He snorted. ‘More likely the Asgills have got too big for their own boots.’
Tess smiled politely. ‘Actually, it was the Asgills I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘What about my memoirs?’ he said, frowning.
‘That too.’
Tess took the book out of the bag and turned to the photograph of Meredith.
‘What was this event?’ asked Tess, moving over to sit next to him on the sofa.
Charles’s face softened. ‘Ah, Bunny Bartlett’s twenty–first,’ he said warmly. ‘The yacht belonged to her father, somebody terribly important in Hollywood, I believe. New money, but a wonderful party nevertheless. A six–tier coconut birthday cake, and Daddy had parked a brand–new Porsche for her at the harbour when we docked. Ah, happy days,’ he smiled sipping his Scotch.
‘So were Meredith and Olivia Martin friends?’
‘I assume so, although I only met them both for the first time that day. Talking of Meredith … ’
Charles put down his glass and looked at Tess mischievously. ‘You know I heard a delicious little rumour the other day about your employer.’
Tess felt a twitch of anticipation.
‘I shouldn’t really be telling you this,’ he continued, ‘but since I haven’t been invited to the wedding, I don’t see why it’s my place to be discreet any longer.’
‘What was it?’
‘I was talking to Tony Scalino, a fabulous chef who does private catering for Gillian Pope.’
Tess looked at him blankly. ‘You must know Gillian. Filthy rich Upper East Side grande dame, excellent face–lift, friends with Meredith. Anyway, apparently Meredith and Gillian aren’t just friends. They’re companions.’ Charles framed the last word with bunny–ear quotation marks, his voice in a theatrical whisper.
‘Companions?’ asked Tess.
‘Lovers,’ said Charles.
‘Lovers?’ coughed Tess, choking on her whiskey. ‘Meredith has a lover? A female lover?’
Charles laughed, clapping his hands with glee. ‘Darling, you’d be amazed how many people in New York society swing both ways, although it’s the women who always keep it the most secret, particularly the very rich, powerful ones. The clitorati, as I like to call them.’
Tess thought back to what Leonard had told her many months before, how Meredith had never taken another lover after Howard. If Charles’s rumour was correct, it seemed that she had, but she had chosen to keep it secret.
‘It actually makes sense,’ smiled Charles languorously. ‘Howard had so many damn affairs you have to assume he wasn’t getting too much action at home. I’m amazed Meredith’s little secret hasn’t got out before now, though. According to Tony, a grubby journalist was sniffing around at one point. Asked him a few questions about Meredith and Gillian but he never heard any more about it. Reckoned Meredith must have paid them off to stop digging.’
Brooke’s eyes stared back to the photograph of Meredith and Olivia. One thing she had learned working with the paparazzi was that it was very difficult to fake intimacy. Certain things could not be staged convincingly. Those carefully stage–managed long–lens photographs of TV starlets ‘working out’ on a beach in very little looked real enough, but those ‘fake’ Hollywood couples, put together by their agents to promote a film or hide their sexuality, they never looked convincing. But Meredith and Olivia, now that looked real. Tess realized that that was what had jumped out at her when she had first seen the photograph. Intimacy; the way Meredith’s head was resting on her friend’s shoulder as Olivia laughed with carefree abandon.
‘You don’t think Meredith and Olivia were together?’ said Tess.
Charles shrugged and glanced at the picture. ‘I suppose it’s possible. Everybody was jumping in and out of bed with everyone that summer. Now tell me, what did think about chapter seven?’
*
Although the bed in her old room had been turned down and fresh flowers left on the nightstand in a Chinese vase, Brooke just couldn’t face sleeping at her mother’s. She couldn’t put her finger on why, it just didn’t feel right. She had managed to get through the day there, trying her best to enjoy all the traditional Christmas celebrations with the rest of the family, but now she felt hemmed in, trapped. She waited until Meredith went up to her bedroom and followed her up, leaving William, Sean, Liz, and Leonard in the media room watching Casablanca.
‘I have to go,’ said Brooke, standing at the doorway of her mother’s pale blue bedroom.
‘It’s Christmas Day,’ said Meredith, putting down the lipstick she had freshly applied. ‘You can’t be alone on Christmas Day.’
‘Mother, we’re leaving for Florida in thirty–six hours,’ said Brooke. ‘There’s so much to do and I’ve still not properly packed.’
Not bothering to hide her displeasure, Meredith sighed. ‘Very well. Is David coming round?’
‘No, he’s still at Belcourt. I won’t see him until we get to the Keys.’
Meredith’s shrewd eyes narrowed. ‘Everything is all right, isn’t it?’ she asked, walking over to Brooke.
‘Of course. Why shouldn’t it be?’
Meredith’s watery–blue eyes searched hers. ‘You know you had a lucky escape.’
Brooke froze. Did her mother know about Matt? She had a sudden sick feeling that someone had taken a photograph of them together on Brooklyn Promenade.
‘Lucky?’ she stammered.
Her mother nodded gravely. ‘Once that story about Olivia Martin was published in the Spy I thought Wendell might put pressure on David to reconsider.’
Relief washed over Brooke. ‘Wendell knows as well as we do that there’s no hidden scandal behind that story,’ she said, looking away. Meredith put a hand up to Brooke’s face.
‘You do know you can tell me anything, don’t you?’ she asked, searching Brooke’s face.
Brooke forced a smile. ‘I know, I just have such a lot on my mind at the moment.’
Meredith looked at her for a moment, then leant forward and kissed her. ‘Well, Happy Christmas, darling.’
‘Happy Christmas,’ said Brooke. Happy, she thought. If only that were true.
*
She was home for nine p.m., changing into her cream silk dressing gown before phoning David. Mostly she just let him talk; he was telling her about the Christmas gifts he had given and received, and snippets of Billington family gossip; horses they had recently bought; the new sailing boat Robert had on order; the pregnancy of his cousin Laura. The ordinariness of their conversation soothed her, and helped her blank out the turmoil that she had gone through over the past few days. When they had hung up, Brooke laid out her silk ivory shoes and Sabbia Rose underwear next to her Louis Vuitton cases, then put Guillaume’s wedding gown on the bed.
‘I’m going to wear it,’ she whispered to herself. She turned to look at Nicholas’s beautiful white gown, then quickly zipped it back in its dress bag, putting it away in the furthest part of her closet, trying to block out any memories she associated with it. She squashed the remaining items into her cases and snapped them shut. Just then her cell phone rang.
‘Have you made a decision?’
Her mouth went dry as she recognized Matt’s voice. ‘Decision?’ she croaked, feeling sick.
‘Are you at home?’ he asked, his voice sounded anxious.
‘Yes,’ she said, closing her eyes. Not now, she thought. Not now.
‘I’ve just finished my shift. Can I see you?’ said Matt. ‘I can’t stand not to see you on Christmas Day, not when I’ve been thinking about you for every minute since I last saw you.’
Brooke’s heart felt as if it were tearing apart. He sounded so sincere, so loving.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Matt,’ she said.
‘Oh.’
The silence was like a siren.
‘Matt, I’m getting married in three days.’
‘But what about the other night?’ His voice was hurt, pleading.
‘Matt, do
n’t. It’s better this way.’
‘NO!’ he shouted. ‘Listen, I’m coming round. We should at least talk about it.’
‘No,’ she said, feeling irrational butterflies of fear.
‘Please. Just give me five minutes.’
He is not a monster, she told herself. You at least owe him that.
‘Five minutes,’ she said.
*
He walked into her apartment silently, his green eyes heavy and sad. Brooke stood in the centre of her living room, arms folded defensively in front of her.
‘What changed, Brooke?’ he said quietly. ‘I thought we had something that night. I know we did.’
She forced herself to look at him. She had spent the last twenty–four hours demonizing him, convincing herself that he was a violent, snarling beast, but she didn’t see any of that in the man standing in front of her. She saw a flawed man, a man who had made mistakes. The fact that she could see him suffering – the red rings of tiredness around his handsome eyes, the furrowed brow – only made her more sad. She had never wanted to lie to Matt; for the last nine months he had been a good friend, her little oasis of sanity. Okay, so perhaps he was not the man she thought he once was, but she still felt she owed him the truth.
‘You hit Katie,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice flat and composed. ‘You hit Susie too.’
He looked at her sharply. ‘Who said that to you?’
‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I know.’
‘It’s not true,’ he said his voice rising, trembling.
Brooke realized that she still wanted to believe him, she still wanted to believe that Susie and Grace had been lying, but the look in his eyes gave him away. Guilt.
She felt sick with disappointment.
‘That’s why you’re going to Africa,’ she added, suddenly seeing it clearly. ‘You don’t just want to get away from work, from New York, you want to escape from who you’ve become.’
She looked up and was shocked to see that he was crying.
‘Do you know how bad it gets in the hospital?’ he said quietly. ‘When you try to save a child and you can’t? When a twelve–year–old kid dies of a gunshot wound? When a man who has just got engaged and has his whole life ahead of him gets stabbed in the heart by some crazy homeless guy and dies on a table in front of you?’
‘No, no I don’t and I’m sure it’s tough. But it’s no excuse to drink and take out your frustrations on other people. To hurt other people,’ she said, her voice raised and trembling.
‘I was no ogre, Brooke. Katie and I argued and once or twice it got out of hand when I’d had too much to drink. I loved my wife.’
‘Don’t dare try and justify it.’
Matt looked at her, then glanced away, walking over to the window.
‘Katie forgave me, you know,’ he said, staring out. ‘We’d separated but I convinced her I’d changed. We went on a holiday to patch things up, but … well, that’s when she died.’
‘And Susie?’
He slammed his fist against the wall. ‘I lost my wife, Brooke!’ he shouted. ‘Forgive me if things haven’t been too easy for me.’
He turned and stepped towards her. She could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he tried to contain his emotion. He took a deep breath.
‘Brooke, I love you.’
He raised his hand to touch her cheek. His knuckles were grazed. She flinched and moved away.
‘Just go, Matt,’ she said calmly.
She walked over to the door and held it open. ‘Please, just go.’
He walked past her, his face bleached with emotion, then paused in the doorway.
‘But what about us, Brooke?’ he asked.
‘There is no us, there never was,’ said Brooke sadly, and closed the door. And in that moment, Brooke realized she was right. And she knew exactly what she had to do.
CHAPTER SIXTY–FIVE
Sitting at the back of Wendell Billington’s Gulfstream, Liz waved away the stewardess offering her a cold glass of Dom Perignon, wishing this whole damned wedding would just hurry up and finish. It didn’t help that she had always imagined she would be flying on this jet alone with him, side by side as business partners and as lovers, yet instead Wendell had graciously lent the G–5 to the Asgill family to fly from New York to Key Biscayne. She looked out through the small porthole window at the carpet of clouds below and curled her fingers into a fist. In four days’ time it would be New Year and, frankly, Liz couldn’t wait. This year had been ghastly and she needed to move on, leave it all behind her. Okay, so Wendell might have pulled out of financing the Skin Plus spin–off but she would find somebody else, she could meet the challenge – she would enjoy the challenge – and as soon as this dreadful wedding pantomime was over she would start looking for backers. She might even meet that investor at the wedding.
Glancing down the aisle she saw Brooke engrossed in a magazine and Leonard asleep in a cream leather chair. She was sleepy herself, although the small bed behind her was occupied by a mountainous linen dress bag that contained her sister’s gown. She groaned silently as Meredith stood up and approached her. Just what she needed.
‘You’re quiet,’ said Meredith, taking a seat opposite Liz.
Liz smiled thinly. ‘Well the party hasn’t started yet.’
‘Are you sure it’s not because of Rav?’
Liz almost laughed out loud. She had finally killed off that romantic charade a week ago and her mother seemed to think it mattered.
‘Rav and my relationship had run its course,’ she said politely.
‘Well, it was good of Wendell to let us use the jet, wasn’t it?’ said Meredith, changing the conversation.
It stung just to hear his name. She had spent the whole Christmas period feeling numb, emotionally exhausted. If she was honest, Liz had been deeply hurt by Wendell’s rejection. Somehow he had got under her skin and made her drop her guard, then when she was just softening –hell, even considering a relationship, for Christ’s sake – he had delivered his knockout punch. Liz Asgill wasn’t used to being on the canvas, her first instinct was always to go on the offensive; but this time … well, this time she wasn’t sure she knew how to strike back.
‘Wendell’s just asserting his power and financial position by giving us the jet,’ said Liz caustically. ‘He’s reminding us who’s boss.’
Meredith touched her hand on her daughter’s knee. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’
Liz felt her back stiffen. ‘If it’s about the financing for Skin Plus, I have two meetings lined up in the new year,’ she said quickly.
‘What I have to tell you may make you reconsider,’ said Meredith. She sat back in her chair and paused.
‘I want you to be CEO of Asgill’s.’
Liz looked at her mother unblinking, not willing to let one trace of emotion show.
‘What about William?’ she said. Her brother had not taken the jet with them. Liz had thought it strange at the time, but now it was beginning to make sense.
‘He is stepping down. I spoke to him yesterday. It’s a very long story, but suffice to say William wants to spend more time with his family.’
Liz wasn’t sure if she had remembered to breathe. ‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘I can’t go into that now. Problems with Paula, shall we say? And he wants to make his marriage his priority from now on.’
She looked at her mother archly. ‘Ah, for one moment I thought it might have something to do with me being better suited for the job.’
‘Don’t be like that, Liz,’ said Meredith impatiently. ‘I thought this was what you’ve always wanted.’
‘Yes. It is what I always wanted, but I’ve never wanted anything by default.’
‘It’s not default, Liz. You’ve always been good enough – the best, in fact – but the company was your brother’s birthright. Maybe he isn’t as ruthless as you, Liz, but as a family, I’ve always hoped we’d be able to work together, us
ing all our skills and talents to make the company as great as it can be. But you’ve never wanted that. It’s always been like a competition for you.’
‘You made it a competition, Mother,’ she replied harshly.
Meredith’s cool face showed a flash of hurt and surprise. ‘Is that really how you feel?’
Liz nodded, feeling a dull ache in her chest. ‘It’s always been about the others,’ said Liz, her voice thick, tears welling behind her eyes. ‘It’s always been about Brooke’s beauty, Sean’s charm, William’s so–called birthright. What about me?’ she said, thumping her chest with her fist.
She looked away, angry that she’d revealed the burning sense of injustice she’d been carrying around with her for so long, ashamed that her mother had brought her to the edge of tears.
‘You are my most capable child, Elizabeth,’ said Meredith softly.
Liz turned on her. ‘Then why do you reject me?’ she hissed.
‘Because you don’t need me,’ said Meredith quietly.
Liz turned towards the window, closing her eyes, trying to make sense of all these unfamiliar emotions. It was true that Liz had never needed anyone to succeed in the world, but didn’t everyone need to be wanted? She suddenly felt cold and lonely.
Her mother had rejected her because she felt that Liz didn’t need her. Wendell had wanted her, but discarded her because he didn’t need her.
Liz took a deep breath and turned back to Meredith. ‘I’d want to increase my shareholding,’ she said. ‘Build stock options and bonuses into my contract.’
Meredith nodded. ‘As I’d expect.’
Her mother moved back down the plane to speak to the pilot, and Liz sat back in her seat. She should have felt on top of the world, but she just felt empty. Here she was, being handed what she’d always wanted, and yet somehow the victory felt hollow. Come on, Liz, she scolded herself. The business was hers, and the business had always meant everything to her. Just for a moment, she thought of Wendell, and a solitary tear escaped down her cheek. She brushed it away angrily. Yes, business meant everything to her. Because it had to.
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