Secret Nanny Club (29 page)

a
stylist. She was an absolute disgrace.

Dave had obviously noticed my distress, because after
we eventually wrapped up he gave me a reassuring hug and told me not to let Louise get to me. He told me she wasn’t worth wasting my energy on. Then he surprised me by asking me whether he could take me out some day the following week to discuss some ideas for shoots. I could see it was his way of making up to me for being unwittingly involved in Louise’s attempt at sabotage. I agreed to lunch. In fact, I would look forward to it. Creea sat staring at the computer screen. I was trying to gauge her reaction to the photos of the fashion shoot but it was hard to read her. “The model looks totally different in the second set of shots. I don’t know why. It’s

odd
,” she said, squinting at the photos with a frown on her face.

My heart was beating like crazy and I could feel the
palms of my hands getting sweaty. This was nerve-wracking stuff. Did she even like any of them? It was so hard to tell. I badly wanted her to love them. This was my big chance to get back in the game of fashion shoots after a fairly long absence. If I blew it I would probably never get this kind of opportunity again. I felt myself secretly cursing Louise for turning up and ruining things for me. She was like a thorn in my side. It was true that Adrienne didn’t look as good in the second batch of shots. Even I couldn’t deny that. And the reason? Well, that was because she had stayed up late, thanks to Louise. I was still racking my brains to try and find out why she had even bothered turning up, unless it really was to sabotage my efforts. Did she think working in fashion was all about the honour and the glory? It was one per-cent inspiration and ninety-nine-per-cent perspiration.

Anybody who thought conducting fashion shoots was a
walk in the park was in for a big shock. “This one is great,” said Creea, and I nearly fell off my chair with joy. At last! A glimmer of hope. “Where did you get the dog from? It’s genius.”

My head nearly swelled with pride. “To be honest I’m
not sure where he appeared from. It was just one of those random things. When the photographer was setting up the shoot he just walked around from the back of the hotel and sat at the model’s feet. He stayed there until he had got his photo taken and then just wandered off again. He must have belonged to one of the hotel staff or maybe even one of the guests.”

“Well, I hope his owner won’t be contacting us
looking for an appearance fee!” Creea chuckled.

I could feel myself relax. Phew! At least my boss
wasn’t going to admonish me for the terrible second set of pictures.

“And I like this one very much,”
Creea went on, pointing to an image of Adrienne pretending to play a grand piano. “It really encapsulates old-fashioned elegance. Brownie points to you for that one too.”

I felt myself blush. I had been yearning for praise and
now that I was getting it I didn’t know what to do with it. “But some of the shots are unusable.” Creea’s face clouded. “I’m afraid they’re not up to standard. I mean, look at that one for example. The model looks like she’s about to keel over with exhaustion. There’s nothing special about that shot.”

“Oh, that particular one was taken towards the end
of the second day,” I ventured apologetically. “The model was tired. She had been up late the night before.”

I could feel
Creea bristle. She turned to look at me and I could feel her eyes boring into me, making me feel so uncomfortable. “Why? How?”

I sat up straight in my seat. I’d need to choose my
words carefully. I wasn’t sure what Louise had already told her.

“Well, the model and the crew had dinner late and
they stayed up late as a consequence. I’m sure they had drinks.”

Creea’s
face darkened. I could tell she was furious. No surprise there. “They were drinking? Including the model? That’s pretty unforgiveable. I thought every model knew that you just don’t drink the night before a fashion shoot. Let her drink by all means, but not on our money. The nerve of her! We’ll never book her for anything again! Where were you when all this was happening?”

I began to feel very small indeed. It was quite obvious
that I was getting the blame for this even though I had been in bed during the late-night hooley. “I didn’t have dinner with them. I went to my room early. In hindsight I shouldn’t have relied on the others to go to bed early too. And I should have warned the model not to drink but I didn’t imagine in a million years that she would. Or that she would stay up so late.”

C
reea’s eyes narrowed. “But you were the one in charge.”

“I know but I had left Louise in charge of the dinner
arrangements.”

Even as I spoke I knew I sounded petty and I was
ashamed of myself but I really felt I was being scapegoated here and that it wasn’t fair.

“Really?
Louise never mentioned any of this at all. In fact, she said the shoot went very well and that everything went without a hitch. Now I find out you were all getting locked in the bar?”

I must have looked horrified by her accusation. “No,
it wasn’t like that at all,” I insisted. “The others stayed up late but they weren’t manky drunk.”

Creea
looked at me huffily. “I bet that photographer, Dave, coerced them all into staying up late. That man has a reputation for being a bit of a party animal. He can’t be trusted. It’s not fair to blame poor Louise as she’s only new and learning. Look, why don’t you leave these shots with me to mull over? I need time to choose the six best ones. At least we have a cover here and that’s the main thing.”

I slunk out of her office, feeling elated one minute and
numb the next. Of course I was thrilled that one of the shots was going to be made into a cover. After all, it is every stylist’s wish to get as many covers in her career as possible and it has great prestige but I was raging that Louise had got off scot-free with her bad behaviour and that Creea had turned against Dave as result. What an awful mess that was. I peered through the window of the door of the communal office. Louise was sitting at the communal desk with her back to the door. I just couldn’t face making small talk with her. I decided I’d go out for some fresh air. I had bags of clothes, shoes and accessories to drop back to the shops so at least I could use that as an excuse to get out of the office. I was in the lift with two bags of shoes that needed to be dropped back to Grafton Street when my phone rang. Sugar! It was at the bottom of my handbag and my two hands were full. Whoever it was would just have to leave a message. The phone rang out and then it started ringing again. Gosh, the impatience of some people! What could possibly be so urgent? Then a sudden thought struck me. What if it were Tanya? Suppose she had dropped John on his head or something terrible like that. I let the two carrier bags fall on the ground, and rummaged around my big handbag. Finally I retrieved the blasted phone. It wasn’t Tanya’s number flashing, it was Dave’s.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dave, how are you?”

“I’m great thanks, and how about you?”

“Great,” I answered, my voice full of false gaiety. I waited for him to ask the question I knew he would inevitably ask. I was dreading lying to him.

“Listen,
Kaylah, I was just wondering if you knew if Creea was happy with the shoot we did? I’ve tried phoning a couple of times today but the receptionist said she was out at meetings.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, so I was wondering if you knew anything.”

“Hi, Dave, sorry, you’re breaking up on me . . . I can’t
hear you too well. I’m on the street and the noise of the traffic is deafening.”

“Sure, okay, I understand. Can I grab you for that
lunch tomorrow? Can we meet, say, at one outside the main entrance of Arnott’s in Henry Street and take it from there? I’ve a great idea for a shoot and I want to run it by you.”

I felt my heart sink a bit. I had been kind of hoping
that he had asked me for lunch because he fancied me and not just because he wanted to work with me. But I guess I had got that completely wrong!

“That’s fine, Dave,” I said. “I’ll see you then.”

And with a heavy heart, to match the two carrier bags that were threatening to pull my arms from their sockets, I continued my way towards Brown Thomas.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dave looked very nice when I met him – very laid back, and was, if I were to be perfectly honest, quite sexy. I took my seat opposite him in the Thai restaurant called Koh on the Millennium walkway just yards from the River Liffey. It was a vibrant, eclectic part of the city

centre
. I’ve always wanted to try the restaurant as I adore Thai food so when Dave asked me where we should go for a bite to eat, I suggested this place.

“You look lovely,” he said, leaning forward to give
me a kiss.

He smelled of strong, masculine aftershave.
Mmm. Very nice. Considering we weren’t even on a date he looked like he had made a bit of an effort. He wore a royal-blue Ralph Lauren shirt that matched his eyes, jeans and a well-cut expensive-looking blazer. He looked like the type of man any woman would be proud to be seen with.

              “Thank you,” I said, picking up the menu and glancing through it.

A waiter offered to show us the wine list.
Dave looked at me. “You’re not driving, are you?”

“God no, I’m not,” I said airily as though I had left
the car at home especially for the occasion. I didn’t tell him that I got the train to and from work every day without fail. I couldn’t possibly afford either a car or the petrol to fill it up, never mind the parking charges on my

miserable
wages.

“Would you prefer red or white?”

“White would be great, thanks.”

“Chardonnay, Chablis, Pinot
Grigio?”

“Pinot
Grigio, please.”

I relaxed into my chair. I was looking forward to my
lunch. It was a treat, even though it was business-related and possibly the only reason that Dave was tolerating me was because I could be very useful to him. I had the editor’s ear. Or at least, I’d had it. I wasn’t too sure where I stood now with Creea.

Getting straight to the point, before we had even
ordered, Dave brought up the subject of the Kildare fashion shoot again. I could feel myself groan inwardly. I had really been hoping that the business talk could wait until at least dessert.

“I still haven’t heard back from
Creea, even though I sent her a couple of emails and left messages with her receptionist. I’m getting a little worried now. Do you know if she’s terribly busy at the moment?”

He looked so anxious for good news that I felt a bit
guilty now. I cast my eyes down towards the menu in my hand and bit my lip. Of course my boss was ignoring him and it was partly my fault. If I hadn’t told her about the late-night antics at the hotel, Creea might still be in the dark. I wondered whether now would be a good time to come clean. Maybe not. Every fibre of my body seemed to be telling me that I should wait until we’d had at least a glass of wine each. It would be easier then. For me.

I decided to tell a lie instead. “I think she is busy. She’s
been wrapped up all morning.” Okay, so it wasn’t a complete lie. Creea had gone off to a well-known luxurious spa on a freebie earlier on and had been in such good form she’d told me to take the rest of the day off. No doubt she was wrapped up now. In seaweed or something.

“No worries,” said Dave good-naturedly. “There’s no
urgency or anything. I was just wondering if she liked the shots. She didn’t say anything, did she?”

Feck it anyway! My back was really being put to the
wall here. I wished he’d just give it a rest and let us get on with lunch. Just as I was about to make up some other plausible answer, a waiter came to our table with the bottle of wine and presented the label to me.

“It looks fine,” I beamed enthusiastically.

He was wondering if “madame” wanted to try some first. No, goddammit, just get on with it, I silently urged. I needed alcohol in me now!

But of course I didn’t express such emotions. “Go
ahead and pour, please. I’m sure it’s just fine.”

I took an eagerly anticipated sip. Ooh, that was lovely!
So fruity and chilled. “Good choice,” I said, nodding my approval. He smiled at the compliment. He had lovely eyes, I thought. They were kind and thoughtful. You could tell a lot about people by their eyes. They were the windows to the soul.

He picked up his glass and I did the same. “Cheers,”
he said, smiling. “Let’s raise a toast to many more fashion shoots in the future.”