Lyssa was soon so busy that she didn’t have time to think about Dan and her family. Every morning, her schedule would come in from the agency back home with details of who she was to see that day. It could change at any time, and often Lyssa was halfway across town when it did.

Casting after casting, go-sees with potential casting agents, parties. Three weeks later, the girls in the house were beginning to get booked for jobs. Everyone, except Lyssa.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jenna told her. ‘You just have to find someone who gets your look.’

Before she left, Yolanda had been so enthusiastic, telling Lyssa she’d been shouting her praises from the rooftops to everyone who mattered in the industry. Now Lyssa felt like she was letting Yolanda and the agency down by not getting any jobs. And if she was truly honest, she was disappointed in herself. She wanted to prove to Dan and her parents that she could make it without them. She’d imagined herself coming back to Australia successful, and instead it looked like she’d return with nothing.

Back in Australia, Emily had emailed to say that she hadn’t heard anything from Lyssa’s parents, but Dan had come looking for her at the restaurant. He said he wasn’t working at the modelling agency anymore. Lyssa wondered if Yolanda had found out about his involvement with the models and fired him.

There were times in the absurd world of Paris fashion that Lyssa wished Dan was there. She wanted him to laugh with her, to talk her out of her worries that she wasn’t good enough, to hold her and kiss her.

But if she gave him too much thought, the tears came, so she tried not to think about what she missed. Instead she focused on Paris. It was more beautiful than she’d ever imagined.

When she wasn’t rushed off her feet, she would explore Saint-Germain-des-Prés or the Latin Quarter or Montmartre, peoplewatching and drinking coffee. It was as though she had stumbled into a perfect world, but one she could only explore if no-one she loved explored it with her.

Jenna put her head around the door of Lyssa and Tatiana’s room. ‘You coming?’

Tatiana was sitting on the floor painting her fingernails, and Lyssa was on her bed with a Paris guidebook.

‘Where?’ asked Tatiana, not looking up.

‘Out, girl! Out! Come on, get your dancing shoes on. We are going to Bastille,’ cried Jenna, who was wearing a one-shouldered silver top and the tightest pair of leather pants Lyssa had ever seen.

‘No,’ said Tatiana. ‘I have new fingers and I don’t want to lose them.’

Lyssa and Jenna laughed. ‘New polish, not new fingers,’ Jenna said, but Tatiana ignored her and went back to her task.

‘You coming?’ Jenna asked Lyssa.

‘Nah, but thanks,’ said Lyssa, smiling at Jenna.

She had come to genuinely like the girls in the house. They were funny and kind and sometimes just as insecure about their looks as she felt. All of them were trying to make it in Paris, to pick up the big contract, land a cover, get signed for one of the runway shows. There was more mutual support among them than Lyssa believed possible, especially after her experience with the Henslow girls.

Jenna knew a lot about the industry, as she’d been modelling since she was fourteen, but this was her first time trying out in Paris. She was eighteen now and looked like a young Claudia Schiffer.

Tatiana’s family was relying on her to be a successful model. Her father had had a stroke and was in a nursing home. Her mother worked three jobs and her sisters were still in school.

Tatiana’s beauty could solve everything if she got the work.

Penny didn’t seem to take it too seriously. The daughter of a wealthy Swiss financier father and Singaporean mother, modelling was just fun for her until she started her university course in the autumn.

Lyssa had callbacks for two runway shows for smaller designers, but hadn’t been chosen for the final list. Yolanda wasn’t worried, she said in an email, but Lyssa was. Her plan was to stay in Paris and work as a model, then go back home, set herself up in an apartment with Emily and go to medical school. Without any work, she’d have to go home and live with Emily’s family unless her father forgave her, which wasn’t likely anytime soon.

Lyssa’s phone rang and she saw it was Yolanda.

‘Hello?’ she asked, worried. She was always worried when Yolanda rang, expecting bad news of some sort from home. She felt so far away.

‘Darling, there’s a big party you need to be seen at tonight. I’ll email you the details,’ came Yolanda’s voice down the line. ‘This is your chance.’

Lyssa rolled her eyes. Yolanda’s positivity could be annoying at times, even if it was meant to be inspiring.

‘I don’t know, Yolanda,’ said Lyssa. ‘This whole Paris thing isn’t really turning out like I thought it would. No-one wants to book me. Maybe I should come back to Australia and just forget about it,’ she added, ignoring the frown from Tatiana.

‘It’s Nikolai Sardi. Come on, even you know about him!’ Yolanda said, ignoring Lyssa’s protests.

Lyssa did know of his work. The day before, she’d watched his last runway show on YouTube, trying to copy how the girls walked. His clothes were thrilling and haute couture, and even Lyssa was impressed. Nikolai Sardi was the most exciting designer in the world. He had a reputation as a brilliant recluse with exceptional taste, and his reportedly eccentric lifestyle was the subject of countless magazine articles and documentaries.

‘Okay, but I’m telling you – I don’t think I could get arrested in Paris if I tried, let alone book a job,’ said Lyssa sadly.

‘Stop that rubbish,’ barked Yolanda.

‘I feel like I’ve let you down.’ Lyssa felt tears pricking at her eyes as she spoke.

‘You haven’t. Now go get your most gorgeous dress on and show them how amazing you are,’ Yolanda commanded. ‘It takes just one person to see what we all see back here, and then you’ll be on your way.’

Lyssa hung up the phone and looked at Tatiana. ‘Want to come to a party with me?’

‘No,’ said Tatiana, packing up her nail polish.

‘Come on, I don’t want to go by myself. My agent says I have to go. It’s for Nikolai Sardi. Please, be a good friend,’ Lyssa pleaded. ‘I’ll do your washing.’

Tatiana glared at her. ‘One hour, then home. And only because it’s Nikolai Sardi.’

Lyssa stood up. ‘Okay, I promise. One hour.’

She dressed in Jenna’s Blumarine dress and a pair of Gucci heels, while Tatiana rocked some leather pants, a Marni white silk blouse with a black bra underneath, and some purple leather boots.

‘You ready?’ asked Lyssa as she put her iPhone into her small clutch bag and checked her lip gloss in the hallway mirror.

Jenna had given Lyssa make-up lessons and she had to admit, she looked okay. Better than okay, actually, she thought, as she and Tatiana took a taxi to the party at Sardi’s in the sixteenth arrondissement.

The party was filled with models, casting agents and a few magazine types – the usual crowd from the last few parties Lyssa had attended. Of course Nikolai was nowhere to be seen. Rumour had it that he wasn’t even at the apartment; instead he was at his country house in the Loire Valley, or so a casting agent told her.

Lyssa paused to adjust the strap on her shoes. She thought she’d never get used to wearing high heels, no matter how much Jenna and Penny tried to teach her to walk in them.

The prospect of another evening smiling and making small talk with strangers made her feel tired already. Just smile, have a few conversations with casting agents, stay sober, decline any drugs and then leave. Yolanda was adamant about these rules, and Lyssa felt the weight of expectation on her from across the sea.

Standing in the corner of the room, desperately trying to summon the energy to do her job, Lyssa felt like running away from it all, but instead she plastered a smile on her face, accepted a mineral water and started wandering about the room.

People were having their own conversations and she felt rude butting in on them, so she stood on the fringes of groups, listening and trying to look interested instead of insecure.

She found herself standing next to an older man in a suit with a pleasant face. ‘Bonjour,’ he said to her.

‘Bonjour,’ said Lyssa with a small smile.

‘How are you enjoying the party?’ he asked in French.

Lyssa shrugged. ‘I don’t really know anyone. These parties are sort of hard work. Some things come naturally to me, but it seems small talk isn’t one of them.’

The man laughed. ‘You prefer big talk, huh?’

‘Maybe,’ she said, smiling, and then realised how that sounded. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to say that I’m better than anyone. I just don’t speak the language of fashion very well.’

‘It’s not so hard,’ said the man with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I speak more business than fashion, but even I can understand what they are saying.’

Lyssa smiled, grateful for the man’s conversation. If he was in business, he clearly wasn’t going to be useful to her career, but he was nice to talk to and that was what she needed right now.

‘Where are you from?’ he asked, taking a sip of his red wine.

‘Australia.’

‘Oh! A long way away,’ he said with a laugh.

‘Yep,’ said Lyssa, thinking of home and feeling just how far away she was.

‘You speak wonderful French,’ said the man.

‘My mother is part French,’ explained Lyssa, feeling even sadder at the mention of her mum. In Paris, she didn’t feel like anyone’s daughter. She was so alone. She was no-one’s daughter, or girlfriend, or best friend. She was just existing.

‘How is the modelling going?’ the man asked her, perhaps sensing she needed a change of topic.

Lyssa screwed up her nose. ‘It’s not, really. I don’t have the look that people want this season. Apparently it’s all about the girls from Brazil this year. My skin colour and blue eyes aren’t opening any doors.’ She laughed without any bitterness. It all sounded so silly when she said it out loud like that.

Just then Tatiana came over to Lyssa. ‘You done?’ she asked, nodding to the man. ‘I don’t think Nikolai Sardi is even here.’

Lyssa looked around once again, but still saw no-one matching Sardi’s description.

‘I don’t blame him for avoiding most of these people,’ she whispered to the man. ‘He should just stay away and do his thing. He doesn’t need them. His work is very beautiful – from what I know. Not that I know much,’ she confessed.

The man smiled weakly at Lyssa. He seemed distracted now, and was rubbing his chest. ‘You know, I think he would agree with you.’

‘Okay, let’s go,’ said Lyssa to Tatiana. ‘It’s been nice speaking to you,’ she said warmly to the man. She didn’t even know his name, and yet she felt they’d really connected somehow.

But instead of replying, the man gave a sudden gasp and clutched at his chest. His face turned red. Tatiana screamed as the man collapsed onto the floor.

Lyssa bent down quickly, moving him onto his side. He was sweating now, and seemed to be in pain.

Around them, the room had fallen quiet.

‘Call an ambulance,’ Lyssa yelled in French. She felt for the man’s pulse. ‘Is there a doctor in the room?’ she called out, scanning the room full of glamorous people holding their champagne glasses.

No-one stepped forward.

Then the man stopped breathing, and Lyssa realised he was having a heart attack.

She’d done CPR training at school, and it all came rushing back to her. She rolled the man onto his back and tipped his head back. She started resuscitation and, when he still didn’t breathe, opened his shirt and began compression on his chest. She continued without stopping, only looking up to see if anyone was coming to help, or if an ambulance had arrived. Still no-one was helping, so she kept going, the adrenaline coursing through her body as she worked.

Lyssa didn’t hear the sounds of people around her, the nervous murmurs, or the noise of the paramedics arriving, moving quickly through the crowd. But then she was pushed away as the paramedics took over.

Lyssa was shaking as Tatiana put her arm around her shoulders and moved her away. ‘Let’s go,’ Tatiana said gently. ‘They can take care of him now.’

Lyssa and Tatiana picked their way through the crowd towards the door, Lyssa turning back occasionally as the paramedics got to work on the man. She had no idea if he was going to be okay, and was tempted to stay and check. But Tatiana guided her out of the apartment.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Tatiana as they stood in the freezing cold on the side of the street.

Lyssa nodded, looking straight ahead. Her hands and arms hurt from the CPR, and she felt tired and emotional.

Tatiana hailed a taxi and bundled her home.

Lyssa felt as though she was in a daze when she got back to the apartment, and lay down on her bed, still in Jenna’s dress. She fell asleep almost immediately, vaguely aware of Tatiana tucking a blanket over her.

Lyssa woke the next morning to eleven missed calls from Yolanda.

Not bothering to listen to the messages, she called Yolanda straight back. Something’s happened to Andre or my parents, she panicked, feeling sick as the phone rang. Or Dan. Maybe Dan’s told her what happened between us. Her mind spun with terrible ideas and consequences until Yolanda answered.

‘Lyssa!’

‘What’s happened?’ she asked quickly. ‘Is it my parents? My brother? Is Dan okay?’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Yolanda. ‘They’re all fine, as far as I know.’

Lyssa heard their apartment door buzzer go off and Jenna walked in holding a large arrangement of flowers. She waved at Lyssa, gesturing they were for her.

‘Last night, you saved Paulo Antonini’s life,’ said Yolanda down the line.

‘Who?’ asked Lyssa as she took the card from Jenna and opened it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

It was signed with an N. She put down the card, confused.

‘Paulo Antonini is Nikolai Sardi’s boyfriend and business partner. He is the most important person in fashion, without a doubt. Well, behind Sardi and Lagerfeld, but still, he is the brains in the business. I can’t believe it was you – but I can, if you know what I mean.’

Lyssa sat down on the sofa, a pair of sunglasses cracking underneath her.

‘How did you know it was me?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I know everything,’ said Yolanda with a laugh.

Lyssa was silent for a moment. ‘How is Dan?’ she asked, hating her tongue for betraying her feelings.

‘Desperate to see you,’ said Yolanda. ‘But I understand why you don’t want to see him. He told me everything. Needless to say, he’s not at the agency anymore.’

Lyssa bit her lip.

‘Anyway, I didn’t ring to talk about him. I wanted to say well done for saving Paulo’s life. He’s in a stable condition in hospital.’

‘That’s good,’ said Lyssa, shocked at how emotional she felt just from mentioning Dan’s name.

Yolanda was still talking. ‘Nikolai wants to see you. It’s a huge opportunity. He wants to see you in an hour, at his apartment.’

As Lyssa hung up, she realised last night had given her an opportunity. But not the one Yolanda thought. She had been given the chance to help someone, and it had been more fulfilling than anything else she’d done since she arrived in Paris. She realised that even though so much had changed in the past few weeks – she was better dressed, with new friends, in a different city – her goal remained the same.

There was no way she was going to let go of what she had always wanted in life. Andre’s disability had forced her parents to forget about the things they had once hoped for and, while she knew this wasn’t anyone’s fault, it made her realise something: she had no excuse not to make the most out of her life.

She realised now that coming to Paris had been running away. But escaping what she felt for Dan and the anger of her father wasn’t as easy as changing cities. Those feelings remained the same and so did her dreams.

But how the hell was she going to make it work, when she was all alone in the world?