“No,” said Genevieve. “I doubt that awful woman will even give him my card.”

“You think she’s that arrogant? Failing to pass messages to her boss—she could find herself out of a job.”

“I don’t know if it’s arrogance, but there’s something about her. She took an instant dislike to me.” Genevieve helped herself to another spoonful of Lulu’s mousse. “And I to her. No, she won’t give him my card, I’m certain of it. I shall have to find a way to bypass her.”

Lulu raised her cup in salute. “I’ll come with you, chérie. Tomorrow. This woman is no match for the two of us. Let’s have a drink. Fighting talk gives me a thirst.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for alcohol? Even for you?”

“You forget—I haven’t been to bed yet. It’s still yesterday as far as I’m concerned. If anything, it’s very late.”

Genevieve frowned. There was just a touch too much bravado in her friend’s voice. “Is something wrong?”

Lulu made a face. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

“Camby? What’s he done now?”

But she just shook her head, as though it was far too complicated for Genevieve to understand. “I wish I didn’t care about that man. Typical, isn’t it? Practically all the men in Paris are in love with me, and I want the one man who isn’t!”

“He’s in love with you, all right.” Genevieve reached over and squeezed her hand. “Frankly, you’re as bad as each other. Neither of you can stand being taken for granted. You enjoy being mysterious and unpredictable. And you hurt each other because you’d rather feel pain than feel nothing.”

“Maybe you’re right, chérie.” Lulu smiled. “How do you know me so well?”

“I just do,” said Genevieve. “And you know me too—better than anyone.”

Lulu eyed her. “If we weren’t such good friends, we would have to be enemies.” And then she was back to talking about Camby again—about what a bastard he was. “I’m so angry with him, Vivi. I don’t know what to do about it. What would you do?”

Genevieve shrugged. “I don’t know. Write a poem, probably.”

“I can’t write poems. Something happens—I get all the words back to front. The letters go twisting away from me.”

“Sing about it, then. Put the emotions into your art. That’s what Camby does, after all.”

“Yes. The swine.”

Genevieve gave Lulu’s hand another squeeze. “Buck up, darling. I’ve decided to throw a party. A grand costume party, like Violet’s but bigger and better. The theme will be Cubism.” She’d only actually had the idea this very second, but she was already warming to it. “What do you think?”

Lulu clapped her hands in delight. “What fun!”