Trophy Life (24 page)

Amy had never heard this story before. She knew Andrea only as the queen bee that stood before her; couldn’t imagine her struggling to be accepted.

'I had achieved this not just for me, but for my family. For my boys. James appreciates it. He knew to marry a girl of substance. Giselle might not be the smartest cookie in the tin, but she has the name, the title. Even if it is from a different country.' She stopped for a moment, a frown of concentration making meandering trenches in her skin, continuing her monologue at a steady pace, sitting back down at her desk. Amy was entranced. No, she was stupefied. Rooted to the spot as Andrea continued.

'But my Harry. My baby. He’s never been quite as practical. Always determined to show he was his own man, but so easily swayed by a pretty face.' Andrea laughed and looked into the distance fondly as if remembering. 'I thought it was just a silly phase. A year, maybe two then he’d be done. But, I couldn’t let his silliness ruin everything. I couldn’t let it go on. I had to do something.' She was the very essence of reason. Like she was pleading her case, but Andrea’s tone when she next spoke was as hard and as cold as steel. She sounded like a madwoman; disconcertingly, threateningly calm, like a speeding train in the distance approaching unfinished tracks. Approaching irretrievable disaster.

'I won’t have people start questioning things. I won’t have my name, my children’s names, downgraded. Their father and I worked too hard to get to where things are today. I had to do something.'

Understanding was dawning on Amy in slow motion. It was frustrating really, how slowly her mind was funnelling the information and translating it into something that made sense. Not just the actual things Andrea was saying, but what it all meant. What she was implying.

Amy could grasp the first part easily enough. Deep down she had always suspected that Andrea thought she wasn’t good enough. She had ignored the feelings of inadequacy, telling herself that her mother-in-law was always nice to her, but it was there if she had looked hard enough.

However the next extrapolation proved more difficult. Andrea was saying she had had to 'do something'. What 'something' had her mother-in-law done? Facts and ideas milled in Amy’s head like guests at a party. That
Daily Mail
journalist. Flo Felding-Wright. Amber Felding-Wright. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. And maybe it wasn’t Olivia.

Had Andrea told the press about the dinner? Had she fed them the story to humiliate Amy?

'But what good did it do you? Surely you caused huge embarrassment for yourself as well as for me.' Amy realised with a start that she had made several assumptions here, none of which she could prove. But Andrea didn’t seem to notice her questions. She was still mid-flow.

'You don’t have any children yet, any responsibilities. I’m sure if you and Harry were to ever… diverge, he wouldn’t want you to go without. I’m sure you’d get a sensible offer.'

'Andrea,' Amy said angrily. 'Talk to me. At least look at me.'

Andrea turned, but gradually, languidly, as if hearing an acquaintance calling her from across a restaurant.

Amy was about to demand that Andrea explain herself when several other pieces clicked into place at once. No. Surely not. Surely what she was thinking was out of the question. But it made sense.

'You didn’t just tell the papers, did you?' Amy’s voice was shaking. '
You
changed the wine.' Saying it aloud made it sound even more ridiculous than it certainly was. Nobody would go to such lengths. The thought that would have had to have gone into a plan such as this. The scheming. She had planted Amy in a position of power so that she could tear her down? No, this had to be wrong. She waited for Andrea to tell her she was crazy. 

'Amy, this is best for everyone. It’s not like you have a reputation to protect,' Andrea said coolly. 'From what I understand you made a mess of
that
years ago.'

The attack had been direct and targeted, hitting its mark. A cold sensation engulfed Amy. It started in her face, numbing her lips, before travelling into her shoulders and shivering its way down her spine. Andrea knew? She knew. She knew Drakers. About her mistake. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. As if to signal that her job was done, Andrea sat down and surveyed her coolly.

'How-' Amy shook her head trying to understand.

'You want to know how I came upon your torrid little past.' Andrea was toying with her now. She could just answer the question, but from her sneer Amy could tell she was having fun. 'You still don’t understand how things work, do you?'

Amy couldn’t focus on the condescending jibes being thrown at her. How could Andrea have found out about this? There was no connection between Andrea and anyone at Drakers. They had never been clients of the firm. Did they know any of the partners? Maybe Anthony. And even if they had known someone there, why would they tell Andrea about Amy’s mistake? There had been an embargo on talking about it. For the sake of the firm.

Amy wanted to speak. She wanted to tell Andrea that she couldn’t know because hardly anybody knew outside the firm. She had never even told Harry. It was one of the only saving graces after the whole debacle. Her anonymity. But when Amy finally managed to say something, it came out as a weak rasp.

'Just tell me.'

Buzz
.

'Lady Andrea?' It was Esther over the intercom, her voice quivering. 'Are you ok?'

Andrea sighed. 'Yes Esther, I’m fine. Is there anything else?'

'It’s your one o’clock?'

'Show her in.'

As the intercom static died, Andrea looked at Amy with the blank neutrality of a stranger.

'Sorry. Very busy. I’m sure we can talk another time.'

Was that it? No. No, she needed to know more.

'We need to talk now.'

'Not at all.' Andrea’s tone was so breezy, Amy began to wonder if she was imagining the conversation. She grasped around in her mind for something to keep Andrea talking.

'You must realise I’m going to tell Harry about this,' Amy ventured. She sounded like the youngest member of an armed robbery crew, shaking his gun around with trembling hands whilst trying to sound decisive. Andrea called her bluff.

'Please, do. He certainly wouldn’t think that was madness or conspiracy theorising for you to accuse your own mother-in-law just to hide
your
careless mistakes.' Her smile was sweet.

Amy shook her head dumbfounded. She had never imagined, never even could have imagined this level of cold calculation. There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to lock the door and demand that Andrea talk to her. She wanted to yell, to get answers. But she also wanted to cry. And she didn’t want to do it in front of this woman. Silently, defeat writ large in her stance, Amy turned and walked out into the hallway, past Esther’s desk.

It took every ounce of self-control she had to try and remain composed. Blinking back tears, Amy searched for the fastest way out. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She didn’t want them to know they had gotten to her. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

She ducked into the nearest toilets, going into the last cubicle in the row and locking the door, feeling the relief that nobody had seen her. Of being alone. She just needed a minute to herself.

There was a creek. Amy knew it was the main door to the room opening. Her heart sank. Graceful footsteps tapped the floor then stopped. Amy felt ridiculous hiding there. Like a child. She decided she would leave as soon as the other person went into a cubicle. Waiting until she heard one open and shut, she took her chance, but just as she reached the door of the bathroom, she heard a familiar voice behind her. 

'Amy?'

The harmless familiarity of the voice made Amy smile. She had heard it so many times before. She turned.

'Binky, hi.'

Binky walked out of a cubicle and stood before the mirror, pulling out a lip gloss and surveying her face in the reflection.

'You look a little down,' Binky said conversationally, eyes still on the mirror. 'Such a shame about the event, but I wouldn’t worry. Andrea will get over it.'

'Thanks.' Amy was in no mood to make chit chat, but she wanted to be polite. Binky had never been anything but nice to her. 'I’ve got to go Bink. Nice to see you.' She turned back to the door, hoping Binky wouldn’t seek further interaction.

'Still, at least it’s all settled now.'

Amy’s hand froze on the door handle.

'Settled?'

'Oh, Yes,' Binky replied airily, causing Amy to turn in confusion. Binky’s beautiful features still stared into the obsequiously complimentary mirror. She had now found some blusher and was applying it in a sweeping gesture which Amy found hypnotic. 'I told Kitty it was all a bit over the top, but you know what she’s like when she gets going.' The casual way Binky shook her head, it was as though she was lamenting nothing more significant than a bad lunch, but Amy sensed more.

'I’m sorry, Binky, but-,' Amy tried to put her thoughts into words. 'You’re not making any sense.'

'But I thought you were super clever. You were a lawyer weren’t you?' Binky finally tore her gaze away from her own to ask the question with her eyes before returning to her work. 'Although I suppose not a very good one.' This last comment wasn’t said with any discernible cruelty or malice. It was completely matter of fact. 

What did Binky know? She must know. But how much? And how did Binky know?

Amy was walking towards the beauty now, entranced as the girl chatted.

'When KitKat found out it was your fault - that it was you that mucked up the Notting Hill deal - she was all, ‘she needs to pay’.' If it wasn’t for the threat of tears stinging in Amy’s eyes, she might have laughed at Binky’s high pitched impression of her sister.

Binky and Kitty knew about her role in their failed property deal. They knew it was her fault. They knew she was the Drakers trainee who had made a stupid mistake of such magnitude that it had not only cost them hundreds of millions of pounds, but severely damaged their reputations into the bargain. All of this was swirling in her mind as Binky kept up her monologue.

'I told her that she was crazy. I mean, you were
nobody
. What was the point? She almost let it go. I thought she had actually. But when I saw you at your first meeting.' Binky rolled her eyes. 'I just knew she was up to something. I mean how funny that you were married to Harry Green.' Binky smiled at herself, catching Amy’s eye in the reflection. 'Well, what was the chance of that?'

Amy bridled at Binky’s retelling of the story. She sounded like she was reminiscing about old times, not narrating Amy’s worst nightmares. Amy remembered first meeting Binky at her London Ladies debut. How many times had Binky asked her to confirm she was married to Harry? She had seemed so incredulous. Now it was clear why.

'Apparently KitKat knew all about it.' As Binky laughed at her sister’s folly, Amy couldn’t help but shiver at the eeriness of laughter in this context. She seemed almost deranged.

Involuntarily, Amy’s mind ran through all her encounters with Binky and Kitty. They had always seemed so oblivious to her past. They had never-' But then a memory resurfaced. The night of the Splish Splash party.

'Ah, yes, I’ve heard about you.' Kitty had said.

'Amy’s in charge of the annual dinner,' was Darcy’s interjection. 

'That must be it.'

Amy tried to recall Kitty’s look. Had there been a hint, even a small one, that Kitty had known even then? She needed to learn more.

'So, what? She told Andrea about the deal? About what happened at Drakers,' she prompted.

'Oh yes it was all Kitty. She was furious you know. Went on about it for days. Weeks.' Binky rolled her eyes again and shook her head, presumably at her sister’s unacceptable behaviour. 'She did everything really. Told you ma-in-law, suggested you organise the party, the whole wine thing. I don’t know how she found that old boyfriend of yours, but that’s Kitty.' Binky shrugged fondly. 'Always going that step further.'

'Freddie?' This one piece of information lurched out at Amy from Binky’s list. Was Binky talking about Freddie? It was too much information. Unable to keep up, Amy’s mind decided to become very aware of the sickly smell of the room. She started feeling nauseated, but Binky was oblivious. 

'Dunno. The chef?' Binky tore her eyes away from her reflection for just a moment to look at Amy for verification. Amy nodded numbly. 'Quite hot actually.' Binky turned back to the mirror.

'So, Kitty hired Freddie?'

'Or told Andrea to use their catering place. Something like that.' Binky seemed utterly unconcerned by all of this. Amy’s face must have betrayed her shock because, when Binky looked at her out of the corner of her eye, she smiled. 'What? Did you really think he just turned up in your life like that? Just out of the blue?'

Amy looked down. She wanted to be strong enough to look this girl in the eye, but she didn’t trust herself to do it. 

'OMG, you did.' Amy felt fury and humiliation envelope her as Binky revelled in the scandal with the relish of a pig rolling in mud. 'Slight coincidence, no?' This was half question, half guffaw. For some reason, the hardest part of all of this for Amy was the feeling that she had been outsmarted by Binky. It dawned on Amy that Freddie’s appearance in her life wasn’t the only pertinent coincidence. Had Binky just happened to be in this bathroom at the same time as her? Or had she seen her entering and followed?