pleasure,"
Marielle told her, her slanted, expressionless eyes sweeping over Penny's face. She was wearing a short black coat over a tight-fitting black skirt, thick black tights and extremely expensive black pumps. Her hair was a thick, wiry mass of curls that framed her exquisite face and stopped in a harsh line just above her shoulders. Her make-up, though slightly overdone, was immaculate, the shiny splash of red on her wide, full lips adding a striking contrast to the darkness of her skin and clothes. She was the very epitome of French chic and towered over Penny in a way that made Penny feel so uncomfortably dwarfish and dowdy that it was only the brief glimpse of herself in a mirror as Marielle led the way out of the terminal building that reassured her she didn't look quite so bad after all.
Of course she couldn't wear the kind of clothes Marielle was wearing, but her knee-length navy suede jacket that was covering a long, cornflower-blue sweater dress with starched white collar was pretty smart and both were great colours for her hair and eyes. And besides, she wasn't here for either a beauty contest or a fashion parade, she was here to do a job!
As she stepped outside she inhaled deeply and took a brief look around. There was a glorious crispness to the air and a radiance in the light that made the wintry bleakness of England seem like the planet's dungeon by comparison.
Trying to keep control of her trolley as she hurried across the road after Marielle, who was striding on ahead through the swaying palms into the car park, Penny was beginning to feel like some kind of simpleton lady's maid.
This wasn't a good start, she was telling herself, but putting Marielle in her place wouldn't be much
46
of one either. There would be plenty of time over the next few days to assert her authority, as subtly as she could, for alienating Marielle was definitely not on her agenda. Having spoken to her frequently this past week, Penny was already aware of how invaluable Marielle's knowledge and contacts were going to be. Her hostility might be a bit of a problem, though, but Penny was pretty certain she'd win her over eventually. Not right away, though, as she hadn't told Marielle yet that she had already taken the decision - with Sylvia's approval
- to do away totally with the magazine as it stood, for the format was so bland and so depressingly tradesmanorientated that it wasn't any wonder they'd had to give it away.
"This your car?"
Penny smiled, catching up with Marielle, who had stopped beside a sleek little red Japanese number.
Marielle nodded as she pressed a button on her key ring unlocking the doors.
She offered Penny no assistance with heaving her case into the boot; instead, she slid into the driver's seat and waited for Penny to get in beside her.
When Penny came to open the car door she very nearly plonked herself on Marielle's lap.
"You're in France now,"
Marielle informed her smoothly.
"Of course!"
Penny laughed.
"Force of habit, I'm afraid,"
and walking quickly round to the other side she got in and fastened her seat belt.
"So,"
she said decisively as they joined the autoroute into Cannes,
"maybe we can go straight to the office. I'm dying to see it."
Glancing in her rear-view mirror, Marielle pressed her foot down hard and proceeded to eat up the autoroute as if it was a long, slippery string of spaghetti being sucked into a hungry mouth.
"Wow!"
Penny muttered, blinking at the passing blur 47
of scenery; then suddenly she was jamming her feet hard into the floor as Marielle raced up behind a Mercedes and sat inches from its tail. Making a mental note not to travel with Marielle unless absolutely necessary, Penny decided to try a little light conversation.
"Were you born here?"
she asked.
Tes."
"Actually in Cannes?"
"Yes."
"It must have been quite something growing up in such a beautiful place/ Penny commented.
Whether it was or wasn't, Marielle obviously wasn't going to let
Marielle told her, her slanted, expressionless eyes sweeping over Penny's face. She was wearing a short black coat over a tight-fitting black skirt, thick black tights and extremely expensive black pumps. Her hair was a thick, wiry mass of curls that framed her exquisite face and stopped in a harsh line just above her shoulders. Her make-up, though slightly overdone, was immaculate, the shiny splash of red on her wide, full lips adding a striking contrast to the darkness of her skin and clothes. She was the very epitome of French chic and towered over Penny in a way that made Penny feel so uncomfortably dwarfish and dowdy that it was only the brief glimpse of herself in a mirror as Marielle led the way out of the terminal building that reassured her she didn't look quite so bad after all.
Of course she couldn't wear the kind of clothes Marielle was wearing, but her knee-length navy suede jacket that was covering a long, cornflower-blue sweater dress with starched white collar was pretty smart and both were great colours for her hair and eyes. And besides, she wasn't here for either a beauty contest or a fashion parade, she was here to do a job!
As she stepped outside she inhaled deeply and took a brief look around. There was a glorious crispness to the air and a radiance in the light that made the wintry bleakness of England seem like the planet's dungeon by comparison.
Trying to keep control of her trolley as she hurried across the road after Marielle, who was striding on ahead through the swaying palms into the car park, Penny was beginning to feel like some kind of simpleton lady's maid.
This wasn't a good start, she was telling herself, but putting Marielle in her place wouldn't be much
46
of one either. There would be plenty of time over the next few days to assert her authority, as subtly as she could, for alienating Marielle was definitely not on her agenda. Having spoken to her frequently this past week, Penny was already aware of how invaluable Marielle's knowledge and contacts were going to be. Her hostility might be a bit of a problem, though, but Penny was pretty certain she'd win her over eventually. Not right away, though, as she hadn't told Marielle yet that she had already taken the decision - with Sylvia's approval
- to do away totally with the magazine as it stood, for the format was so bland and so depressingly tradesmanorientated that it wasn't any wonder they'd had to give it away.
"This your car?"
Penny smiled, catching up with Marielle, who had stopped beside a sleek little red Japanese number.
Marielle nodded as she pressed a button on her key ring unlocking the doors.
She offered Penny no assistance with heaving her case into the boot; instead, she slid into the driver's seat and waited for Penny to get in beside her.
When Penny came to open the car door she very nearly plonked herself on Marielle's lap.
"You're in France now,"
Marielle informed her smoothly.
"Of course!"
Penny laughed.
"Force of habit, I'm afraid,"
and walking quickly round to the other side she got in and fastened her seat belt.
"So,"
she said decisively as they joined the autoroute into Cannes,
"maybe we can go straight to the office. I'm dying to see it."
Glancing in her rear-view mirror, Marielle pressed her foot down hard and proceeded to eat up the autoroute as if it was a long, slippery string of spaghetti being sucked into a hungry mouth.
"Wow!"
Penny muttered, blinking at the passing blur 47
of scenery; then suddenly she was jamming her feet hard into the floor as Marielle raced up behind a Mercedes and sat inches from its tail. Making a mental note not to travel with Marielle unless absolutely necessary, Penny decided to try a little light conversation.
"Were you born here?"
she asked.
Tes."
"Actually in Cannes?"
"Yes."
"It must have been quite something growing up in such a beautiful place/ Penny commented.
Whether it was or wasn't, Marielle obviously wasn't going to let
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