That’s not going to happen. Besides, Marco doesn’t need me to go to the gala with him. ‘What about Fitz?’ I hiss.
Nelly gives a quick nod of acknowledgement before talking into the phone again. ‘And Fitz? You could take her?’ He pauses for a moment, giving small sounds of agreement in the wake of Marco’s words. ‘Uh-huh. It was Fitz’s suggestion? And she said you should take the new girl?’ Nelly’s eyes widen in triumph.
It would be a treat, wandering around those grand rooms, listening to all that fantastic music. But I can’t do it, this whole relationship is a mess, built on a lie. I shake my head emphatically.
Nelly’s eyes narrow, and he purses his lips in an irritated fashion. ‘She’s indisposed currently. Sorry, Marco.’
I lunge towards him and try to grab the phone from him. He raises it up in one of his silk-clad arms.
‘Sorry, bad connection,’ he shouts. ‘Call you back.’ With that, he clicks off the phone and shoots me a withering gaze. ‘You need to go to this gala.’
‘Ughh, Nelly.’ I bury my head in my hands. ‘I don’t. This whole thing with Marco is way too complicated.’
Nelly throws his hands up in the air. ‘Everything with that boy is complicated. But this will be fun. Go, Clara. You have to,’ he cajoles.
‘I can’t,’ I protest. ‘What would I even wear?’
With that he bursts into loud laughter, extending out his arms and twirling around like a fairy queen. ‘Honestly, girl?’
‘The trouser suit from last night.’
He smiles with a mischievous charm. ‘Oh, I think I can do better than that. Besides…’ He grabs both of my hands into his. ‘No one is wearing one of my dresses tonight. I need someone to do the honours, or all the socialites will forget me.’
I can’t believe anyone would ever forget Nelly.
‘Please,’ he implores, batting his long, dark eyelashes. ‘Just for me. You can hand in your resignation tomorrow. I’ll help you write it. I’ll even deliver the goddamn thing. Just this one favour.’
I hesitate. Nelly has nothing to do with the whole music industry mess-up, and I do owe him. After all, he lent me that trouser suit and took over an hour dolling me up. A treat I won’t forget in my entire lifetime. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to at least try the dress on. ‘Fine,’ I say at last. ‘But I’m making no promises about attending the gala. You can slip the dress over my head, but if it doesn’t work…’
‘That’s my girl,’ Nelly says warmly, taking me into his arms. ‘It is so going to work.’
‘I should get back to the office,’ I say, glancing at the door and already feeling guilty.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ He grabs my hands between his. ‘Somebody else can handle all of that office malarky.’ He waves one arm dismissively. ‘Whatever it is they do in that prison to sound. I need you here. We have…’ He glances at his watch. ‘Five hours.’ He looks me over. ‘For tonight’s gig, I need the full five hours. You can meet your Prince Charmless there.’
I laugh. ‘What would he say if he knew you called him that?’
Nelly smiles. ‘Deep down, he’s just a big softy who loves a joke. Now, no more energy on that. We have work to do. Come, come, come.’
I follow Nelly to the back room, where a dress is draped over a mannequin, a shimmering blast of floor-length tulle – the skirt has two layers, one in the palest powder blue, the other in a graduated deep green dropping towards the floor. A bodice of shimmering silk looks like liquid illuminated by the bright lights in Nelly’s showroom. The plunging neckline accentuates a narrow waist encrusted by a tiny pattern of seed pearls. Despite myself, I gasp at the sight of it.
‘I was hoping someone would wear it this year, but I got no offers,’ Nelly says, leaning in the doorway, hand on the light switch. ‘What do you think?’
I move into the room as if drawn by a magnet, reaching out to touch the fabric. The bodice melts under my eager fingers. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I breathe.
‘I thought you might regret that resignation if you saw the dress.’ He smirks.
‘It’ll never fit,’ I say sadly. ‘That waist is tiny.’
He laughs. ‘An illusion, darling. That’s what couture is. We wrap you in promises and wishes. The dress holds so much of the shape.’
I gasp. ‘I would so love to wear that.’ I think I’m in love.
‘So, for goodness’ sake, go try the thing on!’
CHAPTER 13
CLARA
