B004D4Y20I EBOK (45 page)

‘Yes, we’ve all heard that. But there’s still a hell of a lot of business to be done and money to be made. The world doesn’t stop turning just because a few banks have cocked up. Confidence will win the day, I’m sure of that.’ Tara smiled at her friends. ‘Anyway, if Eric doesn’t want me, I’ll find someone who will. Or I’ll set up on my own.’ She lifted a glass. ‘Now, I’d like to make a toast. This morning my husband flew out of Heathrow on his way back to South Africa. God knows I don’t wish him ill but I’m glad to see him go. I’ve been under his thumb for most of my adult life and it’s time for me to take control and start living the way
I
want to live. No more ridiculous, beige-coloured mansion done up like a country club. I’m going to find out who I am and how I want to live.’

‘Hear, hear!’ cried Susannah, clinking her glass against Tara’s.

‘To you, Tara,’ said Olivia, tapping her own glass to the other two.

‘And … I’m going to spend more time with my children too. I’ve got to get to know them before they grow up without me. And now their father’s gone, they’re going to need me more than ever.’

They all sipped their champagne. Then Olivia said, ‘But Clapham, darling … honestly, are you sure you can’t afford to stay in Notting Hill with us?’

Tara laughed. ‘You’ll be surprised by what I find. You’ll see.’

Tara sat at the desk in the study, making notes on her laptop of what needed to be achieved the following week. The study looked quite different now. She’d had all of Gerald’s possessions boxed up, having thrown out whatever was beyond repair after he’d run amok, and the boxes were piled up against the wall, waiting to be dispatched to South Africa. The shelves were bare and the room curiously featureless, except for the vast plasma screen and the desk, where Tara had set up her computer. The phone rang as she was filling in a spreadsheet to calculate production expenses.

‘Tara Trevellyan,’ she said into the earpiece. It was strange but pleasant to use her maiden name again. She hadn’t been Tara Trevellyan since she’d been at Oxford.

‘Tara, it’s me. Jemima.’

‘Hi, Mimi. Are you OK?’ Jemima’s voice sounded peculiar, almost tinny.

‘I wondered if I could come round.’

‘Of course. I’m not doing anything much. The babies are in bed. It’s a shame they won’t see you, they miss their Aunt Mimi.’

‘I’ll take them out soon for a lovely day. But tonight, I really need to talk to you.’

‘Come over. I’ll get Viv to make something delicious.’

An hour later, the doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it!’ Tara shouted, heading for the door. She opened it to Jemima who was wearing a large pair of dark glasses, despite the evening’s gloom outside. ‘Hi, darling.’ She kissed her sister’s cheek. ‘I hope you didn’t drive in those things – very dangerous.’

‘No I didn’t. But when I parked the car, I noticed someone sitting in a grey Citroën opposite the house. They’re watching it. I didn’t like the look of them.’

‘Press, I suppose.’ Tara shut the door behind her. ‘I thought they would lose interest once Gerald had left the country but maybe it will take a day or two more.’

Jemima took off her glasses. Tara gasped. ‘Holy shit, Jemima! What’s happened?’ Jemima’s eyes were swollen red, the lids purple and translucent and twice their normal size. ‘I’ve been to see Harry.’ Her face began to crumple.

‘Oh God. OK. Look, come to the sitting room. I’m going to get you a brandy or something and you can tell me all about it.’

Sitting on the sofa, a cashmere blanket wrapped around her to stop her shivering, Jemima sipped at the cognac and told Tara what had happened that day.

‘You mean he didn’t know that the baby you lost was his?’ Tara said, incredulous.

‘That’s what I could never understand. That’s what hurt me so much. When I had the miscarriage, he was so cold, so horrible to me. I knew that what had happened with Guy had hurt him, but I hoped that
the
baby would make everything all right between us. We’d wanted a child so much. We’d spent hours talking about how we’d bring him or her up. We wanted lots and lots, if we could have them. When I told him I was pregnant, he was so happy. He knew it couldn’t be Guy’s, I was sure of that, because … well … Guy and I had only had sex that one time and for obvious reasons it wasn’t brought to a conclusion.’

‘Oh, Jemima.’ Tara reached for her hand, her eyes sad.

‘I know, I know … it was the stupidest mistake I’d ever made. I wish it had never happened. But it did. And I thought that we could get over it, that it was something we could put behind us. At first it seemed as though we could. Then, suddenly, Harry changed. He turned cold but he wouldn’t say why. He started to treat me as though he hated me, and then, when I lost the baby …’ Jemima closed her eyes at the memory ‘… he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even seem concerned about me. When the doctor told us that the baby was dead, he just shrugged and walked out of the room. He left me alone.’

‘So that explains it. I never could understand it, it didn’t seem like Harry at all. But why on earth did he suddenly decide that the baby was Guy’s?’

‘Because Guy told him.’

Tara was shocked. ‘Told him? How? Harry would have refused to see him, wouldn’t he?’

‘Guy heard about the pregnancy, I suppose, and for reasons I can’t begin to understand, he wrote to Harry. He told him that the affair had been going on for a
long
time and that the baby was definitely his, I’d told him so.’

Tara leaned forward and rubbed Jemima’s hands. They were icy cold despite the warm evening. ‘Oh, honey. Harry was an idiot for believing him. Why on earth would he take Guy’s version over yours?’

Jemima laughed bitterly. ‘Oh, you don’t know Guy. He’s so clever with words, he’s such an expert manipulator. He would have used things I told him innocently. He’d have constructed very plausible scenarios. I can hardly blame Harry for being taken in by him. I was.’

‘But still,’ Tara said softly, ‘he should have spoken to you about it. Mimi, what a frightful mess.’

‘I’ve cried and cried all day,’ Jemima said. ‘It’s all so awful – all the misunderstandings and hurt. When I think back to how I felt when he left me after our baby had died …’

‘So how did you leave things today?’

‘Once we’d brought it all out in the open and realised what had happened – well, it was very strange. We were both sitting on the floor in the library, squeezed behind the stepladder. Honestly,’ Jemima laughed, ‘a bloody great castle to roam around in and the only place we can find is crammed behind a ladder. We talked for a long time. At the end of it, Harry went very quiet. Then he just kissed me on the cheek and told me he had to be alone for a while. Then he vanished.’

‘What did you do?’ ‘I don’t know. I waited. I lost hope, all over again.

I needed him, but he didn’t come back. In the end, I picked up my bag from the hall, got in my car and drove back.’

‘So you didn’t say goodbye?’

Jemima shook her head. ‘He was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t answer his phone or my texts. I couldn’t bear to stay in that place on my own. I really needed to be with someone. I hope you don’t mind that it was you.’

‘Of course I don’t. I’m glad you thought of me.’ She sat down on the sofa next to Jemima and put her arms round her sister. She hadn’t ever seen her as dejected as this. ‘Mimi, you still love Harry, don’t you?’

Jemima drooped her head on her sister’s arm and nodded silently.

Poppy noticed that Jemima was not her usual ebullient self at work on Monday morning, but she decided not to press her about it. It seemed that someone’s fortunes were always on the wane when someone else’s were rising. Not so long ago, Jemima had been blissfully married while Poppy was trying to deal with the heartbreak of splitting up from Tom. Now Jemima’s relationship was on the skids while Poppy’s was going from strength to strength.

She’d forgotten how much being in love could envelop the whole world in a rosy glow. Everything felt beautiful and positive and she was certain she could achieve anything with George by her side. He was the sort of man she had longed for: sensitive, artistic, funny and kind. She’d always known that money wasn’t
important
to her and that she needed a man who felt the same. She just wasn’t sure how she would ever meet him. And then fate came along and put him in her path. How very, very lucky …

‘Poppy, are you concentrating?’ Tara said severely.

‘Yes, yes,’ Poppy said quickly, banishing thoughts of George from her mind, and sitting up straight. ‘You were just talking about the refit.’

‘That’s right. We’ve had a couple of men from the planning office round. We’ve shown them our revised plans. The designers have come up with ingenious false walls that will fit over the panelling, leaving it completely untouched, and also seal it off from moisture and help preserve it. That seems like an adequate compromise and we’re hoping the planners will go for it. We should hear later. If so, we can press ahead.’

‘We’ve got people coming in later with samples for fixtures and fittings, so please be free at three for a meeting here in the boardroom,’ said Donna. ‘But the main thing is that we need to turn our attention to the marketing campaign. We have to get started. Most importantly, we have to begin generating as much press interest as we can. I want to get them hungry for information on what’s happening here, and start sending out the message that something big, exciting and newsworthy is on the way. Now. I want to talk to you about this party you’re going to on Wednesday.’ Donna pulled a piece of stiff card from her folder and pushed it out on to the table so they could all see it that it was a large invitation with flowing dark engraved
lettering,
embossed with the FFB logo and Erin de Cristo’s company cipher.

‘The Ferrera party,’ Jemima said, perking up. ‘It’s a pretty invitation, isn’t it?’

Donna raised her eyebrows. ‘As plush as I expected. And this bash is at Spencer House, I see. How grand. They don’t let just anyone in there, you know. I’m jealous.’

‘Do you want to come too?’ Tara said quickly. ‘I’m sure I could arrange it.’

‘No. Might be a little awkward, with my ex-boss there. You can tell me all about it afterwards and from what I’ve heard, it’s going to be quite the event of the season. I’ve had a little chat with a friend of mine in the de Cristo camp and she’s filled me in on a few of the names who are going to be there. It’s A-list, people, it’s very, very glam.’ Donna reeled off the names of several Hollywood actresses, high-profile models, businessmen and influential media types.

Tara raised her eyebrows. ‘That is impressive. This guy has a good operation.’

‘So you three really have to pull out all the stops for this party. I want you to get noticed! And you must network as much as you can. Schmooze all the journalists you can. Look fabulous and for Christ’s sake, wear
Tea Rose!
’ Donna glanced over at Jemima. ‘By the way, Neave is going to be there.’

‘Is she?’ Jemima looked eager for a moment and then her face fell. ‘It’s no good, her people just aren’t interested. Besides, she’s being auditioned for some big movie role, apparently. There’s no way she’s
going
to be tempted to promote our fragrance when her future seems to lie in films. She’s probably got her eye on being the face of Chanel one day, not Trevellyan.’

‘You never know. See if you can charm her, anyway. Now, I’ve lined up everything for Wednesday already, we’re going all out to make you three newsworthy. I’ve booked a suite at Duke’s Hotel on Saint James’s. It’s a few minutes from Spencer House. That’s where you’ll be getting ready and I want you there no later than lunchtime on Wednesday afternoon.’

‘What on earth are you going to do to us?’ Poppy asked, a little fearfully.

‘You’ll see.’ Donna smiled. ‘I promise you’ll like it.’

‘What’ve you got?’ Flick said. She pressed the phone close to her ear, and spun her chair round so that she was facing out over the river. It was the way she always liked to sit while she took her calls. It also meant that no one in the newsroom could lip read her conversations or note her expressions.

‘Not much,’ said Ben. ‘Adrian tailed the older sister today. She did fuck all.’

‘What about the middle one?’

‘I went round to her flat but there was no sign of her. She was gone all day and then bowled up at the older one’s place in Holland Park.’

‘Mmm. Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree here. Maybe there’s really nothing to this story. But something tells me I’m right. Don’t ask me why. Have we tried tailing the younger one?’

‘No one’s interested in her, are they?’

‘No, you’re right. We’ll keep on the other two for a few more days. Listen, I’ve got an idea. I want you to go to that castle in Dorset, the one that belongs to Jemima’s husband. Sniff around there and see if anyone’s got any juicy gossip or some good leads.’

‘Dorset?’ Ben groaned. ‘Fuck off!’

‘Do as you’re told, matey, or it’ll be the worse for you. And you’d better come back with something worth bending my ear about, all right?’

‘Ah, shit. All right.’

Jemima was finding it almost impossible to concentrate. Why hadn’t Harry contacted her? It had been two days, and she’d heard nothing. Surely he would let her know what he felt now that he knew the truth. It was all she could do not to phone Herne and beg to speak to him, but she knew him well enough to be certain that she had to wait. All she could do was be ready to take his call or his email. But the suspense was appalling.

Her laptop chimed to tell her a new message had arrived. Quickly, she clicked on her screen, hoping it was from Harry. Disappointed, she saw it was from
[email protected]
:

Hi, Jemima

Give me a call, I’ve got some results for you
.

Ali

She phoned him at once.

‘Yeah, I’ve had a look through the details of your mother’s will. The question of whether you can sell or not is quite a complex one and the answer is contained in an appendix to the bequest clause, laying out the terms and conditions, if you like.’

‘Right. So what’s the upshot?’