Free Alice-Miranda in Paris 7 by Jacqueline Harvey Page B

industry and yet I can’t find a thing about her.’
    ‘If I hear anything I’ll let you know,’ said Ambrosia.
    Charlotte and Cecelia walked out of the hotel and onto the footpath.
    Back in the hotel foyer, Ambrosia Headlington-Bear closed her laptop. She packed her things into her oversized tote bag, put her glasses back on and wrapped a silk scarf around her head. She crossed the foyer and scurried down the steps. Ambrosia was glad to have worn her ballet flats for the walk back to her hotel. She should have known that being in Paris during Fashion Week was going to be difficult. But she quite enjoyed a challenge these days.
    While Ambrosia missed the glitz and adoration of her life with Neville, her relationship with Jacinta had improved markedly over the last little while. She hoped that Jacinta would be proud of her one day. She rather hoped she could be proud of
herself
, come to think of it. So while she missed Neville, and missed his wallet even more, she had decided that there was no point lamenting life as she had once known it. After all, she’d come from a family of very little means, and now she could go back there and make her own fortune – but this time, she’d do things differently.

Fabien Bouchard peered through the gap in the curtains. A large group of children tripped along the street, their laughter rising. It was the sound of happiness. Not long before, he had seen a boy looking at him from a window of the hotel across the way. He had wanted to wave but thought better of it.
    His mother entered the room
    ‘Fabien, come and look at what I have finished today,’ she said. In her hands a black gown sparkled with the glare of thousands of tiny sequins.
    Fabien’s eyes widened. ‘It’s spectacular.’
    His mother pulled the dress over a naked mannequin and unfurled a long train.
    ‘It’s your best design yet,’ she said proudly.
    Fabien turned up the hemline on the dress and admired the delicate stitching. ‘This work is beautiful.’
    Sybilla’s mouth twitched into a smile. It was true, she was an outstanding seamstress.
    ‘Your show will be spectacular,’ she beamed.
    Fabien paced back to the window. There was something he’d been thinking about asking her all afternoon. ‘Mama,’ he said tentatively. ‘Would you mind if I took a walk?’
    ‘A walk? What are you talking about, Fabien? You have work to do.’
    Fabien flinched. She had seemed so well at the moment. ‘I thought I might go for some crepes and coffee?’
    ‘There is no need. I have a beautiful new coffee machine in the kitchen and if you want crepes I will make them for you.’
    Her words were not unexpected but still they stung. He decided not to press her any further.
    Sybilla Bouchard walked over to the drawing board. ‘Your uncle would like one last gown for the finale,’ she said. ‘What have you come up with today?’
    Fabien had been sitting at that desk for hours and nothing had come to him. His mother lifted the drawing sitting atop the pile. Then he remembered what he had been doodling. He rushed towards her.
    Sybilla pulled a page of cartoons from under the designs. She stared at her son, aghast.
    ‘This, this is what you have been doing all day? I am working my fingers to the bone and you repay me by drawing . . . what is that? Mickey Mouse?’
    Fabien stared at her. ‘It’s just that I can’t think. I need some space, that’s why I wanted to go out – to walk in the sunshine and see some people.’
    ‘What people?’ Sybilla whispered.
    Fabien looked at her. ‘Any people, Mama.’
    He knew that he shouldn’t have asked but he couldn’t help himself.
    Sybilla closed her eyes. ‘There are people out there who will hurt us, Fabien.’
    ‘Mama, please, no one will hurt us.’ Fabien walked over and placed his hands on her shoulders.
    ‘There are things you don’t know,’ she gulped.
    ‘Then tell me, Mama,’ he begged.
    ‘No, I cannot. You wouldn’t understand.’ Sybilla turned and walked