Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor Bradford

thing for you to bear, and if there’s anything M or I can do, or if we can help you in any way, you must let us know.’

      ‘Thanks, Mr Vaughan, thanks.’

      ‘Call me Larry, please. I much prefer it.’

      The young man nodded, and took them through the reception area, heading in the direction of the main studio. They followed hard on his heels.

      M felt slightly dazed, could hardly believe this was happening. The last time she had been in the vast main studio was for her shoot, the day Frankie had announced she was surely Audrey Hepburn’s twin, and promised to launch her career as a model when he got back from the fashion shoot in Morocco. Well, he certainly wasn’t coming back now, except in a coffin.

      Sorrow swept over her. Frank Farantino was dead. There would be no launch of her career; her big break had unexpectedly vanished in a flash. But none of that mattered. She could begin again, start all over, find her way somehow. But Frankie wasn’t coming back … and that was the greatest of tragedies. The world had lost a truly good man and a talented and exceptional photographer, a brilliant artist.

      A wave of memories assailed her as she followed Alex and Larry into the studio. She thought of the fun and excitement of that special day of photography, and she couldn’t quite grasp that she would never see Frankie ever again … Now she remembered him moving around with such agility, telling her what to do, how to stand, to pose, focusing his camera on her, snapping pictures … encouraging her, praising her …

      All of the lights had been turned on and were blazing throughout; sitting in a chair in the centre of the studio was Caresse. She was hunched over, her arms wrapped around herself, her bright red head bent down on her chest.

      M’s throat tightened. She stood perfectly still, aware that Caresse was heartbroken, and somehow she understood that there had been something important between Caresse and Frankie and that he had been much more than merely her boss.

      Taking a deep breath, M moved forward, went over to Caresse, knelt down next to the chair, and wrapped her arms around the receptionist. ‘Caresse … I’m so sorry, so terribly sorry. What an enormous shock this must be for you.’

      Caresse did not answer, just let out a long, strangled cry, and then sighed several times. But finally, after a few seconds, she lifted her head and looked directly at M. Her eyes and nose were red from crying, and she was extremely pale, her skin the colour of bleached-out bone. She leaned closer to M, got hold of her hand, but still seemed unable to speak, or perhaps did not want to say anything at this moment, was trying to recoup somehow.

      Eventually, Caresse said in a small voice, ‘We got engaged the night before he left.’ Lifting her left hand, she showed it to M. ‘He gave me this ring. It’s a sapphire.’ Tears slid down Caresse’s cheeks, and she shook her head, suddenly seemed bewildered. ‘Why? Why did it have to be Frankie?’ she asked, peering at M. ‘Tell me why.’

      M had no words for her and, quite unexpectedly, did not know how to comfort this young woman who was utterly grief-stricken. After a while, M asked, ‘When did it happen? How did you find out about Frankie’s accident?’

      Caresse, taking several deep breaths, focused on M, and explained. ‘Luke called me this morning. I just happened to be here, I usually come to make sure everything’s all right at the weekends. After Luke’s call from Nice, I called Alex to break the news about his father. Frankie brought him up – a single dad he was and good at it. Then I called you, M, because Frankie was so excited about discovering you … I just knew he’d want you to know that …’ She did not finish her sentence, just burst into tears.

      Alex beckoned to M, who got up and hurried over to him.

      He was standing with Larry near the small kitchen that opened off the studio. ‘I can explain a bit more to you,’ he said, looking at M and then at Larry. ‘The accident happened about six o’clock in the evening in France. Noon here. Today. Luke Hendricks called Caresse as soon as the police had been in touch with him, at the hotel where he and Dad were staying in Nice …’ He stopped all of a sudden, glanced away, swallowing, and once he had control of himself, he went on. ‘Apparently Dad was driving to Monte Carlo to have dinner with a French photographer he’d known for years. He had a … head-on crash … with a truck coming from the opposite direction. They were both killed, Dad and the other driver.’ Clearing his throat, blinking again, Alex now announced, ‘I think I’ll go and make some coffee. Okay?’

      ‘Yes, that would be great, Alex, thanks,’ Larry answered, and turning to M he put his arm around her and said, ‘Let’s go and sit over there. I’m absolutely positive Caresse needs to be alone for the moment to grieve quietly, and so does Alex, actually. He wants to have another weep, I think, but not in front of us. He’s trying to be very brave.’