggles should have been ironed out at the rehearsal last night!’
Lexie glanced at the clipboard in her hand, anxiety gnawing at her stomach when she saw the list of outstanding items that still needed her attention before her boss, the famously fastidious fashion designer Pierre Fontaine, would allow the first model to set her stiletto-clad toes on the catwalk for the hotly anticipated debut of his Autumn/Winter collection. Everything had to be perfect!
‘And can you speak to the DJ again, please? What on earth’s the matter with him? He’s had the playlist for weeks, so why is he treating our esteemed audience to this maudlin cacophony? I assume he knows he’s not at a wake!’
‘Apparently his girlfriend ditched him last night. I’ll have another word with him,’ giggled Pippa.
‘Thanks.’
Lexie gifted her friend with a quick smile of gratitude and watched her stalk towards what looked like the flight deck of the Starship Enterprise, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor of the recently renovated Victorian swimming baths where the fashion show was being held. As the noise in the backstage area – which during the day doubled as the men’s changing rooms – had reached screech level, she had no idea what Pippa was saying but a surge of relief spread through her when she saw the supposedly lovelorn guy’s eyes ignite with interest as he took in her friend’s auburn hair and attractive curves before swiftly switching the track from an Adele classic to the Beyoncé one Lexie had asked for.
She rolled her eyes; another Pippa Marlowe convert! How did she do it?
However, Lexie had more on her mind than the DJ’s love life if the show was going to start on time. As Pierre’s artistic director and set designer, the buck stopped with her, and she was determined that everything would run smoothly. Of course, she was aware of the whispers about her tendency towards calamity and had even heard the words ‘ditzy’ and ‘airhead’ being bandied about on several occasions. Their comments hurt, but she accepted that there was more than an element of truth in their observations because beneath the surface she was paddling for her life.
She just had so much to do!
Not only had she had to employ every ounce of her creative inspiration to produce the vibrant backdrops and source the accessories required to complement Pierre’s quirky designs at his bi-annual fashion show, but she was also only three short weeks away from walking down the aisle to say ‘I do’ to the man who had set her heart on fire. She thought her head would explode with everything that still needed organising.
Everyone wanted a piece of her time and with every day that passed it was becoming harder and harder to present an external façade of calm, to keep a cheerful smile on her face, and her reactions even and measured. Pippa had told her she was crazy to succumb to Elliot’s insistence that they held the wedding so soon after the most important show of the year, but after orchestrating one of Pierre’s extravaganzas, her wedding would be a doddle. She just needed the catwalk show to go off without a hitch, then she could give all her attention to the wedding arrangements which, she had to admit, she had neglected over the last few weeks. The pressure was building, and if she didn’t take a break soon, matters would come to a head – she just prayed it would not be tonight! She consulted Pippa’s meticulously prepared agenda again, ticked the box marked ‘Music’ and hovered her pen over the next item on her checklist – ‘Hair’.
‘Has anyone seen Marcus?’
‘Over there, putting the finishing touches on Giselle’s beehive!’
Lexie felt the stress-lines across her forehead relax a little. Marcus was one of the most sought-after hairstylists in London, but what set him apart from other professionals in pursuit of hirsute perfection was his complete unflappability in the face of extreme pressure. With his careful coaxing, every one of that evening’s models, eight in all, were lined up ready to stalk down the runway, their hair conforming precisely to her vision, even Giselle, who had initially baulked when she’d seen the size of the intricate headdress she was expected to wear to accompany Pierre’s pièce de resistance – the costume that would close the show – the wedding dress. The crown of floral flamboyance had taken Pierre, in conjunction with one of London’s top florists, two months to create and featured a confectionary of real and silk flowers. After the show it would go on display at one of his friend’s art galleries in the West End. The bridal headpiece was stunning, but way too elaborate for Lexie’s taste, and she smiled when she thought of the simple diamanté tiara she had selected for her own special day.
She flicked her fringe from her eyes, briefly wondering if she should have accepted Marcus’ offer to tame her flyaway blonde hair into something a bit more sophisticated, or perhaps worn the black halter-neck jumpsuit from last year’s summer collection that Pippa had raved about, but she discarded the idea immediately. The show was not about her, it was about showcasing Pierre’s talent for cutting-edge design and creative flair.
And, despite a whole host of last-minute tweaks, provided everyone adhered to their role in the show, every aspect of that night’s sartorial extravaganza would be executed with flawless elegance. After all, hadn’t she spent every waking hour since the reveal of the Spring/Summer collection doing everything to prepare for tonight’s show except actually design and make the clothes? Scouting for unusual, quirky venues, sourcing the perfect accessories for each garment, creating the montage of black-and-white photographs that were being projected onto the backdrop, and choreographing the whole evening from picking up the keys to deciding on the canapés to be served at the party afterwards.
Lexie had been disappointed, and a little upset, when Elliot had called at the last minute to tell her that the take-over deal he’d been working on for the last three months had blown up and he wouldn’t make the show, promising to catch up with her later at the celebration party Pierre was hosting at the Ritz. It would be the first show he’d missed since they’d started dating two years ago and she felt strangely bereft, but she shoved her disappointment to the back of her mind to concentrate on the task ahead.
‘Five minutes, everyone! Five minutes! Carlton, did you manage to sort out the spotlights?’
‘Done.’
‘And you’ve rigged up the confetti dispenser?’
‘Yes, it’s all sorted.’
They both raised their eyes to the gantry above their heads where Carlton had created a simple contraption – a red plastic bucket – which had been filled with confetti printed with a tiny image of Pierre that Lexie had sourced as a special surprise. A rope had been attached to the handle and a gentle tug at the appropriate moment would send a cascade of the silver-paper stars over Giselle in the final moments of the show.
‘Thanks, Carlton.’
Lexie smiled at the electrician who had stepped in at the last minute, but all she received back was a shrug before he stalked away to check on the underwater lights.