Whispers of Fate

viii

Paris was gorgeous, or at least its airport was. I didn't get much time to marvel at the place as I was hurried to my awaiting car. I admired the city from the window as we drove by, the air escaping in through a cracked window. I had been to many places in my life, Japan, Sweden, Spain, but I had always dreamed of coming to Paris. It was just a shame it was a business trip and not some romantic getaway, as I had always imagined.

The hotel the heiress had arranged for me to stay at was modest but still beautiful. It had white beams around the entrance and wooden panelled floors. The smell of fresh baking and perfume greeted me as I walked in the door, dragging behind me my suitcase and handbag.

The room was on the third floor and consisted of a tiny, beige bathroom, a giant double bed that took up half the space and a large television. A small balcony, much like the one in my old flat, peered out over the narrow street below. I was disappointed to learn I couldn't see the Eiffel tower from the window but hey ho, I was in Paris. That was good enough for me.

A part of me would have liked to stay up, to get my best outfit on and hit the streets to see what France really had to offer but another part, a more logical part, whispered that it was late and I had important work to do tomorrow. So regretfully, I pulled on my matching pink pyjama set (it had little books as a pattern), washed my face, brushed my teeth and climbed under the thick blankets to welcome sleep.

The next morning I had my first ever French coffee. It wasn't as special as I'd imagined but I did get to drink it on the balcony whilst in a white fluffy dressing gown so I felt a little bit dignified that I was having the true Parisian experience.

My appointment with Annette was early on, 9 am in her studio apartment. I barely had time to swipe the usual makeup onto my face and throw on the white shirt, black boots, mini skirt and brown trench coat that I had carefully selected before coming away. I had to make a good impression on this woman and I needed my fashion to reflect my skills as a designer.

Oh my God. I was a designer now. I was no longer a shy, timid waitress daydreaming about a boy she can never have. I was a business woman, a fashion designer, and a rich girlfriend.

These thoughts swam around my head on the way to the meeting, making me glow with happiness. I applied my lipstick shakily, puckering into the ornate pocket mirror Lucy had gifted me for my 24th birthday. When we arrived at the building I took a deep breath in, held it until I couldn't hold it any longer, then shakily released. It was time.

The meeting wasn't too long. Annette was sweet, glamorous, and everything you would have expected from a French heiress. She had gorgeous mousy brown hair and hazel eyes, paired with an almost-feline grace. We talked about a few ideas, I took her measurements in great detail and we went over some of the possible options in terms of what we could do with the materials she'd chosen.

Afterwards she invited me to dinner with her and a few friends.

"Please, it would be the least I could do. You cannot possibly tell me you are going to leave without trying some of our famous cuisine?" She batted her eyes at me and I suddenly understood why she was nicknamed 'the siren of Paris' by the tabloids. After a bit of persuasion I begrudgingly agreed and she clapped her hands together in delight.

"Perfect! I shall send a car at seven. Wear your best dress."

It's not that I didn't want to go out and explore the city with actual Parisian people, it's just that I was somewhat shy in these situations. I was nervous that I would make the wrong impression on Annette and her friends, that I would say the wrong things and risk losing a good customer. However I supposed that this could be seen as a form of networking and networking was necessary to keep our clientele pool expanding.