Once Annie had ended the call she looked at her husband and put a hand tenderly against his cheek.
‘Oh dear … I get the gist, big trouble in the Big Apple,’ he said.
She really did owe Ed a mini-break and her absolute full attention.
‘I love you,’ she told him, ‘and I take you totally for granted. But that’s family life, isn’t it? We’re pulled in fifteen different directions every minute of the blinking day.’
‘Uh-oh, this doesn’t sound good …’
‘I think Lana and NY Perfect Dress need my help.’
‘Not in New York?’ Ed groaned.
‘Maybe in New York … very likely in New York, but right now, I need you,’ – she landed a kiss on his mouth – ‘so can we just try and concentrate on that?’
Chapter Forty-Six
New York
Lana fully Lana-ish:
Tight grey skinny jeans (Diesel)
Latest white chiffon tunic (NY Perfect Dress)
Grey pinstriped waistcoat (flea market find)
Pendant in silver with semi-precious stones (Monica Vinader)
Black peep-toe, so cool, heeled sandals (Shoe Warehouse)
Clips to hold fringe out of face (drugstore)
Total est. cost: $128
AS ANNIE STEPPED
from her yellow cab on Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, all traces of jet lag were blasted away by the breathtaking
wow
of this city.
Even though she’d visited many times before, New York was always bigger, better, louder,
brighter,
brasher than she remembered: like an adrenalin shot direct to the heart.
She wanted to throw up her arms and ‘
woooo hoooo
’ at the vast skyscrapers, the jammed lanes of traffic, the jangle of noise and the wide sidewalks packed with New Yorkers marching purposefully along on this gorgeous June day.
But instead of shouting, Annie grinned from ear to ear, paid her cab fare, shouldered her handbag, clicked out the handle of her trolley bag and began to speed straight for the Perfect Dress office.
According to her body-clock it was 9 p.m., but stepping out onto the sunshine of Fifth at 3 p.m. New York time, she felt instantly revived, all set for work and a whole evening of cocktail bar hopping afterwards.
As soon as she was buzzed through the doors of the office block, she took the lift – no, make that elevator – up to the 47th floor. Then she walked along the corridor looking for the door to office number 4712. When she found it, she gave a little tap, but walked in without waiting for an answer.
‘Hello and how is everyone at Perfect Dress?’
‘Oh Mum!’
Lana leapt up from her desk and rushed over to greet her.
‘Lana, babes,’ Annie sighed, throwing her arms around her daughter, ‘it’s so good to see you.’
And it was. For a moment, Annie kept a tight hold, telling Lana: ‘Look at you, I can’t really bear that you’re over here doing all this growing up without me.’
Her face was pressed against Lana’s silky hair and as Annie thought of all the love, all the hugs, disagreements, conversations and all the time that had passed between them, the angry argument dissolved. She and her daughter would always, always find a way back to each other. No matter what might have been said or done.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Annie croaked because of the lump in her throat.
‘But it’s so sad,’ Lana said when the hug was finally over. ‘Look at us, we’re packing up. It’s all over! Perfect Dress is finished. The copied print was the final straw for Svetlana; she’s pulled the plug and closed us down.’
Now Annie looked properly around the office and saw Elena and Gracie at their desks packing files into boxes and dismantling the computers. Everyone had long, glum faces and Gracie’s eyes looked tearful.
‘You’re joking!’ Annie exclaimed. ‘Was this decided while I was on the plane?’
‘We get the call an hour ago,’ Elena said.
‘But I’ve come up with an answer,’ Annie protested, ‘I’ve thought of a way to solve the print
problem
– and what about Arlene Henderson? Hasn’t she been in touch? Doesn’t she still want to order dresses from the new line?’
‘Svetlana says we are to finish. She’s not going to back the company any more. It’s over,’ Elena replied.
‘You’re joking …’ Annie sat down on the nearest chair and tried to take in this news.
‘You’re too late, Mum.’
‘But I can’t be too late!’ she insisted. ‘Do you have any idea how much schedule arranging I’ve done to get here for three days?! Filming’s been rearranged; Dinah’s been rearranged … Ed … even Owen has given up drum practice to babysit! It can’t be too late.’ She clenched her hand into a fist: ‘It’s never too late, not when
catwalktoyou.com
wants to buy into your line.’
‘Too late, Mum,’ Lana repeated, ‘it’s too late. I’ll have to come home … I’ll have to go to Dagenham Technical College.’
The defeat in Lana’s voice made Annie want to cry. But seeing her daughter look so lost and unhappy also made her want to jump into action.
‘Now girls,’ she began, ‘you are just going to have to listen to me. It’s time to put up a fight. If something’s worth having, then it’s worth fighting for. No good thing ever came easy – well, not in my experience anyway. You’re right on the brink of
success
here, you can’t just fall at the last hurdle.’
‘But we could be sued over those dresses,’ Gracie protested. ‘Svetlana said if we’re not in business then we can’t be sued. Oh, I wish I’d never, ever met Parker Bain. If I ever see him again, I’m going to punch him in the face!’
‘And he so likes you,’ Lana chipped in, ‘And he’s so sorry—’
‘Forget it,’ Gracie replied.
‘We can’t be sued if the designer of the original pattern thinks it’s flattering to be copied,’ Annie replied. ‘So that’s our first mission.’
‘Flattering? But how …?’ Elena began.
‘OK, Lana,’ Annie interrupted, ‘I have the number for PoliPolka headquarters. You are going to phone them up and ask to speak to the boss, she’s called Susie Fellows and apparently she’s incredibly nice. Tell her that a “homage” to one of her designs has made it onto a small run of your dresses by mistake. And assure her it won’t happen again because next time, you’re going to commission her directly to design a print for you – and mention that
catwalktoyou.com
are buying.
‘Just to keep her totally sweet, I want you to tell her that you have a brilliant contact on the TV programme
How To Be Fabulous
. There’s a new guest slot for small designers and you’re sure you can get her on.’
Lana gasped: ‘Really? You think it will work?’
Annie nodded. ‘I’m sure it will work.’
‘I don’t think I could make that call,’ Lana hesitated. ‘You’d be much better at it, Mum, or Elena. Surely it should be Elena?’
‘Lana, you want to work in fashion, right?’ Annie asked. ‘You want to be going places with a company that’s really going places?’
Lana nodded.
Annie gave her daughter a loving and deeply encouraging look. Lana was getting older, growing up; she looked sophisticated and beautifully dressed, but she had to let go of all her little girl insecurities and step up to adult-sized responsibility. Annie was right here to give her the push.
‘OK, babes, you’re making the call,’ Annie said, handing her the card with the phone number: ‘time to man up.’
Lana took the card and her face changed from doubtful to determined.
‘Gracie, it could be time to unpack,’ Annie suggested. ‘Start getting the office ready for business again.’
‘OK!’ Gracie replied with a grin.
‘Elena, my darlin’, you’ve got a difficult call to make too.’
‘Not Svetlana …’ Elena protested.
‘Yes, Svetlana. You’ve got to ask her for one more
chance.
You’ve got to tell her that we’re all going to work together, no more bolting off to do things on our own. We’re a team now.’
Everyone nodded solemnly.
‘We’ll put the copied print right,’ Annie added, ‘and call a meeting with
catwalktoyou.com
. We need our best negotiator at that meeting and we all know who that is: the only person in the world who can get Igor Wisneski to do exactly as she wants.’
‘I do not think Svetlana will give us another chance,’ Elena said, ‘I think we already blew our last chance.’
‘Yes, you probably did. But we’re the Mothers, we’re always,
always
going to want you to pick yourselves up after you’ve fallen down again.’
‘I don’t know …’
‘Elena – if your mother even thinks about not agreeing, then remind her that she owes me one favour,’ Annie said. ‘She promised I would get one favour, which she wouldn’t be allowed to refuse, no matter what it was. So I’m asking her to give NY Perfect Dress a chance. And the best chance for NY Perfect Dress is to have the three of you in the New York office and Svetlana leading the negotiations.’
‘C’mon,’ Annie clapped her hands, ‘what are you all waiting for? Time to make it happen!’
Chapter Forty-Seven
New York
Arlene’s high fashion rules:
Peach satin sleeveless dress (Hussein Chalayan)
Peach metallic ballet flats (Lanvin)
Pale grey leather jacket (Rick Owens)
Tan boxy shoulder bag (Reed Krakoff)
Diamond spider ring (Irit Design)
Total est. cost: $12,000
‘SHE’S LATE!’ LANA
wailed, ‘How can she possibly be late? This is the most important meeting of my entire life and my boss is late.’
Annie risked a peek at her watch, although she had a feeling she knew what it would say.
It was 10.02 a.m. She felt sick.
Annie had been listening to Elena lecture them all on the American obsession with punctuality for the past seventeen minutes. That’s how long she, Elena and Lana had been standing outside at the foot of the vast stone staircase which led to the soaring tower block where
catwalktoyou.com
HQ was located.
‘We are dead. This is over,’ Elena said, her voice simmering with rage. ‘Svetlana strikes again. That woman! She must have changed her mind! Maybe she still wants to close down Perfect Dress but she wants to humiliate us one last time!’
‘Shhh …’ Annie said, trying to be calming. But after seventeen whole minutes of trying to soothe rapidly fraying nerves, she was all out of calming. Plus, it was infuriating. And
so
Svetlana. Annie didn’t think Svetlana could have changed her mind – surely not now, at the very last minute? But the Queen Bee of drama queens always had to make an entrance.
Annie took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. No one had been able to reach Svetlana by phone, but maybe she had a genuine excuse.
Maybe the boys …?
Her heart gave a momentary flutter of anxiety. No. Surely Annie couldn’t be asked to join in with a kidnapper chase again? No, it just couldn’t be the
boys.
Igor had been placated, the boys were safe.
Annie looked round at the Perfect Dress team. They were all in their absolute best. Everyone had made a huge effort for this meeting and they were completely worthy of an interview. They had assembled at the Perfect Dress office two hours earlier where Gracie had styled everyone’s outfit, tweaked make-up, added accessories and wished them all the very best luck in the world. She’d decided to stay and man the phones because she was too nervous to come to the presentation.
‘Already puking with fear,’ she’d told them. ‘Please make this work or you know I will be looking for that job in a lawyer’s office.’ Plus, she’d admitted there was one phone call she had to make: ‘If it all works out, maybe I’ll call Parker and listen to his grovelling apology and accept the offer of a date – but only
if
it works out!’
Annie and Lana were in Perfect Chic tunics, dressed up with careful hairstyles, best make-up, leggings and seriously good shoes. Lana wore her lucky, dotty Mary Janes and Annie tottered on electric-blue suede sandals which were manna from shoe heaven but when it came to actually walking; well, they were presenting a challenge.
Elena, perhaps to please her mother, had gone Perfect Dress ‘classic’ with a slubby taffeta button-down dress in a shade of lime green which made her
clear
skin, blonde hair and grey-green eyes dazzle in an extraordinary way.
Where was Svetlana?!
‘Do you think we should go on ahead?’ Annie wondered. ‘Should we let Ms Henderson know that something has happened?’
Elena shrugged. ‘I don’t think she will even take our call. She is an extremely busy lady and we are LATE.’
‘Do you think this could be Svetlana?’ Lana asked, pointing to a sleek silver limousine nudging its way through the traffic. All eyes fixed on the car. Sure enough, it peeled away from the inside lane and pulled into the waiting area near where Annie and the girls were standing.
A chauffeur jumped out and before he’d even opened the door for her, they could see that Svetlana was beyond the tinted window, flashing a megawatt smile.
As she stepped gracefully from the car, Svetlana, even by her own standards, looked quite extraordinary. She’d chosen a black Perfect Chic tunic, spray-on leather trousers, the highest, pointiest purple sandals ever invented and over this outfit she’d thrown lashings of diamonds: ropes, chunks, hunks of diamond, plus a furry purple waistcoat which was probably made of finest Mongolian baby yak underbelly or something equally rare.
Completing the billionairess look were gigantic Chanel shades and the kind of priceless handbag that took an entire village of Italian master craftsmen several years to complete.
‘You’re late!’ Elena complained, obviously not as dazzled into silence as everyone else.
‘No, no, I am perfectly on time and it is wonderful to see you. Everyone looks so beautiful,’ she countered.
‘It’s nearly five past ten!’ Elena exclaimed.
‘Ah Elena, I know I am a very difficult mother, I know, I know, I know …’ Svetlana held up her hands in protest, ‘I know I often make life difficult for all my three beloved children, but I can promise you that today, I am on time.’