Josie took a step towards her, coming up so close that Amy thought she was going to whisper in her ear.
‘I heard something before,’ she said, in a voice so low Amy could hardly hear it. ‘Miranda was talking to her manager. She told her she’s getting married. To Leif Tappen.’
Amy looked at the younger woman wide-eyed.
‘When did you hear this?’
‘Ten minutes ago. When everyone was having lunch. Apparently he proposed at the weekend. She’s not wearing a ring, but he’s given her one.’
‘You’re sure about this?’
Josie looked at her without blinking. ‘I’m sure.’
Amy had noticed Josie’s quiet self-assurance the very first night they had met in Notting Hill. But now it was clear that it was coupled with the smarts to get on.
‘That’s the story I want to read,’ Josie added. ‘I want to read about Miranda Pilley the bride-to-be. I want to see her happy and in love. I want her to tell me that’s it’s possible to tame the bad boy . . .’
Amy put a grateful hand on her shoulder. ‘Great work,’ she said, her mind fizzing with ideas. ‘So good I think you have to stay at Verve another week. If you want to, that is.’
‘Totally.’ Josie grinned eagerly.
Amy returned to the shoot and went straight over to the rack of clothes, pulling out the yellow dress. Yes, it looked like a meringue, but now that was exactly the look she was after. She beckoned to Janice, who came running with grips between her teeth.
‘Hmm?’
‘Get Miranda out of the red dress and into this,’ she said, aware that the shoot would soon be winding to a close.
‘I thought you said it was too bridal’
‘Change of mind.’
Elise came over with her hands in her pockets. ‘I think we are done here.’
‘I need another set-up. The yellow dress. I want the shot to look clean, white.’
Elise let out a soft sigh to register her disapproval at being asked to do one more thing. Janice took the dress to Miranda, who agreed to put it on.
‘Then we’re finished, right?’ she asked.
Amy instructed the hair stylist to unpin the actress’s severe bun, then switched some music on. She took a stem of hydrangea from a vase and handed it to Miranda, who took it with surprise.
‘Smile,’ said Amy, throwing her hands in the air as Miranda’s mouth curled upwards.
Elise fired off some frames and showed Karrie and Amy on her laptop. ‘Looks like the homecoming queen, yes?’ She shrugged, pleased with her work.
Amy nodded with excitement.
The yellow was still more primrose than ivory, though that could be sorted with Photoshop. But most of all, the image made her smile, made her swoon, made her want to celebrate what it was to be young, successful and happy. It wasn’t inaccessible or lofty, as Josie had pointed out about so many other fashion shoots. Instead it was an image that simply celebrated what is was to be in love.
‘The love issue,’ she said, smiling to herself, imagining the photo of Miranda surrounded by joyful, upbeat cover lines.
And the timing would be perfect. When pap photos and engagement rumours began to trickle out to the tabloids, Verve would have the glossy, glamorous exclusive that everyone wanted. The readers were going to love it. Douglas Scoles was going to love it. And what was more, as Douglas Proctor and the decision-makers at Mode magazine were going to love it.
Chapter 4
Amy glanced at the time on her screen. It was gone six. The day had slipped through her fingers like sand, but at least most of the next issue was finished. Elise’s shots of Miranda had worked perfectly as spreads inside the magazine. The art team had added inset photos of balloons and confetti, while Liz Stewart’s bland interview had been cut to just a couple of columns and beefed up with a quick ‘Things I love’ sidebar that Amy had extracted out of Miranda as the shoot had wound to a close. Not that anyone would really be looking at the words. They rarely did these days, and although that fact was heartbreaking for someone like Amy who had grown up believing in the power of the written word to entertain and illuminate, she had to admit that it was perfect editorial: punchy, visual, exclusive.
‘Are you ready to go? Everyone’s left already,’ said Chrissie, poking her head around the door.