Sister to Sister

by Olivia Hayfield

  ‘Maria didn’t say anything about a divorce.’

  ‘She probably doesn’t know yet. I’ll need to warn her, or she could have a nasty surprise in the post. I’ll call her later, when I’ve worked out what to say.’

  Something in Maria’s voice told Eliza she knew the truth.

  ‘I don’t think he’ll come back, Maria. I saw him here, in London. I’m so sorry, but to be honest, I think you’d be better off without him. The way he twists God’s words to serve his own ends, it’s not . . . well, it’s not Christian.’

  ‘You saw him?’

  ‘He wanted to find out how you were. I said you needed love and understanding. His take on things was a little different.’

  ‘He thinks God doesn’t see a future for us. Eliza, why would God not want us to be together?’ Her voice was bleak.

  ‘Maybe because God realizes Phil’s a fraud. Not a good man. Maybe God has something better planned for you. Something where you can make a difference – by yourself, not as someone’s helpmate.’

  Maria sighed. ‘I don’t fit in this world, Eliza. I feel like I’m in the wrong century. I won’t come back to Rose for a while. Perhaps I won’t come back at all.’

  ‘Whatever you decide, I’ll be right with you.’

  Eliza ended the call and looked out across London. Dusk was already snatching the feeble amount of light that remained on this raw midwinter day.

  Her heart bled for her sister, but she reflected that this whole distressing episode had brought the family closer together – and, unwittingly, Phil had solved the whole sister-versus-sister problem.

  ‘Thank you and goodnight, helpmate,’ she said.

  Later, Eliza FaceTimed Harry to fill him in on the situation. He was sitting on Janette’s pool deck; Clare leaned in to give Eliza a wave.

  ‘You both look . . . warm,’ said Eliza. ‘How’s La La Land?’

  ‘Everyone here’s appropriately insane,’ said Harry, ‘but it’s always fun in short bursts. So what did you want to discuss?’

  ‘Maria.’ She updated him, leaving out the part about Phil wanting to punish Eliza for her tempting ways. ‘So he’s cleared off – and don’t say I told you so, I hate it when you do that. I’m worried he’ll make some sort of claim on her share of the business. Do you think he would?’

  ‘No need to fret. I have dirt on Mr Seville. There’s tax evasion, political donations from so-called charity funds, all highly suspect. His duplicity is masterful – but obviously he wasn’t counting on a Cecil.’

  ‘Or a Harry.’

  Once again she was reminded why, even in ‘retirement’, Harry was one of Britain’s most powerful men – and why it was never a good idea to piss him off.

  ‘What’s next on the agenda?’ he said.

  ‘Ready to press Go with RoseGold. We’re putting out a media release. And a social media blast – Twitter, and so on.’

  ‘Good. You should formalise your team members’ roles. And Cecil will need to come on board full time too. Make him Chief Operating Officer.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Rob tells me you’re looking into co-funding your first production with a US distributor?’

  She took a moment to enjoy the image of Dad and Rob talking business. He was properly part of the family firm now.

  ‘Yes indeed.’

  ‘I have a proposition for you. One I think you might like.’

  ‘You going to give us some production money, Dad?’

  ‘Better. I thought the five of you could come over, while we’re in LA. You can invite potential co-producers on board Janette.’

  ‘That would be brilliant!’

  The last of her despondency flew. On Dad’s yacht with her team, bringing her vision to life.

  ‘I’m sure you can charm your way into funding for your first series,’ he said. ‘And, of course, US producers will be queuing up to pitch ideas to you for future film and TV. Tell Rob and Leigh to liaise with me. I’ll leave Will and Kit to you.’

  The press release announcing RoseGold was sent out to UK and US media, and the response was huge.

  ROSE CORP SET TO BE MAJOR PLAYER IN TV AND FILM read the headline in Variety.

  LONG LIVE THE NEW ROSE QUEEN! said the Telegraph (subhead Clean-up Queen Steps Down).

  HARRY ROSE’S TRUE HEIR, said Hello! and there was a photo of Harry and Eliza eating strawberries at last year’s Wimbledon.

  Rose Corp’s PR department was inundated with requests for interviews with Eliza. Such interest was inevitable, but she didn’t want it all to be focused on her. All her life, the media had been obsessed with Harry, and she’d watched and learned how he used that to his advantage. And, like Harry, Eliza was determined to keep her own private life just that. There would be a public face and a private one.

  She deflected some of the attention by pointing reporters towards Will and Kit, who were poised to be the new darlings of the arts world. They were already regulars at the Groucho Club, and Will was only too happy to offer frank opinions to the media on current drama and literature, while Kit enjoyed winding up journalists with his provocative and usually unfathomable pronouncements on the arts, sexuality, politics and religion.

  Trying to keep some modicum of control over their image, Eliza asked Terri to do a piece on the pair for The Rack. Her resistance was predictably fierce. Putting Eliza’s university pals on her front cover would be a ‘blatant piece of nepotistic puffery’. It was out of the question.

  ‘Dad loves them,’ said Eliza.

  ‘That’s not helping your case.’

  But then Eliza took the three of them to lunch.

  ‘Holy fuck,’ said Terri, afterwards. ‘Humble pie for pudding. I want those two writing for The Rack.’

  ‘Nope, they’re all mine,’ said Eliza. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Nice one, team,’ she said to Will and Kit that evening. ‘Ms Robbins-More’s praise is hard won.’

  ‘She’s magnificent,’ said Will. ‘And she got our take on Thomas More immediately. Really related to the character.’

  ‘Hardly surprising,’ said Kit.

  ‘Well, they do share a surname – half of one, anyway,’ said Eliza.

  ‘A little more than that,’ said Kit.

  When Eliza saw the cover design – New Era for Rose – featuring the three of them, she almost wept.

  ‘So much hair,’ said Rob.

  In the photo, Eliza was sitting on a golden chair, deliberately chosen to suggest ‘throne’, and Kit and Will were standing either side, hands on her shoulders. The stylist had played up her long red curls and pale skin and had dressed her in a beautiful long gown of rose pink and gold.

  Will and Kit were in gold-coloured suits, their tousled locks tumbling artistically over their collars, looking like a louche pair of enfants terribles.

  When the issue came out, the cover was shared everywhere. Brits set to take TV and film by storm tweeted Entertainment Weekly.

  They were ready to go.

  Meetings were set up with producers, flights were booked, and Eliza and Leigh took themselves Hollywood-power-clothes shopping.

  Rob, Kit and Will perfected their pitch for Most Human of Saints. Normally the meeting would be on the producers’ own turf, but Harry’s personal invitations to join him on Janette had worked like a dream. They had their captive audience.

  ‘Ready to slay,’ Leigh said, as they finally left the office at close to midnight, the night before they were due to fly out.

  A limo was waiting at LAX, and they had an Is this for real? moment as it whisked them off to Del Rey Landing.

  Harry and Clare welcomed them aboard Janette.

  ‘Hello, Rob,’ said Clare, as he kissed her cheek. ‘Isn’t this all terribly exciting?’

  Eliza introduced Leigh, Kit and Will to her step-mother. They were looking around them in astonishment.

  ‘If money goes before, all ways do lie open,’ said Will.

  ‘That’s the general idea,’ said Harry.

&n
bsp; ‘Timmo!’ said Eliza.

  ‘G’day, Eliza!’

  ‘Frankie!’ said Leigh, as their friend appeared in crew uniform.

  ‘It’s like the start of a Famous Five book,’ said Harry. ‘All together again for the hols. Down, Timmo!’

  Eliza laughed. ‘Five Go to Hollywood. So good to be back on board, Dad. Thanks for this.’

  She was in the same suite as before. She showered, and changed into a stripey sundress. No tights!

  On the pool deck, Harry was chatting with Rob.

  ‘Something to drink?’ he said.

  ‘Wizard. Ginger beer?’ Eliza sat down next to him.

  ‘Good one,’ said Rob. ‘Where’s Dick and Julian?’

  ‘Probably off on one of their adventures.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Harry, finishing his beer. ‘See you at dinner, children.’

  ‘He says I owe him five hundred quid,’ said Rob, once Harry was out of earshot. ‘Apparently Dad’s claiming it back – we weren’t officially together for long enough.’

  ‘Tosh. There was no small print. Dad earned it fair and square.’

  They looked out over the marina, where the sky was turning pink. It was peaceful; the only sounds were the cry of seagulls, the clink clink of ropes on masts, and the puttering of small boats coming back to their moorings.

  ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ said Eliza.

  ‘It is. As is your dress. You look like a Brighton deckchair.’

  ‘I could do with a stroll after sitting on that plane for hours. Shall we?’

  They walked down the gangplank, passing Frankie doing something with a rope. She caught Eliza’s eye, raised her eyebrows at Rob and winked.

  Indeed, Rob-in-shorts was a pleasant surprise. Eliza was so used to seeing him in a suit these days. His bare legs took her back to summers past, running wild in Richmond Park, hiding in the long grass pretending to stalk the deer.

  ‘I used to love how you always saved me your last Smartie,’ she said, as they set off along the boardwalk.

  ‘No, I gave you the blue ones. ’Cause I didn’t trust them.’

  ‘No, you definitely saved me your last ones.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have done such a thing for a girl.’

  ‘You so did.’

  ‘Remember how we used to turn the tubes into blow-guns and fire them at the deer?’ he said.

  ‘And sherbet fountains. You always gave me the liquorice.’

  ‘Obviously, ’cause I hate liquorice.’

  ‘Rob, stop trashing my childhood memories of you being sweet to me.’

  They walked around the basin past the yachts, then headed onto an esplanade. The sun burned gold, dripping onto the horizon, and they stopped, leaning on the railings as it hit the sea. The clouds lit up in shades of pink, purple and gold.

  ‘That’s just unfair on a couple trying to be discreet,’ said Eliza. ‘Stupid sunset.’

  Rob put an arm around her waist. ‘True. But we’re practically in Hollywood, therefore an appropriate response is expected. I now turn to you, tuck your hair behind your ear, and suggest that while we’re hidden away on a big boat, no one will notice if we let our guard down.’

  ‘You think?’

  He turned to her and tucked a curl behind her ear. ‘Not quite sure what happens next.’

  ‘I run my fingers through your hair and remind you we’re here to work.’

  She ran her fingers through his hair.

  ‘I reply, There’s more to life than bloody work, Lizzie.’

  ‘And I say, It’s all about priorities. I need to be in the right head space for all this. And so do you.’

  Rob shook his head. ‘I then ignore you, and do this.’

  He kissed her, and resistance was impossible. There was an overwhelming sense of coming home.

  ‘That was lovely,’ she said, after a while. ‘But seriously. No more until the job’s done.’

  Chapter 30

  Eliza

  The next two days were a blur of meetings, pitches, pressing the flesh, tweaking their presentations, listening to Hollywood executives pitching their own ideas. Evenings were spent debriefing.

  Before the first meeting, Eliza thought she might throw up from nerves. Could she really be doing this? Presenting to hard-nosed Hollywood executives?

  Harry helped things along. He began with introductions, building them up, laying on the English charm. Then Eliza outlined RoseGold’s mission, emphasising their goals of originality and excellence, before handing over to Rob for the big sell. His exuberant enthusiasm transitioned beautifully into Will and Kit’s pitch, Will adding drama, Kit’s words transfixing some and confusing others. Finally, Leigh concluded with the business side of things. The team soon had it down to a fine art.

  On the final day, Harry said he’d bet a cool million they’d have their pick of partners and projects. They were drinking champagne on deck; celebration was in the air.

  Another beautiful sunset beckoned, and Eliza looked over at Rob. They’d spent no time alone since that first day. After two glasses of champagne, feeling the stress lifting, the time was right to slip away.

  But before she could say anything, Kit appeared at her side. ‘Hey, come for a walk?’

  ‘Now?’

  Her eyes flicked over to Rob, who gave a small shrug.

  ‘OK.’

  Kit bought them beers from a bottle store, and they sat on the harbour wall, looking out to sea. Now that the pitches were done, he’d changed into a faded blue T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. With his tousled blond hair, he fitted right in here in California.

  ‘To you,’ he said, clinking his bottle against hers. ‘You pulled all this together.’

  ‘I’m exhausted.’ She edged closer and leaned on him. ‘Kit – you and Will. You’re on the brink of something amazing. Just . . . stay true?’

  ‘You mean don’t go the full Hollywood.’

  ‘Never do that. Some of those guys we met. It’s like they’d sell their souls for success.’

  ‘Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.’

  He lit a cigarette.

  Eliza grimaced. ‘I wish you’d give up. Cigarettes aren’t a substitute for food. Do you have a death wish?’

  ‘Very possibly.’ He draped an arm around her shoulder. ‘How’re things with Rob?’

  ‘Good. He reckons he’ll be divorced by summer. How about you? Kit – are you and Will . . . ?’

  ‘He’s in a huff, didn’t you notice?’

  ‘No – why?’

  ‘Caught me with Timmo.’ He laughed, and dragged on his cigarette.

  Eliza bristled. ‘For god’s sake, Kit. That’s just cruel.’

  He said nothing.

  She looked at him. ‘Do you really not believe in love?’

  ‘Meh.’ His face was impassive; he gazed out to sea.

  ‘Why are you like this? I’m so open with you. You know it all. Well, most of it. Why can’t you be the same with me?’

  He glanced at her briefly.

  ‘Kit?’

  ‘Sorry. I guess . . . I had it. Once. It was stolen from me and I’m not going there again.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Nope. That’s all.’

  It was way more than she’d ever got before.

  ‘But, Kit, everyone gets their heart broken at least once. It doesn’t mean you can’t try again. And it definitely doesn’t mean you go around breaking other people’s. Make it up with Will; treat him right.’

  He hopped down off the wall and stood facing her. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Catch me.’ She jumped, and he caught her round the waist.

  ‘And, Kit?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve had it more than once. Love, I mean. You’ve got it now.’

  They set off back, and he kept an arm round her. It felt nice. Really, a soulmate who happened to look like the most beautiful of Greek gods was a wonderful thing. Even if he was . . .

  ‘Timmo, Kit?’


  He grinned. ‘Gotta love those blokey Aussies.’ He threw his cigarette butt on the ground.

  Eliza stopped. ‘Pick it up. You may be trashing your own life, but can you at least keep the planet beautiful?’

  ‘Jeez, you’re such a control freak.’ He picked it up and flicked it in the water.

  ‘Kit!’ What was wrong with him today? ‘Why are you being obnoxious?’

  ‘I am?’

  She stood facing him. ‘You should really sort your shit out.’

  ‘Not a hope,’ he said. He met her gaze, and for a moment she glimpsed something.

  She touched his cheek. ‘I wish you’d talk to me.’

  ‘I do. You just don’t always listen.’

  ‘I promise to listen, Kit. Any time you want.’

  He looked at her for a moment. ‘Thanks, babe.’

  Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her, gently. She tasted cigarettes.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. ‘Help me stay true.’

  ‘I will.’ She put her arms around him, hugging him tight.

  They set off walking again, and as she glanced up at Janette, she saw Rob standing at the rails, watching them.

  ‘Oh god, I think Rob saw that.’

  ‘Good. Keep him on his twinkly fuckin’ toes.’

  Eliza eyed the clothes in her wardrobe, wondering what to wear for their last night. She was looking forward to winding down. Their days here had been relentless, intense, with so much at stake. Her chance to realize her dream distilled into short, sharp, back-toback meetings.

  Jeans and T-shirt were calling – she’d done quite enough power dressing. But she wanted to look good for Rob. He’d been brilliant; she owed him so much. Tonight she’d show her appreciation, and would prove she was indeed aware that there was more to life than work.

  She wondered what he was feeling about what he’d seen. He had a problem with Kit, this she knew. They were chalk and cheese. Alpha male and . . . whatever Kit was. A lone wolf, perhaps. Rob always seemed wary of him, didn’t get him, or their friendship.

  She chose a short black dress, slipped on strappy heels, tamed her hair into glossy waves and finished with a spritz of musky perfume.