Party Games (44 page)

‘Fleur, it’s
true
.’ He sighed. ‘I know I’ve made a total pig’s ear out of this. I knew you wouldn’t let me help, because you’re so goddamn proud. So I took matters into my own hands instead.’

‘You and Dad went behind my back!’

‘We did, and I’m sorry.’ He looked exhausted. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. Look, I admit I
was
interested in turning the farm into a spa at first. But
that was before I got to know you, Fleur, and realized what a special girl you are.’

‘Yeah, right,’ she retorted, but she was no longer shouting.

‘Look, I’m not trying to give you some cod psychology, but I don’t want to live my life like that any more.’ His smile made Fleur’s heart clench. ‘For some unfathomable reason, you’ve made me want to be a better person.’

She wasn’t letting him off just yet. ‘You said farming was over.’

‘I might have revised my opinion.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘I’m not letting you off that easily, though. We need to sit down and work out a proper business plan.’

She looked down at the deeds again. He was taking a huge risk. ‘You did all this for me? Why?’

‘Because I love you,’ he said simply. His voice cracked. ‘Please, angel. Will you just come here so I can kiss you?’

A second later she flew into his arms. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ she wept, covering his face in wet kisses, ‘I won’t let you down.’

‘I know you won’t. Christ, you’re freezing. Oh God, Fleur. I’ve been so worried.’

‘Where have you been?’ she cried. ‘I thought you’d dumped me.’

‘What? Never. I had to go away and take care of something. I’m an idiot, I should never have just taken off like that.’

‘I know Talia Tudor is your daughter.’

She felt him go still. ‘What?’

‘I s-saw her school picture,’ she said. ‘In your study. You should have told me there was history between you and Lynette.’

‘
Me
and Lynette?’ Beau shook his head. ‘You’re right. I should have been upfront with you from the start.

‘Talia is family,’ he told her. ‘But not in the way you think. Talia is my niece.’

Her mouth fell open. ‘Your what? Then that makes …’

‘Felix is her father.’

Fleur desperately tried to make sense of it all. ‘Felix had an affair with Lynette? When he was with Ginny?’

‘My brother’s had numerous affairs,’ Beau told her. ‘Not that he’s ever stuck around afterwards. I only found out about Lynette recently. I’ve been doing what I can to help her ever since.’

‘But, but … I’m sure if you told Felix, he’d help.’

‘He knows, Fleur.’

‘Oh. Oh,’ she said again. ‘Does Ginny?’

‘Yes. Talia doesn’t know, though, and I think it’s probably best kept that way.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘First the farm and now this.’ She looked up at him again. ‘I thought you’d ruined my life.’

‘I probably still can, if you let me.’ There was a vulnerability in his face Fleur had never seen before. It only served to make him even more beautiful.

‘I thought I was happy by myself,’ he told her. ‘I never wanted to let anyone in. Until I met you.’

His eyes were scorching in their intensity. ‘The more you push me away, the more I want to look after you. You’ve never been impressed by me, and yet all I want to do is impress you.’

He cupped her face. ‘You provoke this ridiculous reaction in me. I want to skip in the streets and shout from the rooftops. I’ve never felt this way before.’

‘M-me neither,’ she stuttered.

‘Let me look after you, Fleur. We can live together and make beautiful babies. OK, we don’t have to have babies,’ he added hurriedly. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart.’

‘I’m crying because I’m so happy,’ she sobbed. ‘I want to have beautiful babies with you. I love you so much, Beau.’

Election day

Was it really only four weeks since Catherine’s campaign had started? It was terrifying how much a person’s life could change in such a short amount of time.

The bedroom was horribly quiet as she got dressed. The empty space on the right-hand side of the bed matched the size of the hole in her heart. She went through the motions: hair, make-up, fastening her Rolex. As she put in the diamond studs John had bought her for Christmas two years earlier, she nearly broke down all over again.

An early check showed that Twitter was full of people complaining about O2 crashing. Catherine checked her own phone and saw she had no signal. The timing could not be worse. Her spirits plummeted to new depths.

She could hear voices at the front of the house, members of the press wondering why they’d been summoned there for a 6 a.m. press conference.

The bile came from nowhere. Catherine rushed back into the bathroom and was violently sick.

It was a composed Catherine Connor who opened her door ten minutes later, holding a single sheet of paper. Aside from the slightly red eyes, which was expected from a candidate at the end of a campaign, she looked poised and confident.

The pack jostled forward. ‘Catherine, what’s going on?’

‘I’d like to make a statement on behalf of Beeversham’s Conservative Association, to the British public.’

She stared at the piece of paper. The words swam into each other. She looked back into the cameras.

‘For those of you who don’t know, I’m Catherine Connor, Conservative candidate in the Beeversham by-election. I’m sure you’re aware of the plight that faces our town. On Wednesday, plans submitted by Sykes Holdings for Ye Olde Worlde theme park were granted planning permission by the county council.

‘Sykes Holdings are building the development along with another company, Pear Tree Holdings, which owns the land. There has been much speculation about who owns that company. Last night I found out that Felix Chamberlain, chairman of Beeversham’s Conservative Association, is the owner of Pear Tree Holdings.’

She paused and waited for the significance to sink in. ‘What the hell?’ said the woman from
Sky News
.

‘I believe there has been a huge cover-up involving key individuals in both the building industry and Gloucestershire County Council. On behalf of Beeversham Conservative Association, I would like to extend our sincerest apologies. I was not privy to
this information during my campaign, nor is Felix Chamberlain remaining as my campaign manager. I am still running today, but I strongly believe that this constituency should know the truth immediately.’

There, she’d done it. Laid out the facts. What people chose to do with them was out of her hands.

The assorted press had been listening, gobsmacked, but now the questions started coming thick and fast.

‘Catherine, where is Felix now?’

‘Catherine, surely this is going to ruin your chances of winning?’

‘Catherine, how can you not have known something about this?’

She folded her paper in half. ‘At this time, I have nothing more to say.’

It was a political shit-storm, of apocalyptic levels. The Prime Minister was on the landline as soon as Catherine shut her front door.

‘When did you find out this?’ he asked.

‘Last night.’

‘Didn’t you think it might be a good idea to run this past us first?’ He sounded furious. ‘You do know you’ve killed your chances of winning now?’

‘I told you I’d make a rubbish MP! I’m not asking people to vote for me when they don’t know the facts. Sorry if I’ve put integrity before your precious government, but that’s just the way I tick!’

‘Catherine. Listen …’

‘Excuse me,’ she said icily. ‘But I’ve got an election to be getting on with.’ She hung up on the Prime Minister of the country.

The news was across the Internet in minutes. Catherine had to struggle through a crowd of paparazzi to get through the front doors of Tory HQ. Inside, she was met by stunned faces. Even Aubrey Taunton-Brown and Charles Knatchbull had turned out at this unearthly hour. No one could believe what Felix had done.

Several of the Blue Rosettes were in tears. ‘He seemed like such a nice man,’ snuffled one woman.

Someone had to take charge now Felix was gone. ‘I’m sure some of you don’t agree with what I did,’ she said, avoiding Aubrey’s eye. ‘Felix was a friend of mine, too. But we owe the people the truth. If I have any chance of winning left, I want to come in with people knowing the real me. It’s going to be tough out there today. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do it, but I’m going out regardless. If any of you do want to join me …’ she smiled wryly ‘… I’d really bloody appreciate the support.’

One by one, every single Blue Rosette put up their hands. Catherine felt close to tears again.

Aubrey sniffed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to take care of things here.’

The polling stations opened at 7 a.m., in local schools and village halls across the constituency. Catherine should have been concentrating on getting people out of their houses to go and vote. Instead she found herself facing a barrage of hostility.

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know something,’ one householder told Catherine through the door chain. ‘Now bugger off before I set the chihuahua on you.’

Tristan Jago wasted no time cashing in on this gift from heaven. ‘It just goes to show they’re the same old lying Tories,’ he told
BBC Breakfast
. ‘Corrupt, conniving and money-obsessed!’

At one house someone threw a cup of coffee at them. Kitty came away from another house in tears when the family Labrador was ordered to attack her. Bruised and stunned, they all took refuge in a café. No one could look Catherine in the eye.
Oh shit
, she thought.
What have I done?

Fortified by coffee, they took to the streets again. The Ye Olde Worlde controversy had prompted an unusually high turn-out for a by-election. People were voting in their droves. Catherine watched miserably as another Labour pool car drove past, ferrying people to the polling station. The driver gave her a smug wave.

Tristan, buoyant in a new grey suit and reeking of sandalwood, intercepted Catherine at a T-junction.

‘A moment, if you don’t mind.’ He pulled her away from everyone else. Catherine wrenched her arm back.

‘If you want to rub my nose in it, don’t bother.’

‘What
are
you up to?’ he asked her.

She looked at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘On the face of things, you’ve wrecked your campaign, but now I’m not so sure.’ His eyes were quizzical behind the trendy glasses. ‘Is this a game change to get the sympathy vote?’

‘I’ve got one word to say to you,’ she snapped. ‘Mel.’ She watched him go pale. There was no way she’d ever betray Mel, but he didn’t know that.
My God
, she thought.
I’ve turned into one of them
.

As the hours ticked past, the scale of the fallout
became clear. The political pundits had Tristan down as the odds-on favourite. By sheer determination and grovelling Catherine had managed to talk round a few voters, but it wasn’t enough. Something huge would have to happen to swing the voting in her favour. And Catherine could think of nothing that would be big enough.

There was an enormous press presence outside the gates of Tresco House. Billy put his foot down and scattered them in their wake. Dylan was hidden under a blanket on the back seat. Vanessa sat beside him, ignoring the bangs on the window. She was wearing no make-up and her hair was scraped back in a greasy ponytail.

Conrad was still in custody. He was facing seven counts of attempted murder and dangerous driving. The chances were he’d be put away for a very long time.

They’d driven back in a rented Mercedes. ‘Does it hurt?’ Vanessa asked, as she helped Dylan out.

‘Not too much.’ He gave her a smile and her world lit up. All the stress, all the legal battles in the coming months, it was all worth it.

Eddie and Sukie came rushing into the entrance hall to greet them. The wolfhound went mad when he saw his owner, covering Dylan’s face and hands with frantic licks.

‘Vanessa.’

She looked up from hugging Sukie. Her mother had come through from the corridor. Renata was at her shoulder. They’d obviously been waiting.

‘Hello, Mother.’

Dominique was staring at Dylan. His hospital stay had only heightened the contrast between his black hair and white pallor, intensifying his wild beauty.

‘Mother, this is Dylan Goldhawk. Dylan, my mother, Dominique.’

‘Hello.’ Dylan offered her his hand.

Ignoring it, Dominique looked at her daughter. ‘This is him? This is the man you left Conrad for?’

‘We’ve been through this,’ Vanessa said quietly. ‘I was miserable long before I met Dylan.’ She smiled at him. ‘He makes me so happy, Mother.’

Dominique looked at them, and then shook her head. ‘Not that you’re going to listen to me, anyway.’ She walked off, back down the hall.

‘She’ll just take a bit of winning over,’ Vanessa told Dylan.
And if she can’t be won round, she can lump it
.

Renata was far more welcoming. ‘Poor man! Come with me and I make you hot food.’

She glanced back at Vanessa as she led Dylan off.

‘You do right. Much more handsome than Conrad!’

Vanessa smiled and headed upstairs. There was one more thing she had to do.

Back on the High Street, Catherine was on the verge of collapse. Another Labour pool car crammed with voters zoomed past. She checked her watch: four hours to go until the polls shut.
I don’t know if I can do this. Oh John, my life is empty without you
.

‘Catherine?’ It was yet another reporter. ‘Surely you must feel like giving up the ghost? This isn’t a town that’s happy with either you or the Conservative government, is it?’

A familiar Bentley pulled up. The reporter was still talking, but Catherine wasn’t listening. She watched a stunningly natural Vanessa Powell climb out, clad in a pair of tight white jeans. Catherine’s jaw almost bounced off the pavement. Stretched across Vanessa’s famous assets was a ‘Vote Connor’ T-shirt.

The press pack surged forward. ‘Vanessa! Are you pressing charges against Conrad?’

‘Are you divorcing?’

‘Who’s Dylan Goldhawk?’

Vanessa flashed them a killer smile. ‘Excuse me, guys, but I’m just here to support my friend Catherine.’ She walked across, kissing Catherine on both cheeks. ‘Congratulations for running a great campaign, we’re all so proud of you.’