Sophie Weston - The Accidental Mistress

Even Izzy, used to her sister’s beauty, was startled.

‘She really is gorgeous, isn’t she?’ she said, almost to herself.

The clipboard queen was passing. ‘Gorgeous,’ she said indifferently. She stuffed the board under her arm and held out a hand. ‘Molly di Peretti from Culp and Christopher. Too much of a rush to do introductions earlier. But I wanted to say how much I admire what you did here today.’

‘Thank you,’ said Izzy, but absently. She was still looking at Jemima. That outburst was so out of character! What was going on behind the professionally flirtatious manner?

But Molly di Peretti was more interested in the concept of the launch. ‘This is just so original. You know, when Pepper told me what you were planning, I told her it was too weird?’

‘Oh?’ From a distance she could see that Jemima was clearly on edge. Her hands were never still and she kept touching her face, her hair.

“‘The hacks want champagne and lots of it,” I said. “Coffee and chat won’t cut the mustard.” That was your idea, right?’

‘Yes,’ said Izzy absently.

Jemima wasn’t happy. Other people might not notice, but Izzy had protected her from her first day in the playground. She could see that, however much her sister smiled, she was just desperate to get away.

‘Well, I was wrong,’ said Molly, oblivious. ‘It’s brilliant. Everyone is going to remember this launch.’

Izzy pulled herself together. ‘That’s the name of the game,’ she said gaily.

‘Hmm. Not everyone can do it, though.’ Molly di Peretti thought a bit. ‘And you’re Pepper Calhoun’s assistant, right? You don’t organise events for a living?’

‘Good grief, no. I’m just the gofer.’

‘Hmm,’ she said again. ‘And how did you get together with Pepper?’

‘We’re cousins.’

The woman’s eyebrows climbed towards her green hairline. She looked across the room to where Jemima was laughing a little too loudly at something one of the photographers had said. ‘Ah. So you must be related to the gorgeous Jemima as well?’

‘She’s my sister.’ Izzy’s voice was neutral. She waited for Molly di Peretti to remember that she had called Jemima the Beast of Belinda. She was not vindictive but she would enjoy seeing the brisk sophisticate wince.

But Molly di Peretti was not wincing. She was looking intrigued. ‘Lots of talent in your family.’ She put her head on one side. ‘We might just be able to use that.’

Izzy was trying to gauge how the launch party was going, but at that she stopped looking round the room for a moment and paid attention.

‘Use it? How?’

‘Woman power,’ said Molly, clearly writing the press release in her head. ‘Siblings unite to give the fashion establishment a run for its money. Redheads Rule! There’s lots of possibilities.’

Izzy snorted. ‘Oh, yeah? And what are you going to call it? The Brains, the Beauty and the Other One?’ she said with sudden savagery.

Molly flung up a hand in mock surrender. ‘Hey. No sweat. It was just an idea.’

Izzy was taken aback by her own vehemence. She said in a calmer voice, ‘Sorry. It’s just not my scene.’

‘Yeah. I can see that,’ Molly said slowly.

‘Anyway, why would you want to start another story? Isn’t this one going to be big enough? Especially with the party tonight?’

‘Yup. I wanted to talk to you about that. I may have another guest.’

‘Fine.’ Izzy shrugged. ‘I’ll put her on the list. Name?’

Molly rested her chin on her clipboard. ‘Dominic Templeton-Burke,’ she said. And waited for a reaction.

She did not get one. ‘Sounds like another chinless wonder,’ said Izzy, making a note. ‘Hope he’s pretty.’

Molly’s lips twitched. ‘Oh, he is. In fact—’

‘Great. Now, tell me that you were joking about the three-woman line-up and I’ll be a happy bunny.’

Molly hesitated. ‘PR is more than one splash, you know. After the launch we’ll keep on drip-drip-dripping away. We have to place a story here, a photograph there.’

‘But the story doesn’t have to be woman power, does it?’ said Izzy with foreboding.

‘Not if you don’t want, of course.’ Molly di Peretti did not try to hide her disappointment. ‘But that’s the message Pepper keeps pounding out.’ She sighed. ‘In fact, I’d better go circulate among the hacks. Make sure it’s getting through.’

She moved on with a friendly smile.

Izzy watched her go. She could have kicked herself. Not well handled. Maybe I’m losing my touch with a crisis, she told herself, trying to make a joke of it.

Oh, well, back to work. Check with the boss, check with the team, keep the wheels rolling. If she could find any of them in the suddenly active crowd, of course.

But actually it was easy. The crowd was thickest round her cousin, and they were all listening with attention. Some were even scribbling.

Pepper was on a roll. She might freeze with nerves on a stage, but in a small group, on her own subject, she was unstoppable.

‘These are real clothes for real women,’ she was saying earnestly. ‘We’ve got some wonderful designers working for us. No more tarty tat for stick insects or black, black, black. Out of the Attic is going to be a fun place to come. And you take the fun home with you when you buy one of our outfits.’ She twirled the jade and turquoise skirts of her silk coat with manifest delight.

At least one journalist beamed in sympathy. Someone took a photograph.

Izzy bit back a smile. Only this morning in the car coming here, she had said, ‘Don’t put that in the speech. Keep it for the one-to-one chats. It will make a great quote.’

Pepper met her eyes across the group in a conspiratorial grin. ‘Isn’t that right, Izzy?’

‘Take home the fun? Works for me,’ agreed Izzy easily.

The journalists turned. They clocked that she was a member of staff. At once, Izzy saw, they bypassed her face, looking straight at the dress. She would have to get used to that, she thought wryly.

‘One of the new designs?’ someone asked.

Fluently, Izzy gave them name, designer and catalogue number. They wrote that down, too.

‘Let me show you the campaign trunk,’ Izzy said, leading them to one of the clusters of furniture. ‘We really love this. We found the original in a junk shop and had it copied. See those drawers? That’s where we keep accessories. We want the customers to discover them, like secrets.’

The journalists started to pull out the drawers, exclaiming with pleasure at the lavender bags and delicate twisty belts they found there.

‘How am I doing?’ Izzy said out of the corner of her mouth to Pepper.

‘Born saleswoman,’ returned Pepper, with a wink. ‘Keep on working the room. We’re flying!’

She was right. To a woman, the guests loved the idea of a store that invited customers to discover stuff in an attic. Some of them weren’t quite so sure about all the clothes themselves. But absolutely everyone loved Jemima’s golden shirt. And nobody said a word about the absence of champagne.

Izzy circulated conscientiously for an hour.

‘Have you had one of these smoked salmon things?’ Pepper asked, nibbling a canapé. ‘Boy, I needed that.’

Izzy shook her head. ‘Can’t risk it. I’ll mark the dress. Always been a messy feeder. We’ll have pizza later.’

Pepper laughed and let her go. Izzy went to check on her helpers. They had to be ready to clear the room the moment the last guest left. The hotel was on a tight timetable.

‘They’re having too much fun,’ said Geoff, munching on a Bath bun and peering in through the service doors. He offered her a bite.

Izzy shook her head. ‘I’ll get them out,’ she said with confidence.