“Darling, the right sort of people wouldn’t come if it was in Fulham or Putney,” she said breezily. “Besides, my uncle owns practically the whole block. It’s a dinky little place but just big enough for little moi. You’ll love it.”

Belinda had not been exaggerating. The place consisted of one room, carpeted, with a sofa and low glass table. A big gilt mirror had pride of place. Pictures of Belinda’s creations and famous people wearing them hung on the walls. A couple of lovely bolts of silk were flung carelessly in a corner and the far end was blocked off by velvet curtains.

“You pop behind the curtains, darling, and change into the purple evening dress. It’s an American lady and you know how impressed they are by royalty and it has that lovely coronationy feel. What’s more, I’m sure I can make her come up with the cash in advance. I just hope she’s not too large—that dress would make a large person look like a beached whale.”

I pulled back the curtains and found a long purple dress hanging there.

“I’ve seen this dress before, surely,” I said. “Didn’t Marisa wear it at Primrose’s wedding?”

“Similar, but not the same,” Belinda said frostily. “I saw the idea and copied it. I expect Marisa paid a fortune for hers in Paris. I’m not above stealing other designers’ ideas.”

“Belinda!”

“Nobody need know,” she said. “The wedding is over. The dresses will never be worn again and I’m sure no American ladies were present.”

“Maybe they gate-crashed like us,” I suggested.

“If they did, they can’t afford my creations,” Belinda said smugly. “Hurry up, she’ll be here in a second.”

I retreated behind the curtains and started to get undressed. It was dark and cramped with hardly enough room to move my arms. I heard a tap on the door when I was standing in my underclothes, wondering whether to put the dress on over my head or to step into it. I hastily stepped into it as I heard strident American tones echoing through the small room.

“People have been mentioning your name and I thought I’d just pop by, as I need something stunning for some upcoming functions. It has to be the very height of fashion, mind you. Important people will be present.”

“I think I have something you’re going to love,” Belinda said at her most condescendingly British. “I have to tell you that royalty have worn my creations.”

“Oh, my dear, I won’t hold that against you, but please never use that as a selling point again. I immediately picture the dowdy duchess, looking like a Christmas pudding with a tiara on top, or that awful straight-backed queen of yours, looking as if her corset were made of reinforced steel and two sizes too tight.”