‘We’re on the verge of signing with Rivelli,’ said Will.

‘Ninety percent certain?’ said Fiona. ‘I only ask because I’ve seen Rivelli screw designers over before, and I’m not going to stake my reputation on another of his fuck-ups.’

‘Rivelli is the best manufacturer in the business,’ said Will.

‘He’s also the most crooked.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Isabelle sounded worried. ‘I thought he was the one everyone wanted.’

‘He is,’ said Fiona, ‘and that’s why he can pick and choose. He plays people off against each other. He makes a lot of money and nobody asks too many questions about what he does with it. A contract with Rivelli is a pact with the devil.’

‘A contract with Rivelli is a passport to the most important buyers in the fashion world,’ said Will. ‘He’s made an offer, which we’ve accepted. We’re just waiting for the paperwork to come through.’

‘Well, good luck,’ said Fiona, much more her old self. ‘Just let us know when the ink’s dry on the contract.’

‘Thank you, Fiona. I will.’

‘You don’t think there’s really anything wrong with Rivelli, do you?’ Isabelle asked Dan, when they were breaking up and saying goodbyes, Will and Fiona still bickering over diaries. ‘I mean, he’s the only one anyone talks about. That’s all we ever dreamed of at St Martins. Made in Italy by Rivelli.’

‘He’s the man for the job all right,’ said Dan. ‘Don’t you worry. Fiona’s super-cautious because Rivelli’s going through this divorce business at the moment.’

‘Oh, that,’ said Isabelle, who had heard of her mother’s part in the proceedings, and was still wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing. ‘Is there something I ought to know?’

‘If there was, I’d tell you.’ He put a gentle hand on her arm, pulled it away, grinned and exhaled through his nose.

‘Thanks, Dan,’ said Isabelle, and sighed. They stared at each other’s feet for a moment. ‘Well, this won’t do,’ she said. ‘Goodbye. Thanks for coming in.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind.’

‘And thanks . . . you know. For the flowers.’

‘That’s okay . . . I just thought . . . The colour.’

Fiona bustled past, crackling with static. ‘When you’re ready, Dan.’

Dan saluted behind her back, and followed.

‘I need to know about Victoria Crabtree.’