Chapter 42
Darcie
The journey back to Paris was filled with a morass of emotions. Sadness at the story of what had happened to Nathalie. Joy at finding out the truth about the dress and drawings. Disbelief that Padgett had previously tried to get hold of the sketchbook.
‘There has to be something in the book,’ said Matt. ‘We need to have a closer look at it when we get back.’
‘What about just confronting Padgett?’ asked Darcie. ‘Calling his bluff.’
Matt considered this for a moment. ‘I don’t think he will fold that easily. He’ll want us to prove it. We need to find out more about him and exactly who his grandmother was.’
Darcie spent most of the journey googling Christophe Padgett and the history of the Ritz, following every thread that might lead her to find a connection between them, but drew a complete blank.
‘It might be his grandmother went by a different name, if it’s on his mother’s side of the family,’ said Darcie. ‘I don’t really know how to progress this.’
‘The answer is in the sketchbook, I’m positive,’ said Matt. ‘We need some sort of expert to look at it. Nathalie told Odile there were names and codes in the book. We’re not exactly Turing; we won’t be able to break the codes or even recognise them. That will need some sort of military wartime expert, but if we can find the names, we might be able to make a connection.’
‘Whatever Padgett is up to,’ said Darcie. ‘I’m pretty sure the House of Chanel know nothing about it.’
‘I agree. I don’t think they’d be too happy to find out either.’
When they arrived back in Matt’s apartment in Paris, by rights they should have been shattered, but Darcie was far too wired to even think about sleep.
‘I want to look at the book properly,’ she said, plonking herself down on the sofa. She opened the sketchbook out in front of her and laid it on the coffee table. Matt brought them both a coffee over and sat down beside her.
He flicked to one of the designs and the corresponding page. ‘So here are lots of numbers and workings-out which just look like measurements, calculations, how much fabric is needed et cetera.’
‘On the face of it, they mean nothing,’ said Darcie. ‘But they must be the codes. We have no idea what we’re looking at but these were written by Nathalie, giving names, details, information. It’s amazing to think this is actually part of the war effort.’
‘It’s pretty crazy,’ agreed Matt. ‘So, we need an expert to look at those. In the meantime, we’ve got to find out if there’s any other information hidden on the pages.’
‘Maybe between the pages?’ suggested Darcie, carefully looking at each page to see if two had been stuck together.
‘I think that’s too simplistic. It would be easily discovered,’ said Matt. ‘It’s got to be something more sophisticated.’
They both pondered the conundrum for several minutes.
‘It’s nothing obvious. It can’t be obvious,’ mused Darcie. ‘So it must be hidden and you’d only know to look for it if you knew it was there in the first place.’ She peered closer at the page with the blue bow-dress design. ‘I don’t know why, but I feel it’s here.’
‘On this page? You think she’s hidden it on what is potentially her most famous design?’
‘Look, this may sound far-fetched and a bit spy thriller, but during the war, agents on both sides used invisible ink,’ said Darcie. ‘I went to a talk about it once when I was at a World War Two show. It was fascinating.’
‘And you think the information is here, staring us right in the face?’ said Matt. ‘But how would we know?’
‘It’s a bit of a long shot but I think I know how.’ Darcie put the book down. ‘Do you have an iron?’
Matt gave her an odd look. ‘Sure.’
‘Go and get it. Plug it in.’ Darcie could feel the excitement building in her stomach. ‘There were several different types of ink and different ways of revealing the invisible ink. Sometimes it was a chemical and other times just good old-fashioned heat. I saw this at the show.’
Matt retrieved his iron from the cupboard and plugged it in. ‘Imagine if it’s that simple.’
‘I know, right.’ Darcie grinned. She took the book over to the worktop and picked up the iron. ‘God, I hope I’m right and I’m not about to burn this design. That would be a catastrophe.’ For a second, she hovered the iron over the page, before taking a deep breath and lowering it onto the sketchbook.
Gently Darcie pressed the iron onto the paper.
‘Rub it around. Don’t keep it in one place,’ said Matt.
