‘A few weeks?’ she cried, adding a quaver of hysteria for effect. ‘Who knows what psychological problems might have set in by then? These are sensitive girls at a critical juncture in their development.’
Paula had, of course, anticipated Miss Beaumont’s objections and had spent many hours thinking of a way to combat them. She had thought of reporting that Amelia, the younger, quieter twin was being bullied, but that would involve accusation, names, and Paula had no intention of making unnecessary enemies of influential parents.
‘Miss Beaumont,’ she said, adopting the intonation of a political chat–show host, ‘you should know that we have already seen a child psychotherapist about these identity issues.’
She’d practised saying the words so many times that she now almost believed that Casey and Amelia had been see a shrink. ‘Dr Hill is worried, very worried. In his professional opinion, the girls being in the same class, the name mix–ups; it’s all causing damage.’
She emphasized the word ‘damage’ and the implication was not lost on the headmistress. She might be British, but she still understood the litigious culture of America.
Fenella Beaumont exhaled slightly, her plump cheeks expanding like a goldfish’s.
She flipped open a class register and seemed thoughtful for a moment.
‘We do have one new pupil joining Year One next term, but that’s cancelling out Lucy Kwong’s departure from the school.?
? She looked up quickly. ‘Her father has been posted to Dubai.’
‘Well, if someone new is starting, perhaps another new pupil joining the class would make it easier for both of them,’ said Paula.
Miss Beaumont nodded. ‘I suppose that makes sense.’
She snapped the register shut and stood up, her gown billowing behind her as she rose. ‘I will see what I can do. For the welfare of the girls, you understand,’ she added with emphasis.
‘Thank you, Miss Beaumont. We believe Casey should be the one to move into Transition B,’ added Paula casually. ‘More buoyant, more confident. I think she will adapt to new classmates quicker than Amelia would.’
‘Yes, quite,’ said Miss Beaumont. ‘I certainly agree.’
Paula smiled. Beautiful, popular Casey. Her golden girl. The sort of child that everyone would want to befriend. Yes, she thought, with a soaring sense of triumph. Casey would be her entrée into the very highest society.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brooke Asgill snatched up the phone and speed–dialled Kim Yi–Noon’s extension.
‘Kim, can you come through? We’ve got a crisis.’
It was eight thirty in the morning. Brooke hadn’t even taken her jacket off when she noticed the manuscript of her magical slush–pile discovery Portico sitting in the middle of her desk. It had a coffee ring on the cover plus a bright yellow Post–it that read: ‘Buy this. Cheap. Mimi.’
Kim came running into Brooke’s office. Ever since the editorial meeting, Brooke had been trying, unsuccessfully, to reach Eileen Dunne, Portico’s author. She seemed to have disappeared in a puff of green smoke.
‘Hi Kim, where are we on tracking down Eileen Dunne?’ She waved the Post–it at her assistant. ‘Just got this from Mimi; looks like it’s getting serious all of a sudden.’
Kim nodded. ‘Yes, I was trying the author all last night and this morning, but I finally spoke to her a few minutes ago. She’s been out of town. Seems very nice.’
‘Especially since we probably got her out of bed,’ smiled Brooke, plumping up the vase of roses that David had sent her the day before to finally put Saturday night’s spat behind them. Neither Alicia nor Matthew had been mentioned since and she thought it best to keep it that way.
‘Well, that’s good news, can you get her on the phone for me … ’ she began, but the look on Kim’s face made her stop.
‘Oh,’ said Kim, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Eileen told me she’s being represented by Vanessa Greenbaum, so it’s probably best if you speak to her in the first instance.’
The news was like a body blow to Brooke. The smile dropped off her face and she sat down in her chair.
‘Vanessa Greenbaum,’ she gasped. ‘How? When did that happen?’ Her eyes strayed back to Mimi’s note and a feeling of panic rose in her stomach.
Kim flipped open the diary she had tucked under her arm. ‘On Friday the fifteenth you asked me to phone Eileen and suggest she get an agent. I recommended Vanessa, Jane Grubman at IAA and Larry at Authors Inc.
Brooke stared at Kim, hoping it was a nasty joke. ‘Ohmigod. You recommended three of the toughest negotiators in New York?’
Kim nodded earnestly. ‘You said Eileen needed an agent, so I thought it would be better for you if your authors had prestigious ones.’