Original Sin

by Tasmina Perry

  ‘Hey, I haven’t taken the job yet, remember,’ she smiled. ‘Maybe you can persuade me.’

  Charles stood up and gestured for Tess to follow. Glancing around like a stage villain, he led her into a quiet alcove and they sat down in a window seat upholstered in purple velvet.

  ‘Howard and Meredith got married at Meredith’s parents’ home in Louisiana,’ began Charles with relish. ‘In Nineteen Sixty–four, I think. Her family had money – new money, mind you. Father had bought one of those antebellum plantation houses from an old sugar–caning family that had lost everything, and that was where they got married. Think Gone With the Wind, only right down by the river. Anyway, on the night of the nuptials, one of their wedding guests went missing. An actress called Olivia Martin. A beautiful, vivacious girl. The best ankles in Hollywood,’ he added without a hint of irony.

  ‘How awful,’ said Tess.

  ‘It certainly was for poor Meredith and her lovely new husband, Howard, especially with all the allegations that were flying about.’

  ‘What allegations?’ asked Tess, hoping desperately that Dom would stay searching for coffee. She didn’t want anything to interrupt this story.

  ‘Olivia was last seen at the party after the ceremony. She was staying in a guest cottage on the estate. When they realized she was missing, police were called and her cottage was found unlocked and empty.’

  ‘What do they suppose happened to her?’

  Charles shrugged. ‘Suicide, perhaps. She was addicted to dolls, what we called barbiturates in those days. Every starlet was on dolls; it was part of the scene. And she was known to be depressed about something. Theory was she walked into the Mississippi – it was yards from the cottage.’

  ‘That’s horrible, but it’s hardly a scandal, is it?’ said Tess. ‘I mean, no one could blame the Asgills, could they?’

  Charles smiled knowingly.

  ‘There were whispers – and they were only whispers once people had been paid off – that Olivia was murdered, and some people were pointing the finger at Howard Asgill. Apparently he and Olivia had been having an affair.’

  ‘From what you were saying about Wendell, that doesn’t surprise me,’ said Tess, feeling a sense of intrigue. ‘But it doesn’t mean to say he killed her, does it?’

  Charles shook his head. ‘Of course not, and that was why the story went away. There was no body, no proof. No evidence of any kind, in fact. Stories appeared everywhere about the extent of Olivia’s drink and drug problem and how depressed she was. People believed that she had wanted to die.’

  Tess let out a long breath. ‘Well, I had no idea.’

  ‘No, most people haven’t,’ said Charles. ‘After all, it was decades ago. Forgotten. But, bringing us back to the present day and to you, my dear … one dead starlet is enough scandal for the Asgills for one lifetime, especially when their daughter is marrying America’s bright new political hope. No wonder Meredith wants to hire a troubleshooter.’

  ‘Nothing to do with my abilities, of course,’ smiled Tess.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll do a marvellous job,’ said Charles thoughtfully. ‘Trouble is, the appointment might well be fifty years too late.’

  *

  ‘Darling, how are you enjoying yourself?’

  Brooke turned to her mother and embraced her. She smiled, knowing that Meredith had spent the evening having the time of her life, mingling like a statesperson. Brooke had to admit she looked the part too. Her hair was styled back into a champagne bun. She had on a long blue dress that Brooke recognized from the cowl neck as Oscar de la Renta and a large sapphire sat regally on a string of fat pearls around her neck.

  ‘It’s been a lovely night,’ said Brooke, ‘despite the fact it’s full of “close friends” I’ve never seen before in my life,’ she added playfully. ‘So who was that I saw you talking to earlier? The pretty girl in the sparkly dress? Good–looking man with her.’

  Meredith looked over to the other side of the ballroom where she could see Tess sipping coffee while her boyfriend drank his champagne rather too quickly.

  ‘That’s Tess Garrett. She may be doing some public relations for the family in the run–up to the wedding. I must introduce you.’

  ‘Oh, Mom! What do we need a publicist for? I’ve told you, I want to keep things as normal as possible. For my sanity, please?’

  ‘Did I hear the words “public relations”?’ said a deep voice behind them. ‘Do you really think this lovely young lady needs any more publicity?’ laughed Wendell Billington, putting his arms around the two women. David’s father was an impressive–looking man, with dark, narrow eyes and a strong chin. He wasn’t tall, but he had a presence that seemed to overfill his space. ‘You needn’t worry, my dear,’ he continued in his gravelly baritone. ‘My office will be overseeing the communications side of the wedding, keeping a lid on it all. I’m sure we’ve all started thinking about the guest list, and there will obviously be security issues with some of the people attending.’

  ‘Of course, Wendell,’ smiled Meredith, putting a hand on his forearm. ‘We were just talking about someone working for the Asgill group. Hello, is that Alessandro Franchetti?’ she said suddenly, looking over Wendell’s shoulder. ‘Where on earth has he been all evening? I thought he might be a bit more noticeable, the amount we’re paying him.’

  As Alessandro approached, Brooke kissed him lightly on both cheeks, but his expression remained grim.

  ‘I haven’t seen you all evening,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I haven’t been here all evening,’ he hissed back, leading her away from Meredith and Wendell. ‘I’ve been firefighting.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

  ‘Everything’s the matter,’ said Alessandro. ‘This afternoon I phoned the owner of the Hudson Lodge in Duchess County to tell him we definitely wanted it for the wedding. He said I should contact someone else about it – someone in Dubai.’

  ‘Dubai?’ said Brooke, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  ‘Last week he agreed to sell it to some sheikh.’

  ‘Then why did we drive seventy miles to look at it yesterday?’ said Brooke, her cheeks burning and tears welling in her eyes. Alessandro looked at the floor.

  ‘I’d been dealing with his sister,’ he said. ‘She obviously wasn’t in the loop.’

  ‘Darling, what’s the matter?’ said Meredith, seeing Brooke’s distress.

  ‘There’s a problem with Hudson Lodge,’ said Alessandro. ‘The good news is that the new owner wants to renovate it to the standard of The Point in the Adirondacks.’

  ‘And the bad news … ?’ asked Meredith.

  ‘Work on it won’t be starting for three months and renovation will take over a year. That means we’re looking at next fall at the earliest.’

  Brooke took a deep breath through her nose and willed herself not to get upset. It’s only a venue, she reminded herself. It doesn’t mean anything. But suddenly she thought of the shooting star in Paris, only this time the glittering orb was obscured by a big grey cloud.

  Wendell took a step forward and rubbed Brooke’s arm kindly. ‘Perhaps you should reconsider our place in Newport?’ he said.

  Brooke had a sudden flutter of panic, feeling the wedding getting further and further from the vision she had always had of her perfect day; a relaxed, happy, perfect occasion with the barefoot bride saying her vows next to lapping water. Yes, Cliffpoint, the Billington’s summer ‘cottage’, as David liked to call it, was majestic, but it was like a museum, so manicured and painstakingly tended. Brooke wanted wildness, rawness, the romance of nature. She didn’t want Cliffpoint, or Lily Salter as her bridesmaid. Wasn’t planning your wedding supposed to be fun?

  ‘Surely Cliffpoint would be perfect for a spring wedding, don’t you agree, Meredith?’ continued Wendell. ‘We have to make sure we’re sending out the right signals. Family values are important to us.’

&nbs
p; Meredith looked conflicted, although she was disguising it well.

  ‘Thank you for your suggestion, Wendell,’ said a deep voice, ‘But it’s all under control.’

  Just then Brooke felt two warm hands on her shoulders and turned to see a handsome older man smiling down at her. It was her Uncle Leonard. Leonard was Meredith’s brother, younger by a couple of years, and he had taken on a fatherly role since the death of Brooke’s own father. Brooke smiled back at him gratefully; his was just the friendly face she needed when she was feeling under such pressure.

  ‘I’ve offered Brooke and David Jewel Key,’ said Leonard smoothly. ‘We think it will be perfect. Keeps it in the family too. Didn’t you tell them Brooke? David and I have just been discussing it.’

  Brooke caught Leonard’s lightning–fast wink, then took a slow, deliberate sip of champagne to cover her grin. David walked over and gave her a reassuring nod.

  ‘Jewel Key? What’s that?’ said Alessandro, clearly searching his mental database for a mention of the venue.

  ‘It’s my house in the Florida Keys,’ replied Leonard. ‘I didn’t want to offer it before; didn’t want to butt in on the bride’s big day.’

  ‘Oh but it’s gorgeous,’ gushed Brooke, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it before. ‘It’s beautiful big white conch house on its own little island, a few miles from Islamorada. We used to go every winter. It would be ideal, Uncle Leonard!’

  David nodded. ‘And the weather is perfect from late November,’ he said, smiling at Brooke’s delight. ‘The hurricane season will be over. It won’t be too hot.’

  ‘A winter wedding,’ smiled Brooke, grabbing David’s arm and squeezing.

  ‘What about New Year’s Eve?’ he asked.

  Alessandro raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the party. ‘Impossible. Half this crowd will be in St Barts or Palm Beach.’

  ‘Well, if they’ve got better things to do, then we’ll uninvite them,’ said Brooke happily.

  ‘Thinking about security,’ said Wendell, stroking his chin, ‘it might be a good thing if the world thinks it’s going to be at Hudson Lodge sometime next summer. I’ll speak to my contacts in Dubai. Get in touch with the new owner. See if they’ll be in on it.’

  ‘It couldn’t have worked out better,’ said Brooke, throwing her arms around Leonard’s neck. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’

  Leonard picked her up and laughed. ‘I take it that’s a yes, then?’

  *

  All her life, Tess had wanted money. Not in the way Dom liked money: to keep up with or show off to his coterie of privileged public school friends. Tess wanted money because she had never had it growing up. The bankruptcy of her father’s business had not only destroyed the family, it had destroyed his self–worth because the bank – and your fellow men – judged you on your ability to pay your bills. Her father had died unhappy because he felt he had failed his family, failed as a man. Tess never wanted anybody to make her feel inferior, and it had fed her ambition like petrol on a bonfire. The red soles on her Louboutin shoes were a statement that she could afford nice things, but also that she could take care of herself. She loved ticking the ‘Over seventy–five thousand pounds’ income bracket on magazine questionnaires, and was one of the few people who actually enjoyed getting accosted by the charity muggers on the high street, as when she signed the direct debit form, she felt she was in control. So, if she was honest, when Meredith Asgill had offered her the job of family publicist, the only thing that had really stopped Tess taking the job immediately was that niggling feeling that the job was a mirage. After all, this was a clever, influential family who had no qualms about offering Tess a large bribe to make a story disappear. QED, there was a strong chance that the high–paying job in New York – a city that every ambitious twenty–something wanted to work in – was simply a more acceptable bribe.

  During dinner at the Connaught the previous evening, Meredith had certainly spun some wonderful tales about life in Manhattan that were clearly designed to whet a young girl’s appetite for the glamorous excesses of living in New York. But Tess was still concerned that the ‘job’ was the equivalent of the ‘project development’ room at the Globe, the sideways promotion given to troublesome or failing executives. It was not a proper job, just a well–paid purgatory to keep the marked person busy until the CEO and their team of lawyers had worked out an inexpensive way to fire them.

  But now, after Charles Devine’s revelations, it looked as if Tess had been mistaken about Meredith’s offer. There really was a job to be done protecting the Asgills. There were secrets. Plenty of secrets. And Tess’s gut feeling – a reliable instinct honed on the tabloid frontlines – was that there were plenty more skeletons still rattling away in the cupboard.

  Tess looked out over the crowd and spotted Meredith on the other side of the ballroom. Catching her eye, Meredith began to walk across the dance floor towards her, gliding like a peacock, her chin lifted, her back straight, the silk skirt of her gown rustling as she walked. She looked like a czarina, the most refined sixty–something–year–old Tess had ever seen.

  ‘Tess. Are you having a good time?’

  Meredith looked composed as she played with the stem of her martini glass, but her eyes had the jubilant look of a lottery winner.

  ‘Incredible party,’ nodded Tess. ‘I heard someone say that David’s mum pulled this all together in a fortnight?’

  ‘She’s very experienced at get–togethers,’ said Meredith gracefully. ‘I only wish she could have persuaded David to say a few words. He’s such a wonderful speaker. But the pair of them wanted to keep things as informal as possible.’

  Tess smiled crookedly. ‘If they wanted informal, they shouldn’t have had it at Belcourt. Buckingham Palace would have been more low key.’

  Meredith just nodded.

  ‘So is Sean here?’ asked Tess.

  ‘He’s in Minnesota,’ said Meredith evenly, holding Tess’s gaze. ‘Rehabilitating.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad to hear he’s getting better.’

  Meredith nodded over towards Dom, who was laughing with a group of young girls and waving a bottle of champagne about in illustration of some story he was telling. ‘Is your boyfriend enjoying himself?’

  ‘He likes it here,’ said Tess, carefully covering her annoyance at the jibe. ‘He was wondering – if I took the job – whether a visa could be sorted out for him too?’

  ‘It’s not impossible,’ said Meredith. ‘If you took the job. If things work out.’ She straightened the pearls around her neck. ‘But I can’t hold the job offer open indefinitely.’

  ‘Well on that subject, I’ve just had an interesting insight into the family. It’s given me a greater idea of the challenges of the role.’

  ‘Really? Who from?’

  ‘Charles Devine.’

  Meredith laughed gaily. ‘Dear old Charles. How on earth did he get an invitation? He’s not terribly fashionable these days, contrary to what he thinks. What nonsense has he been telling you?’

  ‘He told me about Olivia Martin,’ said Tess, looking straight at Meredith.

  There was a minute’s pause as Meredith blinked and swallowed.

  ‘What about her?’ she asked.

  ‘About her death.’

  Meredith’s expression clouded over.

  ‘Charles Devine is just a silly busybody,’ she said with force. ‘He’s Manhattan’s biggest gossip. Half of what he says is a figment of his imagination. He … ’

  Then Meredith seemed to stop herself, closing her eyes in an effort of self–control.

  ‘Whatever he has said to you … ’

  ‘I have to know everything, Meredith,’ interrupted Tess. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. And I mean everything.’

  Meredith took a sip of champagne, and touched her arm to escort her into a quiet alcove. ‘Forgive me, but I was not keen to tell you about private matters affecting my family when you haven’t even taken the job,’ she s
aid, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

  ‘Why were there rumours about Olivia and Howard?’

  Meredith laughed coldly. ‘When a beautiful starlet and a rich businessman are friends, there will always be rumours.’

  ‘And what do you think happened the night of your wedding?’ Tess felt stronger now she was on familiar ground – probing, getting to the bottom of the story. She was even beginning to enjoy herself.

  Meredith looked at her and saw she wouldn’t let it drop. She sighed.

  ‘I honestly don’t know what happened. I believe that Olivia was depressed, but I barely knew her; we had only met her a couple of times before the wedding. She was only there because she was an ambassador of the Asgill lipstick range. If she is dead – and that was never proved – of course it’s a tragedy. It was certainly a black cloud over our entire wedding, so you can understand me wanting Brooke’s big day to be perfect.’

  Tess looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I thought this job was just to get me off the Globe and out of London,’ she said honestly.

  ‘No, I can see why you might think that, but there is a job to be done here Tess. My family needs protecting and I think you could be good at it.’

  She looked across the crowd. Brooke and David were standing on the staircase, having their picture taken and laughing.

  ‘Look at how happy Brooke and David are. A perfect president and first lady, don’t you think? That’s what’s at stake here, Tess, not just the reputation of the family. It’s bigger than that.’

  Tess took a sip of champagne and carefully plated the flute on the table beside her. Dom was nowhere to be seen. Not that he would affect her decision anyway.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ she said simply.

  Meredith’s face broke into a warm smile. She took Tess’s hand in both of hers.

  ‘I knew you’d come to the right decision,’ she said. ‘Resign from the Globe on Monday and you can start as soon as you can get here. There’s plenty of work to be done. And Tess? Welcome to the family.’

  CHAPTER FIVE