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Anthony pulled me away. ‘Indigo did all that. She said you’d press charges against them. Do you want to?’
I blew out a long breath, shook my head. ‘I just want to get out of here. Get a bath and go home.’
‘Let’s get your stuff … and Indigo if we can pull her off the inspector.’
It was then I heard my sister’s voice, bellowing from an office somewhere in half English and half French. She would probably have the whole constabulary on charges before the night was through but all I wanted to do was get as far away from that place as possible.
‘Mademoiselle?’ The officer on the desk plopped a massive, clear bag on the counter. I picked it up, pulling it open when I recognized it as my man bag and all of its contents on display. Next came my coat and shoes, which I hurriedly put on because I was freezing.
I began repacking my bag: make-up, tissues, phone, notebook, pregnancy kit …
‘Wait,’ said Anthony. ‘What’s this? Is this? Are you? Are we?’
‘I have no idea, Anthony. Get me to the hotel and we’ll find out.’
Just then Indigo emerged, Inspector Martin on her heels with a look of apology on his face. He went to shake my hand but Indigo slapped his hand away.
‘You’ll be hearing from me,’ she shouted and grabbed me into a hug. The officer on the desk produced another two larger plastic bags. They contained all the bag samples Clara had given me. I signed a form and we all left, silently.
‘Did that just happen?’ I asked them when we were outside.
‘That guy who gave you the drugs, Magenta,’ Indigo said. ‘He’s been under surveillance for months. He recognized a plain-clothed officer hanging around, knew he was from the drug squad, and had to shake him off. He was trying to pass his supplies on to you.’
I shook my head. ‘But I don’t even look like a drug lord,’ I whimpered, glancing down at my carefully chosen outfit.
‘Well,’ said Indigo. ‘Maybe in Paris, the dealer wears Prada.’
‘The shoes are Gucci,’ I said under my breath.
Anthony hugged me as we left the grounds of the station. ‘Don’t worry about anything. You weren’t to know what was going on but it’s well and truly over now.’
‘I’ll sue every last one of their arses,’ said Indigo. In her middle-class way the threat didn’t sound at all menacing.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Anthony is right. It’s over now. Let’s just go home.’
‘We got three plane tickets for tomorrow morning,’ said Indigo. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to stay any longer than that, not even for meetings.’
‘You got that right. I’ll call Riley, get her to make my apologies.’ I felt Anthony’s arm tighten around my shoulder and pull me in closer.
‘Let’s get you some food,’ Indigo said. ‘Anthony and I are both booked into your hotel. Let’s go.’
‘Please.’
***
Riley was grief-stricken when I gave her the news.
‘I’ve been in a complete state,’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve been calling the whole of France.’ Riley had only just got home after having spent the afternoon on the phone to the chauffeur hire company who had reported that I’d not showed up at the front of the hotel as arranged. The only problem was the driver hadn’t called in straight away about it and had gone on to the afternoon appointment, assuming that I had found my own way there.
After hearing that, Riley had called the designer I was supposed to be meeting every twenty minutes to ask if I’d arrived. When I didn’t she started calling the hotel. Following that she’d spoken to all the accident and emergency units and morgues in Paris to make sure I wasn’t dead.
When the panic had died down, when Anthony, Indigo, and I had eaten and spoken to Mother and Father to say I was safe, Anthony and I went up to our hotel room.
‘So, I know you wanted me to come to Paris with you, Magenta, but do you think you could have done something a little less dramatic to lure me over? Couldn’t wait until spring?’
I punched Anthony in his arm. ‘Don’t even joke about it,’ I said.
We were sitting on the bathroom floor; I was on my knees, leaning over the toilet, my pregnancy kit was on top of the closed lid. Anthony was on the floor beside me, leaning one arm over the bath. We were waiting for that all-telling minute to tick by.
I’d never known time to move more slowly. Then, in slow motion, the little window we’d been watching in earnest began to change. The white background seemed to turn a greyish white at one end and gradually, making its way across the greyish white, a horizontal blue line appeared. The line began to extend across the window, closely followed by another blue line that moved vertically down the centre of the window. That startlingly blue cross confirmed the inevitable. I was pregnant.
I looked at Anthony then back at the indicator stick, squinting at the small window. I was half wondering if the last few hours had just been a dream, a dream from which I still hadn’t awoken; I hadn’t been a suspected drug dealer and neither was I pregnant.
I reached for Anthony’s arm and squeezed it. He was real and he was there, not a dream at all. Anthony stared at me, wide-eyed, his lips trembling into a half-smile.
‘You-you look happy,’ I said. ‘Or are you about to lose it?’ I got to my feet. ‘Because I am, big time.’ I leaned my hands on the sink. Anthony got up and began to massage my shoulders. I looked up at him in the mirror above the sink. The weird grin had left his face. ‘Say something,’ I said.
‘I’m not really sure what to say,’ he said. ‘I’m kind of happy, though. Are you?’
I turned around. ‘What do you mean “kind of”?’ I asked him.
‘Well it isn’t something we talked about so I’m a little … shocked, I suppose. I mean today was just … I mean, are you happy?’ He held my shoulders.
‘I-I don’t know. I do want to have children, I just wasn’t thinking about having a baby right this minute. But …’
‘What?’
I couldn’t stop the smile beaming across my face. ‘I am happy, Anthony. I really, really am.’ And that’s how I genuinely felt once the initial shock had subsided. ‘I know we never even talked about having a baby but it’s-it’s wonderful.’ I hugged him around the waist and rested my head against his chest.
It was very late now and as exhausted and beaten up as I felt, I was well and truly, completely excited.
‘We won’t say anything to anyone – not just yet,’ Anthony said while I was still hugging him. I looked up, a little taken aback.
‘Obviously,’ I said with a crease forming in my brow. ‘I mean, I didn’t plan to, not just yet anyway.’
‘Just until we know for sure,’ said Anthony.
‘Well these kits are very accurate, you know? But you’re right – I will have to go the doctor.’
‘Yes,’ he said, pulling away. ‘We need to be sure about this. About everything.’
‘I don’t understand, Anthony.’ All of a sudden Anthony wasn’t sounding so positive. His mood had changed.
‘No, no it’s all right,’ he said with a weak kind of laugh. ‘It’s just I thought you shouldn’t tell people until the first scan.’
‘You seem to be very knowledgeable about these thing, Anthony.’ I picked up the kit and placed everything in the bin under the sink. ‘But you’re right. The right time will present itself. Until then, I won’t say a word. It’ll be our little, wonderful and brilliant secret.’
Anthony pulled me towards him. His smile had returned. I let out a sigh of relief. Half a second ago he’d looked like a bunny trapped in the headlights. He squeezed me tighter, gently rocking me and rubbing my back as if he want to burp me. I looked up at him.
‘You all right?’ I asked.
‘Yes, yes of course.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘A little shell-shocked, that’s all,’ he said.
‘Anyway, I’m exhausted. We should get some sleep. The flight is first thing.’
Anthony took my hand. We went back to the bedroom and got ready for bed. In the darkness of the hotel room, with just street lights glowing through the blinds I’d forgotten to close, Anthony lay on his side and faced away from me. I looked up into the shadowy room, just about able to make out the lampshade above me. I realized I had a huge smile on my face and that I was going through a list of children’s names. How crazy.
I finally closed my eyes. It really was happening.
Chapter 9 (#ulink_34aebee3-270f-5874-8ded-55fd389ca336)
The Epiphany
At arrivals Riley was at the barrier wearing a yellow bobble hat and holding what looked like yards and yards of yellow ribbon. I spotted Mother and Father and ran to them.
‘I’m okay, I’m fine,’ I told them. Mother had tears in her eyes.
‘Thank goodness you’re home.’ She hugged me as did Father, making a Magenta sandwich out of me. Joining the group hug was Riley, wrapping us all in yellow ribbon and sobbing.
‘Free at last, thank God, you’re free at last,’ she said.
The group untangled itself.
‘Thank you for coming, Dr King,’ I said turning to Riley. ‘And I think yellow ribbon is for people who did time.’
‘I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t sleep all night worrying about you,’ said Riley.
I squeezed her arm. ‘It was lovely of you to come, Riley, but please tell me you were able to cover up for me with the two designers I didn’t get to meet with.’
‘Yes, all taken care of.’ She tapped the side of her nose and I didn’t dare ask what excuses she’d made for me.
‘I hope it wasn’t a completely wasted journey,’ Mother said as we all made our way to the exit.
‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘I did have one very successful meeting. There’s a designer I’m dying to work with but I’ll have to see if I can reschedule with the others.’
‘Have you ever thought of using your own designs?’ Mother said. She linked my arm as we walked.
‘But, Mother –’
‘No, think about it, Magenta. For the past year you’ve done nothing but deal with designers for the man bags. You must have learned a thing or two by now. The same thing happened with me and the lingerie. You know I designed a few of our ranges back in the day? You get a feel for what people want and you, Magenta, are an artist. You know what looks good and you know what sells because you know handbags. Just look at your wardrobe: it speaks volumes. And look at how easily you did that design for my wedding dress.’
We were outside of the airport. Indigo was negotiating a couple of taxis and Riley was looking for a place to dump the yellow ribbon.
‘But that was just a rough drawing,’ I said. ‘I’ve been having to sit with a real dress designer to make it happen.’
‘So why can’t you do the same thing with a design of your own for a handbag?’
‘Mother, are you just saying this to distract me from my recent traumatic experience? You know this is likely to scar me for the rest of my life. I’ll never look at Prada in the same way and I’ll be looking over my shoulder every time I reach for the Aspirins in Boots.’
‘Not a distraction, just something I believe you would have decided to do yourself in time. For an artistic, fashion-conscious person such as you are, it’s a natural progression.’
As our taxis pulled up I stood and pondered the idea for a moment. It had never occurred to me to design a bag myself, not properly. I mean I’d noodled man bag ideas several times without thinking much about it so it wasn’t a completely absurd idea. Only yesterday I’d struggled to find my wallet when I went to pay at the café and at the pharmacy. On the flight out I couldn’t put my hand on my passport quickly enough, either. What if I were to design the perfect handbag, the handbag I would defy anyone to lose anything in again? Lipsticks, pens, Oyster cards, whatever. Maybe I could consult with a designer I already did business with. It wasn’t a bad idea at all.
‘I think you’ve hit on something, Mother,’ I said. ‘No seriously, I think I could come up with some designs. I’m going to sit with it. Thank you.’
‘Like I said, you would have thought of it sooner or later.’ Mother kissed my cheek and she, Father, and Indigo boarded the first taxi. ‘All you need is the confidence and you’ve got that in spades.’
I was almost tempted to tell Mother that I’d pass on all the great advice she ever gave me to my own children but Anthony and I had decided to wait before telling everyone the good news. Besides, it would be better if my brush with a life of crime died down a bit first. I had visions of becoming a person of interest for intelligence agencies across the globe and they’d stop and search my Babybjörn baby carrier whenever I was out walking in the park with Anthony junior.
Riley, Anthony, and I jumped into the second of the taxis and dropped Riley off so she could continue by tube back to the office. On the way home, I thought about the possibilities of sharpening my design skills as well as hiring a real-life Frank Farmer from The Bodyguard to protect me and the baby. But Mother was right: it was likely I’d want to get into the nitty-gritty of designing one day. That day had arrived.
I sat in the bath for ages when I got home. I’d been trying to eliminate the stench of my former jail cell from my pores and the water was going cold. I’d also been in planning mode, thinking about the rebranding idea and then about becoming a designer in my own right, whether that be for clothes or accessories. Or both.
As far as a rebranding went I had to make a big splash and I wanted to do it soon. I wondered if I could gather enough publicity to make everything happen before my parents’ wedding the following May. I was sure I could. I’d even create a unisex range – I often used our Shearman man bags myself.
Ideas began to flow. It had been a while since I organized a show and I was longing for a chance to do it again. It would be a year of celebrations. I looked at my tummy and smoothed my hand over it.
‘A rebranding, a wedding, and you’ll be celebration number three,’ I thought and did a quick calculation of when the birth might be. I’d get a doctor’s appointment and confirm my due date. I couldn’t wait.
The bubbles were melting away fast and the water had become too cool to sit in any more so I got out and got dry. Anthony was back at the gallery and I was too tired to go back into the office for the afternoon.
Still in my dressing gown, I went downstairs to find a pad of paper and a pencil. I began designing a new name for the company. I felt that Shearman was synonymous with man bags and that something ought to change in the name when the women’s line launched.
In a similar style to the Shearman logo I scrawled an ampersand beside the company name. Shearman and what? I asked myself. I wrote Shearman again but without adding an ampersand. Beside it I wrote Bright. Our two names together made perfect sense. A marriage of two brands just as one day Anthony and I might be married.
I giggled at the thought. In the same way we’d never spoken about children, neither had we discussed marriage. Maybe it was time.
By the evening I’d given in to my tired and soggy brain. I’d been in planning mode all day and before I knew it, it was dark outside and Anthony was back from Slater’s. He’d brought wine and a takeaway and I was happy to veg out on the sofa and tell him all about my plans. I showed him how I’d married our names together and he thought it was great.
That night I dreamt that he’d proposed to me. I would have said yes, easily if he’d proposed right after we’d taken the pregnancy test. He had been engaged once before so I knew he wasn’t averse to the idea of marriage. At least I hoped his ex hadn’t put him off.
Of course the city of love had been tainted in my book and I no longer wanted to return to Paris for a romantic getaway with Anthony in the spring. But had Anthony proposed to me straight after we’d seen the results of the test, Paris wouldn’t have seemed so bad.
Chapter 10 (#ulink_5029c0dd-f52e-5ec3-bfbf-343c7251367c)
The Rebrand
Come Monday morning I was feeling ready for battle after the Paris fiasco. As Father had said when we parted at the airport, that kind of experience could either make you or break you.
Riley was standing in the hallway as I entered the Mayfair office. She was holding a cup of caffè macchiato.
‘I asked Jimmy about a delivery service,’ she said. ‘I said we could do with a constant supply throughout the day and that the station was a bit too far for us to go for the second fix of the day.’
‘Or we could just buy a Nespresso machine.’
