by Miranda Lee
It seemed unbelievable to Henry that any woman would look elsewhere when she had a man like Leo in her life and in her bed.
‘So, who was the silly girl sleeping with?’ he asked. ‘One of her leading men, I suppose?’
‘All of them, it seems,’ Leo admitted drily. ‘Or so I found out later. I only caught her with one of them. She claimed it was only sex; that she did it to relax during a shoot. I didn’t quite see it that way. Now, could we talk about something else? This wine, perhaps?’
‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s as good as any you can buy in Europe.’
‘There’s nothing to compare with a South Australian Shiraz. And there’s nothing to compare with Sydney Harbour on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Let’s hope the good weather holds, then,’ Leo said.
‘It should. I just hope Violet doesn’t do a runner at the last moment.’
‘You think she might?’
Henry frowned. ‘Actually, no, I don’t. Which is odd in itself. She sounded different on the phone just now. More confident. No; I think she’ll turn up. I just hope she doesn’t come as someone boring like Jane Eyre. Or a nun.’
‘Most of the movies I’ve seen with nuns in them aren’t boring.’
‘True. Violet would probably come as the nun in that old movie set during the war on an island in the Pacific. What was it, now?’
‘Heaven Knows, Mr Allison.’
He slanted Leo an admiring glance. ‘Yes, that’s the one. You do know your movies, don’t you?’
‘I should do. It’s my job. Besides, that particular movie was one of Aunt Vicky’s favourites.’
‘Dear Victoria,’ Henry said wistfully. ‘I still miss her terribly, you know.’
‘So do I.’ Leo’s aunt had died a few years back, not long before Leo had married Helene. Perhaps, if she’d been alive, Aunt Vicky would have seen through Helen’s surface beauty to the ugliness which lay beneath. She’d been an excellent judge of character.
‘You know, Henry, Aunt Vicky would have loved this place.’
‘Yes. I do believe she would have. Shall we have a toast to her?’ Henry suggested.
Leo smiled with fond remembrance. ‘Why not? To Aunt Vicky,’ he said as he reached over and clinked his glass against Henry’s. ‘Who, if she were alive today, would definitely not come to your New Year’s Eve party dressed as a nun.’
Henry chuckled. ‘You’d be right there. Nothing shy and retiring about Victoria.’
They each took a deep swallow of their wine, after which both men fell silent.
Leo’s thoughts returned to Henry’s assistant, Violet. She sounded an intriguing sort of girl. He couldn’t wait to meet her. Couldn’t wait to see what she would wear to Henry’s party. He wished that the party was tonight. But it wasn’t; he’d have to wait two more whole days till New Year’s Eve. Darn! Patience was not one of his virtues.
CHAPTER THREE
‘THERE’S NO NEED for you to be nervous,’ Joy said to Violet as they drew nearer to the street where Henry lived. ‘You look beautiful.’
Violet knew that Joy was just saying that to make her feel better. She didn’t look beautiful—she looked petrified. Which was exactly what she was, all her new-found boldness having flown out the window the moment she’d climbed into Joy’s car for the drive over to Point Piper. It seemed that thinking about going to Henry’s party was a lot different from actually going.
‘I don’t think I can do this, Joy,’ she blurted out, her hands turning clammy as they twisted together in her lap.
Joy sighed, then pulled the car over to the kerbside. But she didn’t turn the small sedan around. She just switched off the engine then faced Violet with stern grey eyes.
‘Do I have to remind you what happened on that plane, Violet? And what you told me you’d decided to do from now on?’
Shame made Violet grimace. She’d been so full of resolve after her near-death experience, so determined to change. Yet here she was, skittering to a halt at the first hurdle.
‘A life lived in fear, Violet, is no life at all,’ Joy quoted from somewhere. ‘But it’s up to you. I’ll take you home if that’s what you really want. But you’ll hate yourself in the morning.’
Violet already hated herself.
Joy reached over and touched her gently on her whitened knuckles. ‘I know it must be hard for you to do this. Bad habits are very difficult to break. But you have to start somewhere. You can’t hide yourself away for the rest of your life. You’re no longer a teenage girl with a face full of pimples and scars. You’re a lovely young woman with clear skin, beautiful eyes and a figure I would have killed for when I was your age.’
‘Really?’
‘God, yes. I had no bust to speak of, even in my twenties. And no hips either. But we’re talking about you, dear, not me. So what’s it to be? Are you going to your boss’s party, or are you going to be a wishy-washy lily-livered little nincompoop and ask me to take you home?’
Violet could not help it. She laughed, her laughter breaking some of the tension which had been gathering inside her chest since she’d got dressed this evening.
‘Of course,’ Joy rattled on, ‘if you ask me to take you home, I’m going to be very annoyed indeed. It took me ages to find that infernal costume amongst all the sentimental stuff I’ve kept over the years, then even longer to alter it to fit you. When Lisa played Snow White in her college review she was skinny and flat-chested like me. Look at all the work I had to do on that bodice alone, cutting it down the middle, then adding facings and putting in eyelets and laces so that we could give your very nice bustline more room.’
Violet glanced down at the bodice of her costume, startled to find that from that angle all she could see were two half-mounds of naked flesh oozing out of the top. She hadn’t realised that so much of her breasts were on display. Standing up, her reflection in Joy’s full-length mirror hadn’t looked quite so daring. Such a sight only added to her nervous state. She wasn’t used to showing off her body.
Lady Gwendaline didn’t mind, however, came the unexpected thought. She flashed her cleavage around with panache, enjoying the effect it had on Captain Strongbow.
‘And don’t forget all the money you’ve spent on everything else,’ Joy continued relentlessly. ‘New shoes. Hair. Make-up. All wasted if you go home now.’
Strangely, it was thinking of Lady Gwendaline’s boldness which made up Violet’s mind more than Joy pointing out the money she’d spent on herself.
Violet scooped in a deep breath before unlocking her twisted fingers then breathing slowly out. ‘All right. I’ll go.’
Joy’s face lit up. ‘That’s marvellous. I’m so proud of you.’
Violet didn’t feel all that proud of herself. Not yet. Underneath, she still felt petrified. But to go back home was unthinkable now.
‘If you don’t mind my making a suggestion...’ Joy said as she started the engine once more. ‘Have a glass or two of wine when you first get there. Nothing like a bit of Dutch courage to settle the nerves.’
‘All right,’ Violet agreed, thinking it was a good idea.
‘When you really think about it, Violet, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a party.’
Violet straightened her shoulders and steeled her resolve. Joy was right. It was just a party; nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t as though she was going to be left totally alone with a roomful of strangers. Henry would be there and at least one of his authors, whom Violet had met, or at least talked to over the phone.
Unfortunately, however, there would be lots of people there she didn’t know—clever, cultured people, the kind Henry liked to socialise with. People from the artistic world. Playwrights and painters. Musicians and movie people.
‘Oh my goodness, I forgot!’ Violet exclaimed just as Joy pulled into the steep driveway which led down to the guest car park attached to Henry’s apartment block. ‘His son will be there.’
‘The movie producer?’
Henry was always talking to Violet about his son and his successes, information which she had imparted to Joy.
‘Yes. Leo. He came over from London to spend Christmas and New Year with his father.’
‘And that’s a problem?’
‘No. No, I guess not. It’s just that... Well, he’s rather famous, isn’t he?’ Not to mention very good-looking. Henry had a photo of him dressed in a tuxedo on his desk. It had been taken at an awards night when one of his movies had won best picture.
‘Did his wife come with him?’
‘His wife?’ Violet echoed blankly.
‘Isn’t he married to Helene Williams? The actress?’
‘He was. They’re divorced now.’
‘Keep well away from him, then,’ Joy warned as she pulled up next to a flashy red sports car. ‘Especially if that’s his car.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Joy, I doubt a man like Leo Wolfe would ever be interested in someone like me. For one thing, he has to be well over forty. He has a twenty-year-old son from his first marriage.’ Violet had actually met the son, Liam, when he’d been down under for a backpacking holiday earlier in the year. He’d stayed with his grandfather for a few days and had come into the office one day. A very good-looking boy. And extremely charming.
‘Older men often like pretty young girls,’ Joy pointed out drily. Especially sweet, innocent ones like you, she didn’t add. But she thought it. Lord, but she hoped she’d done the right thing, encouraging Violet to doll herself up and go to this party. It had seemed the right thing at the time, with Violet wanting so desperately to throw off her hang-ups and lead a more normal life for a twenty-five-year-old girl.
It was obvious by the look of this place, however—harbour-side apartments in Point Piper cost heaps—that Violet’s wealthy boss and his even wealthier son lived and mixed in circles where traditional values and morals were not necessarily adhered to. The rich and the famous lived life by their own rules. Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Violet to have a drink or two.
Still, she could hardly start raising her doubts now. And she wasn’t Violet’s mother, after all.
But she did feel responsible for her. Violet had become more than a boarder in the years they’d lived together. She was a dear friend. But she’d be a babe in the woods in the company she’d be keeping tonight.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Joy piped up in what she hoped was a casual-sounding voice. ‘You’re going to have the devil of a time getting a taxi home after midnight on New Year’s Eve. What say I come back and pick you up around one o’clock?’
Violet looked taken aback by the offer. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that, Joy.’
‘Don’t be silly. I won’t be asleep; I’ll be staying up to watch the fireworks, as always. I could leave straight after they’re finished. I’ll give you a ring once I get here. You have your phone with you, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Violet said. ‘In here.’ And she lifted the silver clutch bag she’d bought for the occasion.
‘That’s settled, then. Off you go, now, before you start having second thoughts again.’
Violet opened the car door and got out, after which she bent down to give Joy a shaky smile. ‘Thanks for everything, Joy.’
Joy stifled a groan as she took one last look at Violet’s impressive bosom spilling out over the tightly laced bodice. ‘I, er, might be a bit earlier than one o’clock,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It shouldn’t take me too long to get from Newtown to here at that time of night.’
‘Whenever you can get here will be fine. So what’s the time now? I’m not wearing a watch.’
Joy glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Nearly eight-thirty.’
Violet frowned. The invitation had said any time after eight, but everything seemed very quiet. She would have expected the guest car park to be full by now and people to be arriving every few minutes. She knew Henry had asked around sixty people, because she herself had emailed out the invitations, of which at least fifty had RSVP’d that they were coming.
‘Do you think I’m too early?’
‘Maybe. Do you want to get back in the car and wait a while?’
Violet knew if she did that she might never get out again. Her stomach was beginning to churn again. ‘No. No, best I go inside. Thanks again, Joy, for driving me. And for offering to pick me up.’
‘No trouble.’
‘Off you go, then. I’ll be fine. I know the way.’ She’d been to Henry’s apartment a couple of times, once before he bought it and once a few months after, Henry having wanted her to see what he’d done with it. Despite the place coming fully furnished, he’d added quite a few touches of his own to counter the starkly modern decor. He’d put some turquoise and silver cushions on the white leather sofas and warmed all the white walls with some brightly coloured paintings, mostly seascapes done by local artists.
There was no doubt it was a spectacular looking apartment with a spectacular view of the harbour, but it wasn’t the sort of place Violet would have felt comfortable living in. All the walls facing the harbour were glass without a single curtain or blind to provide privacy. Violet knew she would feel very exposed living there, like a fish in a glass bowl.
Not a bad setting for a New Year’s Eve party, however.
Violet frowned again as she stared up at the still-empty driveway. Where was everyone? It did seem strange that no one had driven in since her own arrival. Maybe they were already inside. Maybe she wasn’t early; maybe she was late.
There was only one way to find out, she supposed. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and made her way over to the glass-walled foyer of the building. Inside, a security guard sat behind a large curved reception desk. The design of the building was big on curves; all the glass walls facing the harbour were gently curved, as well as the balconies which fronted the entire length of each apartment.
A buzzer rang when she pushed open the door, bringing the guard’s head up from whatever he was doing. Probably reading. He looked around sixty, a jovial-faced fellow with a ready smile.
‘You’ll be here for Mr Wolfe’s party, by the look of you,’ he said cheerily.
‘Yes,’ she said, trying not to feel foolish in her Snow White costume.
‘Name, please, miss?’ the guard enquired.
‘What? Oh...er...Violet Green.’
His head dropped, presumably to check Henry’s guest list.
When he looked up again, he was still smiling. ‘You can go on up, Miss Green.’
‘Thank you. Has...um...anyone else arrived yet?’
‘Only the caterers, miss. You’re the first guest.’
She sighed a deep sigh. ‘Oh dear.’
‘I’m sure it won’t be long before the others get here. Mr Wolfe’s parties are always very popular. Ah, look, there, didn’t I tell you? There’s someone else arriving now.’
Violet glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a white stretch-limousine slide down the steep driveway before being expertly manoeuvred to stop reasonably close to the foyer door. A smartly uniformed chauffeur alighted and strode round to open the back door, standing to attention as Henry the Eighth climbed out followed by one of his wives; impossible to guess which wife. One with her head still on. Whatever, the costumes were extremely elaborate and expensive, making Violet feel instantly ill at ease in her home-made outfit.
Not that it wasn’t well made; it was. And very close to the picture most people had in their head of what Snow White had worn. It had an ankle-length gathered skirt made in a pale-blue silk, the same pale-blue silk used in the puffed sleeves. The fitted bodice was made in red velvet which matched the red velvet band in Violet’s hair, hair which she’d had dyed black for the night and styled in a shoulder-length bob.
Her shoes were black patent pumps with small heels and diamante-encrusted bows on the front, the closest she’d been able to get to the shoes in the picture of Snow White she’d printed off the Internet. The stiff stand-up collar which wrapped around her neck
and framed her face was white. The only major difference in her own costume was the laced-up front, a necessity to make the costume fit.
She’d actually felt very happy with her costume...till now.
‘Is there a ladies room down here?’ she quickly asked the security guard before the swish new arrivees swept into the foyer. ‘I’d like to freshen up a bit before going upstairs.’ Despite Henry’s apartment being number one, it was located on the first floor of the building, the ground floor taken up with the owners’ car park.
‘Just down that corridor, miss,’ he indicated. ‘Right next to the lift.’
‘Oh, yes, I can see it. Thank you.’
Her hand was actually on the powder-room door when Joy’s voice popped into her head.
You’re not going to be a wishy-washy, lily-livered little nincompoop, are you?
Shame and anger revived her determination to have done with her silly shy self once and for all. With her bag clutched tightly in one hand, she moved on to firmly press the lift button instead. The doors opened immediately and she stepped inside.
This is New Year’s Eve, Violet lectured herself as she rode the lift up to the first floor. A night for facing things head-on; a night where the past was finally put aside in favour of the future. It’s up to you, Violet, to make that future a better place. A bolder place. A place where you finally look in the mirror and see the truth. Your Snow White might not be the fairest in the land but you are an attractive, intelligent woman. There’s no need for you to go through life alone. No need to shrink away from social situations just because they’re out of your comfort zone.
Lady Gwendaline never shrank away from anything, she reminded herself. And, boy, she’d been really out of her comfort zone when she’d been kidnapped by that ruffian. Whenever you feel your courage or your confidence waning, think of her and what she would do. Don’t be shy. And, above all, don’t be a wishy-washy, lily-livered little nincompoop!
CHAPTER FOUR
