Gucci Gucci Coo (26 page)

“Hold up. That’s my name. It says I attended the birth of Hannah Morgan’s baby.”

“And did you?”

“No, I did not.” His voice was raised in indignation.

“Tom Hardacre seems to think you did.”

“I don’t give a damn what he thinks. The man is a liar.”

“Hardacre suggested that he and Jill weren’t working alone and that you were part of their little team.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fury. “Surely you don’t believe that? It’s absurd. I admit it’s my signature on the form, but I have no idea how it got on there. Somehow I’ve been set up. I must have thought I was signing something else. If I get hold of Hardacre, I’ll break the bastard’s neck. Christ, my entire professional reputation is at stake here. I swear to God, Ruby, the night Hannah’s baby was born, I was nowhere near the hospital.”

“That’s not true. That was the night we got back from Brighton and you got a call from the hospital asking you to go in to attend an emergency. I remember we even had a conversation about it on the following Monday. Why are you lying?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not lying now. I was lying then. That call wasn’t from the hospital. I never went near the place.”

“Really? Hannah says that while she was in hospital, she was seen by a young, good-looking American doctor. Was that you?”

“No. It absolutely was not me. There are several American medics at St. Luke’s.”

“OK, but why did you lie to me about going to the hospital?”

He couldn’t look at her. “I had to see somebody. They were in trouble.”

“Who was it?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

She blinked with astonishment and let out a soft laugh. “What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I just can’t, that’s all. You have to believe me.”

“What? Like I believed you when you said you were going to New York because Buddy had had a stroke?”

The color drained from his face. “You know about that?”

She picked Irene’s postcard up off the kitchen unit and handed it to him.

“I cannot believe Buddy could have been so stupid. He was supposed to tell Irene.”

“Tell Irene what? That they were meant to be your alibi? That they were meant to be covering up for the fact that you were seeing another woman?”

“Ruby, I swear to God that I wasn’t seeing another woman.”

“Then what were you doing? Was it tied up with the surrogacy thing?”

“No! I had nothing to do with that. I can’t tell you what I was doing there.”

“Rubbish. The truth is it was a woman. I’ve caught you with your guard down—not to mention your pants—and you can’t think up another story that might convince me you weren’t seeing somebody else?”

“That’s not true.”

“Sam, this is absurd. Now you’ve been found out, you could at least have the balls to admit you were having an affair in New York. Was it with Kimberley?”

He winced—as if she had suddenly wounded him. She interpreted his reaction as guilt. “I am not having an affair with Kimberley,” he said softly. “I had some business to attend to in New York, but I can’t talk about it right now.”

“What business?”

“Just business. OK?”

“No, it’s not bloody
OK,
” she shot back. “If you weren’t seeing somebody in New York, what were you doing?” She was vaguely aware of the kettle coming to a boil and switching itself off.

By way of reply, he rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” He tried to put his arm round her, but she pushed him away. “Believe it or not,” he said, “this is tearing me apart, too, but right now I need you to trust me.”

“Trust you? That’s a laugh. How can I trust you, when you’ve lied like this? You let me think Buddy was at death’s door. That was an evil thing to do. I can’t believe he was in on it as well. Until now, I’d thought he was such a sweet man. And as for you…I loved you. I still love you.” Tears were starting to tumble down her cheeks.

He tried to wipe them away, but she pushed him off again. “I love you, too,” he said. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“But love is about trust and I can’t trust you. You’ve lied to me. You lied to me about what you were doing in New York. I can only assume you lied to me about your involvement with this surrogacy affair and that this is your signature on the form.” She was waving the paper in front of him.

“Ruby, as God is my witness, I don’t know how it got there.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said softly. “I simply don’t believe you. Now, I think you’d better go,” She was surprised by how calm and in control she felt.

He stood in front of her, his face etched with pain.

“And I can’t see much point in you coming back.” She wiped her eyes with her dressing gown sleeve.

He nodded. “You’re right. I think maybe it’s best that I go.”

She expected him to protest, to fight for her, to beg her not to end it. Instead he was simply walking away. A few moments ago he had been telling her how much he loved her. If he really loved her, he wouldn’t be letting her go like this.

After he had gone she lay on her bed, curled up in a ball, and sobbed until it was time to drag herself up for work. Her emotions veered from disbelief and shock to utter disgust. Sam cheating on her was bad enough, but to discover he was some lowlife who was making a fortune helping vain, self-absorbed starlets keep their figures by using surrogates to carry their babies, made her sick to her stomach.

O
VER THE NEXT
few days she battled to hold herself together. She would have fallen apart had it not been for her determination to keep going and the love and support she received from Chanel and Fi. They talked to her for hours and encouraged her to cry and rage against Sam as much as she wanted. Fi even came to the shop with a homemade lasagne and a casserole to help keep her strength up. She also offered to phone Buddy and Irene to see if she could get any more information about Sam’s affair, but Ruby persuaded her not to on the grounds that Buddy and Irene’s loyalty was to Sam and she would only get put off with more lies.

Fi also kept insisting Ruby come for dinner. She would make huge comforting casseroles or lasagnes and Saul would keep her wineglass filled up and later on, when she was pleasantly tipsy, he would drive her home.

One night when the three of them were having dinner, Ben woke up and came downstairs. He climbed onto Fi’s lap and sat listening to the adults discussing Sam.

“Huh,” Ben announced gravely at one point. “Dat Sam I Am, dat Sam I Am, I do not like dat Sam I Am.”

“You’re not the only one, darling,” Ruby responded with a bitter laugh.

Ruby assumed that after Tom Hardacre’s promise to fight dirty, he and Jill would carry on working at the hospital. She was pretty sure they would be happy to play a waiting game and sit tight until she finally let the surrogacy matter drop through lack of concrete evidence. When her curiosity got the better of her and she phoned the hospital to check if Hardacre and Jill were still there, it came as a surprise to be told that they were both on extended leave. She was forced to consider that maybe she had them against the ropes after all. When she asked the girl on the switchboard if Sam was still working at the hospital, she discovered that he was. For whatever reason, he was standing his ground it seemed.

The frantic preparations for Guatemalan week also turned out to be a powerful anesthetic to Ruby’s emotions. The night before the launch, Ruby, Chanel and Fi were at the shop until eleven, getting the place ready.

Earlier on, Craig, who had taken the day off work, spent hours tramping up and down in the perishing cold, handing out flyers. Ruby was aware that in PR terms, handing out flyers was a bit downmarket for a shop like Les Sprogs, but she didn’t care. The event was for charity and anything that brought in the customers was fine by her.

In the evening Craig took charge of draping the walls in vivid cotton fabrics and hanging fairy lights and brightly painted Mayan Christmas masks. He also went out to fetch pizza and beer.

The women decided to devote three racks exclusively to Guatemalan baby clothes. They dotted the shelves with worry dolls, beaded angels, Santas and hand-carved nativity scenes. Finally, Ruby hung some very powerful black-and-white images of Guatemalan street children. “Just to remind people what this event is all about,” she said.

They were just about to leave when Craig noticed that a few of the fairy lights had started to flicker. While he went off to fix them, the women stood around talking. “No word from Sam, I take it?” Fi said. Ruby shook her head. “Every time the phone rings, I think it’s going to be him, wanting to talk.”

“What’s to talk about?” Chanel said. “The bloke’s a liar and a cheat. End of story. If you ask me, you ’ad a lucky escape.”

“One of the things I find hardest to accept,” Ruby said, “is what a pathetic judge of character I am. I used to think I was really good at getting the measure of people. Can you believe that?”

Fi put an arm around Ruby’s shoulder. “Come on, we were all taken in by Sam. He seemed so charming and decent. I still find it almost impossible to believe he has done the things he’s done. The man is a total creep.”

“Too right,” Chanel said. “You’re best off out of it.”

“I know,” Ruby agreed, “but I loved him so much and it’s so hard to stop.”

O
N
S
ATURDAY MORNING
, an hour before opening time, Ronnie and Phil arrived at the shop laden with trays of Guatemalan food. They had brought Guatemalan doughnuts as well as borrachos—cakes soaked in rum. On top of all this, there were plates and plates of chicken tamales and several liters of Guatemalan punch.

“Oh, Mum! This is amazing. A few nibbles, you said. You really didn’t have to do all this. You must have been at it all week.”

“My pleasure,” Ronnie said waving away Ruby’s words. “You know what a sucker I am for a good cause.”

For the time being at least, Ruby had decided not to tell her mother that she and Sam had split up. It would only upset her. With the baby due in a few weeks, she had enough to worry about.

Aunty Sylvia turned up a few minutes after Ronnie and Phil. She had agreed to be in charge of handing out juice boxes and Christmas crackers to the children. She still looked sad, but if her appearance was anything to go by—full makeup, calf-length olive suede skirt and matching cashmere top—she was coping very well. “So, have you had it out with Nigel yet?” Ruby asked.

“Sort of. I’ll fill you in later.”

Ruby suspected the shop would be busy. She had no idea quite how busy. From about eleven, customers started pouring in. Handing out flyers had clearly been a brilliant move. Even though she’d already thanked Craig profusely for all his hard work, she made a mental note to buy him a very large and very expensive bottle of malt.

Ronnie’s food was a tremendous hit, but the punch went down particularly well. Once the posh mummies were sufficiently lubricated, they couldn’t part with their money fast enough. The Guatemalan clothes and toys flew off the shelves.

Ruby was disappointed not to see any famous faces, but she hadn’t been counting on too many stars turning up. She knew how reluctant most of them were to mix with “civilians.” On top of that, it was almost Christmas, and she knew that by now most of them had abandoned London in favor of Mustique or wherever.

As more and more people arrived, the din grew louder. On top of the Latin American music coming from the CD player, there were the braying mummies, babies crying and older children screeching as they careened about the place, knocking over glasses of punch and stealing characters from the nativity scene.

Things were well under way when Fi and Saul arrived with Ben and Connor. “Right, what can we do to help?” Fi said. Ruby put Fi on the register with Chanel while Saul took a gang of children, including Ben and a sleeping Connor, over to the play area.

Just after twelve Ivan appeared. He had finally finished laying the floor tiles in Ruby’s kitchen. Since she had missed him the night before, because she had been busy decking out the shop, and since Ivan worked on a strictly cash-only basis, she asked him if he would mind popping in the next day to collect the money she owed him. He’d been looking much better lately, but this morning he was more breathless than she had ever seen him. He was also rubbing his chest.

“Ivan,” she said as she handed over several fifty-pound notes, “are you having chest pains?”

“Eet’s nothing. I be fine. I have pulled mus-kle, that ees all.”

“Really?” She wasn’t convinced.

“Da. I hef slice of kek and a leetle punch, maybe. Then I feel much better.” She invited him to help himself.

The one person she hadn’t remotely been expecting was Nigel. He came in looking rather self-conscious—presumably because he knew that Aunty Sylvia had told the family about their tiff. He acknowledged Ruby with an awkward wave and went over to Aunty Sylvia. At this point a small child began fiddling with the volume control on the CD player and turned the music off. As a result, everybody could hear the exchange that followed between Aunty Sylvia and Nigel.

“I thought I told you not to come here,” Aunty Sylvia hissed.

“I know, but I had to see you. We need to sort this thing out.”

“But this isn’t the time or place. It will have to wait.”

“It can’t.”

Their voices grew louder. Soon people were exchanging uncomfortable glances.

Then, just as Ruby was about to go over and ask them to take their argument outside, Aunty Sylvia, clearly sensing they were causing a scene, steered Nigel behind the counter and into the kitchen.

No sooner had Ruby completed her sigh of relief than she heard her father cry out: “Oh, my God, he’s collapsed.” Ruby swiveled round to see Ivan lying on the floor. He was curled up into a fetal position, gasping for breath.

“Omigod,” she cried.

As she dashed over to Ivan, who was surrounded by a small group of people, she could hear arguing coming from the kitchen. “You never told me you were seventeen years older than me,” Nigel was shouting at Aunty Sylvia. “How do you expect me to feel?”