A Face To Die For (17 page)

'G'night, Mr Karos, sir. G'night, Madam,' the driver said, as Alex tipped him and I got out. Just as the taxi set off and Alex was following me up the steps, a thought came to me in a flash. Something, perhaps the alcohol, had sharpened my wits.

'Alex, I think I know how the story about Susannah may have got out! It was the driver!'

'What
are
you talking about, honey?' Alex said wearily.

'I'll tell you upstairs. It's only just come to me.'

Inside I sat down, kicked off my high heels and took a deep breath. 'Well, you remember I took some
Miss Courtney
designs to Susannah's hotel, the week after Vanessa's wedding?'

Alex nodded.

'Well, Lynda and I obviously went to and from the hotel by taxi with the garments. It was quite a load. Anyway, I arranged for the same driver, whom I’d used other times, to also pick us up afterwards. On both journeys he may well have heard some of our conversation. On the way back I know Lynda was telling me all about Mel at school. We talked quite a lot about you and me too and whether or not you knew about Susannah and Mel. I can't recall all we said now, but he might've heard some of it.'

I looked across at Alex, who was shaking his head in a bemused way. Ignoring him I went on explaining,

'You see, if you think about it, taxi drivers must glean a wealth of information from things they hear about well known people they drive about. In fact they can probably make quite a pretty packet on the side, leaking things they learn to the press. Do you see what I'm getting at?'

Alex leaned towards me, smiling. 'You realise what this means?'

'What?'

'That you should keep that lovely mouth of yours shut more. You women talk far too much and too freely. That's your problem.' He sighed, kissing my nose. 'Golden rule number one, honey; never talk about anything confidential in a cab, and golden rule number two... always tip a cab driver well. That way, he's more likely to keep quiet about things he sees and hears, especially if he drives you regularly. You will have noticed whenever we go anywhere together we always use the same two cab drivers. That's not by accident.'

I gulped.

'That's how we've managed to keep our life together fairly private up to now,' he added.

'So why didn't my taxi driver expose my name?'

'Because, at a guess, as he was one you've used several times before, he was simply being loyal to you. He probably likes you. I assure you, honey, he'll still have made himself quite a decent buck or two leaking the story, without divulging your name.’

I realised how naive I'd been. Still, the deed was done.

'I'm so sorry, Alex. Then it probably was our fault after all; Lynda's and mine, I mean.'

'It's happened now. Don't worry. Forget it. Come to bed. It's been a great evening, and I want to make love to you.'

As I climbed into bed I asked Alex what he'd thought of Kate?

'She's beautiful... no denying it. But she hasn't got your fabulous tits. Flat chests don't do a thing for me, honey,' he said nuzzling my breasts.

Later, after blissful orgasmic waves had swept over me and finally ebbed, I found myself staring into the darkness, worrying how everything would work out for us. A strange sadness afflicted me.

The sudden bang of a car door outside startled me and a dog started howling somewhere in the distance. I shuddered.

'What's wrong, honey?'

I could feel his breath against my cheek. 'It's nothing.’

I could almost hear him thinking, and I wondered what had been on his mind too? He kissed my ear.

'It's just, I'm a bit scared of things; that's all,' I murmured, half lying. I wasn't a
bit
scared. I was
terrified
!

'What things?'

'Just things.'

Alex pulled up the covers, snuggling closer. 'Don't be scared, honey. You're safe with me.'

For now, I thought. But will I always be able to count on you, Alex? We still had such a long way to go. The pending divorce and all the aggro associated with it, plus the flak resulting from it, could ruin everything for us. Even my job could be at risk. It was all uncharted waters for me. I loved Alex, but I was also a coward and I feared rough seas ahead.

CHAPTER 13

Alex was returning to the States on Monday and on the Sunday he telephoned Lynda at her home. He required verification of her story about Mel. More importantly he needed to know if Lynda would agree to sign a statement for his lawyers, should it be required. I was nervous whether she would do this. But if the information were to be of use to him he would need corroboration.

Lynda surprised me by instantly agreeing, and once more carefully related all the details to Alex. Afterwards he read the notes he'd made back to her, to double-check the facts. He then had the statement typed next morning in his office and sent over to the showroom by messenger for her to read through and sign, so that he could take it to the States with him.

As he left that Monday evening he told me had no idea how long he'd be away, but he'd inform me of any progress.

That evening Philip phoned with good news. The sale of the restaurants was going ahead. Gordon Valoir and his brother were forming a partnership in order to buy both restaurants. Philip went on to say that he and Mum were coming to London later in the week to discuss the deal.

‘
We’ll be spending Thursday and Friday night in Richmond with Joan and Sid,’ he said. I therefore agreed to join them there on Friday evening for supper.

No news much from Alex all week, other than to say things were in hand and slowly moving forward. He was clearly keeping things very close to his chest until he had something tangible to tell me. Apparently his lawyers hadn't been too hopeful initially about the outcome from Lynda's statement and the last I heard they were still waiting for Susannah's lawyers to get back with some response to it.

'It must have given them a few headaches, though, don't you think?' I commented to Lynda one day after Alex had rung, reporting once again that no progress had been made.

'I wonder whether the school would be prepared to divulge details of exactly what happened, if further verification is required by Susannah's lawyers?' said Lynda.

I shook my head. 'Unlikely. I'm sure such things would be strictly confidential.'

I was still praying that the story as it stood might be enough to persuade Susannah to ease off Alex.

*

'We should have the restaurants off our hands in the New Year!' announced a cheerful Philip at Aunty Joan's on the Friday evening. He was obviously happy and Mum was looking heaps brighter than when I last saw her. She had changed from her usual hairstyle and was now sporting a new shorter layered look, which really suited her and I thought it made her look years younger.

Before supper she and I went up to their bedroom where she wanted to show me her breast prosthesis for which she'd now been fitted. Worn inside her bra and made from soft pliable silicone and covered in light washable fabric, I was impressed how natural it looked and felt. The confidence it now gave her cheered me up enormously. I told her so.

'Well, Philip's been fantastic, darling. He couldn't have been more supportive,' she confided.

I hugged her. 'He's one in a million.'

'He thinks a lot of you too, Anna. Actually he has a little surprise for you ... but I'll let him tell you.'

Whilst briefly wondering what it could be, I toyed with the idea of confiding in Mum over my personal problems. But seeing her looking so happy I decided not to. It wouldn't be fair to burden her. Indeed I hoped that neither she nor Philip, or indeed any of the family needed to know about it. I'd shamefully even resorted again to praying that it would soon sort itself out. But there'd been no news from Alex before I'd left that evening so I couldn't help feeling despondent. On the other hand, perhaps the silence was a good sign. Who knows?

'Is everything all right with you, darling?' Mum queried, looking intently at me. 'You look tired. Working too hard, I expect. Are you still having problems with that Edward at Courtneys?'

'Yes, a bit.' I then went on to tell her of the recent futile argument we'd had about introducing trousers. I also told her about catching Lynda and Edward in my office, carefully omitting the most lurid details, and how concerned I was about my job now that she was involved with him. As always, she was sympathetic to my cause.

'I'm sure things aren't as bad as they seem, you'll see... things have a way of working out,' she said as we descended the stairs.'

I wished I could feel so optimistic.

Downstairs again we all sat down to dinner. It was roast lamb with Aunty Joan's wonderful Yorkshire puddings. Over light hearted chatter it felt just like old family times together. Sadly such occasions were too rare these days.

'Roast lunches are becoming quite a popular feature for us these days at the hotel,' said Philip. 'We're often packed out. That's why I'm intending to extend the restaurant area.'

'When do you expect to start the building work?' I asked.

'In the New Year - all being well. Once it's completed we should have three times as much dining space.'

'Are you increasing the number of bedrooms too?' asked Sid.

'No, we're happy with the number we already have. I prefer to keep the hotel side relatively small, to keep down overhead costs. The restaurant is where we see the greatest potential now, don't we darling?' Philip looked across at Mum, who nodded. 'The money from the sale of the London restaurants will enable us to expand just the way we want, with money to spare. So Anna, your mother and I would like to make you an offer...'

'Well, more a gift really,' Mum added, smiling at me.

I'd been semi-dreaming listening to Philip; trying to visualise the larger hotel and dining area. Suddenly I was jolted wide-awake at their words. An offer? A gift? What did they mean?

'Sorry, I... didn't quite hear you?'

'The money from just one of the restaurants is going to be quite sufficient for all we need to do in the hotel. So, we've decided we would like you to have the money from the sale of the other one, to set yourself up in your own fashion business.'

I gawped, unable to believe what I was hearing! It took several seconds to register.

'What! You can't be serious. I mean, wouldn't you rather invest it, say for your retirement ... or something?' I mumbled, in disbelief. Then suddenly feeling so rude and ungrateful, I burbled, 'Oh, my God, it's awfully generous of you!'

'Nonsense! It'll all be yours one day, anyway. Your mother and I feel we want to help you
now
, don't we, darling? When you need it most. We can't have all these other designers stealing the limelight. Your name should be up there with them!'

'Oh, Philip, Mum, I ...I'm lost for words ... I mean, thanks, of course, but ...oh my God!' I shook my head in disbelief. So that's what Mum had meant earlier about things working out for me!

Philip squeezed my hand. 'Just put the money to good use, my dear. Best to start looking for premises first I think, as it could be mid-January at least before the money's released.'

'Oh I will. Gosh! It's a dream come true. You'll be so proud of me one day, you'll see!'

*

I went home to Eaton Square that night with my mind in a state of total incredulity. The sum of thirty-five thousand pounds was soon to be mine to start up my own fashion business! I hardly knew where to begin thinking, or what to plan first. It didn't seem real. It had to be a dream.

Lying in bed, a state of euphoria intermingled with confusion kept wafting over me. How could I possibly have become so fortunate?

Next morning I telephoned Mum and Philip at Joan's before they left for Wales. First to wish them a safe homeward journey, but also to have Philip confirm that the money offer hadn't after all, been a dream. Only then could I allow the facts to filter more positively into my brain cells.

Thoughts and ideas tumbled about in my mind. I'd be best to lease premises, and then I would be able to invest a larger portion of the money into setting the business up. It was a daunting prospect and I would need advice’ good advice. I had to also be sure I didn't make any wrong moves. This was my
one
big chance. I mustn't blow it.

I fancied some premises somewhere off the Kings Road. So later that morning, I went along to suss out the locality.

Kings Road was swarming with young people; many quintessential Chelsea girls, with long silky hair, wide smudgy eyes and pouty lips in the palest of pale lipstick. I noticed Mary Quant's
Bazaar
and various other boutiques appeared to be doing roaring trades.

Perhaps it would be a mistake to set up in proximity to these already very successful businesses? Whilst I knew there was plenty of room for more innovative designers, even in Chelsea, I might be wiser to choose another London location.