The House by Princes Park (54 page)

When she opened her bag to get her make-up she found it stuffed with notes; Spanish pesetas. She had no idea what the exchange rate was, but there was plenty of them. The guy, whoever he was, must have thought she was on the game.

Ellie sat on the bed, feeling slightly ashamed. Still, she hadn’t come to any harm. The cash was a plus and maybe the guy was just showing his appreciation. It was scary, though, to think she’d spent the night with a man she couldn’t remember. He might have looked like King Kong for all she knew or he could have been a pervert.

There was a knock on the door and she stiffened. ‘Who is it?’ she called.

‘It’s Barry, darling.’

The girls jokingly referred to sixty-year old Barry as their chaperone. He booked hotels, made travel arrangements, saw that they were properly fed, and got to the various events on time. He was a little, roly poly man, almost completely bald, with a warm smile that never reached his eyes. Ellie considered him two-faced, but so
were most of the people she met these days – she probably was herself.

‘How did you know where I was?’ Ellie asked when she let him in.

‘You and Bruno Pinelli seemed very much an item last night. This being his room, it seemed the first place to look. Bruno Pinelli,’ he went on in response to Ellie’s puzzled look, ‘was at the show yesterday signing autographs. He’s a racing driver, Italian, very good-looking. He invited a few of us back to the bar downstairs for a drink and it turned into quite a party. Then Bruno disappeared at exactly the same time as you did. It didn’t take much in the way of brains to put two and two together.’

Ellie dredged up a vague memory of dark, flashing eyes and an exceptionally virile lover. ‘I had a bit too much to drink,’ she muttered.

‘More than a bit, darling. You want to be careful. Next thing you know, you’ll be an alcoholic.’

‘Don’t talk daft, Barry.’ She laughed. ‘I’m a social drinker. I never drink during the day.’

‘Maybe not, but when you get near a bar, you can put a fish to shame. What’s this?’ He picked up the ashtray and frowned at the contents. ‘Have you been smoking grass?’

Ellie couldn’t remember. ‘We must have done.’

‘And you’ve left the evidence for anyone to find!’ He looked grim when he took the ashtray into the bathroom. The lavatory flushed. He returned and said harshly, ‘If humping guys and getting sloshed wasn’t bad enough, now I find you’ve been smoking an illegal substance. If you don’t pull your socks up, darling, I’ll have to advise the agency to let you go.’

‘That’s decent of you – darling, ’ she said icily.

‘I don’t have to give you a warning,’ he replied, just as coldly. ‘I could advise the agency today.’

‘I’ve got the message, Barry.’

‘Glad to hear it, Ellie.’ He smiled, but his eyes didn’t. ‘You’ve got two hours before the show opens and you look like shit. I’ll get room service to bring you something to eat and some black coffee. While you’re waiting, put your war paint on, and I’ll arrange to have a change of clothes brought over. Fact, I’ll do both things right now.’ He picked up the phone.

‘What about this Bruno guy? Is he likely to come back?’

‘No, he checked out early this morning.’

‘Thanks, Barry – for everything.’ She didn’t like having to be grateful, but he could have her fired.

Not that it would matter all that much, Ellie thought when Barry had gone. It was a lousy job which had seemed exciting at first. Now she found it boring. Most jobs turned out boring in the end.

She sat in front of the dressing table and began to apply her make-up, difficult when her hands were shaking so badly. Barry was right, she looked like shit. Halfway through, a waiter arrived with the coffee and some rolls.

‘You pay for this now, please,’ the man said courteously handing her a bill. ‘Señor Pinelli, he already settled his account.’

‘How much is this in English money?’

‘About ten pounds.’

Just for coffee and rolls! Ellie blanched. She didn’t even want the rolls and dreaded to think what it would cost to stay in the place. The waiter appeared satisfied with two of the notes Bruno Pinelli had given her and left. Ellie finished her make-up, then sat at the small table in front of the window to drink the coffee. The room was on the first floor at the rear of the hotel. Outside, a shimmering blue pool looked a mile long and was set within an avenue of shady trees. A man was teaching a little boy to swim and, at the far end, a youth was poised on the edge of the diving board. He raised his arms, jumped, and soared downwards, hardly raising a splash, to the cheers of a group of watching
teenagers and the few people so far occupying the loungers and umbrella-covered tables surrounding the majestic pool.

Ellie felt a pang of envy. These people didn’t have to spend the rest of the day inside a stinking hot marquee, pretending to be nice to people, not caring whether they bought a car or not. Why hadn’t she the money to stay at a place like this? What had gone wrong with her life?

She was twenty-six, getting on, getting nowhere. After she’d left home the second time, Ellie had hung around the pop scene for a while, hoping for a job in a promotional capacity, as an assistant of some sort, or in advertising. But nothing had happened. Nor had anything happened during the time spent working in the office of a fashion magazine. No one had suggested she become a model, though she was prettier than most of the successful ones. She’d remained unnoticed as a film extra and during the year with the television company where she’d never risen above making tea and doing the filing – an office girl. When she’d joined the agency two years ago, it had seemed a step up. At least she’d been taken on for her looks and her figure, her personality. But it was a dead end job without any chance of promotion.

Barry was wrong to say she’d become an alcoholic, though she wouldn’t mind a good, stiff drink right now, help buck her up a bit. Trouble was, it didn’t always work, and she’d have another stiff drink, then another, and end up drinking herself into oblivion.

There was another knock on the door. This time it was one of the girls, Trisha, with a fresh outfit.

‘Barry sent this. Did you have a good time last night?’ Trisha hadn’t been to the party. She was eighteen, a lovely, fresh-faced girl who, right now, made Ellie feel old and rather grubby.

‘Great.’

‘Oh, well. I’ll love you and leave you. See you later, Ellie.’

‘See you.’

Ellie changed her clothes and brushed her hair. She was beginning to feel better and decided to eat one of the rolls, seeing as how it had cost an arm and a leg. She poured more coffee and took it on to the balcony. There were more people in the pool since she’d last looked and she regarded them jealously. A woman with ghastly red hair, a toad-like figure, and legs like duffle bags, was waddling her way towards a thickly cushioned chair under an umbrella. She wore a sack-like gingham frock and sat down with a thump that Ellie sensed rather than heard.

‘I’d sooner be as poor as a church mouse than have a shape like that,’ she said to herself.

The woman took a good look around before putting on a pair of large sunglasses and settling back against the cushions. There was something about the way she moved, the red of her hair, that was very familiar and a few seconds later an astonished Ellie realised it was her cousin, Daisy.

She crammed the remainder of the roll in her mouth and washed it down with coffee, then checked her reflection in the mirror. She looked svelte and smart, her long, brown hair gleamed, her make-up was perfect. Picking up her bag, she ran downstairs, found the way to the pool, and approached her cousin. Daisy had always made her aware of how lucky she really was.

‘Hi, Daise!’

‘Ellie!’ Daisy gasped, removing the sunglasses. Her freckled face had gone fat and podgy and was covered in perspiration. ‘What a lovely surprise. What on earth are you doing here?’

‘I’m working in Madrid. I’m a model. I get sent all over Europe.’

‘How wonderful!’ Daisy looked incredibly impressed.
‘Are you a fashion model? Have you come on a shoot or something?’

‘Yes,’ Ellie lied. ‘How’s things at home? It’s ages since I wrote. I keep meaning to...’ Her voice trailed away.

‘All sorts of exciting things have happened since you left, Ellie.’ Daisy wiped her face with a tissue – how awful to be so fat in hot weather. It was no wonder she was sheltering under the umbrella, she always turned as bright red as her hair in the sun. ‘Your Moira’s married for one. Sam, her husband, is terribly nice and terribly clever. He’s a lecturer and they live in Cambridge and have two children, a girl and a boy.’

Ellie felt uneasily that Moira had got one up on her. Her twin had wanted to be a teacher, which she considered the dullest occupation in the world. But marrying a lecturer and living in Cambridge sounded the opposite of dull.

‘Oh, and you’ve got a sister.’

‘I know, you’ve just told me about her.’ Had Daisy lost her mind as well as her figure? It hadn’t been up to much in the first place.

‘I mean, a
new
sister. I don’t suppose you know, I mean, it’s years since you were home, but Aunt Greta and Matthew Doyle got divorced and she married a chap called Frank Fletcher. To everyone’s surprise – including your mum’s – she had a baby at forty-six, a little girl called Saffron. She’s three now. Isn’t that a lovely name?’

‘Lovely,’ Ellie said faintly. ‘How’s Gran?’

‘She’s absolutely fine.’ Daisy looked at her strangely. ‘And so’s Brendan. He’ll be eight next month and he’s the image of Liam Conway, ever so handsome.’

Ellie hadn’t forgotten about her son. He just didn’t seem all that important.

‘Let’s see, what else has happened?’ Daisy put her finger to her podgy chin. ‘My mum’s now a qualified solicitor.’

‘You don’t say!’ Ellie rolled her eyes impatiently.

‘Matthew Doyle’s been in Saudi Arabia for ages. I think
I’ve covered the lot. What have you been doing with yourself all this time, Ellie?’

‘All sorts of exciting things.’ Ellie shrugged modestly. ‘I was in the music industry for a while, then worked for a magazine and a television company. I made a few films – I only had little parts,’ she said hastily, in case Daisy asked for details. ‘Then I decided to become a model which is why I’m here. What about you, Daise? Did you marry Clint?’ It was the question Ellie had been wanting to ask all along. She’d often wondered about Daisy and Clint.

‘Yes.’ Daisy smiled. ‘But we got divorced a year afterwards. Clint is gay, Ellie, but he was too scared to admit it. Now he’s come out, he’s much happier. He’s living in California, writing scripts – you know how he was about films – movies, he called them. His main ambition has always been to direct. There’s plenty of time, he’s still young. We write to each other regularly.’

Poor, pathetic Daisy had been left to come on holiday on her own! She’d never get another man looking as she did. Ellie felt sorry for her cousin and at the same time immensely superior. She resisted the temptation to say she already knew about Clint.

‘I’m so sorry, Daise. Do you still paint?’

‘No. I haven’t painted in years. I only did it because I was unhappy.’

‘And you’re not unhappy now?’ It was hard to keep the surprise out of her voice.

‘Well, no.’ Daisy laughed contentedly. ‘I don’t suppose I
look
happy in this state, but I’m perfectly happy inside. I’ll be happier still when the baby’s born.’ She patted her swollen stomach. ‘It’s due in less than four weeks. I’m full of water. We thought we’d grab a quick break, else Lord knows when we’d get away.’

‘We?’ Ellie said faintly. Daisy was
pregnant
!

‘Michael, Harry and me. That’s them over there,’ she pointed to the pool. ‘Michael’s teaching Harry to swim.’

Ellie’s eyes swivelled towards the man she’d noticed earlier with the little boy. Daisy was married with a child and another on the way. Already hot, Ellie felt herself grow hotter. She wouldn’t have cared what had happened to her sister and cousin if her own life had gone the way she’d planned. But it hadn’t. Instead, the last eight years had been wasted in a vain search for excitement and adventure, while Moira and Daisy had been successfully getting on with their lives.

‘Harry’s three,’ Daisy was saying, waving furiously in the direction of the pool. ‘Here they are now.’

Daisy’s husband had hoisted the little boy on to his shoulders and was wading towards them. He wasn’t a handsome man, but had a pleasant, quirky face and a charismatic smile. Ellie thought him rather appealing.

‘Sweetheart! I didn’t notice you there. You should have stayed in bed and rested. Have you taken your water tablet?’

‘We’re on holiday, Michael. I can rest perfectly well in the fresh air, and yes, I’ve taken my water tablet. Michael, this is my cousin, Ellie. She’s a model and in Madrid for a fashion shoot. Isn’t it a coincidence that we met? It’s ages since we’ve seen each other. Harry, this is Auntie Moira’s twin sister, so she’s another sort of aunt.’

Michael shook hands, apologising for it being wet. Harry merely glanced at Ellie, climbed out of the pool, and laid his head on his mother’s stomach.

‘Is it awake yet?’

Daisy and Michael exchanged complacent smiles and Ellie felt she could easily be sick at this vision of domestic bliss. She was about to jump to her feet, leave, when Michael said. ‘He’s been pleading for an ice cream. Would you like a cold drink, darling?’

‘I’d love one. Something with lime in.’

‘And how about you, Ellie?’

‘No, thanks. I’ll have to be going in a minute.’

‘Come on, tough guy. Let’s go find the ice cream man.’ He ruffled Daisy’s hair as he went past, and a feeling of raw jealousy swept like a pain through Ellie’s body. She wanted to be loved like that, to have the same warm intimacy with a man that Daisy had with her husband, instead of feeling excluded, apart, alone.

‘Where do you live, Daisy?’ she asked, breaking the short silence that followed.

‘London, a place called Crouch End. Michael’s a doctor, he works terribly hard.’

How on earth had someone like Daisy managed to hook a doctor, such an attractive one at that. ‘How did you two meet?’