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'Keep a close eye on her,' she had told Maddie and the ex-model, Gabrielle, who had trained Pam-Pam—it had been Gabrielle who came up with the professional name after she heard that Pamela's little niece called her Auntie Pam-Pam. It was different, striking; it suited the girl.
Gabrielle had left modelling to get married, but the marriage had failed and Gabi had got divorced several years ago. She had had two children by then and was past the age when she could model, but she had taken on the job of 'governessing' the agency models. She made sure that they arrived on time, worked hard, behaved themselves, didn't drink too much or smoke or take drugs—generally acted sensibly.
Gabi was motherly but strict; the girls were fond of her, but they respected her and Pam-Pam was quite happy to move into Gabi's large Chelsea flat for a while so that Gabi could tutor her and keep a close eye on her private and professional life.
They had all been hoping for something exciting to turn up to launch Pam-Pam on her career, and Nicky Wallis's cosmetics campaign was undoubtedly big league stuff. The company, Oliviera, were a new firm in that field—they had been involved in medicines and herbal remedies for years and had only just branched out into 'natural' cosmetics as a sideline. The minute Liza heard about the campaign she realised that someone as young and vibrantly healthy as Pam-Pam would be perfect for the project.
'My only reservation is about Nicky Wallis,' she confided to Gabi and Maddie over coffee a few days after first hearing about the contract. 'You know what he's like.'
They both laughed wryly. 'Don't we just? More hands than an octopus, and Pam's his idea of a light snack-he'd gobble her up.' Gabi frowned uneasily. 'I'll talk to her about him, shall I? Give her the gypsy's warning?'
'I'm not sure that that's the right approach. With a kid her age, it might have the opposite effect—tell her Nicky's mad, bad and dangerous to know and she'll be at his feet!' The other two laughed and said they took Liza's point.
'So what do we do?'
'I'll have a casual chat,' Liza promised.
That evening Bruno rang. 'I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll miss you.'
'I'll miss you, too,' she said lightly, but feeling rather melancholy.
'We had fun, didn't we?' Bruno sounded mournful, too, and she forced a laugh.
'We will again, don't sound so blue!' she said, teasing him.
'If you're ever in New York, give me a buzz and we'll paint the town red,' he said before he rang off, and she said she'd do just that.
She was tempted to ask, 'How's your uncle?' but was afraid he might repeat it to Keir and she didn't want Keir to think she cared. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon for her. The rapid inroads he had made into her defences bothered her. She had thought she was man-proof, but he'd showed her she wasn't. She could fall for him in a big way if she wasn't careful, and she meant to be very careful from now on! A man like Keir Gifford was exactly what she wanted to avoid—he liked his women like his cars—fast, glossy and not intended to last.
She made a face at herself. That wasn't true! She just wanted to believe he was that much of a heel because it made it easier to stay away from him.
When the deal with Nicky was firm, Liza delicately began to give Pamela a casual warning about the sort of men she was likely to meet.
'I wasn't born yesterday, you know,' Pam said, cheerfully grinning at her. 'If you're hinting at Nicky Wallis, don't bother. He's so obvious it's embarrassing. Dressed like a kid my age, but with more tramlines than a city centre. I can take care of myself, you know. You grow up streetwise in my part of London.'
Liza laughed, very relieved. 'And I'm just a country mouse who still hasn't quite caught on to big city ways? Maybe you're right.' Perhaps she had underestimated
Pam's ability to cope with whatever life threw at her, because from the minute they'd met in that park she had seen Pam as an echo of herself, but that wasn't really true. Pam was a very different person with a very different background.
'Oh, 1 wouldn't call you a mouse—town or country,' Pam said, very amused. 'You're so elegant and you're far too shrewd to be any sort of mouse.'
'Once you get into the big time you're going to get rushed off your feet by a lot of men,' Liza warned, though. 'If you're in the public eye you get attention you wouldn't get otherwise, but they're .. .'
'Only after one thing; I know! You and my mum ought to get together—you have a lot in common!'
'You're lucky to have a stable home background. Cling to it as long as you can,' Liza said with a sigh and Pam watched her sympathetically.
'You haven't got any family, have you?'
'Not any more,' Liza said, making sure her face betrayed nothing of what she was feeling. That was a habit now. She was accustomed to her polite, blank mask. Sometimes she hated it, of course; she felt so lonely, keeping everyone at a distance. She had never wanted to end up living that way.
She was careful to insist on being with Pam at her first lunch with Nicky Wallis and the head of the advertising agency who had dreamed up the cosmetics campaign. Liza meant to make it crystal clear to both men that Pam-Pam had protection.
They arrived early, before the men had got to the May fair restaurant, and sat in the small bar waiting; both sipping a Perrier with ice and lemon, although Pam had plaintively read the cocktail list and turned pleading eyes on Liza, only to get a firm shake of the head.
'No alcohol! It ruins the complexion. When you stop modelling, that's up to you, but while you work for me the rule stands. No smoking, no alcohol, no drugs.'
'And no sex,' Pam chuckled and heads swung from the bar counter; men stared at them, riveted.
