‘Hey sexy,’ she called through to the lounge, ‘you ready for the Grand Tour?’
His body clock shocked by the jet lag, Dom had been up for hours and was lounging on the sofa, reading the New York Post. His hair was dishevelled and he was still in his boxer shorts and an old Ramones T–shirt, bought at Christmas from Harvey Nicks and now relegated to sleepwear.
He ignored the question, pointed and held up the paper. ‘Is this your doing?’
‘What?’
‘How David saved my life,’ he read in a faux theatrical voice. ‘The survivors speak. See inside for an eight–page special.’
Tess stuck out her tongue at him. ‘It’s been one of the biggest stories of the year,’ she said. ‘It must have even reached that little backwater of London.’
Dom snorted. ‘What? A bunch of boat people capsizing in the Carribean? That’s hardly going to make the London Times.’
Tess brought two mugs of tea through. ‘Actually, the BBC News reported it quite extensively. So did your paper. And it was also a lot more serious than your little summary. Thirty people died, Dom. It was horrific.’
Dom shrugged. ‘But David really saved someone’s life?’ he asked. ‘You sure it’s not just his family positioning him on the political launch pad?’
She swiped him on the arm. ‘You’re a cynic, Dom Barton.’
‘Speaks the professional PR.’
Although the incident in Florida had happened five days ago, the papers were still running stories with a host of ‘new’ photographs and first–hand accounts from survivors. Unsurprisingly, David had come out of it a hero. The Billington’s PR machine had arranged a two–page interview with him in the Washington Post, and his opinions on immigration controls had kicked off the topic as a hot debate on talk shows on TV and radio across the country. Although her phone had been ringing off the hook, Tess couldn’t take credit for this particular PR blitz. The cameraman on the beach had caught the whole drama in Technicolor and it had been beamed live across the world; David had created his own spin. Brooke, too, was now seen as the Florence Nightingale of society for her part in the rescue. Us magazine had run a front cover with the words ‘Saviour of the Sand’. Tess couldn’t have created more positive press if she had tried for years. Dom handed her a plate with a cream cheese and lox bagel on it, and she took a delicate bite; she didn’t want to mess up her lipstick.
‘So where’s Jemma?’ asked Dom.
‘Left early this morning. She’s gone to see Cat in Toronto,’ she said, reaching out to squeeze his bare knee. ‘So we’re all alone.’
Dom shook his head. ‘Which is how it would be all the time if you hadn’t invited her to live with you. Honestly, Tess, I can’t believe you’ve come four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean to have Jemma back in the spare room.’
Tess had to stop herself frowning, upset that his good mood in London had evaporated. She put his crabbiness down to jet lag and didn’t want to make it a bigger deal than it was. ‘Dom, I like having her around,’ she said softly. ‘It’s pretty lonely out here, you know – and besides, the Asgills only agreed to hire her if they didn’t have to pay her accommodation as well. By the time you move over she’ll have found somewhere else.’
Dom stood up and paced over to the window. ‘Speaking of the apartment, I’m just not sure there’s going to be enough room for the two of us.’
‘It’s not huge, but we’ll manage.’
‘Not huge? I’ve seen saunas bigger than this place. I mean, where are my golf clubs going to go?’
‘Golf? In Manhattan?’ laughed Tess.
‘Hey, I read that David is a keen player,’ said Dom defensively. ‘He must be a member of some nice club.’
She smiled as she took a long slurp of tea. ‘David and Brooke are lovely, but I’m not exactly best friends with them. It’s not like they’re always inviting me to come round for dinner or play golf.’
Dom looked disapproving. ‘That attitude, baby, is exactly what’s holding you back. Why do you think you never got one of the really big jobs at the papers?’
‘Because they never came up?’
‘No, networking,’ said Dom. ‘I mean, you were features editor of a national newspaper at twenty–six, so it’s not for lack of talent, but that’s not enough on its own. You need to get close to the people who can help you up the ladder.’
Tess briefly thought of her one–night stand with the Globe’s chief exec, the break that had really got her career moving, and turned away, feeling herself flush.
‘Tess, come on,’ insisted Dom, not unkindly. ‘You’ve got to start being a player if we’re going to get on over here.’
And there it was again – ‘we’. The truth was that Dom wasn’t concerned about Tess’s career or how much she enjoyed her job; he was talking about his own position in the media world, what Tess could do for him. It was a side of Dom she had always tried to ignore in the past, hoping it was just youthful insecurity, but over the years his bitterness at his own advancement seemed to have increased. She bit her lip, for a moment remembering their night in London at the launch. How handsome Dom had looked; how charming and attentive he had been. How mind–blowingly fantastic the sex had been. And how excited she had been over the last two weeks at the thought of him getting a visa. There was no question that she loved him. But at times like this she wondered if she actually liked him?
Suddenly her thoughts were disturbed by the doorbell.
‘Expecting someone?’ asked Dom.
‘No?’ said Tess, shaking her head. There was a sudden unpleasant note in his voice. What was he implying? That she was constantly on call, or that she was used to having ‘gentleman callers’? Either way, it wasn’t nice.
‘Oh hang on … ’ she said with a slight groan.
Tess ran down the four flights to the front door and, as she had expected, she found Jack Donavan, her eleven–year–old admirer, standing there slurping on a 7 Up. The kid had been ‘popping round’ with alarming frequency over the past few weeks. Tess did actually enjoy his company, he was funny and opinionated and actually very bright, but she already had a flatmate, she didn’t need another lodger.
‘Hi,’ said Jack, taking the straw out of his mouth. ‘Can I come in?’
She winced. ‘Actually, my boyfriend’s here. I told you he was coming last week, remember?’
‘Cool, I can meet him?’ said Jack, ignoring the hint and pushing past her.
She followed him up the stairs and just reached the lounge as Dom looked up, startled. ‘Er, hello … ’ he said.
‘Hiya,’ said Jack confidently, offering his hand to Dom. ‘I’m Jack, Tess has told me all about you. I’m not disturbing anything, am I? My mum was supposed to be coming but she phoned to say she’s gonna be a couple of hours late. My dad is painting my bedroom and the place stinks.’
‘Jack,’ smiled Tess quickly. ‘Go grab yourself something from the kitchen.’
‘Cool. Just gonna use the bathroom first.’
Dom’s face was a mixture of horror and outrage. ‘Who the hell is that?’
‘Just some kid that lives down the street,’ said Tess, blushing.
‘And? What’s he doing here?’
‘His dad is single parent,’ said Tess keeping her low voice. ‘He pops round every now and then when it gets a bit much at home.’
‘So you’re telling me you have a little kid coming round to your house all the time?’ he said incredulously. Tess found herself bristling, feeling strangely protective of the boy. Okay, so Jack’s unannounced visits could be a little irritating when she had so few spare hours in the week to herself; last week he had appeared seconds before she was about to step out of the door to get a pedicure. But he was just a kid. A smartarse with a little too much lip, sure, but he was still a kid who had problems at home and needed sanctuary from them every now and then.
‘He’s funny,’ said Tess, ‘and I feel sorry for him. His dad’s struggling to keep him at home, I think. I
don’t think they have much money.’
‘Oh yes? And how much do you see of his dad?’ said Dom sulkily.
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Dom,’ said Tess. ‘Stop being so stupid. I’ve met his dad twice – in the street.’
Dom snorted. ‘It just seems a bit weird.’
‘What’s weird about it?’ she asked, beginning to lose patience.
‘Tess, you’ve come to New York to mix with people like the Billingtons, even the Asgills, not single–parent labourers and their tearaway sons.’
Tess gaped at him with disbelief. ‘Dom, you are the most frightful snob sometimes.’
‘Snob?’ laughed Dom. ‘You’re a fine one to talk, setting up dinner at Per Se tomorrow.’
Tess actually gasped. It felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. She had been so excited about getting them a table at Per Se, widely believed to be the best restaurant in a city awash with amazing eating places, that she had told Dom about it as soon as he had arrived the night before. Per Se had a seventeen–course menu and a two–month waiting list, but Tess had used Brooke’s name to jump the queue. It was a huge coup – there were people on the Upper East Side who would literally kill for their table and she was simply stunned that Dom would twist something Tess had lovingly arranged as a special romantic treat into a negative.
Jack came back through the door, polishing an apple on his shirt, then taking a bite.
‘Hey, I like your T–shirt,’ he said to Dom. ‘What do they sing?’
‘The Ramones?’ he stuttered, momentarily floored. ‘Oh, you know. Just stuff.’
Jack started laughing. ‘Why are you wearing their T–shirt if you don’t know any of their songs?’
Tess spurted out her tea.
‘Tess says you’re moving to New York,’ Jack went on chattily.
‘Probably, yes,’ said Dom, clearly uncomfortable.
‘Cool. Maybe we could go and see a band or something.’
‘But you’re about ten,’ sneered Dom.
‘Twelve next week.’
Just then, a muffled hip–hop tune came from Jack’s jeans. He scrabbled to pull a bright orange cell phone from his pocket. Looking at the screen, he tutted.
‘Shit, it’s mom. She’s there already.’
‘Jack,’ said Tess. ‘Don’t swear.’
‘Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,’ he said. ‘Mom’s new boyfriend has this super–fast car. An Aston Martin DB9. James Bond’s car.’
Dom looked over. ‘Actually James Bond drives the DB7,’ he said, a superior note in his voice. ‘What does he do, your mum’s boyfriend?’
‘Hot tubs.’
‘Well, that reminds me,’ said Dom, climbing off the sofa. ‘I’m going for a shower. We’re going out very soon,’ he added pointedly.
When he was gone, Jack grabbed Tess’s arm and whispered in her ear. ‘Can you walk me back to the apartment?’ he hissed, looking warily towards the bathroom. ‘Just you.’
‘I’m kind of busy, Jack,’ said Tess. ‘Dom and I have a really busy day. I don’t see him too often, you know.’
‘Please?’ he said, his eyes wide. ‘My mum and her boyfriend are collecting me and I want my mum to think … ’ He tailed off.
‘What?’
‘I want her to think that my dad has girlfriends too,’ he said, colouring a little. ‘Especially pretty ones with smart clothes like you.’
Shaking her head, Tess grabbed her coat. ‘Come on then, be quick. I want to be back before Dom gets out of the shower.’
When they were on the street, Jack cast a sidelong glance up at Tess.
‘He doesn’t like kids, does he?’ he said.
‘No, not really,’ smiled Tess, playfully snatching Jack’s apple and taking a bite.
She thought back to a holiday they had taken two years earlier to Antigua, a press trip where Dom was supposed to be checking out a new five–star boutique hotel. Tess had missed her period and, convinced she was pregnant, blurted it out to Dom as they had been about to leave the hotel. Dom had been silent on the nine–hour journey home, his eyes fixed on the seat–back in front of him even when he wasn’t watching the movies.
His first words when they landed at Heathrow were, ‘You’d better buy a pregnancy test, then.’ It wasn’t until they were back in the relative safety of the Battersea Park flat, Tess nervously clutching her little paper Boots bag in front of her, that they had talked about it.
‘So what if I’m pregnant?’ she had asked. She was scared and excited at the same time. She’d been twenty–seven, hardly a teen mother.
‘Do you really want kids?’ asked Dom.
‘I don’t know,’ said Tess honestly. ‘Not now. But someday, I suppose. What about you?’
Dom had paused for a long while before he answered. ‘I’m not sure I do,’ he had said quietly. ‘In fact, I’m not sure I ever do. Our lives are just too good. Why should we have children just because people expect us to?’
Dom was never one for baring his soul, but this time she knew he was being truthful. In all their years together they had never had ‘the children conversation’, she supposed because neither of them wanted to admit to their own feelings. As it happened, Tess wasn’t pregnant. Her period finally came along a week late. Probably stress. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved, but there was still a part of her that had been disappointed.
‘Don’t mind Dom,’ said Tess as they turned into Jack’s street. ‘He’s just a little jet–lagged and grumpy. I’m sure he will take you to see a band when he comes over.’
Jack shrugged, as if he didn’t care much one way or the other. Tess guessed he was used to adults making promises that might not come true.
‘My mum wants another baby,’ said Jack frankly. ‘I hear her talking on the phone when she thinks I’m asleep. But she has to marry Steven first.’
‘Steven? I assume that’s her boyfriend? How long has she been seeing him?’
‘About six months. Mom says that’s long enough and that she isn’t going to wait around if he isn’t serious.’
They walked in silence to Jack’s apartment building. Jack’s dad Kevin was standing on the street with a black overnight bag, which he handed to Jack as they walked up.
‘Hi Tess,’ he nodded. Tess could see that his hands and face were flecked with blue paint. A petite woman with long black hair and an impatient expression was standing at the bottom of the stoop. Jack’s mother Melissa, presumably. Standing a couple of feet away, Tess could smell her make–up, thick and floral.
‘We said ten thirty, Jack,’ said the woman sharply.
‘You said you were going to be late,’ he replied quietly.
Tess watched how Jack seemed to instantly withdraw into himself, the confident boy she knew shrinking before her eyes. She wanted to reach out and hug him. Instead, she looked over at the gunmetal–grey sports car parked next to them. It was a DB9, all right. A silver–haired man in chinos and a patterned golf shirt got out of the car and pulled his seat forward.
‘Hop in, sport,’ he said with forced cheerfulness. Reluctantly, Jack walked over and into the car’s cramped rear seat. When the door had slammed shut, Melissa turned to Kevin.
‘And what’s he wearing?’ she demanded. Jack had on his usual uniform of super–baggy trousers and chunky sneakers. All the kids around the village wore them; he told Tess he got them in an ultra–cool skate shop on Broadway.
‘What? Jesus, Melissa, it’s just what he usually wears,’ replied Kevin with resigned annoyance.
‘One of Steven’s business colleagues is having a party in Greenwich,’ she snapped. ‘It’s going to be full of very nice kids.’
‘Well, Jack is a nice kid.’
Melissa was shaking her head. Tess glanced over to Jack, sitting in the back seat, and wondered if he could hear the bickering. Tess knew very well what that was like; in fact, Melissa’s expressions and tone of voice vividly reminded her of her own mother’s hectoring manner. There were rarely a
ny raised voices and certainly no violence in the Garrett household, but the atmosphere was still always stiff and hostile, and somehow that was worse, like a constant cloud of disapproval smothering everything. Over the years Tess had seen up close how marital disappointment had affected both her parents. Her father Graham had become more timid and eager to please, while her mother Sally became more cross and impatient, her voice developing a permanent arch inflection, as if she could distance herself from life’s constant letdowns if she never enjoyed anything. That might have been tolerable when the Garretts lived in London and Sally had a wide circle of friends and a part–time job in a boutique, which itself was a substitute for a career in fashion she had always wanted. But when Graham bought the pub in Suffolk as a way of trying to make a fresh start, her mother had seemed to retreat from them completely. At first, her dissatisfaction at being ‘dragged out to the sticks’, as she put it, had manifested itself as tiredness. Sally complained that she could never work a late night in the pub because she was ‘exhausted’, ‘headachy’, or ‘depressed’. After a while, she stopped coming down to the pub at all. In the end, it was no great surprise when she left them altogether for a life back in London.
Tess was shaken from her memories when she heard Kevin speak. ‘So what time will he be back tomorrow?’
‘Around six,’ she replied, looking suspiciously at Tess. ‘So maybe you can be ready this time, huh?’
Tess watched as Melissa stalked down to the silver car, which shot off down the street as soon as she closed her door. She saw Jack’s face in the rear window; he was giving her an okay sign. Kevin sighed and rubbed his paint–splattered face.
‘He’s a rich guy,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘All she’s ever wanted, really. But she’s still as uptight as she ever was.’
Original Sin Page 27
