Noticing a beautiful pale pink halter-style gown in amongst the couture handbags, perfume and jewellery, Chloe found herself inside the boutique and fingering the exquisitely silky fabric. The dress was cinched in at the waist and then looked like it fell to the floor. Pity she didn’t have her colour swatch given to her by her aunt with the approved colours for her. Not that she’d ever have the confidence to wear a dress like that. She was way too tall.
‘It will be perfect with your hair and skin. Not to mention your height.’
Turning, Chloe expected to see some deferential shop assistant about to do a hard sell on her, when she found herself face to face with current London ‘It’ girl and wild child of the Chatsfield clan – Cara Chatsfield.
‘You’re Cara Chatsfield,’ Chloe almost stammered with her shock. ‘Sorry, that was truly gauche of me.’
Cara laughed, her voice light and musical. ‘Not at all. It’s nice to stand next to someone taller than me for a change. That dress can either be dressed up or down depending on the shoes you choose.’
Chloe glanced at her Audrey Hepburnesque black ballet flats.
‘Probably not those.’ Cara laughed. ‘Go on, try it on.’
Chloe glanced at the dress dubiously. ‘I think I’m too tall.’
‘Nonsense. It’s made for a tall girl,’ Cara said. ‘And that colour will bring out the strawberry tones in your hair. Is that natural by the way?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now I’m truly jealous. Go on. The designer is fabulous.’
As was the price tag most likely but Chloe did as the famous model bid, wondering if perhaps she’d stepped down a rabbit hole or something. Or perhaps she was just asleep in her bed and this was all just a weird dream.
Wishful thinking, she thought somewhat miserably.
But when she appeared with the dress on Chloe had to admit that it was dazzling.
‘What did I tell you?’
Cara stood beside her in the full-length mirror wearing a very daring and very short electric blue strapless dress with gladiator sandals. The outfit should have looked garish. It only looked fabulous.
‘Are you going to wear it somewhere special?’ Cara asked.
Chloe hesitated and then thought what the hell; everything about this day felt surreal anyway. ‘Liam Hunter’s party tonight.’
‘Oooh my.’ Cara’s eyes twinkled with devilment. ‘He will keel over when he sees you in that. Are you dating him?’
‘No.’
There must have been something in her tone because Cara placed a manicured hand on her arm. ‘There’s a story there. Why don’t you tell it to me over at the salon where you can have your hair and makeup done as well.’
‘Hair and makeup?’
‘Sara, be a love and put both outfits on my account.’
‘You can’t possibly pay for my dress,’ Chloe spluttered.
‘Yes I can, my father owns the hotel.’ Cara grinned mischievously and Chloe wondered if anyone could resist her when she did that. ‘Come on. Say yes, I’m in dire need of cheering up right now. What was your name by the way?’
‘Chloe, but–’
‘Great.’
Linking her arm through Chloe’s, Cara had herded her out of the boutique and across the wide ha
ll into a discrete-looking salon before she had a chance to blink, let alone object. She’d leave a cheque for the dress at reception later, she decided.
Still… ‘I should warn you that I’m a journalist,’ Chloe pulled a face, her innate sense of right and wrong coming to the fore. ‘Not that I would ever repeat anything you said to me outside of a formal interview.’