Fragrance Pourboire clickety-clacked across the parquet to where Jonas Umbilical waited, camera swinging from his wrist in what was rather too obviously irritation. ‘They’re ready, Jonas.’

‘About time. I haven’t all day just for some publicity shots you know.’

‘Sorry, but it’s… well it’s tricky.’ Fragrance glanced nervously towards the door to the changing rooms.

Jonas sighed theatrically, his focus on the tripod in front of him. ‘Bunch of prima donnas I suppose? Can’t work out what to wear?’

‘Not exactly…’

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