After a grueling two hours of working with Chanel, practicing my walking and turns, I finally headed back to the Villa Gloriosa in a taxicab. I thought they would be glad to see the back of me, but both Fig and Ducky seemed seriously put out. “Well, that’s gratitude for you,” Fig said, glancing at her sister.

“But there wasn’t room for me here,” I said. “I couldn’t go on camping out in the library.”

“But Maude was so looking forward to your sharing her room. She actually moved her dolls, all by herself. And she was looking forward to your French lessons too.”

I suspected that Maude was only looking forward to sharing her room with me so that she could boss me around. “I’m sure I can come to visit and give the children an occasional French lesson,” I said, “but I might suggest that Nice is full of French people who would be more useful at teaching French than I. Besides, my mother looks forward to spending time with me.”

“Is it wise to stay with your mother?” Fig asked. “I mean, she does have a reputation.”

“Well earned,” I replied with a smile. “And anyway, I need to be on hand to work with Coco Chanel.”

“Chanel is staying with your mother?” The two women exchanged looks of pure venom.

“One of her best clients, I understand,” I said. I was actually enjoying myself for the first time in ages.

“It just shows you that virtue doesn’t pay,” Ducky said.

“You and I have been faithful wives and mothers while Georgie’s mother has had a string of men—usually someone else’s husband—and she winds up with her own villa and the money to afford Chanel, while we have ten-year-old tweeds.”

“Ah, but she’s stunningly good-looking,” I said. “And she was a great actress too.”

They had no answer to this one, so I bundled Queenie and my clothes into a taxi and left the Villa Gloriosa, for good, I sincerely hoped.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

January 25, 1933
At Villa Marguerite. Much more glorious than the Gloriosa.
Divine, in fact. Good food, sun—at least there would be
sun if Madame Chanel were not working me every second.

The next two days I was drilled by Coco Chanel over and over again and eventually I began to believe that I could actually do this.

“You see,” she said. “You are turning into an elegant woman before my eyes. All it took was a little molding. You will dazzle them tonight. Now go and rest.”

“I was thinking of going down to the beach for a swim,” I said. “How do I get down from here?”