Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

Eventually she decided that she didn’t want to let anyone
down. DD thought she was the best copy editor for this book and she was going
to do a professional job on it, regardless of who had written it. Decision
made, she continued reading.

For the third day running Rosemary had refused a wheelchair
to transport her down in the hospital lift to the waiting cab for their journey
home. She leaned against her husband as they waited for the lift to arrive,
fighting back nausea and tears.

Robert held her close, lightly squeezing the top of her
shoulder.

‘You’ll be all right when we get some fresh air,’ he said
unconvincingly. They both knew that wasn’t true and that she would be feeling
sick for most of the journey back.

‘There’s nothing fresh about London air, Bobby. I can taste
the exhaust fumes.’

‘We’ll be home soon, Rosie,’ he said soothingly. ‘If you
feel up to it I’ll push the sofa over to the patio doors, open them up and wrap
you in a blanket with a nice cup of tea. At least the air in Woldingham is
cleaner than here.’

‘True,’ she said, ‘but not exactly Mauritius. Is Holly
coming over this afternoon?’

‘I’ll call her when we’re in the car. I’m so pleased she
knows. It makes such a difference for you to have someone other than me to talk
to. Although you were tired last night she really seemed to have raised your
spirits.’

‘She gave me hope.’

Robert said nothing, his face an impassive mask, but his
heart was aching. His conversation with the Rosemary’s consultant that morning
had not been a pleasant one.

‘She should have started this treatment earlier,’ he had
lectured, ‘instead of running away and sticking your heads in the sand. I fear
the positive effects she is currently experiencing won’t last long.’

‘So what will we do then?’

The consultant had shaken his head. ‘We’ll just try and keep
her pain free.’

Once they were settled into the back of the car Robert
dialled Holly’s mobile number. She picked up on the third ring.

‘Hi Robert, how did it go at the hospital?’

‘Pretty much the same. Rosemary is glad to be out. We
wondered if you might be able to come over again this afternoon?’

Holly had been expecting this and hated making excuses but,
to keep on the right side of DD, she had to get Philippe’s book finished by the
end of the week.

‘I’m really sorry, Robert, but I don’t think I can make it
today. Something has cropped up at work that I can’t get out of.’

Although Robert and Rosemary both now knew about her travel
blog-writing job she hadn’t told them she also worked as a freelance
copy-editor. The coincidence of Philippe being published by Ripped, the main
company she worked for, was strange enough, but to be selected to edit his book
was a little surreal. She knew she would have to broach the subject next time
she saw them and also ask why they had gone along with Philippe’s little
deception. Holly had been wondering why he didn’t want her to know he was the
author of
Maman
. Maybe he thought she would leak his
identity to the press, or maybe he didn’t want her to like him just because he
was a best-selling author. Either way she felt almost relieved that he too
would have to own up to keeping secrets when he arrived back from Mauritius.

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Robert was saying. ‘It was so lovely
to spend time with you yesterday.’ He had worded his response carefully, not
wanting to put pressure on Holly.

‘I know, I feel the same.’ She paused, still unsure if what
she was about to suggest was the right thing to do. ‘Listen, Robert, I’ve had
an idea. Do you think Rosemary might be up for a little trip to raise her
spirits?’

Robert looked at his wife’s ashen face doubtfully. ‘What did
you have in mind?’

‘Well,’ Holly swallowed hard, even though she had become an
adept liar over the past few months she wasn’t sure she could carry this off.
‘Do you remember the Italian family in Mauritius with their gorgeous little
girl Giulietta?’

‘Of course she was an adorable little thing.’

‘They live in Switzerland at the moment because of Umberto’s
new job and Mathilda gets very lonely on her own. She’s invited me to go and
visit. Perhaps we could all go? The mountain air might do Rosemary some good.’

Holly held her breath.

‘I don’t think Rosie is up to flying, Holly.’

Rosemary, who had been dozing, was suddenly fully awake.

‘No, I realise that. I thought we could drive and take the
ferry and then we could stop on the way if we need to.’

‘I don’t know, Holly. It’s a long way.’

‘What’s a long way, Bobby?’ Rosemary asked.

He put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘Holly is
suggesting a trip to Switzerland. She thinks the mountain air will do you good
but—’

‘I’d really like that, Bobby.’

Robert had always found it difficult to deny his wife
anything but he wasn’t convinced that this was a good idea. He spoke into the
phone. ‘I’ll ask at the hospital when we’re there tomorrow. When were you
thinking of going?’

‘Maybe next week?’

‘Well I’ll ask. She will have finished this course of chemo
by then but I don’t think they will be keen for her to go travelling again. Are
you sure you can’t make it today? It gave Rosie such a lift to spend time with
you yesterday.’

‘I’m really sorry, Robert, I’m up to my neck in it but I’ll
come tomorrow afternoon I promise. Please give Rosemary my apologies.’

Rosemary was looking at him expectantly.

 ‘Holly’s a bit busy this afternoon but she’s promised to
come over tomorrow.’

Instead of the disappointment Robert was expecting, Rosemary
smiled.

‘That’s alright Bobby, if she’s promised to come tomorrow
then she will. Holly keeps her promises, and besides we’ll have plenty of time
to chat on the way to Switzerland.’

Typical Rosie, thought Robert, she’s made her mind up about
Switzerland regardless of what the doctors say. He looked down at her face
which now seemed to have a bit more colour. Who am I to try and change her
mind? he thought.

Once the initial shock of realising that Philippe’s character
Tiffany was based on her had subsided, Holly set about doing her job.
Considering she knew how quickly the book had been written there were
surprisingly few typos and grammatical errors she noticed as she continued with
the read through. The first couple of chapters were about Pierre and Tiffany
getting to know each other. It was a little odd to be reading about the two
characters who were so clearly herself and Philippe. He had even made Pierre a
struggling writer although she now knew that was not exactly based on himself
following the success of his first book. She had to admit she liked the
empathetic way he wrote. No wonder people, including myself, she thought, had
believed that the writer of
Maman
was a woman. He was
descriptive and caring, helping the reader to understand Tiffany’s great
sadness at her loss, while suggesting that maybe Pierre could help her get past
this tragedy in her life.

From Holly’s point of view it was fascinating to read about
Pierre’s first impression of Tiffany and the instant attraction he felt for
her. Was that really how Philippe felt the first time he saw me, she thought,
blushing slightly but unable suppress the smile forming on her lips. Holly’s
confidence had taken such a battering after Gareth had deserted her that she
found it hard to accept that anyone could be so smitten with her.

In Philippe’s book the couple moved from the hotel bar to
the restaurant and enjoyed dinner together, but at the end of the evening
Pierre was disappointed when Tiffany made the excuse that she was tired after
her journey and went back to her hotel room alone.

Holly was also disappointed. Was that how Philippe had felt?
Had she misread their blossoming relationship? Had he just been after sex from
the start? Get a grip, Holly, she thought, the characters are based on you and
Philippe but it is not your story, you have to be able to separate fact from
fiction. Again Holly wondered if she should have come clean with DD and refused
the manuscript.

Holly was relieved that the next chapter didn’t feature
Pierre and Tiffany. It was set at the home of the French Ambassador to
Mauritius, Gerard Lecomte, and introduced him, his wife, Madeleine, and their
two young daughters, Nicole and Mimi, to the reader. She was keen to find out
how they were going to fit into the story, wondering if perhaps Tiffany was
going to become the girls’ nanny, but her reading had been interrupted by
Robert’s phone call.

After finishing the call, which had set in motion Rosemary’s
dubious plan, Holly couldn’t concentrate. She really needed to talk to someone
about her doubts that helping Rosemary dupe Robert into taking her to Switzerland
was the right thing to do. The problem was that the only person should would
have felt close enough to talk to was Rosemary herself. Holly rubbed her
temples. Maybe I should go across to Woldingham again today, she thought, if
only to try and talk Rosemary out of her plan. If I go now I could be back by 7
p.m. and have a late-night session editing. Decision made, she reached for the
phone to ring Robert back but as she was dialling his number her phone beeped
to tell her she had a message. It was from DD and simply said:

Have you got to chapter 8 yet?!!!!

Knowing how much most editors disliked the use of
exclamation marks, herself included, Holly thought that this must be something
dramatic, so, instead of connecting her call to Robert, she switched her phone
to silent to avoid further interruptions. Abandoning her normal methodical
working practice, she scrolled down the pages of the manuscript to chapter 8.

Tiffany stood in front of the full-length windows of the
hotel room illuminated only by the moonlight streaming towards her. She was
wearing a shift dress with narrow shoulder straps in the palest green silk,
which clung to her in all the right places, showing the promise of the curves
beneath. The door opened behind her but she didn’t turn. Her heart was pounding
in her chest, her pulse racing, despite taking deep breaths to calm herself. It
was a mixture of anticipation and trepidation – it always was the first time.

She heard him move across the room towards the bed. Before
he could reach for the light switch she whispered in a provocatively sexy
voice, ‘It’s a beautiful moon, it would be a shame not to enjoy it.’

The words sounded familiar but Holly knew she had not spoken
them. As she continued to read she knew with a growing sense of panic that
Philippe was writing about their last night together in Mauritius in intimate
detail... kissing, touching, hearing her own naked body described inch by
inch... but he had turned the tables, making it sound as though she was the
experienced lover instead of him.

Holly could feel herself colouring up with a mix of
embarrassment and anger. This was something beautiful that had happened between
the two of them and now it was being shared with potentially millions of
readers. She felt sick at the thought that her friend DD had already read it
and found it so titillating that she had drawn Holly’s attention specifically
to this chapter. Holly was mortified. Was that all it had been for Philippe?
Was she merely research for the new book that he had been struggling to write?
They say you should write about what you know but surely some things were off
limits? Apparently not in Philippe’s world. Holly was trembling and her throat
felt tight, but the biggest shock was still to come.

‘You came highly recommended and you did not disappoint,’
Gerard said, emerging from the bathroom, having showered away the evidence of
the sex he had recently enjoyed with Tiffany.

It felt like Holly had been physically struck. She had
assumed she was reading about a developing romance and a first night of passion
between Pierre and Tiffany. Even in those circumstances she found Philippe’s
betrayal of their intimacy devastating but this was unforgivable. For one
moment Holly wondered if Philippe had discovered her cover story was fake and
believed she was a high-class call-girl? Who am I kidding, she thought, to say
I am a little rusty in the art of seduction would be an understatement. Then,
like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, everything fell into place, she
understood where his newly found inspiration for his book had come from.

On their last evening together she had confided in him about
her mother’s view of Holly Golightly in
Breakfast at
Tiffany’s
. She had poured her heart out to him as she had done to no
other, not even Gareth, and he had seemed to understand, comforting her and
reassuring her, even questioning her mother’s opinion of Holly Golightly’s
profession. But seemingly all the tenderness was a facade.

Whatever he really thought of Holly was inconsequential. In his
book he had made her a high-class hooker and for that she could never forgive
him.

She could no longer focus on the words in front of her, not
that she wanted to read any more anyway, as tears filled her eyes and poured
down her hot cheeks. How could she have been so stupid to trust this man so
completely when she had only known him a few days? She was angry with herself
for being so gullible but mostly she was furious with Philippe for using her.
She felt violated and ashamed and she had a burning desire to go and scrub
herself clean as the ambassador had done in Philippe’s book, but there were two
things she needed to do first.

After sending an email to Philippe, she dialled DD’s number
not sure what she was going to say.

DD answered almost immediately: ‘Did you read chapter 8? It
gets even better later in the book. I tell you this could be hotter than
Fifty Shades
!’

‘DD, I... I don’t think...’

‘Are you okay, Hols? Are you crying? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s my friend, Rosemary, she’s dying. She hasn’t got long
and I want to be able to spend time with her.’

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. When did you find out?’

‘She told me yesterday,’ Holly said truthfully but
nevertheless feeling wretched that she was using Rosemary’s illness as an
excuse not to edit Philippe’s book. ‘Her husband rang on their way back from
the hospital a little while ago. She wants me to accompany them on a trip,
probably her last one, and I really feel I should go.’

‘Of course you must,’ said DD. ‘Don’t you worry I’ll find
someone else to do the edit, your friend is much more important. Did you make a
start on it?’

‘No,’ Holly lied.

‘Sorry to be a pain at a time like this but would you mind
deleting the file?’

‘Of course, no problem, consider it done.’

‘I’m really sorry that you won’t get to do this one but
maybe I can push book three in your direction.’

‘Thanks for understanding,’ said Holly as she ended the
call, thinking that she never wanted to read another word written by Veronica
Phillips.

She deleted the file as requested and then ran herself a hot
bath.