Kathleen Tessaro 3-Book Collection: The Flirt, The Debutante, The Perfume Collector

‘I think, Daddy,’ Felix explained gently, ‘that maybe she’s fat and pregnant. By the way,’ he nodded in the direction of the dog, ‘don’t squash his head. He doesn’t like it.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Jonathan readjusted the dog.

Felix trotted off and Angus remained, staring at Jonathan.

‘Do you want to climb up?’ Jonathan offered.

Angus shook his head. Then he bent over and picked something up from the floor.

‘Daddy’s,’ he announced, handing him a small white card.

‘Thank you, darling. Must have fallen from Daddy’s wallet.’

He glanced at it.

‘Valentine Charles,’ it read. ‘Purveyor of Rare Domestic Services.’

‘That’s it!’ Jonathan sat up.

If there was one person who could solve this problem, it was bound to be the curious Valentine Charles!

Jonathan stood up. ‘My boy, you’re a genius!’

Angus grabbed his leg. ‘Daddy sleep in my bed!’

‘Daddy’s got to make a phone call, darling.’

‘No! Daddy sleep in my bed!’ He began to cry.

So Jonathan Mortimer made one of the most important telephone calls of his career lying in his son’s converted cot while Angus happily covered his daddy with all the stuffed toys he could find.

And while covered in toys, it occurred to Jonathan that if Mr Charles could sort out the bizarre, mystifying seduction of the Bourgalt du Coudray woman, he might be able to arrange something less dramatic but equally uplifting for his own wife, Amy.

The Cardinal Rule (#ulink_c622aaf1-874a-54ef-bcd9-62d55faa2d64)

(A Moment of Silence, Please, for Freddie) (#ulink_c622aaf1-874a-54ef-bcd9-62d55faa2d64)

Later that evening, they all assembled in Valentine’s flat.

Thanks to Jez, Hughie had been transformed from a rather good-looking, shabby student to the very image of a sleek professional. With his new haircut, he looked taller, his aquiline features exquisitely refined. Jez had selected a very fine navy pinstripe suit which brought out the colour of his eyes, and a crisp blue cotton shirt worn open at the neck. Hands in pockets, the unselfconscious combination of youth, beauty and the excellent quality of the tailoring lent him a Gatsby-ish glamour. No longer a diamond in the rough, Hughie dazzled.

‘Oh, yes!’ Flick smiled when he walked in. ‘Yes, that’s the ticket! You could be the brightest young spark of a corporate enterprise!’

‘Bravo!’ Marco agreed, clapping his hands. ‘You got rid of those boxer shorts, right?’

‘Absolutely,’ Jez said.

‘Smith, you burn them, yes? They only come out again when you retire, get married and have children!’

‘Smythe, Marco,’ Flick corrected,

‘Yes,’ Marco waved his hand impatiently, ‘whatever!’

Hughie could not believe his underwear had been such a hot topic of conversation.

‘And the socks, old man?’ Henry was standing near the fireplace, drinking a cup of tea.

‘That boy’s ankles are completely covered!’ Jez assured him, throwing himself into one of the armchairs.

‘Well, I think we can all agree, Jez, that you’ve done a sterling job.’ Valentine was sitting at his desk, leaning back in the chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together under his chin. ‘Now, Hughie,’ he smiled slowly, ‘the easy part is over. It’s time for us to get to work.’

‘Right.’ Henry put his teacup down on the mantelpiece. ‘Welcome to a crash course on the rudiments of the professional flirt. Lesson one: the all-important background check. Flick?’

Flick stood up. ‘Valentine is in charge of the recruitment of new clients, managing existing clients and, of course, drafting in new staff. But the background information you need on each new mark will be provided by me. As soon as a client contacts us, I follow up with a long series of questions. I won’t bore you with the details, but the end result is as complete a character portrait of the woman as I can manage.’

‘Flick has an incredible talent in this area,’ Valentine assured him. ‘A knack for being able to read between the lines.’

‘What husbands don’t know about their own wives is a lot!’ she smiled. ‘Often they insist their wives are angry and sullen when obviously they’re hurt and rejected or they have tastes that, with a little probing, I discover are theirs, not the wife’s at all. Or sometimes, when I ask what their wife really wants from life or truly enjoys, they have absolutely no idea … either it’s changed over the years or, in some extreme cases, they’ve never really bothered to find out in the first place.’

‘It’s no surprise that they’re experiencing difficulties,’ Valentine said.

‘Then I have to play detective,’ Flick continued. ‘What magazines are on her bedside table? Does she look at any catalogues? What was the last meal she ordered in a restaurant? Who does she admire? What does her best friend do? By the end, hopefully I’ve got a clearer idea of what kind of flirt she needs, what she needs to hear, who would be the best man for the job, and what would be the ideal point of interception. And if possible, I like to have a look at them myself. It’s amazing what you learn just watching someone go about their daily life for a few minutes. After I’ve drawn up my report, I make a few gentle suggestions to the client about how they might follow up on the service we provide; half the success of what we do depends on a husband making an effort to be more attentive as well. What you get from all this background research is a personality breakdown, a job brief, and a time and location for the flirt.’

‘Sometimes,’ Henry said, ‘that window of time is quite generous but sometimes, especially with working women, it can be a very narrow gap indeed.’

‘Tube trains!’ Jez shook his head ruefully. ‘Wait till you have to do a train job!’

‘Even a bus is better than the tube!’ Marco agreed.

‘With each brief, there’ll be a suggested, well-established flirt,’ Henry went on. ‘For example, Casting Agent, Parking Meter, Interval Drinks or Shopping. Don’t worry,’ he smiled. ‘We’ll go over all those later. After you’ve been trained, there’ll be a certain amount of creative leeway you can exercise, but in the beginning, there’s so much to concentrate on, that it’s best to stick quite rigorously to the script, so to speak.’

‘And then,’ Jez grinned, ‘all you have to worry about are two things: how can I get to her—’

‘And how can I get away from her!’ Marco cut in.

‘Always know your exit,’ Henry stressed. ‘Making contact is fairly easy … “Pardon me, my watch is slow, do you have the correct time?” Or, “Forgive me, I’m a little lost, I’m looking for Portman Square.” But after you’ve made contact, flirted, got them all excited, making a clean getaway is imperative.’

‘Remember,’ Jez added gravely, ‘not all our marks are married, some are single. You could get a Clinger.’

‘A Clinger?’

‘Ah! It’s terrible!’ Marco shuddered. ‘The way they run down the street after you! Or follow you into the gents. One, she tried to get in the same cab! I had to pretend to suffer from … what is it? Falling asleep, you know?’

‘Narcolepsy,’ Flick volunteered.

‘Oh, dear!’ This was alarming.

‘Normally I label the brief,’ Flick interjected quickly, ‘“PC” for “Possible Clinger”.’