Free A Crime of Fashion by Carina Axelsson Page B

been booked, I was also feeling a good deal of anxiety at the thought of walking down Wednesday’s runway under the collective gaze of fashion’s elite. Then again, maybe now that Chanel had booked me the La Lunes would too (Aunt V always says fashionistas are like sheep). In which case jittery nerves were a small price to pay for the chance to get close to the La Lunes – and the possibility of picking up Belle’s trail.
    Ellie and I changed back into our own clothes and left. As we stepped out of the building my phone began to ring.
    â€œBravo, little Axelle! Amazing! Amazing! Amazing! You are zee hot zing in Paris this week!”
    It was Hervé. After hanging up, all I could think was that fashion really was a fickle world. This very same morning, Hervé would have gladly banished me from Paris for ever, and now, six hours later, frizz-free and spectacle-less, I was “zee hot zing”.
    While Ellie didn’t find anything strange in this turn around, she did find my imitation of his accent hilarious. “Don’t worry,” she said through her laughter, “the bookers are always stressed and often insecure. But once they like you, they fight like lions to keep you happy. I admit that Hervé was not showing his prettier side this morning, but in fashion a model is only as good as her latest booking.”
    â€œNo wonder modelling careers are so short,” I said.
    Ellie shrugged her shoulders. “It’s the same in football: a player is only as good as his last goal. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying it’s right – I’m only saying that it is what it is and the quicker you approach it with that attitude, the better you’ll be able to protect yourself.”
    She had a point – but this wasn’t the moment to discuss it.
    Then, speaking of people changing their opinions of me, my phone rang. It was Mum calling.
    â€œAxelle, darling, I always knew you were a star!” A frenzied stream of words gushed over the long-distance line. “I’m so proud of you, my darling! Dad is too. I’m so sorry, but I can’t come out to see you do the Chanel show or be with you at the launch of the new La Lune handbag on Wednesday night because a very important client will be flying in from Brazil to see my plans for their new pied-à-terre. But Hervé says there is a good chance you’ll be booked for the La Lune fashion show on Friday – and that one I definitely plan on making it out for. I’ve already reserved a ticket, leaving Friday morning. Then I’ll stay the weekend and we’ll go home together – that is, if you can come home. Who knows what other jobs you’ll have booked by then! Maybe Lancôme or a new perfume or Vogue ! Oh, darling, it’s too exciting. Anyway, I have to go. We’ll talk later – and don’t worry, Hervé is keeping me posted on absolutely everything!”
    Thanks, Hervé.
    â€œOh, and Axelle…?”
    â€œYeah, Mum?”
    â€œDom La Lune is so handsome. And I’ve always thought he seems like such a nice young man…”
    After that cheeseball comment about Dom, I pretended I’d lost the signal and hung up.
    â€œWas that your mum?” Ellie asked.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œIs she coming out? And does she know that you’re trying to find Belle?”
    â€œYes, she’s coming out. And, no, she doesn’t know that I’m trying to find Belle – and I have to keep it that way. She’d be furious if she knew what I’m up to…”
    â€œWell, obviously I won’t give anything away. But then we’d better get cracking on the clue-gathering because, basically, you won’t be able to do any investigating once your mum gets here.”
    â€œDon’t remind me.” Feelings of frustration and impatience rose to the surface as I thought of Belle. Would I find her? And would I be able to get to her