In her haste, Ellie was already opening the door before Joe had quite stopped.

“Careful!” He braked hard, just before the door hit a lamp post.

“Sorry. Sorry!” Ellie was mortified.

Joe shook his head. “You’re as bad as my kids. No patience. Never mind, no harm done. I’ll just go and park the car, nip over to get my new lens, and meet you back here.”

Ellie rang the bell by the door Joe had pointed out. There was very little to show that this was the premises of one of the most famous shoe designers in the world. The only hint was the modest JF in gold lettering on the door. A voice crackled in her ear.

“Jacob Frou. Who is this, please?”

Ellie spoke into the entryphone. “I’m Ellie Ixos from Heart magazine. I’ve come to collect some shoes for a photo shoot this afternoon.”

“Come on up.”

The door buzzed and unlatched. Ellie pushed her way in and went up the steep stairs in front of her. At the top was another door. Ellie couldn’t decide if she was supposed to knock or just go straight in. As no one answered her knock, she opened the door to find a large, light, airy room filled with an explosion of colours.

There were huge, bright sketches of shoes on the walls, a rainbow of coloured leathers stacked on racks, and boxes of all sorts of buttons, zips, beads and feathers on a large worktable in the middle of the room. Ellie longed to take a closer look at all the trimmings, but before she could move further into the room a young woman dressed in a beautiful green velvet coat appeared.

“Hi! I’m Bohemia. You’ve come from Heart for the young shoe collection?”

“Yes. I’m Ellie,” said Ellie and she shook Bohemia’s hand. “And yes, I have come for the shoes. They’re going to be photographed this afternoon.”

“They’re almost ready,” said Bohemia. “I’ve just been packing them up. We’re very excited about this new collection. Monsieur Jacob has never designed for young people before.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely,” said Ellie. “I can’t wait to see them.”

Just then the entryphone buzzed and Bohemia went to answer it. In a couple of minutes, Joe appeared at the top of the stairs.

“This is Joe, the person who is going to photograph your shoes,” said Ellie.

“Oh yes, we’ve met,” said Bohemia. “Hello, Joe. It’s good you’re here. Monsieur Jacob has been fretting about the shoot. Can you excuse me a moment? I’ll go and fetch him.” She disappeared into a back room. In a few moments she returned with an elderly man. He had a lot of pure white hair and was rather stooped. Ellie guessed at once that he must be Jacob Frou.

Jacob Frou and Joe shook hands. The designer obviously knew the photographer quite well. Immediately, Joe, Monsieur Frou and Bohemia got involved in a discussion about the shoot. The shoe designer had some very definite ideas about how his collection should be photographed, and Joe listened politely, although Monsieur Frou didn’t seem to think that Joe was taking everything he said seriously enough. Ellie enjoyed looking round the studio while they talked, and just caught snippets of their conversation.

“No! No!” Jacob Frou sounded scandalized. “All my shoes must be worn! I don’t want any photographed unworn. They need feet in them. And the right feet too!”

Joe tried to placate him. “But other designers—”

Jacob Frou drew himself up as straight as his bent back would allow him. “I am not other designers. If you cannot agree to make sure my shoes are worn for all the shots, I will not allow my shoes out of this workshop.” He folded his arms and glared at Joe.

Joe glared back. “I’m just telling you how I’ve been briefed. I can make your shoes look beautiful, even when they aren’t being worn by anybody.”

Ellie shuffled her feet in an agony to be gone. Surely they hadn’t come all this way to go back empty-handed? Whatever would Angel say if Monsieur Frou wouldn’t let the shoes go and they couldn’t have the shoot? He was appearing more and more agitated now, looking about him as if he’d lost something. At last his eyes fell upon Ellie, over by the trimmings. His face brightened.

“Take off your boots,” ordered Monsieur Frou.

Ellie stared at him. “What? Me? Now?”

“Of course now,” he replied testily. “How do I see them if not now? Do you want to be here all day?”

Ellie certainly didn’t want that. “All right.” She unzipped her boots and took them off.

“And the socks.”

Under her boots she was wearing black socks, which matched her black leggings. Hastily she pulled them off and stood on the plain wooden floor in her bare feet.

“Hm.” Monsieur Frou walked around Ellie as if she was a piece of furniture in a shop. “Give me,” he said, holding out one hand to her. He obviously wanted Ellie to lift one of her feet up so he could see it more clearly. Ellie lifted her right foot up, and wobbled. Bohemia caught Ellie’s arm and deftly drew a stool towards her so she could sit down. The designer took Ellie’s foot in his warm, calloused hand and looked at it. “The Pirate. A five,” he commanded, and Bohemia hurried away, to return a few seconds later with a pair of the most amazing shoes Ellie had seen in her entire life.

Bohemia kneeled on the floor and took Ellie’s foot from Jacob Frou. Ellie almost felt as if they had forgotten that it belonged to her. Gently, reverently, as if the shoe was a priceless ornament, Bohemia slipped the right one onto Ellie’s foot.

The soft leather of the shoe held Ellie’s foot in a gentle caress. It looked a little like a pirate’s swashbuckling boot, but instead of ending halfway up her calf, or at her knee, it hardly covered her ankle. It was decorated with braids and beads, and fastened with something that looked like an old and extremely valuable gold coin. Ellie couldn’t imagine how the designer had done it, but he’d created the impression of a pirate’s boot, while making it as light and delicate as a summer sandal. Ellie loved it. She wanted to demand the other shoe, so she could walk up and down in the pair. The shoe made her want to dance an elegant dance, though she had no idea how such a dance might go. The shoe made her feel a million dollars.

Jacob Frou looked at Joe. He pointed at Ellie’s foot, fantastically enrobed in the Pirate, and then at the other, empty shoe in his hand. He was right. The shoe came alive when it was worn. Empty, it didn’t have anything like the same impact.

“You see? My shoes must be always photographed on feet. I will come and speak to your Art Director, and if she will not agree there will be no shoot. Not one pair, not one shoe, away from a foot. You have models coming, yes? I know you do because we had their sizes emailed to us. So use them properly! No shots of girls holding shoes in their hands. I know what these Art Directors can be like.”

He turned away from Ellie. Bohemia handed Ellie her socks with a friendly smile. “Lucky you! My feet are too big for these shoes, but I’d love to be able to wear them.”

“Oh. Poor you,” said Ellie with sympathy. Even though she was now pulling her boot back on, her foot could recall the gentle embrace of the wonderful shoe. Bohemia was right. She had been lucky. It had felt a great honour to model for its maker.

Joe came over to Ellie. “There’s been a change of plan,” he said. “Since Monsieur Frou has decided to come to the shoot, his shoes are going to travel with him and Bohemia in his car. There will be room for you if you want to go with them, or you can come back with me. It’s up to you.”

Ellie thought. It had been very kind of Joe to bring her here, but her duty was to accompany the shoes. Even though she couldn’t imagine that anything would go wrong if they were with their maker, she still felt uncomfortable at abandoning them. “I think,” she said, “I ought to travel with the shoes…if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” said Joe. “I had to come to pick up my lens anyway, and you’re right to take your job seriously. Francesca should be proud of you. I’ll see you later.”