The Designer(62)

Carrying their purchase, they crossed the street, where Suzy paused in front of an antiques salon. In the window, a collection of exquisitely inlaid furniture gleamed under soft lamps. ‘What lovely things,’ Copper said.

‘Ah, yes. This is a person who understands lovely things. Come.’ Suzy pushed open the door and went in. Copper followed, finding herself in an Aladdin’s cave of marble statues, oil paintings and furniture. There was antique jewellery, too, and glass cases full of heavy silverware. A woman dressed in a dark-blue suit came to meet them. It was only when she saw the expression on her face that Copper realised where they were.

‘Good evening, Suzanne,’ the woman said in a slightly breathless voice, as though she’d been struck a blow in the stomach.

‘Good evening, Yvonne,’ Suzy replied easily. ‘We had tea at Maxim’s and since we were passing by, I thought we’d drop in. I hope you don’t mind?’

‘Of course not,’ the other woman said. ‘Why should I mind? Welcome to my little shop.’

‘This is my dear friend, Copper Heathcote. Copper, this is Yvonne de Bremond d’Ars.’

Presented so formally, Copper held out her hand. ‘Enchantée, Madame de Bremond.’

The hand that took hers was cool, the pressure brief. If Copper had known that this was the shop of Suzy’s former patroness and lover, she would never have entered it. But now it was too late to flee. Yvonne de Bremond was past fifty years old with short, dark hair. Her suit was mannish but impeccably chic in its simplicity. At the back of the shop, a large Alsatian reclined regally on a rug, his intelligent eyes observing them closely. Suzy seemed to be the only one at ease here. ‘You’re looking well, Yvonne,’ she said, coolly examining the other woman’s face, hands and clothes.

‘And so are you, my dear Suzanne.’

‘Ah, I’m always haggard, while you are serene as ever. Affairs and intrigues take too much out of one. You’re so clever to escape the stresses of human relationships.’

‘I have no shortage of relationships,’ Yvonne retorted to this sally. ‘Though perhaps I am not as promiscuous as you.’

‘Really? I hear that you live like a nun these days.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘You’ve excelled yourself,’ Suzy went on, looking around the shop. ‘An excellent haul. So many people in need of money these days and willing to part with an heirloom or two for very little.’

‘I pay the highest prices,’ the other woman replied stiffly. ‘You know that.’

‘But everyone likes a bargain, don’t they?’ Suzy insisted. ‘Buy cheap, sell dear – that’s the soul of business, not so?’ Her smile was silky and ironic.

‘If you insist,’ Yvonne replied thinly. ‘But, in my experience, there is no such thing as a bargain. If you pay little, you get rubbish.’

‘Ah, you protest too much, Yvonne. You like to pick things up for nothing. Be honest.’

The older woman’s cheeks had turned an angry brick red. ‘I am being honest. The cheapest things are also often rotten inside and cause the most trouble to make presentable.’

Suzy seemed amused. ‘If you say so.’

Watching the two of them in some trepidation, Copper was reminded of Dior’s comment that they could be sisters. He was right. They had the same statuesque bearing, the same athleticism. Even their faces were alike, narrow and handsome, with perfect white teeth. The difference was that where Suzy was on the right side of that invisible line that marks a woman’s youth, Yvonne was clearly on the wrong side.

‘And how was your tea?’ Yvonne asked, turning to Copper. ‘Did you have the rose-scented macarons? And the vol-au-vents? They say they’re chicken, but alas, they are rabbit.’

‘I like rabbit,’ Copper replied.

Yvonne inspected her disdainfully. ‘And someone has doused you in My Sin, it seems.’

‘She has that flawless Irish complexion and hair.’ Suzy took Copper’s arm and turned her to the light. ‘That bloom of youth. Look at her. There’s really nothing to match it, is there? The skin of a young woman is the most exquisite fabric there is.’

‘And the most short-lived,’ Yvonne retorted. ‘It doesn’t last long.’

‘Oh, quite. And once it is lost, it is gone forever.’ Suzy touched the other woman’s face with gloved fingers in a gesture that would have been compassionate, but for Suzy’s cruel smile. ‘Although, of course, you don’t mind that, being an antiquarian. The older things are, the better you like them, n’est-ce pas?’ She laughed merrily. ‘If it doesn’t have cobwebs in every nook and cranny, you turn up your nose in disgust.’

Yvonne forced a laugh. ‘How witty you are. Are you still performing in that club of yours?’

‘Of course.’

‘I do hope you can win the épuration round. One hears that they take a dim view of those who were too friendly with the Germans.’

‘I will take my chances with the épuration. In my experience, all men in uniform are much the same, whatever language they speak.’

‘I would hate to hear of you going to prison,’ Yvonne shot back, her eyes gleaming. ‘You wouldn’t enjoy it, despite your fondness for men in uniform. And you would miss your treats. Your little rabbit vol-au-vents, and so forth.’