B004D4Y20I EBOK (52 page)

‘Yes.’

He leaned towards her and very gently kissed her on the lips, then pulled away. ‘The last time I did that, you didn’t like it much.’

‘No – but you were very drunk,’ she reminded him. ‘I don’t mind it now but first, I need to ask you something.’

‘Yes?’

She looked down, smoothing her hand across a cushion. At last she said slowly, ‘Letty Stewart …’

‘Ah. Letty. There’s nothing going on. Whatever there was is over. Letty knows that.’

‘That night I sent you to her – did you … did you sleep with her?’

‘I don’t think we should rake over the past. Let’s just accept that both of us have made mistakes and make a fresh start.’

Jemima smiled. ‘OK.’

‘Now, where were we?’

‘I think you were kissing me.’

‘Oh yes …’ He grinned at her, a sweet lopsided grin she hadn’t seen for so long, and then leaned in again to kiss her. This time it didn’t stop with a touch of his lips to hers. This time, he put his arms around her and they kissed properly and passionately.

He pulled away just long enough to say hoarsely, ‘My God, I want to sleep with my wife.’ Then he returned to her mouth, kissing her with such intensity, it felt as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

‘Let’s go to the bedroom,’ whispered Jemima. ‘I want to do this properly.’

The passion between them was like nothing she had experienced before. On the one hand it had the familiarity of old lovers who knew each other’s body intimately and how to please the other, and what each of them loved best. He knew how she adored being kissed slowly and intently round her shoulders and neck, how she loved him to penetrate her and then
come
out, so that she could hold his penis wet with her juices, while he explored her with his fingers. He knew when to turn her over and take her from behind, how to touch her exactly right as he fucked her hard. He knew when to bring her back beneath him so that she could wrap her legs over his broad back, urging him into her.

But along with that knowledge of each other, there was a completely unexpected deep excitement of the new: this was her lover, reinvigorated with passion for her. His kiss was like a new kiss and his touch thrilled her just as it had when they first fell in love. Everything about him filled her with ecstasy. When they finally collapsed, spent and satisfied, she touched his face softly and said, ‘I’m so happy. I thought I’d lost you. It’s like you’ve come back from the dead.’

He wrapped her in his arms and said, ‘I’ll never let you go again. I promise. Jemmie, I want you to come home.’

They dozed in each other’s arms and then got up and dressed again and went out for dinner.

Harry was more alive than she’d seen him for years.

They walked through the summer evening up the King’s Road and found a little restaurant that Jemima liked and took a table outside to enjoy the last of the sunshine.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ Jemima said hesitantly. ‘I don’t want it to spoil our wonderful evening but we have to talk about it.’

Harry looked apprehensive. ‘Yes?’

Jemima explained about the newspaper splash planned for that weekend. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said hastily. ‘I know how you loathe this kind of thing.’

‘I do. But the point is, how did they get hold of the story?’

‘It’s someone in Dorset, apparently. Someone close to you. I don’t know who.’

‘I’ll find out.’ Harry looked grim. ‘I have an idea. So, what’s the plan?’

‘Donna, our marketing advisor, knows someone at the paper. She thinks that they won’t risk publishing if they can’t get hold of Guy to corroborate the story.’

‘They won’t find him. And if they do, he won’t talk, I’m sure of it.’

Jemima wondered exactly what had gone on in Aberdeen to make Harry so sure that Guy would keep his mouth shut but she decided it was wiser not to ask.

‘To take the heat out of the story, I’m going to give them an exclusive interview, about our life and what I’m doing at Trevellyan and perhaps some stuff about Jecca – how we feel about her threat and so on. But I need to know you’re all right with that.’ She looked at him anxiously.

‘I hate the press,’ he said frankly. ‘And I think that once you let them in, you’ve got no excuse to keep them out. But I know you need to do this. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.’

‘Even pose in your underwear?’ she teased.

‘If you feel the all-too-human desire to show me off, what can I do?’ Harry joked. ‘But I’d prefer it if we
don’t
make too much of a habit of it. I’m a lover of the quiet life, you know.’

‘I’m rapidly coming round to your way of thinking,’ Jemima answered with a smile.

Poppy lay on the sofa in her flat, staring at the ceiling. She had heard nothing from George last night although she had sent him a text:
Where are you?

Then at work today she had had to break the disappointing news about Neave.

‘Don’t worry about it too much,’ Donna had said encouragingly, although her disappointment had been clear to read. ‘It would be great to get her on board for the launch. And in the meantime, I’m going to approach Kate Beckinsale’s people. There’s a chance she might be interested.’

Then, this afternoon, after Poppy had inspected the model of the bottle she had designed for
Tea Rose
and signed it off, her phone had beeped at last.

Sorry darling
, read the text.
Called home on urgent family stuff. Back tonight. See you later? G xx

Yes. See you later. Come to mine when you are back
, she had replied.

Now it was just a matter of waiting.

At seven-thirty, there was a knock on the door. Poppy got up off the sofa and went to answer it. As she opened it, George bounded in like an excitable puppy.

‘Hello, hello!’ He seized her and kissed her quickly, smiling. ‘Did you miss me? I had to go back and see my family. Summoned by my papa. God, it’s miserable
going
back to our town. I never liked it. Witney must be the dullest place on earth.’

‘I thought your family lived in the West Country,’ Poppy said.

‘Oh – yes, well, some of them do. And my parents lived there till quite recently. Then they moved to Witney.’

‘I see. So the Fellowes family lives in Witney, does it?’ Poppy pulled away from him and scanned his face. It looked so open and honest, his clear brown eyes wide and trustworthy. ‘So if I went to Witney, I’d be able to look them up, would I? The very nice, very decent Fellowes clan. Is that right?’

George tensed a little. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I just wondered.’ She put a hand on her hip and stared at him, unsmiling. ‘I just wondered if perhaps I might find there was no one there by the name of Fellowes. No one you’re related to, anyway. In fact, I’m a bit confused about where I might find any of your relations. Where do the Marlow family live?’

George froze and his mouth fell open. After a second, he stuttered, ‘I … I …’

‘You’re surprised by that, aren’t you? But that’s not my only question. I wondered what you do with yourself all day, seeing as you’re not in the Earle Street Bookshop. They’ve never heard of you there. So much for your uncle Sylvester, he doesn’t seem to exist either.’

George’s gaze became agonised. ‘Poppy, please, let me explain –’

‘I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!’ she shouted. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? How stupid to tell me you worked somewhere I could easily go and ask about you!’

‘I
do
work there,’ he protested.

She laughed in bewilderment, hardly able to believe his affront. ‘The manager had never heard of you.’

‘That’s because my name isn’t George Fellowes,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re right about that.’

‘Who are you then?’

‘My name is Gideon. Gideon Marlow.’

She stared him disbelievingly.

‘I’m telling the truth,’ he said. ‘How did you find out my surname?’

She held out the envelope she’d taken from his flat. ‘This.’

He looked at it and then glanced up at her. ‘Oh. I see. A bit clumsy. The whole reason for calling myself George is that Mrs Fellowes really does have a nephew called that. It seemed to back the story up.’

‘But why?’ whispered Poppy. She sank down on a pine dining chair. ‘Why did you have to pretend to be Mrs Fellowes’s nephew? What could it possibly gain you?’

He ran his hand through his soft brown hair. ‘I can’t tell you that, Poppy, I’m really sorry.’

‘Get out,’ she said harshly.

‘What?’

‘You heard me! Get out! Get out!’ She stood up and started to shriek. ‘I never want to see you again. You’ve lied to me, I can never trust you. Get out of my flat! Go away!’

‘No, Poppy, please, just let me explain –’

‘You’ve just said you can’t tell me the truth. I don’t even want to know. I just want you to leave and never come back.’

‘But I love you,’ he protested. ‘I can’t go like this.’

Her eyes flashed fury at him. ‘How can you love me? You’ve lied to me since the first day I met you.’

‘I didn’t want to!’ he shouted. ‘I … had to!’

‘
Why?
’ she demanded. A small quiet moment followed her question and for a second, she thought she had reached him and that he was about to tell her. Then he screwed up his face in frustration.

‘I can’t tell you! Not yet!’

‘Please, please, just go …’ She could feel herself losing control and she desperately didn’t want him to be there when she cried. ‘George … Gideon … whoever you are. Get out. I mean it.’

He heard the desperation in her voice and reluctantly he turned to the door. ‘Poppy, please can I come back later when we’re both a little calmer and I’ve had a chance to sort this out?’

‘No.’ Her voice was like ice. ‘I never want to see you again.’

45

THE BOARDROOM TABLE
was littered with samples again and the women were having a wonderful time trying out all the treats Claudine had brought back with her from France. She looked as chic as ever, her dark bob freshly cut and dressed in her favourite Chanel, this time a light summer dress sprinkled with tiny stars.

‘These are fabulous, Claudine. How did you manage to come up with so many products so fast?’ Donna said, smoothing a soft milk into the skin on her forearm.

Claudine gave a little smile. ‘I have some very good friends who create these skin products in their laboratory. They develop ranges for many of the top names in skin care. I explained what we needed and they gave me access to their newest ranges. They are top class and all plant based.’

‘Fantastic,’ breathed Tara, sniffing a small tub of rich cream. ‘This is
Tea Rose
, isn’t it?’

Claudine nodded. ‘We have a rich moisturiser, a light moisturiser, a night cream, hand cream, face and body wash, and soaps. There is scope for more in time.’

‘I love these candles,’ declared Jemima, holding one of them up. ‘They smell divine. Can I take one home?’

‘Of course,’ Claudine said, smiling at her.

Only Poppy seemed unable to work up the enthusiasm of the others. She tried all the lotions and murmured her praise, but she was distinctly low key.

‘This is so inspiring,’ Donna said, clearly delighted with Claudine’s work. ‘Now we can recruit staff and start designing treatments. Claudine, come and see what we’ve done downstairs. You’ll love it.’

They all went down to the newly refitted shop. It was almost finished, just waiting for the final decorative touches and the new products. Claudine admired the fresh, white interior and the feeling of space and light that had been created. She was charmed by the booths where customers would be able to mix scents and experiment with creating a fragrance, and she thought the treatment rooms had just the right feel of luxurious spa meets healthy living.

‘There is only one thing,’ she said, frowning and pointing outside. ‘What colour are those men painting the shop front?’

‘Pink,’ said Donna. ‘Our signature nude pink, the one we chose for
Tea Rose.‘

‘It is all wrong.’ Claudine waved a dismissive hand.

‘What?’ Poppy said dismayed. ‘But why?’

‘Come outside and look.’ They all trooped outside and stood on the pavement, watching the men in their overalls slapping pink paint on the old navy blue woodwork.

‘You see?’ Claudine pointed upwards. ‘What looks charming on a bottle of perfume or on its box does not look so good all over the shop! This is far too pink. Your shop looks like a place for little girls. Or like one of those cheap high-street sex shops where women buy nasty feather boas and dirty little toys.’

They all looked up, dismayed.

‘She’s right, I’m afraid,’ Jemima said softly. ‘Not about the sex shop bit, of course. But it’s just too pink. We’ll have to think again.’

‘And fast,’ said Tara grimly.

Poppy couldn’t tell the others what had happened with George. Or Gideon, or whoever he was. It was simply too humiliating. They had seen her tired eyes and miserable expression, so she had told them that she and George had broken up but that she didn’t want to discuss it further. Instead she sat silently flicking through colour charts, trying to find the right shade for the Trevellyan shop front.

Her phone rang and she picked it up. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, darlin’, it’s Neave. How are you?’

‘Oh, hi. I’m fine. Where are you?’

‘In New York. I’ve got a shoot here. I’m having my hair done as we speak. I’m gonna be here for hours, it’s so boring. So – did you find out what happened
with
that boyfriend of yours? I’ve been worryin’ about you.’

‘We’ve split up.’ Just saying the words brought a hammer blow of depression down on her.

‘So what was his explanation for his fake job and his fake name?’

‘His job’s real, his name is not.’ Poppy took a deep breath. ‘He says he’s called Gideon Marlow and that he’s not Mrs Fellowes’s nephew, so he’s nothing to do with the lady who owns his flat. But I couldn’t get anything else out of him. He refused to say a word. I couldn’t believe that he would rather let me send him away than give me a word of explanation.’