Both Eloise and I stood when Madame Dupont was announced.
The tiny woman, who had to be 4”10 on a good day, strode into the dining room like she owned it and everything in it. Us included. Whip-thin, she was dressed as though she were the Queen of England, in a cream suit with a knee-length woollen skirt.
She carried a handbag in the crook of one elbow and a riding crop in the other.
“It’s simply divine to see you again, Audrey,” Eloise gushed, air-kissing the little woman on each cheek twice.
Dupont fondly patted Eloise’s cheek – Eloise had to stoop quite low – before turning to look down her slender nose at me. No small feat when she was smaller than even me. “Is this the young lady in question?”
She spoke with a thick French accent.
“Not quite a lady, I’m sure you’ll agree.
