Gold Diggers (43 page)

Erin looked out beyond the village where the sun was fading, smudging apricot behind the high hills.

‘And Karin is Terence’s daughter?’ asked Erin.

‘It appears that way,’ said Jilly grimly. ‘Karen was about seven years older than you. I’ve seen pictures of Karen – sorry,
Karin
– in the
Daily Mail
but I hadn’t made the connection without the surname.’

‘It seems an awful coincidence that you ended up working for her,’ added Louisa.

‘Coincidence?’ asked Erin, feeling a knot of dread in her stomach. ‘I know Karin Cavendish, and nothing is ever a coincidence with that woman.’

For the one hundred and fifty guests going to Adam and Karin’s engagement party, it was a long and weary journey. The early start to get to Heathrow, the two-hour flight to Milan’s Linate Airport on the specially chartered 737, the ninety-minute drive to the shores of Lake Como in a fleet of Mercedes and then, finally, the short trip by motor cruiser to the palazzo itself. But there was not one person who did not agree that it was worth the wait as the launch finally docked at the jetty. Adam Gold’s palazzo was magnificent: a sumptuous wedding cake of a building transported to a magical timeless setting by the glistening waters. It had Doric pillars, painted ceilings and long windows that looked out onto gardens bursting with flowers of saffron, scarlet and blue, tumbling down towards the cyan-blue waters of the lake. Adam had bought the property lock, stock and barrel from an impoverished comte, and with it came a catalogue of superb art and marble statues, some by Canova and Bellini. No one could fail to be impressed.

Karin threw her vanity case on the canopied bed in the master bedroom and flopped down next to it. It had just gone noon and a glorious September afternoon stretched
out in front of her. The sun was streaming in through the windows and dappling the marble floor with spots of light. It couldn’t be more perfect. Their engagement party was the hottest, most exclusive ticket anywhere on the social circuit from Miami to Monaco. Any social triumph or professional success she had had up to this point was just a starter for the main course. Today, Karin Cavendish had arrived. She was now up there with the Lynn Wyatts, the Lily Safras, the queen of a new generation of super-wealthy society wives: glamorous, powerful women who enhanced their husband’s success and ruled with charm, style and mega-wealth.

Adam came over and sat on the bed, stroking her hair. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m tired already,’ he said with a slow smile. ‘I could do with me and you crawling into this bed right now, and not being disturbed until Monday.’

‘Well, sorry to break it to you but we have a hundred and fifty people about to descend on the pool for cocktails and we have got to be charming and chatty to every single one of them.’

Adam sighed. ‘Whose idea was it to have a party anyway?’

‘Don’t look at me,’ said Karin. ‘The whole world has been waiting for Adam Gold to get married. You know you didn’t want to go quietly.’

Karin had a shower and changed into a bikini and a long sheer black kaftan shot through with gold thread. She had skin that tanned within minutes, so there was no need for make-up, except a little liquid blush and a slick of gloss across her lips. Throwing open the French windows that led into the grounds she could see that waiters in white tails were already putting out champagne flutes onto long tables covered in starched ivory tablecloths. Around thirty-five guests were staying at the palazzo; the rest were staying at the big five-star hotels around the lake: the Villa d’Este and
Villa Serbelloni. A fleet of motor cruisers were due to bring them over any time now: it was 1 p.m. She held up a hand to shield her eyes and squinted at the lake, a slab of shimmering silver in front of her. She frowned. Nobody was allowed to be late to her engagement party. No one.

Erin had never seen anything like it. Not in the movies, magazines or coffee-table books. She didn’t know that she was in the smallest room at Palazzo Verdi, an attic garret once used for the servants, but she wouldn’t have cared. To have any room in this hotel was, to Erin, like having her own little pocket of heaven. Feeling like a Greek goddess, she stopped unpacking her suitcase and pushed open a small window to let a gust of warm, sweet-smelling air rush onto her face.

She was determined to enjoy herself this weekend, she thought, gazing at the lake with its steep cliffs and cream and terracotta villages. How could she not? She was in a picture-postcard movie set, she was off-duty – Adam had insisted this weekend would be all play and no work for his hard-working executive assistant: it should have been the most perfect weekend of her life. Perfect except for two words: Karin Cavendish. Despite her own feelings for Adam, she had accepted his engagement with a detached resignation. After all, who was she kidding? Adam was never going to want anybody like her and, while Erin knew from experience that Karin could be hard, demanding and sometimes insufferable, she was still cut from the same cloth as Adam: successful and glamorous.

But now Erin felt cheated. Karin was a fraud. She wasn’t that much different to Erin – she had just spun her own story better, bluffed her way into a world far beyond her beginnings. She thought back to Jilly’s revelations at the party and grimaced. One event had elevated Karin’s life into
the vaulted glittering theatre it had become, and sent Erin’s tumbling to the ground. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that she had ended up working for Karin – it was a plan. A plan to suck Erin into a more glamorous world, to give her a taste of what should rightly be hers, but because her role was servant and not master, she could only taste it and not fully enjoy it. Karin might have taken Adam, but she had taken something much worse from her. She had taken her life, and now she was dangling it back in front of her like forbidden fruit. A jumble of questions rushed through Erin’s mind. How could she? Why would she? And how was she going to get even?

Well, this is more like it
, thought Molly, stepping out onto her own private terrace in a tiny scarlet bikini. She scooped her hair up into a ponytail and surveyed the villa, deciding that, with the exception of the room that had the huge balcony next to them – presumably Adam’s – she was definitely in the best bedroom in the house.

‘Why does Adam not come out to this place more?’ asked Molly, as Marcus walked out to join her in a pair of cream linen shorts and a plum polo shirt. ‘We could have spent all summer here if he hadn’t been hiding it away.’

‘He’s only had it about twelve months,’ said Marcus, handing her a chilled cocktail. ‘Maybe next year.’

‘Why can’t we have a place like this?’ she pouted. ‘Everyone I know has a summer place. I think it’s time we started seriously keeping up. I don’t mind starting to look; I can visit some estate agents when I go to Milan for the shows.’

Marcus shifted uncomfortably and moved over to the rail. ‘Oh look, I think the boat has come from the Villa d’Este. Shall we have a wander downstairs and meet them?’

Molly walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You
know how you hate being the first at a party,’ she murmured in his ear. ‘Let’s go back into the bedroom and think of some way to waste a bit of time.’

Marcus smiled and took her hand. She hoped he wasn’t going to be tiresome over the issue of overseas property. A woman like her needed a villa or two.
But then again
, she thought,
I can be very persuasive
.

The grounds of the palazzo were so enormous that it had been easy for Summer to find a secluded spot away from the braying guests where she could think. Staying at the villa also brought with it the very real possibility of being confronted by the happy couple, Karin and Adam.
So why have you come?
Summer asked herself for the thousandth time. She felt physically sick just being here, but when Karin had phoned her personally to invite her, insisting she would not take no for answer, Summer could not think of a believable excuse. Molly had also been insistent, convinced that her daughter could still convert her relationship with Adam into something more substantial. ‘Look, darling, fucking Adam is one thing,’ she had said, ‘but this could be your last real chance to stand side by side with Karin and show him that he is with the wrong woman.’

Worst of all, Adam had insisted she come, particularly when he’d found out that she had a modelling job in Milan on the Monday after the party.

‘It will look odd if you’re not there,’ Adam had told her in bed a week before the Como party, when Summer was once again feeling hesitant and guilty about attending. ‘You’re the face of Karenza swimwear. Don’t make her suspicious. You know what she’s like.’

Summer had desperately wanted to finish their affair after he’d told her about his engagement, but when he had appeared at her flat, several days after their dinner at the
Fat Duck, Summer had found it impossible to resist him. Life without Adam had felt so wretched, empty and pointless that she came to the swift conclusion that she was prepared to accept their relationship on whatever terms it now came.

But it didn’t make her feel good. Summer sat down on a bench she had found between two long cypress trees and pulled her feet up so her knees tucked under her chin. She picked a fuchsia-coloured flower and began to tear the petals off slowly, letting them twirl to the ground one by one. Molly was right. This was probably the last real chance of reclaiming Adam from his fiancée before the wedding plans went so far it would get too messy and embarrassing to stop them. And what her mum didn’t know was that she had a much bigger reason to make it happen. Her period was two weeks late. A home pregnancy test had confirmed that she was pregnant.

By eight o’clock the sun was setting, spilling russet-gold light across the lake, the cypress trees surrounding the grounds silhouetted black like sentry guards. Erin had gone out to wander through the gardens, cool and sweet-smelling in the dimming light. As she had walked across the terrace, Erin had spotted Karin sitting alone on a wall by the swimming pool, smoking a cigarette. She knew this was her opportunity. She took a deep breath to compose herself and went down to sit beside her, the stone cold under the thin fabric of her dress.

‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ said Erin, wondering if she was coming across as strange, forced. She certainly felt it.

Karin shrugged and threw the cigarette stub on the floor. There was a gentle hiss as it fell in a splash of water from the swimming pool.

‘Haven’t smoked in ten years, but sometimes needs must,’ she smiled. ‘It’s been a big day.’

Erin glanced up at her ex-boss, her face illuminated by the light shining from the palazzo. There was a slight lift to her brow, a subtle flare of her nostril; it was the arrogant yet slightly surprised look of someone who knew they could get whatever they wanted but still couldn’t believe their luck that it had finally arrived. It made Erin press on.

‘You know, I went home to Cornwall last week to see my grandmother and I was telling her where I was going. She asked me how you were going to top this for your wedding. You’re going to have to go some.’

Karin smiled slightly, but Erin thought she looked flustered to hear her talk of home. ‘Yes, I heard you’d gone back to see your family. Adam does get terribly panicked when you’re not around, but I tried to tell him that you have your own life and you’re not at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day. After all, you’re not Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
.’ Karin laughed a little harshly. ‘At least, I hope not.’

As Karin rose to leave, Erin touched her arm. ‘What, darling?’ she said, irritated. ‘I really have to get back to the party.’

‘My grandmother told me something about you while I was back in Cornwall.’

Karin’s brow furrowed. As she turned towards Erin, her foot kicked over a glass of red wine that Erin had left on the floor.

‘What? Something she read in the gossip section of the
Daily Mail
?’

Erin felt a flutter of sickness in her stomach. Karin had a formidable presence: not just with her imperious manner, but in her four-inch Manolo heels she stood over six feet tall.

‘I know your real name is Karen Wenkle.’

‘Oh, darling that’s no big surprise. You’ve worked for me before. You’ve probably seen my passport.’

‘And I know your father was Terence Wenkle. The man who destroyed my father’s business. My grandmother told me everything.’

Karin snorted and turned away from Erin, opening her tiny clutch bag to take out another cigarette, which she promptly lit. ‘Well, I’m surprised you didn’t know that either,’ said Karin, blowing smoke back over her shoulder at Erin. ‘Do you walk around with your eyes and ears closed?’

Erin looked up at her ex-boss who was holding her cigarette aloft and staring out into the darkness. Erin felt more bold having come this far. ‘Did you know who I was when you gave me the job?’

Karin nodded. A gust of wind blew a sheaf of raven hair across her face.

‘So why do it?’ snapped Erin angrily. ‘Did you want to rub my nose in everything you’ve got and I haven’t? Or was it pity?’

She had felt so angry for so many years about her father’s death, and now she had someone to project all that raw, violent emotion onto.

Karin pushed the hair out of her face and took a step towards Erin, her eyes cold. ‘I gave you the job as a favour,’ she said, her mouth curling, ‘because I thought you could do with the break, you ungrateful cow.’

Karin turned away from Erin, looking momentarily embarrassed that someone had seen a chink in her armour.

‘So it was a coincidence? Me working for you?’

‘Yes,’ said Karin. ‘Well, in so far as, when I was recruiting for the PA job, I asked for some girls to be sent over from an agency. You were one of them. I recognized your name. Erin Devereux – it’s fairly distinctive. I was old enough to know what happened with that business with your father. I was sorry for what happened. I still am.’

‘So you gave me the job because you thought it would make up for things?’ said Erin sarcastically.

It was dark now and the temperature had dropped. The pool was like a sheet of black ice surrounded by the greyness of the lawns. Karin wrapped her arms around her body to protect herself from the cold. ‘Do you want the truth, Erin? The truth is that giving you the job
did
make me feel a little better about what my father had done.’