Mary Lyons

Husband Not Included


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fact, following the late photographic session last night and an early dash to the airport this morning, she really was feeling a bit sleepy. The steady rhythmic background hum of the plane’s engines wasn’t helping, of course—nor her deep, comfortable seat in the First Class section of the aircraft, which was positively encouraging her to nod off.

      And that, now she came to think about it, probably wasn’t such a bad idea after all. She knew, from past experience, that the dry, pressurised air in the cabin was likely to play havoc with the texture of her fine, delicate skin. Besides, if she made the mistake of drinking any alcohol during the flight she would undoubtedly find herself arriving at Antigua for their onward flight to a small private island looking thoroughly tired and washed out.

      Not that it would normally matter, of course. Most of the passengers on the plane were anticipating a well-earned, relaxing holiday in the sun, well away from the stress and strain of everyday life. So it didn’t matter a hoot how weary or crumpled they appeared on their arrival in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, she was expected to walk down the steps of the aircraft looking a million dollars—and all ready to grace the pages of high-fashion magazines.

      So, while she appreciated Georgie’s kind remarks about her looks—which amounted to nothing more than a useful tool, as far as her working life was concerned—Flora knew that the other girl could have no idea of the problems which might lie ahead. Nor of the many difficulties she’d had to face in the past.

      Up until just over a year ago, Flora had enjoyed a very successful career as a top fashion and photographic model. Earning huge sums of money, and accustomed to a highly luxurious way of life, she’d foolishly given little thought to such boring, mundane matters as health insurance, or the need to save money for a rainy day.

      Which only went to show just how much of an idiot she’d been! Because, following that horrendous car accident, which had resulted in a long stay in hospital and an even longer convalescence, she’d not only found herself flat broke—but, with no work in sight, it had also looked as if her career was on the skids as well.

      In fact, what she’d have done without her agent, she had no idea. Meredith Taylor, who’d been virtually a mother-figure to Flora ever since she’d run away from home seeking the bright lights of London at the tender age of sixteen, had done her best to calm her fears.

      ‘So, OK—you’ve been out of the action for some time. But it’s not the end of the world,’ the older woman had told her firmly. ‘Just be patient. Once the word gets around that you’re available for work again, I’m sure the jobs will flood in.’

      However for Flora, now aged twenty-six and only too well aware of the many fresh, beautiful young girls who were desperately keen to take her place—both on the catwalk and in front of the cameras of world-famous photographers—it had been a nerve-wracking few months. With her phone remaining ominously silent, she had almost given up hope of ever working again when she’d received an urgent call from Meredith with the news that a very large American company were desperately looking for a fresh face to launch their new line of cosmetics.

      ‘Get yourself over there as fast as possible,’ Meredith had told her urgently, quickly rattling off an address in Mayfair. ‘ACE Cosmetics are up against a heavy deadline, so I reckon there’s a good chance of you getting the job. But they’ll insist on you being as pure as the driven snow,’ she’d warned, before explaining that the model who’d originally gained the three-year, multi-million-dollar contract had just been sacked following unfortunate reports in the Press regarding the girl’s private life.

      ‘Too many riotous, drug-related late-night parties in Bad Company,’ the older woman had added succinctly. ‘So, just make sure you come over as squeaky clean. And no mention of your brief marriage to that awful man. Right?’

      ‘Er...right,’ Flora had muttered, guiltily suppressing the fact that despite Meredith’s strong advice she’d never, somehow, quite got around to arranging a divorce from her husband, whom she hadn’t seen for almost six years.

      Successfully gaining the job, and almost light-headed with relief at the thought of finally having solved her pressing financial problems, she hadn’t taken any particular notice of Meredith’s sage advice. But over the past few weeks she’d come to realise that her future prospects might not be quite so rosy after all.

      ‘You might have warned me about that simply awful woman!’ she’d moaned down the phone to her agent. ‘I thought I’d already met most of the fierce, hard-as-nails ladies in this business. But I bet anything you like that Claudia Davidson turns out to be an absolute nightmare!’

      ‘What on earth are you talking about? I’ve never had any problems with Claudia.’

      ‘Well...lucky old you—because she scared me rigid!’ Flora retorted grimly. ‘I’d hardly entered her glamorous, ultra-modern office to sign the contract when she announced that I was positively the last person she’d have chosen for the job. And, she seemed to take great pleasure in pointing out that I was only picked because Mr Schwartz, the American marketing director of ACE Cosmetics, refused to accept any of the other girls she’d got lined up and insisted on me being given the job.’

      ‘Well, if you’ve got the head honcho rooting for you I can’t see that you’ve got too many problems,’ Meredith had responded soothingly.

      ‘Yes, but...’

      ‘Even if you don’t particularly like Claudia,’ the other woman continued firmly, ‘she was amazingly successful at creating a totally new, up-market image for the Elegance Fashion Group. Which is why, I heard, she was headhunted last year by ACE Cosmetics to completely revamp and promote their products for a major assault on the European market. And, in any case,’ Meredith added, ‘I’m sure you’ll find that her bark is far worse than her bite.’

      ‘I should be so lucky!’ Flora had ground out glumly, before putting down the phone.

      It wasn’t just the fact that she and the glamorous, high-powered PR executive in charge of promoting the cosmetic company’s new line had taken an instant dislike to one another—although that was likely to mean a difficult working relationship—but Claudia Davidson had also been very explicit regarding Flora’s new contract.

      ‘I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings on your part,’ she’d told Flora with an icy smile, her voice carrying a clear warning note of threat and menace.

      ‘As you’ve seen, your contract stipulates a yearly break clause—with no obligation for the company to explain its reasons for dispensing with your services. On top of which, you must not accept any other work. So, don’t let me catch you modelling for any of your old photographer friends—even if you’re giving your services for free. Because I’ll have you out on your ear so fast, you won’t know what’s hit you!’ she’d added grimly, with what Flora had considered to be quite unnecessary relish.

      ‘The same goes for the fact that we require you to remain single,’ the awful woman had continued relentlessly. ‘A steady, long-term boyfriend is acceptable, of course. However, since the whole emphasis of the campaign to promote the new Angel Girl will be on her misty, pure and ethereal qualities, we are insisting that your private life must be as clean as a whistle. Do I make myself absolutely clear?’

      ‘Oh, yes—absolutely!’ Flora had agreed fervently, her hands shaking slightly as she signed away her life for the next three years.

      After all, as she’d consoled herself later, she wasn’t likely to have too many problems with most of the clauses in her new contract. Her only regular escort, John Macdonald was a very wealthy and highly respectable merchant banker. And she could see no reason why either Claudia or the cosmetic company should ever find out that she was—in name only, of course—still a married woman.

      However, as she now turned to gaze across the aircraft cabin, to where Claudia was sitting beside her principal assistant, Helen Todd, Flora couldn’t help feeling slightly apprehensive. Helen, who to all intents and purposes appeared to be a clone of Claudia, and dressed in the same bandbox-fresh, high-fashion resort wear