How to be Fabulous (The Annie Valentine #8)

Prologue

Annie manhandled the awkward cardboard boxes into the basement storeroom, then put her own heavy tote bag into the doorway to hold it ajar, just in case the unreliable timer light decided to randomly click off.

Then she lifted the boxes one by one onto their correct places on the shelf and, well, now that she was down here, would it be so terrible to look for the box labelled:

Annie!! She had to get her head together here.

She had to calm the heck down and get out of this room before anyone else appeared and jumped to any wrong conclusions.

The light was just on the other side of the door, she reminded herself.

Yes, the door was locked, but the knob to open the lock was on her side.

She just had to find the door in all this blackness, open the lock, turn the light back on and everything would be fine.

OK, so where exactly was the door? She turned herself around and very slowly, very gingerly stepped forward, trying not to step or trip on anything that could be in her path.

She inched forward, hands out in front of her.

And inched… and inched… but there was nothing, absolutely nothing ahead.

She stretched her arms out further and felt her toe hit a box.

She felt her way carefully around the box.

And forward a little further, arms outstretched.

Don’t fall, she told herself. Falling would not help in any way at all.

What if she injured her ankle and couldn’t get up…

or hit her head and… not only would she lie here all night undiscovered, but the show might be jeopardised and then her name would be trashed by hundreds of London’s most influential fashionistas.

Annie!! She told herself off. She was spiralling, she had to get a grip.

She could feel something in front of her now.

But it wasn’t the smooth plaster of the wall…

or the reassuring wood grain of the door…

no, this felt like cardboard and now she could feel the metal of the shelves.

She’d walked into one of the shelving units that lined the room.

But that was OK, she told herself. If she followed the shelving unit all the way round the room, she would eventually get to the door, wouldn’t she?

But follow it to the left? Or to the right?

She tried to picture herself in the room.

Where was she exactly? She couldn’t tell.

Never mind, she told herself, if I follow the shelving in one direction, I will get to the door.

That’s logical, completely logical. So, she inched along keeping her fingertips on the cardboard and trying to steer clear of all the boxes, bags, and now something metal underfoot.

Totally logical, just keep going, she told herself.

But the room felt enormous, and she had completely lost her bearings.

It was so dark. Even straining her eyes, she could see nothing in front, utter darkness.

Very unhelpfully, she now started thinking about Agent Starling in Silence of the Lambs groping her way around that hideous basement while the murderer stalked her in night vision goggles.

Annie!! She told herself off again. That was definitely not helping. Good grief, how did she get herself into these ridiculous situations, time after time?

‘If I got myself in, I can get myself out,’ she said out loud to give herself a little boost. She tucked the bag more tightly under her arm, running her fingers over its smooth surface.

‘We’re a team now,’ she told the bag. ‘I know you can help me to keep it together. You’re a totally together kind of handbag.

And when we get out of here… even if it’s tomorrow, I will just pony up the cash and make you mine. ’