Alice-Miranda in Paris 7 by Jacqueline Harvey

Author:Jacqueline Harvey [Harvey, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION
Publisher: Random House Australia
Published: 2013-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

Ambrosia Headlington-Bear had not been the least bit impressed when told that she wouldn’t be meeting Dux LaBelle at her private viewing of the LaBelle collection. Apparently he was too busy to see her, and yet, as she had pointed out to the man on the telephone, the only reason he had a profile was because she had worn one of his gowns to the FFATAS and her photograph was on the cover of Gloss and Goss. She’d only ever seen Dux once, at his show the previous year.

But then, come to think of it, she’d never really seen him at all. He had worn a mask and his clothes had completely swamped him. At the time she’d thought it wonderfully mysterious but now she just thought it was rather ridiculous.

As the taxi sat idling in the traffic, Ambrosia fished around in her handbag and checked the address. She should have walked. It would have been faster. She looked at the map that the concierge had given her and realised that the street was not far.

Ambrosia tapped the driver on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me, I’ll get out here.’ She pulled a ten euro note from her wallet and handed it over. Then, as she was about to exit the vehicle, she remembered.

‘May I have a receipt, please?’

She wasn’t used to accounting for her expenses.

Ambrosia consulted her map again and set off. She glanced around at the assortment of townhouses and hotels and decided that every street in Paris looked almost the same. Except for the window boxes. Sometimes they were beautiful and other times full of weeds. But the plants in this street looked well cared for.

Ambrosia reached her destination and rang the bell. Inside the house, she heard footsteps on the timber floor. They seemed to be heading away from the door.

She waited what seemed like an age before finally the door opened. A man greeted her. ‘Bonjour, madame,’ he said. ‘I am Gilbert and you are?’

‘Ambrosia Headlington-Bear,’ she said, frowning back at him. ‘You were expecting me.’

‘Oui, of course.’

Ambrosia had anticipated champagne, and perhaps a little small talk about how beautiful she had looked in that LaBelle gown. This man had absolutely no public relations skills whatsoever.

He invited her inside and led the way along the ground floor corridor, where he hastily unlocked a door and pushed it open. The room was large, with bare timber floors and heavily draped windows. He flicked a switch and a dusty chandelier in the middle of the room lit up to reveal half a dozen mannequins. Each was wearing a spectacular gown in shades of fuchsia, black and green.

‘Oh my, these are exquisite,’ Ambrosia gasped. She walked over to inspect the first gown more closely. The design was like nothing she’d ever seen before and the workmanship was superb. ‘Dux is amazing.’

The man nodded but said nothing. Ambrosia had the feeling that this was going to be more of a self-serve viewing. Her French was sorely lacking and this fellow seemed to have very little English either.

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