If the Shoe Fits (8 page)

Danny snorted.

“It's not funny. Honestly, I've been looking over my shoulder all morning. It's pathetic. I'm the same person that I was yesterday, but show a bit of flesh and suddenly everyone thinks I'm a prostitute.”

“I wouldn't go
that
far,” said Danny reasonably.

“That's what I said to Derek,” she replied darkly.

• • •

Lunch restored some of Eleanor's spirits; bangers and mash always did that, especially when it led to jokes about wobbly sausages. She returned to work feeling slightly happier, and decided to keep the cardigan on for the rest of the day. It was uncomfortably warm, but infinitely better than holding on to her knickers whenever Derek appeared.

Jenni and Heather were seated in Jake's office when Eleanor returned. They were all busy going over the schedule for the next day's shoot, so Eleanor merely waved a quick greeting and left them to it.

The afternoon passed in a blur of memos, emails, and boiling kettles. The cardigan worked very well, and Eleanor wasn't bothered by innuendo-filled comments for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, by the time she left the building she was redder than a beetroot due to feeling so warm. On the plus side, the bus driver, who had so blatantly gawked at her that morning, seemed to have an aversion to beetroot and stuck to the less disturbing greeting of “tickets please.”

By the time she got home, she was ready to consign her shirt to the charity shop. Or at least to the depths of her wardrobe, where past fashion disasters lurked, and mocked her frequently. Eleanor shuddered as she recalled the sparkly leggings that were so hot two years ago, but which were now something that she avoided at all costs.

Eleanor stripped off her clothes and threw on some pajamas. On a whim, she decided to pull out all of her scary clothes items from the wardrobe. It was time she gave them a wash and then passed them on to the local used clothing shop. Happy that she was doing something constructive, she opened her wardrobe door and promptly screamed.

“Muse, what the hell are you doing?”

Muse's bright green eyes blinked up at her in surprise.

“It's time for your lessons to begin in earnest, dear,” said her feline friend.

“You almost gave me a heart attack! What on earth are you doing buried in my shoes?”

“You need to learn how to walk in heels, dear.”

“I do?” she replied doubtfully.

Eleanor had been wearing heels for almost ten years now, and thought she had walking in them pretty much covered.

“Yes, dear, you do. Walking in heels is an art form.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is. You work for a modeling agency; I thought you would understand this. Clearly you don't, though, or you wouldn't be questioning my expertise.”

Eleanor was having trouble accepting the fact that a cat would know anything about wearing heels, but Muse was so earnest that she kept her mouth shut.

“Now, you obviously need to take a little more care when you are walking in heels. Tiny, graceful steps are required if you don't wish to fall flat on your face.”

Eleanor looked at her cat suspiciously. She was sure Muse was referencing the coffee tray trip from a few weeks ago.

“The style of the heel is important, too. High heels can be difficult if they are stilettos.”

Muse pushed Eleanor's spiky-heeled boots towards her to demonstrate.

“However,” continued the cat, pushing a boxy-heeled pair of shoes next to the stilettos, “Chunky heels are much easier to navigate.”

Eleanor flopped down on her bed and kicked off her slippers. It was very odd listening to a cat lecture her on ‘fashion dos and don'ts', but it was entertaining nevertheless.

“Of course, a smart girl opts for flat shoes, but they aren't nearly as glamorous, wouldn't you agree?”

“Oh yes, definitely.”

“Exactly. Flats are practical, to be sure, but they aren't going to give you any points for fashion sense.”

“So what do I do?” asked Eleanor thoughtfully.

“We need to strike a balance, my dear. Much as I'd love to see you in a pair of gorgeous high heels, there's no denying the fact that you are likely to totter more than a drunken sailor if you do so.”

Images of sailors in stilettos immediately entered Eleanor's brain, and she stifled a chuckle.

“And we really can't have you wearing flats, can we?” continued Muse sensibly. “I believe I have the solution, though.”

Muse pushed a third pair of shoes towards Eleanor and smiled. At least, it looked like Muse was smiling, but with a cat one could never be sure.

“Oh, I'd forgotten all about these,” cried Eleanor excitedly, as she examined the silver strappy sandals that she had purchased several years previously.

“You should sort your wardrobe out, dear. It is a veritable Aladdin's Cave in there. You have to sift through a lot of garbage, true, but I found several gems buried beneath all the clutter.”

“Actually, that's what I was going to do tonight,” remarked Eleanor, as she strapped the silver sandals on to her feet.

“Excellent idea. However, I feel we should concentrate on the walking lessons this evening. You can do your wardrobe another night.”

Eleanor nodded distractedly as she fastened the last strap. The sandals had been a ridiculously extravagant impulse buy, something she usually avoided. Costing £150, she still had no idea what had made her blow almost a week's wages on them. They were gorgeous, though.

“Walk to the door and back,” instructed Muse.

Eleanor did as she was told. The heels were three inches, not overly high in these days of impossibly high heels, but she wobbled slightly as she walked to the door and back again.

“Posture, dear,” chided Muse.

Eleanor glared.

“Heels aren't really designed for walking on carpet, Muse. Cut me a little slack, would you?”

Muse put Eleanor through half an hour of pacing, offering words of wisdom every so often. Eleanor bit her lip, but did her best to comply.

“I think that's enough for this evening,” declared Muse eventually.

“Thank goodness,” muttered Eleanor, who promptly sat on her bed and made to remove the sandals.

“Oh, don't take them off, Ella.”

“Huh?”

“You will be wearing those sandals every evening from now until the party.”

“What?”

“Practice makes perfect, dear.”

Eleanor opened her mouth to respond, but Muse glared at her.

“I wasn't going to swear,” said Eleanor sulkily.

“Of course you weren't, dear.”

Bloody interfering cat.
Swearing didn't count if it's only said in one's head, after all.

• • •

It was a decidedly strange feeling wearing a pair of sexy stilettos with short pajamas. Eleanor felt the urge to giggle as she cooked herself a curry later that night, much to Muse's annoyance.

“You really shouldn't laugh, Ella, this is a serious business.”

Eleanor nodded sincerely, but it was hard to be serious while you were wearing a Betty Boop T-shirt, baggy shorts and a pair of heels. Plus, her legs needed shaving, which didn't exactly match the sexiness of the shoes at all.

“When can I take them off?” asked Eleanor. “I mean, do I have to wear them at all times, or can I remove them now and again in the next week or so?”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere, my dear.”

“I'm not being sarcastic,” said Eleanor innocently. “I'm just curious. I want to take a bath later, for example. I'm assuming I get to take them off then, right?”

Muse glared at her and left the kitchen. Eleanor grinned as she licked the spoon she had used to stir the curry.

“Perfect,” she said to herself, and she wasn't only referring to the curry.

Eleanor did indeed remove the high heels when she ran her bath, though they were swiftly returned to her feet as soon as she'd dried herself afterwards. This time they were accompanied by a lacy black bra and matching thong, and most importantly, fuzz-free legs. Eleanor had just started to detangle her hair when she heard the front door bell chiming. She quickly grabbed her dressing gown and ran down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in the process.

“Bloody heels,” she cursed, as she opened the door.

“Darling! You should have told me you were holding a swingers' party tonight. I would have been here earlier.”

“Jake! What are you doing here? Quick, get in before half the street sees me in my underwear.”

Eleanor ushered her friend through the door and belted her dressing gown, which had somehow become loose during the mad dash to the door.

“Don't cover up on my account. You look gorgeous!”

“Shut up, Jake,” said Eleanor fondly. “Why are you here? It'd better be something good, because I'm on my way to bed.”

“I do hope you have company. It'd be a shame to let the sexiness go to waste.”

“Alone. I'm going to bed alone.”

“Ah, well,” sighed Jake. “Still, I'm glad I'm not interrupting, because I need a favor.”

“I'm listening,” said Eleanor. She grabbed a hairbrush and resumed her attempts at detangling her mass of black frizz. “Spit it out, Jake, I haven't got all night.”

“Heather's let me down for tomorrow's shoot. She twisted her ankle ice-skating a couple of hours ago, so she'll be off work for a few days.”

“She's all right, though, isn't she?”

“Oh yes, she's fine. Cursing at the loss of tomorrow's pay check, but otherwise her usual self.”

“That's good. So what can I do to help? I can't think of anyone off-hand who could take her place at this short notice.”

“Well, that's where you come in.”

“Me? Hang on — are you suggesting that I take over for Heather? Are you nuts?”

“It's an underwear shoot, sweetie. If anything, you're better suited for it than Heather is.”

“No way. Absolutely no bloody way.”

“We're shooting the body shots tomorrow, Ella. Your face won't even be seen, I swear.”

“No!”

“Darling,” said Jake a little desperately, “I really need you to do this for me. If I don't provide samples by tomorrow evening, I'll lose the contract.”

“Jake, I am not, nor ever have been, a model!”

“But you're perfect for this, Ella, I promise!”

“You just need someone with a nice pair of boobs,” grumbled Eleanor.

“Well, yes. That's not the point though.”

“I really think it
is
the point,” said Eleanor dryly. “Look, I'd love to help you, I really would, but modeling? Me?”

“Sweetie, just wear what you've got on right now, and you'll be the star of the shoot.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

“Come on,” said Jake, sensing a softening. “It'll be fun.”

“I don't know … ”

“Jenni will be there to help you. And it'll only be me and Danny in the studio, so you'll be among friends.”

Eleanor brushed the last of the snags from her hair and stared at Jake carefully. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, and honestly, Jake had done her so many favors in the past that she probably owed him something in return.

“You're going to do it!” said Jake happily.

“I must be crazy … ”

Jake whooped and clapped his hands in excitement. He rushed over to Eleanor and kissed her noisily on both cheeks, hugging her tightly in the process.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I promise you'll be absolutely fine. Now, I'll leave you to it. Get your butt up to bed and get a decent night's sleep. The shoot is at nine o'clock sharp.”

Eleanor nodded, rolling her eyes.

“And, Ella?”

“Yes?”

“Bring those shoes with you, they're divine.”

Eleanor chuckled as she bolted the front door and headed upstairs. She swiftly dried her hair and got into bed, taking her “divine” shoes off beforehand.

Today, general dogsbody; tomorrow, underwear model. Bloody hell, Eleanor, what have you done?

• • •

The following morning saw Eleanor in a complete panic. Why on earth had she agreed to this? How the hell was she going to find the courage to pose virtually naked in front of a camera? It didn't matter that there would only be friends in the same room as her, the photos that were being taken were for a fashion magazine and had the potential to be seen by millions.

“Jake, I can't do this,” she said as soon as she arrived at work. “I hide from cameras, for crying out loud. I run a mile as soon as I see a camera at twenty paces. I stick a pillow over my head when the camcorder comes out at family gatherings. I — ”

“Deep breath,” said Jake sharply. “Now, take another breath, sweetie, and calm down.”

“Calm down?
Calm down?
”

“Yes, darling.”

Jake grabbed her by the arm and led her, still spluttering, to his chair. He handed her a cup of black coffee and forced her to take a sip, which she immediately choked on.

“Bloody hell, Jake, did you put a whole bag of sugar in here?”

“I figured you might need it this morning,” said Jake, frowning at her. “Did you bring the shoes?”

“Yes, but I've changed my — ”

“Great. Finish your coffee, and meet me in the studio.”

“ — mind,” finished Eleanor lamely.
Crap. I'm doomed.

She took another sip of coffee and gagged. She really needed the caffeine though, so she persevered. By the time she'd swallowed the last dregs from the cup, she was feeling marginally better, though slightly sick. She grabbed her bag and left the office, cringing at the thought of what the next few hours would bring.

“You'll owe me big time for this, Jake Morrison,” she muttered to herself as she entered the studio a few moments later. Jenni squealed with delight as soon as she saw her and showed Eleanor where she needed to go to get changed. Eleanor found herself clutching an armful of underwear, and was thrust unceremoniously behind a heavy curtain.