As they jogged along, Ruth told them all about her life, using the various landmarks in the valley to illustrate her story. She showed them the simple wood–framed houses of their neighbours where they worshipped on Sundays, and the one–roomed Amish schoolhouses.
Brooke closed her eyes and let the warm spring breeze stroke her face. It was the most pleasant sensation she’d felt in weeks. Simplicity. Anonymity. No one in this valley had any idea who Brooke Asgill was; they had no interest in where she bought her clothes or where she went out to eat. When they pulled up back in front of the farm, Ruth invited them into her large white house. It was simply decorated but the furniture – the long wooden table and dresser – were beautiful. It was scrupulously clean and there was a delicious smell in the air. She gave them a plate of pretzels that were thick, warm, and spicy. Brooke had not tasted pastry this good since she had been skiing in St–Moritz a few years ago. She didn’t mention it as she didn’t know if Ruth would approve of a place like St–Moritz.
‘Do you work, Brooke?’ asked Ruth after a pause.
She nodded. ‘I edit children’s books.’
‘Well, that’s wonderful,’ she smiled. ‘That is a true calling.’
Ruth asked a few questions about life in New York, which seemed to both fascinate and repel her in equal measure, and then Matt gestured that it was time to go.
‘That was great,’ said Brooke as they climbed into the car. ‘I might bring David. You should bring a date. Ruth wants to see you paired off again.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah.’
‘Have you dated since Katie?’ Brooke asked after a pause.
‘A couple of dates,’ he shrugged. ‘It didn’t feel right.’
‘You still miss her,’ said Brooke quietly.
‘You know, almost every day I have to tell someone that their loved ones didn’t make it. You give them coffee, you touch their arm, you direct them to a quiet room. Some of them scream and collapse, of course, but most of the time they are brave and solid. Before Katie died, that’s how I thought you were supposed to behave, but now I wonder how they do it. How they can be so strong when every part of you feels crushed and helpless and keeps on feeling like that to the point where you wonder if it will ever feel better.’
‘It will get better,’ said Brooke simply, touching his arm.
‘I know,’ he shrugged. ‘In fact I’ve applied to do a year on a voluntary scheme in Africa in the New Year. They’re desperate for doctors out there. And I think it will be good for me. Stop me drinking too much and moping around.’
She was beginning to understand him. He blamed himself for not saving Katie and now he wanted to get away. Brooke knew she could not persuade him otherwise; sometimes people needed to do these things to work them through.
‘I’m impressed.’
‘Didn’t have me down as a do–gooder, huh?’ said Matt with a wry grin. ‘It was that or bum around the world for six months, and I thought I might get even more depressed, surrounded by backpackers ten years younger than me.’
‘Maybe a hippy chick would do you good, Matt.’
He was quiet for a moment, concentrating on the road.
‘If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?’ he asked.
‘David and I have been talking about that. You know, planning the honeymoon and so on. The problem is that David’s been everywhere. I have this romantic ideal that we will discover new places together.’ She crunched up her nose thinking of David’s latest suggestion: the Galapagos Islands. Admittedly, it would be a new passport stamp for both of them, but from what Brooke had seen on the Internet, it looked a bit cold, and nothing against the wildlife, just not very romantic.
‘Well here’s mine,’ said Matt, matter–of–factly. ‘An Australian odyssey. Around the Northern Territory where they have freshwater crocs three metres long, then into the red country, Uluru, Alice Springs, and the opal mines, and over to the Whitsunday Islands for snorkelling and sailing. Maybe with that hippy chick you mentioned.’
‘That sounds a wonderful trip,’ said Brooke dreamily. ‘Can I steal it? Apart from the hippy chick, of course.’
When they stopped in town for gas, Brooke spotted a shop advertising ‘Genuine Amish Clothes’.
Pointing to one of the plain dresses in the window, he joked: ‘What about that for your Costume Gala next week?’
Inside, the shop was a classic tourist trap, with racks selling black trousers and bonnets next to Amish fridge magnets. Towards the back of the shop, almost hidden away, was a display of wooden furniture. Brooke reached for a pair of beautifully carved book ends and stroked the smooth wood.
‘These are lovely, aren’t they?’
‘I’m going to buy them for you,’ said Matt, taking them from her.
Brooke pulled him back. ‘Please. I want to buy them myself.’
Matt looked at her, puzzled. ‘Why?’
Brooke paused before she spoke. ‘Shall I tell you difference between being rich and famous?’
‘I didn’t know there was one,’ said Matt, amused.
‘When I was just rich, I always felt as if I had to pick up the cheque because my friends knew I had money. But now I’m famous, I go to a bar and there’s always someone to buy me a drink, no matter how wealthy I am.’
Matt’s expression clouded, his voice nipped with anger. ‘So you think I want to buy you these book ends so I can tell all my friends?’
‘No. I didn’t mean that at all,’ said Brooke regretting her honesty.
‘So let me buy you the book ends.’
He took them and walked back up to the cashier. Brooke stared after him, wondering how she had made him so angry.
Brooke slept for most of the rest of the journey back to the city.
‘Can you drop me a block away from my apartment?’ she said, uncoiling her body and stretching out her arms. They were back in the canyons of Manhattan and already she could feel anxiety creep back in as she looked around for paparazzi. Matt pulled the car up outside a convenience store on Lexington.
‘Thanks Matt, I had a really good time,’ smiled Brooke, putting her sunglasses back on.
‘Me too,’ said Matt. ‘Although it was a long way to go for a buggy ride.’
‘It’s never too far for an experience like that, Matt. I could do with more friends like you who take me places like that. Nice, normal friends outside my crazy new world.’
‘Hey, you love your world,’ he laughed. ‘Next time I see you you’re going to be holding one of those rat–like little dogs under your arm.’
‘Flanked by big burly bodyguards,’ she laughed. As she waved him off and walked back along Lex, she suddenly realized that a much less light–hearted discussion about bodyguards with David was exactly what had made her call Matt in the first place, and would be the first thing they talked – or rowed – about as soon as he got back from Damascus. Back to reality, she thought with a twisted smile as she put her sunglasses back on and strode toward home.
CHAPTER TWENTY–THREE
The first time Tess came back to London, it was for work, not pleasure. Neither she nor Dom were particularly surprised; as time went on it was becoming obvious that their original vision of a jet–set transatlantic relationship, with each visiting the other once a month, was almost impossible. Tess had to attend events at weekends, and Dom was often flying out to exotic resorts to report on them for the Chronicle. Even this visit was fraught; Tess was in England to attend the Annual UK Asgill Cosmetics sales conference at a luxury hotel in Windsor – it was a flying visit, only staying overnight at the hotel, then heading back across the pond in the morning. Meredith had suggested it would be a good idea for Tess to attend the conference, firstly to get a feel for the international side of the business, but it would also be a suitable opportunity to meet Sean, who was hosting a party in London to launch the latest Asgill fragrance, Lupin. Tess had spent the day with scores of Asgill sales consultants, brand managers, and sales teams from t
he UK offices. Not her favourite way to pass the day, but at least it hadn’t been completely alien to her; she had been to countless focus groups when they had been trying to reposition the Globe and was fluent in marketing bullshit: the phrases ‘dynamic multi–platform dissemination’ and ‘blue–sky viral paradigms’ did not faze her. She had, however, been glad to escape for a drink with Leonard Carter, Meredith’s brother and head of Asgill’s international development.
‘I’m amazed this is your first trip back to London since you joined us,’ said Leonard when they had settled into a corner table of the hotel’s bar. He was wearing a light grey three–piece Prince of Wales check suit, which complemented his white hair and alert blue eyes.
‘Well, I actually only left eight weeks ago,’ said Tess, gazing out at the view of the formal gardens. Everything seemed so much more spacious and airy after New York that even her breathing felt deeper and fuller. ‘So much has happened, it seems so much longer.’
‘I can imagine it feels even longer given that your boyfriend is still here,’ said Leonard kindly. Tess smiled at him; he had the easy–going manner of a wealthy old man who had been around the block and seen everything that life could throw at you. She was starting to think of him as ‘Uncle Leonard’, like the rest of the Asgill children. Still, she didn’t yet know him well enough to tell him that relations with Dom had seemed strained over the last few weeks, their conversations snappy and distant. She knew Dom wanted to be in New York too, but she was upset that he seemed to take his career frustrations out on her.
‘Well, I’m back for five days at the end of this month,’ said Tess vaguely. ‘We can catch up then. Thanks for getting him an invitation to the party tonight, by the way.’
‘The least I could do. How long have you been together?’
‘Since we were twenty–one. It struck me the other day that it’s been a third of my life.’
‘And will you marry him?’
Tess smiled. ‘I’m not a big believer in marriage.’
‘Why not?’
‘My parents had a difficult relationship. They were two people who shouldn’t have got married and I think they only did because I came along. When I was twelve I found their marriage certificate stuffed in a book and I did the maths; they were married four months before I was born. It kind of made sense why they argued so much.’
Leonard took a drink of his Scotch, the ice cubes tinkling.
‘Well, with all due respect to your parents, I’ve never been convinced by the argument that having failed once in love, you shouldn’t have another stab at it. Isn’t that what love’s all about? Going into life’s adventure with hope in your heart?’
‘Would you remarry?’
‘Perhaps,’ he smiled sadly. ‘My wife Marie died three years ago now. I doubt I’ll ever meet anyone to match her, but I’m not too old to try.’
‘Tell that to Meredith. Maybe it’s time she found someone new.’
Leonard laughed at the idea. ‘Oh, she’ll never marry again. They had a wonderful marriage. She told me once that the day she married Howard was the day she committed one hundred per cent to him. I don’t think that’s changed because he’s not with us any more.’
Tess suddenly thought back to a story that Charles Devine had told her at Brooke’s engagement party. A story that had been nagging at her since her arrival, a story she had since researched, although the press cuttings she had ordered had thrown up nothing beyond what Charles had told her back in March. She’d been waiting for a convenient opportunity to quiz the family on it further, but there had barely been the chance to do so. Until now.
‘Was Howard faithful to Meredith?’ asked Tess, unable to contain her curiosity.
‘Probably not,’ said Leonard with a gentle shrug. ‘But it doesn’t mean he had a bad marriage. Why do you ask?’
‘I heard about the Olivia Martin story. People suspected Howard of murdering her, didn’t they?, because he was having an affair with Olivia.’
Leonard smiled and shook his head. ‘Howard was a lot of things, but I don’t think anyone really believed he was a murderer. In fact, personally I don’t believe anyone murdered Olivia.’
She nodded. That appeared to be the general view throughout the media in 1964. Even the more scurrilous tabloid magazines like the National Enquirer only hinted at murder.
‘Why don’t people think she was murdered?’
If you’d ever been to Riverview, where Olivia was last seen, you’d believe that too. The Mississippi is a powerful beast. We had dogs, horses go missing from the estate. The river just took them. And if Olivia had gone walking down there in the dark … Guests were told to stay away from the river, but she was not the sort to listen.’
‘So you don’t even think Howard and Olivia were having an affair?’ she pressed.
‘I don’t think so, although Olivia was an outrageous flirt,’ he added disapprovingly. ‘The night of the wedding I saw her stroking a waiter’s ass! In public. And she was there as an Asgill’s ambassador, for heaven’s sake.’
At that moment Asgill’s UK marketing director appeared at the doorway and beckoned them to the lobby. ‘Our car awaits,’ he smiled. ‘Let’s get you into your carriage and off to meet Prince Charming. Speaking of which, have we looked into a visa for him yet?’
‘Not as such, no.’
‘Would you like me to?’
‘It sounds an expensive process.’
Leonard smiled. ‘We have money for essential projects such as bringing two hearts together.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ she replied slowly, still thinking about Olivia Martin.
*
The party was being held in a huge white house on the outskirts of Regent’s Park. As Tess and Leonard pulled up alongside the Doric pillars in their black town car, there was already a parade of people in cocktail dresses and sharp suits walking in under a banner advertising the Lupin. It looked great – a pretty purple bottle against a sparkling white background.
‘This place is incredible,’ said Tess. ‘What is it?’
‘An old embassy, I can’t remember which one,’ said Leonard. ‘Sean organized it; pulled in some contacts to hire it.’
Tess was impressed. She was looking forward to meeting Sean, in fact couldn’t quite believe she hadn’t yet met him, considering he was without question the loose cannon in the family. The cuttings file on Sean was two inches thick. Working at the Globe, she had never particularly noticed his name, but once she had started looking, he was everywhere. Sean on P. Diddy’s yacht in St Tropez. Sean at the winter polo in Gstaad. Sean with his arm around Sting and Trudie at a fundraiser in Monaco. He was connected, wealthy, and decadent, the dictionary definition of ‘playboy’. How could he fail to be interesting, at the very least?
They left the car at the kerb and walked through the walnut double doors. Tess scanned the crowd anxiously for Dom. She was nervous that an unsuccessful reunion might deal a fatal blow to their transatlantic relationship.
For a split second she felt on edge – maybe he hadn’t even come? – but then she saw him, patting his invite against the palm of his hand. She had run over this moment in her head a hundred times, knowing it would be a litmus test for whether their relationship was really in trouble or whether it was just a blip caused by pressure and distance. Tess was relieved to feel her heart give a little flutter of pleasure and she was equally pleased to see him grin as he spotted her. Oh, he looks fantastic, she thought.
‘Here she is at last,’ said Dom, hugging her. He looked her up and down; the tight curves of her Hervé Léger dress, the hint of tanned cleavage courtesy of her regular visits to the Portofino Sun Center, and seemed to approve. ‘I’ve missed you, you know,’ he added in a whisper as he slipped his hand in hers. It felt comfortable and familiar, two things that fitted together perfectly.
‘Dom, meet Leonard Carter,’ said Tess. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Leonard has said he’d sponsor your visa.’
‘Wow!�
�� said Dom, pumping Leonard’s hand. ‘Well, I can sincerely say pleased to meet you, Mr Carter.’
Leonard laughed. ‘Well, I think that’s enough of a reason to call for champagne all round,’ he said, motioning to a waiter. He handed Tess a glass of bubbly.
‘Just a few sips,’ she said happily.
Amber light glowed around the room and shone off the circular zinc–topped bar at the centre. Against one wall was a huge avant–garde sculpture formed from mirrored cubes five feet wide. Lined up along each surface and lit from above were the purple Lupin bottles in random patterns. Nice touch, thought Tess, looking around the party with professional appreciation. It was a difficult thing to do a launch well – after all, she had attended enough in her time – and this one was very good. A great balance of beautiful people and industry players teamed with a smattering of hip celebrities, mixed together with interesting food and drink – the bar was serving something that appeared to have holly sprouting from the top – in an intriguing and unusual setting. If Sean had arranged this, she was becoming more and more intrigued.
And then she saw him. He had a square dimpled chin just like his sister Liz, and eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischievousness. Sean Asgill was walking across the room, shaking hands and exchanging whispered jokes, pressing the flesh like a pro. As he got closer, Tess could see his bespoke suit, his craggy smile and tanned skin, which surprised Tess considering as he was supposed to have spent the last month in a rehab facility. Confidence oozed from every pore. No, not confidence, she corrected herself, cockiness. It was amazing how a few million dollars could made a guy think he was God’s gift. Excusing herself from Leonard and Dom, she walked over to him, extending her hand.
‘Sean Asgill?’ she asked.
‘That’s me,’ he said, switching his glass to his left hand. As they shook hands, Tess could see him checking her out.
‘I’m Tess Garrett,’ she said.
He started laughing, slowly at first, working up to a deep, throaty chuckle. ‘You have my deepest sympathies.’ he said.
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