Christmas at Tiffany's

by Karen Swan

  ‘It’s not men who consider it offensive. It’s you girls all setting these daft rules.’

  ‘Then Kelly took me shopping to some sample sales. But none of it really fits,’ she said, tugging her dress down a bit. ‘I could do with a girdle!’

  He laughed. ‘I haven’t heard the word “girdle” for a while. I thought girls were always in those Spanx pants now?’

  ‘Is that what they’re called? I don’t remember what we bought. It was easier just to let her choose and get on with it. She knows what goes with what. She can give me lessons later.’

  Henry smiled. ‘Well, at least she’s done now. You can rest in peace, knowing you’ve let her play.’

  Cassie spluttered on her drink. ‘You must be kidding! This is just stage one. I’ve got to keep this up now. I’m already booked in to have my nails redone on Friday, I’ve got to have my roots redone every three weeks – it’s the only way you can be this blonde, you see,’ she said earnestly. ‘Plus I’m seeing a dermatologist the day after tomorrow for a “procedure”.’

  Henry frowned. ‘What procedure?’

  ‘Botox,’ Cassie mouthed.

  ‘Oh – now, that’s ridiculous!’ he exclaimed. ‘You can’t freeze your face. You’ll look like a robot!’

  ‘Better that, I’m told, than looking over thirty. Anyway, this chap Kelly’s taking me to apparently keeps you very “mobile” and natural-looking. Kelly’s been seeing him for years and I have to say I’d never noticed she’d had any work done. ’

  ‘Tch, they all say that, Cass.’ He shook his head crossly. ‘Honestly, that’s too much. Why exactly are you letting Kelly do this to you, anyway? I don’t understand why you’re being her guinea pig. It’s as if you’ve turned into that plastic-head thing you and Suzy always played with.’

  ‘What? You mean her Girl’s World?’ Cassie said, clapping her hands together with delight at the sudden memory.

  ‘Yeah, that thing. It’s not good, Cass.’

  Cassie stopped smiling suddenly and a white, but soon-to-be-whiter, tooth bit into her red lip. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘But sadly necessary.’

  Henry stared at her for a long moment, suddenly catching a drift of the ominous undercurrent to all this experimentation. ‘Cass, what happened with Gil?’

  ‘He’s in Edinburgh.’ She took a deep breath. ‘With my best friend.’ His eyes widened and she took an even bigger breath. ‘And their son.’

  ‘Their what?’

  Cassie nodded her head slowly, almost as though trying to convince herself. ‘I only found out on Saturday night.’

  Henry stared at her. Today was Tuesday. In the space of three days, her ten-year marriage had crumbled, she’d left the only home she’d ever known as an adult, flown halfway across the world, been completely transformed and waded straight into Manhattan’s exclusive, high-octane social scene?

  Cassie watched him put his glass down and study it for a few moments. He seemed to be trying to keep from breaking it. ‘The arrogant, supercilious, beaky little shit!’ he murmured.

  Cassie looked away. She knew Henry had never liked him. He’d said right from the off that Cassie would be swallowed whole by him and his superior family. He had said that Gil would never see her as anything more than a pretty figurehead to sit at the end of the table, preside over the kitchens and eventually pop out an heir and spare. But Cassie wouldn’t be told. She’d fallen hook, line and sinker, and in the blink of an eye, the deal had been done.

  ‘God, I’m sorry, Cass,’ he said finally.

  ‘Mmmmm. Me too.’ Her hands were trembling and she was trying very hard not to cry. He studied her face and Cassie felt as if he was unveiling all her deepest insecurities.

  ‘So that’s what all this is, then? A new start, a new you?’

  ‘Exactly,’ she said, looking up and nodding vigorously.

  ‘And do you think it’ll work, all this?’ He waved a hand at her transformed persona.

  ‘It has to.’

  He nodded encouragingly. ‘Well, Kelly’s a good friend. Although she’s not, shall we say . . . fluffy, her heart’s in the right place. God knows she’s gone out of her way to make connections and introductions for me.’

  ‘She’s a true friend. They all are. Suzy. Anouk.’

  ‘Have they had any say in this?’

  ‘They will do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m going to be staying with them all in turn. They’re all convinced they know what’s going to make me happy again, so . . . I’m letting them show me. They’ve got it all planned. For the next year I’m in their hands.’ She shrugged. ‘I may as well be. I’ve got nothing better to do. And you never know – it might work.’

  ‘It might,’ he agreed, though there was a note of scepticism in his voice. A few more beats passed. ‘So how long are you here for?’

  ‘Four months in each city. So here till New Year. Then I’m off to Paris to stay with Anouk. After that, London for the summer with Suzy.’

  ‘A grand tour.’

  ‘Yes, a grand tour,’ she echoed, trying the words on for size. ‘I like that,’ she said, smiling faintly. ‘Although possibly without commissioning any paintings.’

  He wrinkled his nose, playing along. ‘PR doesn’t tend to pay that well.’

  ‘And being educated in matters of Louboutin rather than Leonardo.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘I’m more fluent in French than I am in dressing myself.’

  He gave her the once-over. ‘You seem fluent to me.’

  Cassie giggled and leaned back. Her grand tour. Yes, it had a good ring to it. It made all this sound like an adventure – planned and wanted – not some desperate escape on a standby ticket.

  ‘Have you ever wondered what you’d be like if you lived in, I don’t know – Venice!’ she said, her eyes bright with the fantasy. ‘Just imagine – going to dinner by launch, reading the papers on a balcony at breakfast, hearing the bells of I don’t know how many thousands of churches, all out of time with one another.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘I might be a brunette there. With a bob. And I’d wear flat ballet shoes like Audrey Hepburn. And I’d eat prosciutto with figs for lunch and live in a really grand old building with vast, airy salons with gilded interconnecting doors.’ She closed her eyes at the notion. ‘I would be living a completely different life. I’d be a completely different person.’

  ‘Would you, though?’

  She opened her eyes and found Henry staring at her.

  ‘I travel the world all the time,’ he said. ‘I change locations like other people change underpants. But I’m always the same person.’

  ‘So you’re saying you’re completely rigid? You’re never affected by the places you visit?’

  ‘They affect me, of course. But they don’t change me. I know who I am.’

  There was a tense pause. ‘And I don’t, is that what you’re saying?’

  Hot colour crept up her neck. His expression softened and he leaned forwards on the table. ‘I think you feel like the old Cassie failed – that she’s not good enough somehow and you need to make a new one. But all this change you’re putting yourself through isn’t going to change who you are. It’s just the shell, surface stuff.’

  ‘No. It’s more than that. I’m going to be learning about new things, having experiences I never thought I’d get to have when I was alone in that big house. I’m going to meet a whole raft of people who’ve led entirely different lives from mine, and who can tell me about new things. It’s not just about a haircut and having my nails done. I’m going to change from the inside out.’

  Henry shook his head. ‘I don’t think it works like that,’ he said sadly. ‘I don’t think you can just cast off your personality like you have your marriage.’

  Cassie looked down at the table, trying to hide her face beneath a curtain of hair. Oh God, he’d made her cry.

  ‘Look, I’m not trying to make you feel worse,’ he said quietly, leani
ng in to her, his hand on her arm. ‘I’m just worried about you.’

  ‘Well don’t be,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve got the girls looking out for me.’

  ‘That’s kind of what I’m worried about.’

  Cassie looked at him, shocked. ‘They are the best friends anyone could ever hope to have.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean that their way of getting you through this is necessarily right for you.’

  ‘Well they all seem to be doing a much better job of living their lives than I’ve been able to manage with mine. It makes perfect sense to follow their examples.’

  ‘So you’re going to spend your time in New York drinking, dancing and dressing up?’

  ‘In between working and getting fit, yes! What’s wrong with that?’

  Henry shrugged. ‘Well, I just hope you can cope with it, that’s all. I mean, look at you. You’ve just morphed into every Manhattan bachelor’s dream woman. Every guy with eyes in his head is going to be hitting on you and you’re going to have to learn how to deal with it.’

  She shook her head dismissively. ‘That’s not really a concern. I couldn’t be further from wanting to date right now. And much less here. Kelly went on a date – practically at midnight – and then dumped the poor guy within ten minutes!’

  ‘But that’s my point. That’s how it is out here. And you’re not going to be able to hide, not looking like that.’

  Cassie looked down at her engineered cocktail dress. ‘I hardly think I’m going to suddenly turn into a man-magnet who needs to beat men off with a stick,’ she quipped.

  Henry stared at her. ‘You think? Because I could point out, right now, six different guys who’ve been looking like they want to shoot me for standing here talking to you.’ Cassie’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything he went on, ‘And if today was the first time you’ve had a wax or worn lipstick . . .’ He shook his head. ‘God help you when it comes to men. If you’re not careful, you’ll be pregnant or engaged within the month. Maybe both.’

  Cassie grew hot with anger at his patronizing tone. So much for the pliable little brother she and Suzy and Kelly and Anouk had tortured for years. He was acting more like her father right now.

  ‘You’re cross with me,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she said huffily, her cheeks pinking up. ‘I thought you were my friend. Instead you’re just . . . attacking me for trying to move on with my life. I wasn’t the one who threw away my marriage, you know.’

  ‘I just know the real Cassie, that’s all. I don’t want to see you get lost in this city. This place is more of a jungle than any I’ve ever been to.’

  Cassie stared at him hotly, trying to find a way to regain her ground. ‘Well, I think you’re wrong. I don’t think you do know the real me. You were a teenager when we saw each other last. What makes you such an authority on who I am?’ She drew herself up taller. ‘And you know what? I don’t think I am going to get lost here. I think this city suits me. I think that the person I was before was the wrong Cassie. And now I’m just putting everything right.’

  He stared at her for a long while before finally shrugging and looking away. ‘You’re probably right. What do I know? It was all a long time ago.’

  As he said this, a slim hand suddenly slid around his waist and between the button placket of his shirt, tweaking his chest hair slightly. A beautiful face appeared, resting on his shoulder – like the sun rising above the horizon – and the girl gave a dazzling smile. Her light brown hair had been lifted with sunny streaks around her face, highlighting her hazel eyes, and she eclipsed everyone there. Cassie felt her heart dive to the floor.

  ‘You must be Lacey,’ she said, taking a deep breath and managing to smile back.

  Three hours later, Cassie had the hiccups. ‘Well, you’ve just single-handedly proved Henry wrong,’ she hic’d, as Kelly looped her arm through hers and walked her slowly along Park Avenue.

  ‘Henry? What’s he been saying?’

  ‘Tch!’ Cassie tutted drunkenly. ‘He was so annoying. When did he get so bossy? He’s absolutely convinced you and Anouk and Suzy are going to get me engaged or pregnant within the month.’ She hiccupped and stopped suddenly. ‘No, let me rephrase that. He doesn’t think you’re going to get me pregnant,’ she said, doubling over with laughter.

  Kelly giggled along. She was half-cut, unlike Cassie, who, unaccustomed to nineteen-hour days and take-your-eyebrows-off cocktails on an empty stomach, was completely slaughtered.

  ‘He thinks your plan is going to get me pregnant,’ she slurred, straightening up again. ‘Because I’m a man-magnet now, did you know that?’ She giggled again, swishing her hair around her shoulders.

  Kelly nodded. ‘That was patently clear tonight. I must have intercepted – what? Eleven business cards?’

  Cassie squeezed her arm fondly. ‘See, that’s what he underestimated. The protection of old friends. You were better than any bouncer tonight.’

  ‘It’s too early for you to date yet,’ Kelly said, patting her arm.

  ‘It is too early for me to date yet,’ Cassie agreed happily. She sighed and rested her head on Kelly’s shoulder. Her feet had broken through the pain barrier and were now numb, and the alcohol had done a great job of numbing the rest of her pain. Already her life in Scotland seemed to belong to another person. She couldn’t imagine how she’d ever lain alone in that horrid four-poster (she’d never liked it. It was too ornate, and having been built four hundred years ago, also too short) counting down the days until Gil returned home for the weekend. Edinburgh was only sixty-eight miles away, but it was too far to commute to during the week, and although he was always home by six on a Friday, it was usually with a rowdy shooting party in tow.

  Look at me now, though, she thought, taking in the scene around her. It could have been two in the afternoon, there were so many people around still – some eating in burger joints, others talking in groups outside clubs, the restaurants still full, the roads still jammed. And the lights, so many lights. It was as though the sun was giving Manhattan Island a special extra-late bedtime, like an indulgent mother in the holidays.

  ‘I think I’m going to like it here,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Hmm? What was that?’ Kelly asked, putting her phone back into her bag. She’d been quickly checking her texts. No doubt Bebe was working through the night.

  ‘I said I like it here. I mean, I don’t know exactly where I am right now,’ she said, looking around blankly at the wall of glass skyscrapers. ‘Or what I’m officially supposed to do during my days as a Senior Account Executive –’ she enunciated her title with a particularly posh voice – ‘and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared of anyone as I am of Bebe, and I’ve certainly never been so tired in all my life. But I am still just so happy not to be back there, sitting down like an adult and discussing things rationally.’ She shook her head vehemently, and her hair swung half a beat behind her. ‘He’d have found a way to make it be my fault, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ Kelly said, squeezing her arm. ‘Which is why we need to get you a divorce lawyer.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Suzy says she knows a good one – one of her former grooms. We can’t have the bastard cheating you out of what’s rightfully yours. He’s cheated you enough already.’

  ‘There’s not going to be much coming to me, I can tell you that now. I signed a pre-nup. Everything’s tied up in trusts,’ Cassie said wearily as they reached the red awning.

  ‘Thanks, Bailey,’ Kelly said as the night porter opened the doors for them and called the elevator.

  ‘Thanks, Bailey,’ Cassie echoed drunkenly.

  They stepped inside and the doors closed. Cassie felt vaguely unhappy about the way the elevator seemed to be rocketing up the lift shaft.

  The doors opened and Kelly let them in to her apartment.

  ‘I’d offer to make you a coffee, but . . .’

  ‘You don’t have a kettle,’ Cassie intoned, sitting down on the
sofa to unzip her boots. The sensation of her bones spreading out in her feet was so good it was almost painful.

  Kelly did the same, closing her eyes for a moment as her stockinged feet made full contact with the floor for the first time in nineteen hours. ‘Men – if they only knew what women have to go through . . .’

  Cassie got up and wove her way over to the bathroom, using the walls – because the floor seemed to be swaying – for support.

  ‘You okay?’ Kelly asked, as Cassie paused for a moment at the doorway before lurching in and slamming the door shut with her foot.

  The sounds coming from behind the door suggested not.

  Chapter Five

  Kelly was at Bebe’s – having already taken a spinning class, held an updates meeting with her staff and hosted a press brunch for the Maddy Foxton/Oscar de la Renta partnership – when Cassie finally made it in. Five minutes before noon.

  She looked as bad as she’d sounded last night.

  ‘Did you even try to get a brush through your hair?’ Kelly whispered, grabbing her by the elbow and steering her down to the loos before Bebe saw her.

  ‘I don’t . . . I don’t . . . I don’t think this Argentinian perm thingy has read its job description,’ she moaned feebly as Kelly grabbed a brush from her bag. ‘I mean, I did try to get it flat and untangly but – ow! – that kept happening. Ow!’

  ‘Stop complaining,’ Kelly said brusquely. ‘You’ll be saying more than “ow” if Bebe catches sight of you looking like this. Have you eaten?’

  Cassie shook her head.

  ‘Right. I’ll get an egg-white omelette sent up.’

  At the thought of it Cassie instantly slapped a hand across her mouth and shook her head vigorously.

  ‘No?’ Getting some blusher and brushes out of her bag, Kelly quickly dusted over Cassie’s pallid complexion. ‘Hold out your finger.’

  Cassie obeyed. Kelly squeezed a small stream of sparkling coloured goo on it. Cassie looked at her. ‘Don’t say I have to eat that?’