A Face To Die For (3 page)

The truth was that shortly after the war my father did Mum, my older sister Belinda and I, one huge favour by walking out on us. This was, or so we’d been told, after he’d got heavily drunk one night and had viciously struck my mother across the face, giving her a bruised and swollen, black eye. Our neighbours had luckily witnessed it and a real
hoo ha
had developed, with them defending Mum. As a result he finally packed his bags and left. Apparently it hadn’t been the first time this had happened. Thank God he never returned, and because of this, some years later, she was granted a divorce.

Meanwhile she'd met Philip Jones at a wealthy client’s wedding, and it seemed to me from that day on, our life improved hugely. Philip, who I decided, was probably worth a bob or two, had to wait until Mum was finally free, before marrying her in September 1952 at Ealing registry office; making us all very happy.

I recall it was a thrilling, golden sunny day with Belinda and me as her bridesmaids. Of course she’d made our pretty ankle length, cornflower blue, organza dresses as well as her own dove grey silk gown, chosen from designs in the current
Vogue
pattern book in Rowse’s departmental store.

Thinking back, I imagine it was probably Mum's influence that instigated my early passion for fashion. When Dior's
New Look
in 1947 brought a womanly shape back in again, I remember how she was inundated with customers wanting versions of it. A talented dressmaker, she'd later progressed to tailoring as well. I suppose I'd followed in her footsteps instinctively. Nevertheless, my enthusiasm had always been more for the creative, designing side of things.

*

By the time I started at Art College, things had moved on a bit and Mum was more involved with Philip's restaurant business but, of course, her fashion flair and the way she always dressed so stylishly brought her many admiring compliments. Philip adored her and she'd certainly become a huge asset to him.

It seemed I had inherited the artistic talent in our family, whereas my sister Belinda was the brainy academic, the one of whom everyone expected great things, and under whose shadow I'd always stood. Therefore, her sudden death from a brain haemorrhage during her last year studying for a science degree at Cambridge affected us all hugely. I was sixteen at the time, in my first year at Art College, and it truly devastated me.

Mum cracked up completely over it. As a result she miscarried the baby she and Philip had only just discovered they were expecting. Bel's death also left me in a peculiar state of dread because of what I
now
had to live up to. With no Bel any more to achieve great things, as she undoubtedly would have, the onus suddenly rested on me to succeed in whatever I did.

It was a burden I carried for months after her death, and was not made any easier because I missed Belinda so much. An icy chill still passes through me whenever I recall hearing the shocking news of her death. I felt somehow unable to believe in God any more after that; questioning who or what really ordains our destiny.

I soon became more focused about my own future; determined to reach my goal - no matter what had to be sacrificed or how long it took me, to the exclusion of all else. I'd already discovered from the one brief, distracting relationship with Adam at college, how easily love - or what I thought was love at the time, can affect your judgement and send things a bit off course.

I had thus made the decision to allow only a very special person, should he exist, into my life. And even so, whoever he might be would
have
to be able to co-exist with my career. Naive thinking perhaps, and possibly a bit selfish, but at the time it was essential for me to concentrate single-mindedly on pursuing my dreams.

How could I possibly have known then the sort of men who would eventually decorate or cloud my future horizons?

CHAPTER 2

'Annabel! Over here!' Vanessa's arm waved to me above the crowd. The air was thick with cigarette smoke as Sinatra's
Songs for Swinging Lovers
played in the background. Faces turned my way; everything went slightly blurred and my mouth felt dry as, nervously, I headed towards her, standing with a group of friends on the far side of the room. Several people smiled at me as I propelled myself forward. I felt the closeness of a man grinning affably, offering me a fluted glass.

'Champers, Ducky?'

I automatically took it from his hand. 'Thanks.'

People were milling round me, laughing and chattering. Sipping my drink, I began to absorb my surroundings. Vanessa, at my side now, was reeling names off to me.

'Annabel, meet Toby. This is Felicity... she's with Angus tonight. Julia, this is Annabel. Charles... meet Annabel... Annabel, this is Rupert and Amanda ... And so it went on. Gosh, how could I remember them all?

I decided to try a method once explained to me by an American friend of Philip’s, which involved repeating the person's name immediately after being introduced. However, I soon gave up. It was impossible to do this with so many new faces.

Later, I noticed a man bending over the radiogram twiddling the knobs. Something about him drew me over.

‘Hi,’ he said, without looking round.

I studied the back of his head. It was nice head. 'Hello,' I said to it. There was something about the shape of his muscular shoulders outlined in an expensive looking fine cream Italian knit sweater. I liked the look of this man. I liked the cut of his crinkly dark hair. For one thing, he was dressed quite differently from the rest of the men there. He was tanned and looked slightly foreign; Italian or Spanish perhaps?

He glanced round. 'Sorry. I promise I'm not ignoring you…’

His intense, deep brown eyes and staggering good looks instantly registered with me. Definitely foreign, I decided. Suddenly no one else in the room mattered; I was smitten. He turned back again to the radiogram. 'I’m trying to get the tone right. Damn thing's useless!'

He sounded sort of English, apart from a slight mid-Atlantic inflection. But those incredible dark looks certainly weren't. He was the most gorgeous man I'd ever met.

I swallowed hard as nerves took hold. Speak, you idiot, I told myself. 'Er… good album. I love Sinatra.' In truth I only
quite
liked Frank Sinatra, but it seemed the right thing to say.

'Me too. Saw him in Vegas last year. He was awesome.' He straightened and turned to face me. Still looking quite serious, he half-smiled. 'I'm Alex, by the way, Vanessa’s brother. Did I hear her call you Annabel?' Frowning a little, his beautiful dark eyes gazed into mine, captivating me. My stomach flipped.

'Yes… that's right.' I lowered my eyes; acutely nervous of the way I was feeling. I'd never known anything like it. He was turning me into a quivering jelly!

He turned back to the radiogram. Vanessa was suddenly by my side again; one hand around my waist, the other waving a ciggie. 'Good, so you two have met at last! Of course, Alex had to turn up quite out of the blue... as brothers
always
do. Which I'm afraid, darlings, means you two are going to have to fight over who has the spare bedroom tonight. Unless you fancy sharing?'

Alex looked at me, then at Vanessa. He grinned, showing beautifully even white teeth.

'Vanessa! Don't embarrass Annabel! We'll do no such thing.' He gazed at me again. 'Actually, she's right, honey. It
is
my fault, I should have phoned first; but it was chaos at the airport when I landed. Finally I managed to grab a cab and suddenly, I was here.'

When I arrived earlier, I had noticed a smart leather suitcase and some bags in the hallway; so they must belong to him.

'Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted,' Vanessa said, wandering off again in a cloud of smoke.

Alex's beer rested on the radiogram and, picking it up, he took a large swig. 'It really doesn't matter, honey. You have the spare room. I'll be just fine on the sofa; once this lot have departed.'

He was standing quite near me now, and I could smell the faintly citrus tone of his expensive after-shave. This man not only looked delicious, he smelled delicious too.

'Trouble is...' he whispered, 'from past experience, this lot sometimes hang on a bit. But with any luck they'll decide to go on to a club later. I’m sure Vanessa will steer them in that direction, anyway' He leaned even closer, treating me once more to a whiff of his sexy aftershave. Again my stomach did a summersault. 'You're not one of Vanessa's usual crowd, are you?'

His soft, mildly American voice was a real turn on. I pulled myself together and shook my head. 'No… no, I only started working with her about two and a half months ago.'

'I didn't think I knew you. Don't get to London too often now, and she and I don't exactly see a great deal of each other anyway.' He wrinkled his perfectly chiselled nose. 'We’re not that close really, and we lead very different lives.'

'I…I'd no idea Vanessa had a brother. You don't look a bit alike.'

He leaned back casually against the radiogram with folded arms. 'Ah well, you see, honey, we only share the same blood father, not the same mother. Mine died when I was a small kid, and I can only
just
remember her.'

'I see.' By now I was totally mesmerised by him and happy to listen to him forever.

'Unlike Vanessa, I'm one hundred per cent Greek, although I spent most of my earlier years at school here in England, Eton. Papa had a couple of offices here and an apartment, so I usually saw him during school vacations.' He smiled, treating me to his melting gaze once more. 'Then when I was twelve my father married Laura, Vanessa's mother, and from then on I guess it must have been a real drag to have me around.'

I think he must have noticed my brief look of concern there.

'It was okay… I was cared for well enough and actually Laura was pretty kind to me. Even though I am told I was a real handful as a kid. Anyway, other relatives took turns having me during vacations; my grandparents in Greece especially. Then at eighteen, after taking A levels here, I went on to study at Berkeley College in the States.'

I found my voice again; as I’d now felt I wanted to know more about him. 'What about your Greek roots, Alex? Don't you want to retain them? Or have you been totally taken over by more western influences?'

'Well, I do try to spend a little time each year in Athens and sometimes visit friends who live on Crete. But yes, I'm afraid I've really become thoroughly westernised in my outlook. For one thing, Greece still has so many archaic customs and philosophies. Relating to them has become hard for me, I guess. Papa and I disagree continually over that, of course. You see, he has always maintained a very strong Greek attitude to life; in spite of Laura's influence.'

We chatted a while longer, until Alex went off to get me another drink. Seeing me alone, Fiona whisked me off to meet some more people. However none of them registered properly with me. I was now thoroughly preoccupied with thoughts of Alex. Not only was Alex Karos the most gorgeous man I'd ever met, but he also had a voice that could seduce me any time.

He brought me a replenished drink and at every opportunity we had, he continued telling me more about himself, while I lingered on his every word.

'I'm currently working my butt off in one of my father's shipping offices in New York, so when this vacation suddenly came up I grabbed it. Actually I'm joining friends skiing in Switzerland on Monday... but there was just time to stop off here to see Vanessa before flying on.' He lowered his voice again. 'Bad luck I guess though, that it's coincided with this damned party. Although I've sure enjoyed meeting you, Annabel.'

Wow! Had he really just said that? I could hardly believe it. So Alex was genuinely enjoying my company, was he? Amazing! And to the exclusion of just about everyone else at the party. Crikey!

Vanessa suddenly appeared again and grabbed him. 'Sorry to interrupt, darlings, but Alex I do want you to meet Rowley.' As she dragged him by the hand across the room I sadly watched him disappear from sight.

The evening progressed and I consumed more and more alcohol. Then the Fortnum caterers laid out a wonderful spread of food on a long sideboard. As I looked at the amazing choice of luxurious delicacies I was constantly cajoled by one inane male to, 'come on, tuck in, old girl!' There was a load to eat - more than enough for everyone. By now I was feeling much more relaxed and thoroughly enjoying myself; particularly when Alex was around.

Apart from Alex I wasn't particularly enamoured with
any
of the other men present. To my mind they fell roughly into two categories; dopey looking, chinless types, or the loud guffawing sort. The conversation also seemed to get louder and coarser as the night progressed.

There was barely room to dance, but I shuffled around with a couple of guys. One grabbed me for what turned out to be a most distasteful smooch, his right hand wandering all over my left buttock. Luckily another girl soon whisked him off to dance with her. Next he was almost eating her alive and I last saw them disappearing along the hallway to presumably find a free bedroom. My eyes constantly scanned the room for Alex, who thrilled me by occasionally raising a dark eyebrow at me whilst he was talking to others.

This party, I decided, really wasn't all that different in many ways from those I'd attended at college…
apart
from the lavishly expensive food. As I glimpsed a couple slipping into the little box room I'd been allocated on arrival I was sorry I hadn’t had the foresight to lock the door.

At around twelve-thirty the word went round that most of them were moving on to a nightclub called
The Saddle Room
. Oh no! My heart plummeted, as I scanned the room for Alex. However there was no sign of him.

By now I was feeling light headed and decidedly wobbly on my feet. Luckily, in spite of being also pretty tipsy, Vanessa twigged that I'd had enough, and so, after checking that no one was still occupying my room she suggested that perhaps I should take myself off to bed.

What a relief! Feeling as I did, a posh nightclub was the last place I wanted to go. My head was spinning and I desperately needed to lie down before I collapsed.