Page 10 of His Last Gamble

And she knew, with a sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach, that when it came to her turn, the gathered crowd wouldn’t give her such applause. Already her feet were beginning to feel like lead, and her limbs as graceless as those of an elephant.

* * *

Payne Lacey saw the crowd the moment he stepped onto the beach. He watched, amused, as Jinx, in a navy-blue bikini top and wrap-around skirt, flirted with the camera. There was a collective gasp as she whipped off the skirt to reveal thong bikini bottoms, revealing long, long legs and tanned, rounded buttocks.

He moved around the edge of the crowd, to where he could see Charmaine watching from the sidelines.

She looked, he realised with surprise, scared to death. She went even paler as the photographer called her name.

Charmaine, heart pounding, walked unsteadily to the spot that Phil had indicated. The wind had picked up a little, creating white horses on the sea, and he wanted to incorporate them into the shoot. He’d had enough of panoramas and palms.

‘Right, go back a little, so that your feet are in the foam. No, not that far,’ he yelped, as the waves threatened to splash the long, wispy beach robe she had on. In creams and yellows, it would darken and show off every spot of moisture.

‘Dippy, don’t you know enough not to get the merchandise wet?’ Jinx drawled from her sprawled position on a deck chair. Fizz, next up, looked across, surprised. Charmaine bit her lip, knowing the other girl had a right to be taken aback at such unprofessional behaviour. Then she jumped as Phil yelled at her again not to ruin her lipstick. He called to Rebecca, who obligingly retouched it.

Even from where he stood at the back, Payne could see the painful colour come then go from her face. She stood stiffly awkward, not at all with the loose-limbed grace of the other girls.

‘OK, let me get in close . . . yes, that’s it,’ Phil said, much more favourably. A thin, wiry cockney in his forties, he’d seen and done it all. He cared only about getting the perfect shot, which meant cajoling or bullying the best out of the clothes and woman wearing them.

The sea breeze lifted the long, gossamer strands of her hair in a way that no wind machine could match. That, and the stark blue sky behind her, the playful sea and the rippling of the cream beach robe against her lithe form gave him, he knew, the perfect shot. Maybe even the best of the whole shoot.

If only the girl would loosen up. He knew from Jo-Jo that this was her first professional job, but surely she wasn’t a complete novice?

‘OK, lean forward and no . . . not that far. Think of the shadow.’

Charmaine blinked. Shadow?

‘Sunlight, girl,’ Jinx’s voice drawled once more from the sidelines. ‘Don’t want the shade of your big nose or hooked chin falling over the breasts, babe,’ she called loudly, making the crowd ripple with uneasy laughter.

Charmaine blushed, looking bewildered and hurt, and automatically Phil snapped furiously. He was not sure why. He knew he’d never be able to use them. The customer wanted sexy, fun, jaunty. Not haunted and sad.

But again, he knew he’d just taken a picture in a million. The wide pained eyes, the brush of hectic colour, the immobility of a face frozen in shame and time. She’d never looked more beautiful. But who would he give the picture to? Jo-Jo wouldn’t want it. It was no good to Jonniee.

Realising the girl was in trouble, he forced his voice to become kind. ‘OK, Charmaine, you’re doing great. Just angle the head back a little, that’s it, no, not your body, just your head. Yes, good, now flick back the hair a little. Don’t forget to smile.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Charmaine could see Coral exchange a look with Fizz, and she fought back a groan. She could almost hear them silently asking the other how such a clown had managed to make it onto a Jonnieefashion shoot. If only they knew that the gorgeous clothes they were modelling were her own. But of course, she could never tell them so — she needed to remain as anonymous as possible for the time being.

‘Now, slowly, slowly, take off the robe. No, one shoulder at a time,’ Phil snapped, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Payne stirred, aware of a dark anger building up inside him. He wanted to stalk across there and tell Jinx to keep her catty comments to herself. Wanted to yank the photographer aside by the scruff of his neck and ask him if he couldn’t see for himself that Charmaine was terrified. What she needed was patience and confidence-boosting encouragement. Not more hassle.

The robe slithered to her feet, where it pooled like pale cream, revealing a simple but stunning cream and apricot one-piece bathing suit. The sea caught the robe, but since Jo-Jo didn’t seem to care that the precious merchandise was getting ruined, neither did Phil, who took the opportunity to take some fantastic shots of the silken robe, the silken model, and the restless sea foaming at her feet.

‘OK. Fizz, you’re next. I want you cavorting in the surf for this, so make sure you wear something that’ll actually take salt water. Jo-Jo, you included some, right?’

Jo-Jo nodded, but could have told him that Charmaine, as chief designer, always insisted on the right materials for the right job, and had always maintained that the people who bought her clothes actually expected their swimwear to allow them to swim! It was only Jo-Jo who designed for the true beach bunnies who only wanted to look good on sun loungers.

Charmaine walked quickly away, her relief on escaping clear for all to see.

Payne watched her approach the changing area, scowling ferociously. If having her picture taken was such a nightmare for her, why was she doing it? Did she crave fame and adoration so much? Was she out to snare a rich husband, and thought the glamour of being a fashion model might help her make it happen? Or did she just want the jet-set lifestyle, the shoots in the Bahamas, the après-ski in Aspen, the yacht on the Mediterranean?

‘The photographer looked pleased,’ he said, walking up to the edge of a bed sheet. He slowly raised one amused brow as she snatched up a huge fluffy beach towel and pulled it around her.

‘I’m sorry?’ she said coolly, wishing she’d known he was there. How long had he been watching? Had he really seen her make such a fool of herself?

‘The photographer. I was watching him. He might have sounded put out for the most part, but once or twice there, he looked positively radiant.’

Charmaine’s eyes hardened. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic. I know he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.’

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