"She's a fairy?"  Ess concentrated on looking at Martin's face, not trusting herself to meet Oz's eyes.
 
"Yes." Martin told the cup.
 
Ess tried to marry the image of the model in the magazines with watercolour illustrations in books of fairytales from her childhood.  The images couldn't even date, let alone marry.
 
"I didn't realise that fairies, um... "  Existed?  How professional would that make her sound?  "lived in the city."
 
"Yeah.  Not so many, of course, but there's the parks.  There's one family that live along the railway lines.  Lots of greenery there, but it's not a good living.  But Daisy, she comes from Regents Park.  Class.  God, she's got class in spades.  But even for fairies, her family, they're cream, you know?  And Daisy, she's well connected."
 
"Yes?"
 
"Well, yes.  Her dad, right?  And even though she's not exactly traditional, they all indulge her, because of who her dad is."
 
"Excuse me."  Out of the corner of her eye Ess saw Oz raise his hand and she mentally kissed the case goodbye.  "Forgive me.  Ess, she's well versed in all things supernatural.  Me, I'm a grunt, and I'm sorry, old chap, I have absolutely no idea who her father is.  Colour me ignorant.  Could you enlighten an old man?"
 
Martin looked up at Ess, his eyebrows raised in a question.
 
"Oh, please, you tell him," said Ess, calling Gaia's blessings on Oz as she allowed Martin to explain.
 
"Fairies are very traditional.  Not patriarchal, exactly, because women have a key role too, but definitely not democratic.  So her parents are the head of the clan.  Nothing happens in Regents Park without Mum or Dad's say-so.  She's got loads of brothers, but Daisy is the only daughter, so she gets a lot of leeway.  Her dad has a pretty soft spot for her.  So they let her model, and party, and all the other stuff you read about.  And if they're not exactly proud of what she does, they don't forbid it.  She's not unique.  There's plenty of them about.  Daisy introduced me to a couple, and once you know what to look for, you get to recognise some of the others too.  But no one in her social position."
 
"She's a party animal princess," said Oz.
 
"I guess.  Only it's more than that.  It's not the partying, it's the glamour."
 
"She wants glamour?"  Ess tried to ignore the association with glamour modelling, a polite term for soft porn in most people's minds.  Sure, some of her photo shoots might be classed as risqué, but she was hardly a glamour model.
 
"No, I mean they're attracted to the magic of glamour.  Like to like, you know?"
 
"Makes sense," said Oz.  "After all, that's what the word originally meant.  Glamour meant fairy magic in Celtic legends."
 
"Yes, yes, exactly that."  Martin nodded vigorously.  "That's the magic they do.  They play with people's minds, their perceptions."  He screwed a finger into his temple.  "You've never seen anything as lovely, as graceful, as heart-breaking as a fairy.  It's part of their magic.  And us, when we do it, it just fascinates them.  We're doing fairy magic, only we're not using magic.  So pop stars, actors, all that sort of thing, it's like we're the same as them, but no magic involved.  So that's why she does it, the photos, the parties, the film premiers.  It's not that she's vain, and she doesn't need the publicity.  It's just fascinating, like a moth to the candle."
 
"Son, I'm going to be very cruel."  Oz patted Martin's arm.  "You understand, that's my job.  First thing I'm going to ask is, if she's so attracted to glamour, are you sure she's not found a better offer?  Some rock star or Hollywood A-lister?  I have to ask."
 
Martin shook his head.  "No.  She's met plenty of them.  Had offers too.  No, she could have done that any time, and she'd have told me.  I mean, she could do better, I know that.  Jesus, I thank the stars every time she looks at me.  I pinch myself every time she notices me.  Of course she could.  But if she did, she'd tell me.  She's built that way, you know?  She's never had to lie.  She wouldn't know how.  She might be casual about it, she might just up and tell me, but tell me she would.  No, it's not that."
 
"Okay.  Then my second question is going to be even worse.  You say -"
 
"Martin!"
 
The woman's voice cut through the conversation like a knife.  All three looked up as an impossibly thin woman glided up to the table.  Her plain black dress clung to her body, and her jewellery was just understated enough to draw the eye.  Her makeup was so invisible it must have taken artisans hours to apply.  Ess instantly hated her.
 
The intruder air-kissed Martin's cheeks, then she pouted and wagged a finger at him.
 
"You impossible boy," she said, though she was no older than Martin.  "You are very naughty.  I saw Penny's picture in Black's, and she looked gorgeous.  You promised me you'd do me."
 
"Well, I didn't exactly -"
 
"What's she got that I haven't?"
 
"It was a commission."
 
"She paid you for it?  Oh my God!  The hussy.  That explains it all."
 
"Well, her agency did."
 
"Martin, I am your very best friend.  I absolutely insist you do me next.  Something like Penny, but maybe a little more, you know?  Naked.  You can do me Naked.  Tasteful, of course, but something that will put her nose out of joint.  But not just now.  We're just back from the Carmargue.  Oh my God, I just love food in the Med.  It is to die for, but my God the calories.  I have no idea how the women there keep so thin.  Gitaines, I expect.  I just wish I could take up smoking again, but Rupert is such a nazi about it.  So in a few weeks, when I've lost a few pounds.  But you must, you absolutely must.  How are you, by the way?  You're looking a little peaky.   You need to get out more."
 
"Listen, I'd love to chat, but I'm in the middle of some business just at the mo."
 
The woman noticed Ess and Oz for the first time, assessed and dismissed them in a glance and turned back to Martin.
 
"Of course.  But I mean it."  She winked at him.  "Naked!"  She turned, called out "Darling!" and glided on to another table.
 
"Lose a few pounds?" said Ess.  "Where from?"
 
"Sorry."  Martin shrugged.  "She's not a friend, exactly, but you get that.  Sorry, Professor, you were going to ask me a question?"
 
Oz stared open-mouthed for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it.  "Yes, I have a second question, but before I ask that, I suddenly have a more pressing one.  Did she just ask you do to her naked?"
 
"Yes.  She's a pain, but she knows people, so I have to be nice.  Not that she'd ever sit still long enough."
 
"Okay.  Another question.  What.  The. -"
 
"Oz!" interrupted Ess.
 
"What exactly was she asking you to do?" finished Oz.
 
"Paint her."  He looked to and fro between the two of them.  "I'm Martin Prescott.  The artist."
 
"Of course," said Oz, in a tone that made it clear he had no more idea of who Martin Prescott the artist was than who Daisy the model was.  "Though this place does seem a little pricey for a starving artist fresh from his garret."
 
"I do all right.  I've been lucky."
 
"You certainly have.  Which brings me to the rather indelicate second question."
 
"Yes?"
 
"When I was a callow youth I was rather enamoured of Julia Rutherford.  You two children won't ever have heard of her, but in the heyday of British cinema she was a bright shining star which fuelled my youthful passions.  I wrote her love letters, I collected newspaper cuttings, I had her photos plastered over my bedroom wall.  I was, in short, obsessed with her.  I dreamt of being with her all the time, and sometimes the line between reality and wishful thinking became a little blurred.  Now you are asking us to track down a somewhat famous, attractive young lady, whom you claim is your partner in life.  So forgive me, but I have to ask.  Does she know she's your girlfriend?"
 
Martin stared at the table top, his jaw clenched.  Eventually he looked up at Oz.  "Am I a stalker, you mean."
 
"No," said Ess.  "Oz didn't mean that."
 
"Actually, yes I did," said Oz.  "Are you a stalker?  Are you just using us to get to her?"  He shrugged.  "Look at it from our point of view.  No one else will confirm you're lovers.  You said so yourself.  So how do we know?"
 
Martin nodded slowly.
 
"Fair enough.  But if I can convince you, will you help me?"
 
They both looked to Ess.  She reached out and squeezed Martin's arm.
 
"Of course we will."
 
"Okay.  Then you need to come with me."