Sophie said gently, “But you’ve been talking them up, Judy. Reassuring them?”

Judy started slightly. “Me? Oh, sure. Of course.”

“Then all you need do is wait till eleven.” Sophie sighed. “It’d take me too long to repeat everything; I’m just going to get a rundown from the staff, and then tell them my plans. After that your team can start talking to the press. You can write the press releases once we’ve had the meeting.”

Judy nodded. She felt humiliated, again, but wasn’t about to show it. Not to Sophie Massot, of all women. If Sophie didn’t want to share, that was fine with Judy. She could not care less.

Judy knew perfectly well there was no way of saving this company. It was worse than she had ever suspected.

“I can hardly wait,” she said, smiling. And it was true. She wanted to watch Sophie fall on her face. What kind of a rabbit did she think she could pull out of the hat? The trophy wife, who hadn’t trained in business a day in her life?

“Then I’ll see you at eleven.” Sophie smiled back, but Judy took the comment for what it was, a dismissal. She rose carefully.

“See you then,” Judy said.

Judy closed the door behind her. Fine, let Sophie keep her pathetic little secrets. She would indeed enjoy the 11 a.m. meeting. Sophie would finally spill whatever plans she had for the company, if you could call them that. Brilliant, so far—close down the jewellery stores, the only part of Massot actually making money; send the stock through the floor. Judy was thankful she’d sold hers years ago, or her net worth might have plunged.

She smoothed down the chiffon of her dress as she headed back to her office.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” said Marie respectfully.

Judy nodded. “Bonjour.”

Since the day Gregoire got fired, everything had been different. There were no more looks and whispers. Judy was sure the rumours still went on, but they went on out of her earshot. Everybody knew she had the ear of Mme Sophie, and when blood had started flowing, Judy was there, directing it. Françoise, M. Keroualle’s own secretary, had been reassigned to the typing pool!

Nobody else wanted that. Judy was now deferred to and respected. And feared. Marie, when pressed, had reluctantly told Judy her new nickname was Mlle La Guillotine. But far from being furious, Judy had laughed.

She could hardly help it. The release of tension was necessary. Judy’s emotions were seesawing all over the place; day to day, she had no idea how she kept herself together. It was a constant battle, and she thanked God she was in PR and knew how to lie for a living.