Twice Upon a Time (19 page)

‘You knew him when you were small?’ asked Cinda.

‘He is my cousin, twice removed,’ said Alex, as she poured hot chocolate into a delicate cup and handed it to Cinda. ‘Didn’t I tell you that?’

‘No you didn’t!’ Cinda almost screamed. ‘So you’re royalty?’

‘A princess yes,’ said Alex, as though she was agreeing that yes, she did have long hair. ‘But in Greece.’

Jonas and Cinda stared to laugh.

‘This world is too weird for me,’ Cinda said as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Petra leant forward and dipped her finger in the icing sugar around the biscuit plate.

‘Have a biscuit,’ said Jonas, passing her the plate.

‘I don’t eat biscuits,’ Petra said.

‘But you want to, don’t you?’ asked Jonas enticingly, waving the plate in front of her.

Petra nodded.

‘Seriously darls,’ Jonas laughed. ‘Eat a biscuit. I promise you won’t turn into a house. You’ll be gorgeous no matter how many biscuits you eat.’

Petra paused.

‘They are delicious,’ Alex said to Petra as she helped herself to one.

Slowly Petra picked up the biscuit and raised it to her lips, nibbling on the edge. Then she took a bigger bite and Jonas clapped.

‘One problem solved! Now, back to our princess makeover.’

Alex walked to a sleek wooden desk and took out a pen and paper. Cinda could see a crest and Alex’s name embossed across the top of the pad.

Alex looked at Jonas and Petra. ‘She needs a haircut and a glossy tint to lift the colour, no?’

‘She needs her eyebrows done too,’ nodded Petra, now on her second biscuit.

‘A manicure,’ said Alex as she wrote.

‘Some deportment,’ added Jonas.

Cinda stuck her middle finger up at him.

‘Make that a
lot
of deportment,’ Jonas said with a cheeky grin.

‘What is the point of all this?’ Cinda asked the group suddenly. ‘Ludo likes me as I am.’

Alex sighed. ‘It’s not Ludo, darling. It’s Perrette, Gus, his mother. Have you met her? She’s pretty intimidating.’

Cinda nodded, but didn’t mention her run-in with the queen.

‘She needs new clothes,’ said Petra.

Somehow Cinda didn’t find Petra’s tone bitchy – it was just honest. She did need new clothes if she was going to play the role of a future princess. She picked at the hem of her black skirt.

Gideon turned to Jonas. ‘You’re a designer, and I’m a designer. You know Cinda’s style and her body, and I know this world. Why don’t you and I team up? Make her a capsule wardrobe?’

‘A capsule wardrobe? What am I, an astronaut?’ Cinda laughed, revived by the hot chocolate and all this ridiculous planning about her debut into the royal court.

‘Yes, yes,’ Jonas was now turning to Gideon in excitement. ‘We could do a whole Eva Mendes, Sofia Loren thing,’ he said. ‘All nipped-in waists and showing off her boobs. She’s got amazing boobs.’

‘Hey, don’t talk about my boobs as if the rest of me isn’t in the room!’ cried Cinda. ‘And if you make me walk around the room with a book on my head, I’m going to throw the book at you,’ she added as she took a biscuit and dipped it into her hot chocolate.

Alex had warmed to her task and was now writing furiously.

‘Okay. I have divided the next three weeks into themes,’ she announced. ‘The first week is beauty. The second, decorum. And the third week, fashion.’

‘We’ll need more than two weeks to make the clothes,’ said Jonas.

‘I have a workshop, it’ll be fine,’ said Gideon, patting Jonas’s knee. ‘It’s not Dior, but it’s well set up. We’ll be just fine.’

Cinda pulled herself up from the floor and onto the nearest sofa.

‘You know, you don’t need to treat me like your pet project. I can hang out in Paris and wait for Ludo. I’ll try and be polite to his brother when he comes for the portrait sittings.’

Alex looked at her and laughed. ‘No darling, it won’t do. Think of it this way. When Ludo returns, you’ll want to be prepared. You need to be able to hold your own among the crowned heads of Europe!’

Cinda paused. Alex had a point.

‘First rule: Cinda won’t wear fur,’ Jonas said, turning to Gideon, who nodded. ‘Second rule: no maxi dresses.’

‘But she has the perfect figure for them!’ Gideon protested. ‘She is tall and has lovely shoulders.’

‘No!’ laughed Jonas. ‘I’ll talk you through my tracksuit theory later.’

‘Seriously? Stop it,’ Cinda said, her voice tight with emotion. ‘I’m not a commodity.’

Everyone was silent for a moment.

‘You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable, Cinda,’ Alex said.

‘It’s just . . . it all feels a bit much,’ shrugged Cinda. Her mother had always told her to be herself, that anyone who didn’t like her as she was wasn’t worth knowing. This was going against that whole ethos. It felt weird and exciting and scary as hell. What if she didn’t like the person who emerged from this experiment?

As though reading her mind, Jonas took her hand. ‘You’ll be the same inside, babe. Think of yourself as a sketch. We’ll just finish you off, turn you into a beautiful, glossy portrait.’

Cinda sighed, realising this was one war she wasn’t going to win. She was a sucker for a painting analogy, and Jonas knew it.

‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘But just go easy on the varnish.’

Three days later, Cinda had had a facial, her eyebrows done, her body waxed. She’d been exfoliated, scrubbed and lotioned, and massaged into a pulp. Then she had a lovely nude manicure and a pedicure.

‘How’s life at the spa?’ asked Jonas when she came back to the apartment and dumped her straw bag on the table.

‘It’s exhausting doing nothing,’ she said, flopping onto the sofa. ‘I don’t know how Alex and Petra keep it up.’

Jonas laughed. ‘I’ve been sketching all day,’ he said excitedly. ‘Gideon is coming over to show you our ideas and some sample fabrics.’

‘Really?’ asked Cinda. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but all she wanted to do was mooch about, waiting for a call from Ludo. ‘I might just lie down for a while to cope with all the lying down I’ve been doing.’ She stood up and headed for the door.

‘You had a delivery,’ Jonas called after her. ‘I think it’s from Prince Fabulous. They put it all in your room.’

‘From Ludo?’ Cinda asked, and she rushed to her room and flung open the door.

She gasped. A beautiful wooden easel sat in the centre of the room, several canvases of differing sizes resting on and around it. Boxes of paints, pencils, charcoals and everything else she might ever need lay on the table next to a pile of sketchpads.

She ran her hands over a large oak box before slowly lifting the lid.

A complete set of sable paintbrushes stared back at her. She picked one up and ran it gently across her cheek.

Smiling, she saw a card with her name on it on the easel.

She picked it up and held it to her heart. Of course Ludo knew she wouldn’t be moved by silly gifts of scarves and the like. Art was her passion, her weakness.

She opened the card.

I hope this goes a little way to helping you forgive me – and
allowing you to indulge in your one true love at the same
time. Please accept my deepest regrets for making you feel
any less than you are.

Gus.

Gus?
She reread the card several times to make sure.
Gus?
Really?

Putting the card down, she closed the lid of the paintbrush box and looked at the veritable art-supply store spread out before her.

It was going to take a lot more than that to make her rethink her opinion of Gus. She walked out of the room and back along the hallway to Jonas, taking her phone with her. Surely Ludo would call soon.

22

At ten o’clock the next morning, Gus arrived at Cinda’s apartment. He was nervous. Cinda had set up the time for the sitting via text, and hadn’t acknowledged his gift.

He had spent hours in the store, discussing it all at length with the young art student who served him. It wasn’t easy deciding which items might be best for painting a portrait.

He had chosen the best linen canvases, and the brushes and paints the art student had said she’d buy if she could afford them. He had even included several heavy books on master artists through the ages, and their subjects.

It had actually been great fun. He tried to remember when he had last immersed himself in something completely new, something so out of his normal world.

He realised he understood Cinda’s passion for art, given his love of music. Except he couldn’t immerse himself in his passion the way Cinda could in hers.

He was feeling increasingly envious of anyone who got to live their life the way they wanted.
Even Perrette has a job doing
something she loves
, he thought as he waited for Cinda to open the door.

Instead it was Jonas who greeted him.

‘Morning,’ Jonas said cheerfully.

‘Good morning.’

‘Come in. Cinda’s just getting organised in the dining room, she says the light is best in there.’ Jonas padded through the apartment in socks and jeans, and a T-shirt Gus had seen Cinda wearing at the villa.

He liked Jonas. They had bonded, in a way, ever since that pizza they’d shared back in Sardinia. They’d had some good chats during their time there, but Gus perceived a new frostiness in Jonas.
Is this about Perrette’s party?
he wondered.

‘Are you enjoying Paris?’ he asked Jonas, wondering why his skill for small talk had left him.

‘Fine, fine,’ said Jonas vaguely.

‘I heard you had a job interview. How did that go?’ Gus sat on the sofa and crossed his legs and then uncrossed them. His stomach was churning.

‘I didn’t get it,’ said Jonas, shrugging. ‘But it’s okay. I’m working on something with a different designer.’

The door opened and Cinda walked into the room. If Gus was having trouble concentrating before, it was impossible now.

She was wearing jeans and large checked shirt tied at the waist. It was one of Jonas’s, Gus recognised. There was something touching about the way they shared clothes. Maybe because it was so foreign to him. No-one would ever borrow his clothes, and the idea of wearing someone else’s stuff seemed ludicrous.

‘Hi,’ she said brusquely. She hardly looked at him.

‘Hi,’ he answered, feeling stupid for no reason.

Her hair was out, she was barefoot, and he thought she had never looked lovelier.

Jonas stared at them both for a moment and then stood up. ‘Well, I’m off to be fashionable. Happy painting, Cinda. And happy posing, Gus.’ He left the room.

‘I told you to dress casual,’ Cinda said, finally looking at him properly.

‘I did,’ he said, looking down at his white shirt, navy blazer, chinos and black loafers.

Cinda rolled her eyes and he felt himself reddening.

‘I wasn’t about to come in shorts and a T-shirt,’ he said, trying to keep his tone light.

‘Why not?’ Cinda challenged. ‘It is a painting of Ludo, after all.’

He felt himself scowl. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn anything at all, then, judging from recent events.’

The air was electric between them, like a bad storm was coming. He immediately regretted not holding his tongue. Gus cleared his throat, keen to change the topic. ‘Did you receive my gift?’

‘I did, thank you,’ she said in a stiff voice. ‘It will be very helpful.’

Gus paused. He didn’t actually send it to be helpful, but what could he say? Anyway, he deserved this coldness.

‘Come through and we can get started,’ she said as she led the way to the dining room.

He followed her as she pushed open the doors. The dining table had been pushed back against the wall and was covered with a sheet. The paints and sketchpads were lined up in order, and a jug of water and glasses sat on a silver tray.

A large armchair, upholstered in blue silk, was in front of the window, the sheer voile curtain pulled back to maximise in the light. A small pedestal with a vase of white and red-striped tulips was next to the chair.

‘Shall I sit here?’ he asked, desperate to be useful and, frankly, further away from her.

Cinda nodded and waited as he sat down. She picked up her phone and took a photo.