‘You’re a little late for the casting,’ said Karin, holding out a hand. ‘Can I see your card?’
Summer stood in the doorway, nervously playing with the strap of her handbag. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have one with me,’ Summer replied politely, a little intimidated to be face to face with Karin.
‘She wasn’t sent for the casting,’ said Dan quickly. ‘I found her shopping on Regent Street. I’ve taken some quick Polaroids and – here – I really think you should take a look.’
Karin quickly studied the Polaroids, a crucial tool for casting. Pictures in a model’s portfolio were so retouched that it was often impossible to tell whether she photographed well or not. But these Polaroids were amazing. She really was beautiful; in the flesh and on film.
‘How tall are you?’ asked Karin, still looking at the photographs.
‘Five eight,’ lied Summer.
‘Five seven,’ said Karin coolly, scribbling it on the bottom of the Polaroid.
She looked up at the girl again; she looked familiar but she couldn’t place where she had seen her before.
‘Have I met you before?’ she asked.
Summer felt uncomfortable. She didn’t want to mention her mother. It always sounded as if she was cashing in on Molly’s fame.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
Suddenly the penny dropped: seeing that long hair swishing about was a dead giveaway. Now Karin saw it – the nose, that wide, luscious mouth, that long curtain of platinum hair. She felt herself stiffen with displeasure. The platinum hair suddenly looked a little too brassy, her generous breasts just a little too large.
‘You’re Molly Sinclair’s daughter, aren’t you? You came to my benefit dinner.’
‘Really?’ asked Dan, congratulating himself for spotting talent.
‘Really,’ smiled Summer, flushing.
‘Well, thanks for coming in. Goodbye,’ Karin said quick
ly, gesturing towards the door with her eyes.
Summer’s heart plummeted and she slowly turned and left. She was gutted: Dan Stevens hadn’t even spoken out for her.
‘Are you not even going to get her to try a swimsuit on?’ said Kirsty after Summer had left. ‘She was lovely.’
‘A pretty girl, yes,’ offered Karin brusquely. ‘But she’s too small and too curvy.’
‘Karin, she’s fantastic!’ laughed Dan incredulously.
‘She belongs on a Sports Illustrated cover!’ snapped Karin.
‘I thought you wanted the campaign to be sexy?’
‘If the girl is too obvious it’ll look tacky.’
‘Well I can’t believe she hasn’t fronted a big campaign before. The second I take to her into Vogue, every magazine and fashion company is going to want her. Her day rate will skyrocket.’
‘You’re going to take her to Vogue?’ asked Karin, her eyes narrowing.
‘US Vogue. I see them on Monday.’
Karin’s mind went into business mode, thinking three moves ahead.
‘What agency did she say she was with?’
‘La Mode agency,’ said Dan.