‘Oh Jesus… what happened?’
Luke stifled a giggle which, even in her confused state, Max realized was highly insensitive. She had never fainted or collapsed in her life. Was it a hernia? A tumour? The bastard.
‘Sorry, it’s in no way funny… it’s just, well, it’s a relief.’
‘What is?’
A nurse was standing over now.
‘Don’t worry, pet,’ came the Geordie voice. ‘You’re going to be just fine.’
Max felt a sense of panic rise within her. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’
The nurse took Max’s hand, and she realized Luke had been holding her other hand all the while.
‘Well, pet, we had a look through your handbag for any medication you might be taking when this lovely man brought you in. We didn’t find any but there was an Ambi Pur car fragrance in there and it had leaked all over the place.’
Max could vaguely remember a hanging air freshener Lucy must have put in their car. Could it have fallen into her bag?
‘Your boyfriend here told us you’d had a cigarette just before you collapsed and complained it tasted of perfume. We did a few tests and it turns out your body had gone into shock after inhaling the liquid. It’s dangerous stuff to have in your body and you got a massive hit of it, petal.’
Max looked at Luke, whose lovely eyes were smiling at her – but kindly.
‘And the good news is,’ he told her, squeezing her hand, ‘you are a hundred per cent back to normal.’
‘That’s right, pet. Your heart rate is back to normal and everything is fine – you just blacked out as your body went into shock. Are you feeling OK?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Max said as the nurse smiled. ‘Oh God,’ she said, almost under her breath after the nurse had left them.
‘What? Are you OK?’ Luke looked concerned.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Apart from the fact you must think I’m an absolute moron. I can see why you laughed. I’m an idiot.’
Luke was laughing again. ‘I think you are who you are and I like who you are very much.’
‘Quite right, Luke. Nothing like getting to know someone on a first date.’
Luke’s eyes were dancing with hers. ‘The nurse called me your boyfriend. I like the sound of that.’
ALL IS NOT WELL
Lucy’s name flashed up on Max’s mobile moments after she arrived home. She had been discharged from hospital soon after she had come round and Luke had seen her home safely in a cab. He had asked if she was sure she would be OK alone – Lucy was still in Scotland – and Max insisted she felt just fine.
‘But I do want to see you again soon,’ she told him.
‘Don’t you worry about that. I’ll make sure of it. I can’t stand the thought of missing out on your next adventure.’
Luke leaned over to kiss Max and she felt dizzy again, but it had nothing to do with the Ambi Pur. Every part of her body felt alive – and the hot-water bottle was back between her legs. Be good, it will wait, she told herself as she pulled away and said goodnight.
‘Hi, Luce, how are you doing? How’s Scotland?’
Silence.
‘Luce?’
‘Oh Max, it’s awful.’ Max knew her sister and could tell from those few words she was trying not to cry.
‘What’s wrong?’ Max could hear the panic rising in her voice.
‘Oh I’m absolutely fine, don’t worry. I just had a bit of a fight with Hartley and I wanted to come home. I’ll explain when I see you. I’m on a sleeper train from Dundee – I’d missed the last flight and this was the only way I could leave straight away. Bad reception. It gets in at seven in the morning at King’s Cross. Can you pick me up?’
‘Of course I can. Sure you’re OK?’
‘Yes. See you soon. Love you.’
‘You too.’
SISTER ACT
Max was at King’s Cross station by 6.30 a.m. She was worried about her sister. Aside from the time her shit of a boyfriend had cheated on her, Max couldn’t think of a time when Lucy had had a crisis and needed her. It was always Lucy who guided Max, who made her believe in herself when she was down. She had a way of making Max feel like a wonderful person, even with the worst of hangovers. And Lucy told Max that without her, she would be another person – like the girls at her magazine. Max had taught her what it was to be yourself, to have a personality, to embrace life.
Max was shocked when she saw Lucy come off the train. She looked tiny, vulnerable and exhausted.
Lucy fell into Max’s arms and sobbed – heaving sobs that seemed more powerful than her whole being.
‘Come on, sis, you’re safe now. Let’s get you home and you can tell me all about it.’
Back at the flat, Max tucked Lucy up on the sofa with a fleecy duvet normally reserved for Max’s hangovers.
As Lucy told her of the events of the night before, Max was horrified. She was furious too that Hartley hadn’t accepted she had nothing to do with it.
‘What choice did he have, Max? When we got back to Robbie’s he told me he needed time to think, that he didn’t want to believe I would betray him when I knew that privacy and loyalty were so important to him… but he was at a loss to understand how a photographer would know where we were…’ Lucy’s voice trailed off.
‘What? What else?’
‘He asked if I thought you had something to do with it, because you work for a tabloid.’
‘He did?’
‘You have to see his logic.’
‘I guess.’
But Lucy knew Max would never betray her in any way – no matter how many brownie points it would score with her boss.
Lucy’s voice was strangled, as she tried to hold back her tears. ‘I felt ashamed when I saw how he looked at me, how his friends looked at me, Max.’
Max opened her arms for a hug but Lucy shrugged her off.
‘But I also felt angry that he wouldn’t just take my word for it. How could he think I’d do that? But Max, everything was pointing to me. He really had no choice but to at least ask for time to think. I just don’t understand what happened.’
Max placed her hand under Lucy’s chin and raised her head so she could look in her eyes.
‘Oh I think you do. This has Bridget’s talons all over it. And I’ll prove it if it’s the last thing I do.’
Lucy suddenly looked like she’d come out of a trance.
‘Bridget? You think Bridget was behind it?’
‘Absolutely. It’s the only explanation. I’ve no doubt that she’s evil enough and that she hates you enough – for Ascot and for going out with Hartley.’
The thought had crossed Lucy’s mind as she tossed and turned on her bed on the train trying to work out what had happened. But she had dismissed it straight away, certain she must be going mad. No one would do that, surely? The thought that someone could hate her so much made her feel sick. Lucy couldn’t bring herself even to discuss the possibility with Max.
‘God, I’ve been so wrapped up in myself,’ she said as brightly as she could manage. ‘I forgot to ask: what did you think of my dad? And Ben and Luke? He gave you a lift home, no? That must have been so weird for you. I can’t thank you enough for coming out with my passport. Mind you, it wasn’t quite the trip I’d hoped for.’
Max thought about telling her sister how wonderful she thought her brother was. But it wasn’t the time. Her Ambi Pur story could wait too. Lucy had enough to take in for now.
‘Oh no worries,’ she said, adopting her best sing-song carefree voice. ‘I thought they were all lovely, Luce, just lovely. Listen, I don’t want you worrying about anything, OK? Everything will be fine.’
Lucy squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘Thanks, Max.’
IN FOR THE KILL
Bridget had thought about biding her time. It might seem obvious if she called Hartley straight after Scotland. But then why would he ever connect her with what had happened? She hadn’t spoken to him since their split and as he was no doubt angry wi
th Lucy it could be the perfect time to strike.
News of his break-up had spread like wildfire. No one really knew what had happened, but Bridget was quick to tell them that she had heard an appalling rumour – that Lucy had secretly called a member of the paparazzi and asked him to take photos of her and Hartley on their romantic break. Rumour also had it, Bridget told them in hushed tones, that she had struck a deal to pocket half the profits from the sale of the pictures. Perhaps her magazine job didn’t pay enough to keep her in this season’s Chanel, she wondered aloud in front of a group of girls.
‘Of course, this could all be nonsense,’ she told them, ‘but it came from a very good friend.’
Bridget’s crowd assumed she meant Claudia, who had been on the fateful trip to Scotland. Eager to sound just as well informed, they told her they had heard something similar. Before the weekend was out, everyone was talking about Lucy’s terrible betrayal.
Bridget decided that phoning Hartley might seem a little odd but bumping into him accidentally on purpose was a stroke of genius. It was all so easy given that Hartley was such a creature of habit.
She remembered how he would visit Columbia Road flower market in East London most Sundays. He would buy dozens of bouquets for his Foundation, to scatter around the place and cheer people up when they came there for help. Bless him, darling Hartley. Quite the sweetheart. Bridget wondered what kind of flowers she would like for their wedding. Lilies, perhaps – all white and pristine.
She also made a calculated guess that Hartley would visit the market that very Sunday. She knew how his mind worked. When he planned a weekend away he always made sure he was back in London by Sunday afternoon, to prepare for work at his charity. And when he was upset he would do anything to keep his mind active. So it stood to reason he would keep to his flower-buying routine.
She had sat waiting in a café for over an hour before she spotted him picking out roses from a stall. She had chosen a simple midnight-blue cotton shift dress from Whistles, teamed with a matching mohair cardigan, and toned down her make-up – instead of the bright-red lipstick she normally favoured, she had gone for a nude gloss. She wanted to appear as Earth Mother as possible, his friend in his hour of need. She had decided against wearing couture – it was the East End, after all, hardly Chelsea. She couldn’t resist her dark blue Louboutin heels, though, which completed the look: understated but sexy.
‘Hartley, darling. Hello!’
The Earl of Balmyle spun round and froze. After what seemed an age, he spoke. ‘Bridget. What a surprise. How are you?’
‘Oh, you know, same old. Just buying some flowers to cheer Mummy up. She’s not been terribly well.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope.’
Mother had recovered from the flu weeks ago, but Hartley need not know that, she told herself as she looked at the ground forlornly. ‘Oh I’m sure she will be fine… You have to keep positive.’
Hartley smiled at Bridget, who beamed back at him.
‘God, it’s good to see you, Hartley.’
‘Thanks, Bridget, you too. Listen, I have to be getting along.’
Bridget looked crestfallen. ‘Oh I was hoping you would join me for a coffee to warm up a little?’ Noting Hartley looked unconvinced, she put on her best wounded expression. ‘What happened was an age ago. I’d like to be friends.’
Hartley took Bridget in. She seemed different, softer somehow. Hell, it was a long time ago and he was the one who had ended it. He hadn’t thought too highly of her by the end but it was rather decent of her to be so charming. The least he could do was to be civil. It was, after all, only coffee.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Just let me get these and I’m all yours.’
Yes, Bridget thought as she smiled sweetly back at him: you will be all mine. She had removed Lucy from the picture, making Hartley believe she had betrayed him.
Now she had walked back into Hartley’s life, she was there to stay.
FAMILY COMES FIRST
Max didn’t know how long she had been staring out of the restaurant window. She kept replaying the conversation she’d had with Lucy the day before. Having woken after their heart to heart about what had happened in Scotland, Max had been sure her news would cheer Lucy up.
‘Luce, I’m in love.’
‘Of course you are, Max, until next week. Who’s the lucky chap?’
‘Luke.’
Silence.
‘Your brother.’
‘No, Max, don’t even think about it.’
Max was taken aback by the harshness in her sister’s voice. Lucy, normally so calm, had turned to face Max and was confronting her with real hostility.
‘What? I like him. He’s wonderful.’
‘Don’t you dare, Max. Is it just like the time you slept with one of my best friends and he still refuses to speak to me because you stopped taking his calls?’
‘No, it’s not like that.’
‘Or the time you did a runner halfway through dinner with the guy I know from work because he had a squint?’
‘Luce, he was wearing shades when I met him. I hadn’t realized. I didn’t know if he was eyeing up the waitress or my tits.’
‘No, Max, you cannot do this – not with my brother. Family is everything, you know that. I can’t let you hurt Luke. He’s my brother, for God’s sake. It’s far too close.’
‘But he’s lovely.’
‘Yes, Max, he is. But you drop guys as soon as you become bored. It’s what you’ve always done since Alfie. How do you think that feels for them?’ Max had never seen Lucy look so serious. ‘I know you don’t mean to hurt them, but you do. I can’t let you do that to Luke. I love him. You always come first, Max, but, Jesus, there are millions of guys you can date. Not Luke.’
Lucy stared at Max, waiting for her to laugh, to agree that London was full of hotties and she was right – Luke was off limits. But Max wanted to scream that yes she was a fuckwit when it came to men, yes she had been careless with some men’s emotions… but she had never felt the way she did about Luke. As she looked at her sister she thought about how much Lucy had done for her, for as long as she could remember. She had given her cash when, as a cub reporter, Max had reached her overdraft limit; more than once she had driven miles to pick her up in the early hours when she had drunkenly fallen asleep on the night bus and missed her stop; she had supported and loved her through every crisis – and there was always some drama in Max’s life. She had never brought any of it up again to remind Max how indebted she should be, not once. Her support was unqualified and unquestioning.
And now Lucy was protecting her half-brother because she had no reason to believe Max would not tire of him like she had the rest. Max longed to tell Lucy that she craved love as much as anyone and thought, at last, she may have found it with Luke. But how could she do that when Lucy had been through so much? Half of London’s socialites were probably bad-mouthing her for betraying Hartley even as they spoke. And the man with whom Lucy had imagined spending the rest of her life thought the very worst of her. No, for once Lucy needed her help. What was she supposed to do – pat Lucy on the back and say, ‘There, there, I know you’ve had your heart broken but guess what? I’m in love with your brother.’ Somehow, she didn’t think so. Max knew what she had to do.
‘Ah, you know me too well. Maybe you’re right. Keeping it in the family would be a bit too weird.’ Max shrugged her shoulders as if to say ‘easy come, easy go’ and hoped the act was convincing.
Lucy looked relieved, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Max knew she had made the right decision. Lucy would always come first, especially now.
‘OK. Good. I want you to find the right guy, Max, to be happy. But I doubt Luke is your Mr Right.’ The anger had gone from Lucy’s face; she was smiling as she absent-mindedly poured a glass of orange juice.
Her coffee now cold, Max smiled as she thought of Luke. Perhaps she wasn’t in love with him – she had spent so little ti
me with him, after all. But she knew something was different. Maybe those hopeless romantics were right and you ‘just know’ when the right one comes along.
But it was a chance she could not take. Not while Lucy was so fragile. As she felt her mobile buzz she fished it out of her handbag and saw a text message from Luke.
‘Hello, Miss Ambi Pur. Can I take you out for supper tonight? x’
Max was overwhelmed with sadness as she deleted the message. If she ignored him, he might be hurt but it was the easiest way. He would soon forget. She couldn’t meet him; she knew she could not trust herself to do anything other than be honest with him. And if he knew how much she wanted him he would not let her go.
Closing her eyes, Max took a deep breath and tried with all her strength to focus. She knew Bridget had to have been behind what happened in Scotland and she resolved to put her best investigative foot forward to prove just that. She desperately hoped it would stop her thinking about Luke.
For once, Max was grateful when she saw Sheri’s number flash on her phone. She was bound to have some ridiculous tale to tell, and Max needed a distraction.
‘Awright, sweetheart, I’ve got a cracker.’
Max suddenly remembered something Simon had told her the other day after he had read two exclusives he’d been working on for months, in a rival paper: she should watch what she said over the phone. He was sure a journalist had hacked into his voice messages or even tapped his phone.
‘You do? Where are you?’
‘My place.’
‘OK, I’ll jump in a cab and see you in twenty.’
Thank God her expense account allowed for all the taxis she wanted, Max thought as she put on her new coat – a lightweight, military-style, full-length, navy Armani. It had cost more than Max had ever imagined she’d pay for a coat but reasoned Lucy could get some use out of it too. No matter how glossy and upmarket the mag her sister worked for, staff didn’t enjoy the sort of inflated salaries and expense accounts of many of the tabloid hacks they looked down upon. Once they’d made the soft-carpet land of an executive post that all seemed to change, with no shortage of lunches and entertaining clients. If anyone put in the work, it was Lucy. Max had known her sister to be leaving the flat as she was returning from a bash at four or five in the morning – so she could catch sunrise for a fashion shoot; or stay in the office until midnight to speak to a fashion designer who was seven hours behind in Los Angeles. Max just hoped someone would reward Lucy rather than a work-shy clothes horse with an eating disorder just because she was related to someone important.
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