Gemma paused, tea towel in hand. After Tom she’d really hoped Andi would have found a man who was worthy of her. Maybe Travis had hidden depths, although from what she’d seen of him so far they were very well hidden indeed!
Still musing on the intricacies of her friends’ love lives, Gemma turned on Pirate FM, fished out her battered copy of Twelfth Night and began to measure out icing sugar, butter and drops of colouring to begin again. While she beat the mixture she propped her lines against the packet of Silver Spoon and went over her scenes, determined that at tonight’s rehearsal she’d be word perfect. Wow. It was amazing just how well rhyme went with beating buttercream into submission! Soon she was deep into Act Four, the creamy icing was rising into emerald peaks and Cal’s lack of communication was almost forgotten.
Gemma was so lost in Shakespeare that she didn’t hear the shop bell tinkle or the tap tap of designer shoes tripping across the tiles and into the kitchen. It was only when a harsh sob interrupted Viola’s conversation with Olivia that Gemma looked up and realised she was no longer alone.
Emily, stick-insect model and Cal’s co-star, was standing at the far side of the kitchen.
The spoon clattered into the bowl and Gemma’s heart skipped a beat. Lord, how on earth had Emily crept up on her? It was like something out of Fatal Attraction.
“My God! You made me jump!” Gemma put her hand on her chest and stared at the other girl. “What on earth are you doing here?”
But Emily didn’t speak. Instead her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a tight line. Gemma felt a prickle of unease. Rather than being her usual arrogant self, all glossy straightened hair and perfect make-up, today Emily looked as though she was fraying around the edges. Her eyes were red, her hair was a mass of tangles, and a crop of spots had appeared on her chin. She looked awful.
“How could you let this happen to Cal?” Emily spat.
Gemma felt sick. Was Cal all right?
“Has something happened to Cal?” she whispered.
“Of course it has, you stupid bitch,” snarled Emily. “As if you don’t know! It’s all your fault! If it hadn’t been for you, Cal would be fine!”
Everything stopped. Gemma was afraid to move. The radio chattered away to itself. Emily seem poised to spring at her; every sinew in the girl’s body was coiled and tense. Gemma gulped. She hoped there weren’t any stray knives lying around. Never mind boiling bunnies. From the expression on Emily’s face, Dee was quite likely to come back and find Gemma bubbling away on the hob.
Abruptly Emily stepped forward and swept her arm across the table. Gemma shrank back as a rush of utensils, bowls and packets flew upwards, crashing onto the tiles and the opposite walls. Icing sugar clouded the air, tingling against Gemma’s teeth and dusting everything. Green buttercream smattered every surface as though Shrek had sneezed, while sharp ceramic shards littered the floor like broken shark’s teeth. Gemma couldn’t believe this display of violence, and for a moment she was afraid to move.
My God! Who would have thought that skinny Emily had that much strength?
Emily crossed the room in a couple of strides, halting only inches away from Gemma. Although she knew she was bigger and stronger, Gemma was afraid because the other girl seemed to have totally lost control. She shrank back against the cooker, little caring that the heat was burning into her calves.
“It’s all your fault!” hissed Emily. Fury twisted her face, blurring those pure lines that sold products and graced magazine covers, until she was unrecognisable. “You’ve ruined everything, you stupid fat cow! If it hadn’t been for you everything would have been fine!”
Gemma felt sick. She didn’t know what had happened, but it must have had something to do with the McDonald’s fiasco.
“Is Cal hurt?” she whispered. Something inside her died at the thought.
“He’s ruined! That’s what he is! All because of you!” Emily jabbed a bony finger into Gemma’s shoulder. He’s going to lose everything and it’s all your fault!”
And then a tide of invective was unleashed as Emily hurled accusations at Gemma about how Cal had lost all of his TV contracts, then his lucrative sponsorship deals with sportswear companies and Weight Busters, and finally about how Emily’s big break, the chance she’d been working towards for years to really make it into television, was well and truly over.
“All because you couldn’t stop stuffing your big fat face!” she finished, concave chest heaving and eyes bright with spite. “My God, look at you! With your cakes and your burgers and your revolting fat body! Don’t you realise what a joke you are? Didn’t you know that was all you ever were to Cal, just a laugh? He probably thought you were the only person who could make him look thinner!”
“That’s not true,” whispered Gemma. Cal was her friend. She knew he was.
Emily’s eyes raked her body scornfully. “Of course it is. You’re a joke. Don’t kid yourself that he ever really took you seriously. You were just somebody to scoff a pie with. And look where that got him. Hanging out with you has cost Cal his career. It’s cost him everything! He wishes he’d never met you! And so do I!”
A burning wave of shame swept over Gemma, but not from Emily’s cruel personal attack. No, Gemma knew she had body issues, but the weird thing was that since she’d arrived in Rock she’d started to make peace with those. Rather, she felt ashamed that she’d supported Cal’s quest to break his diet – encouraged it, even – and guilty too. No wonder Cal hadn’t been in touch. He must be desperately upset and worried. He’d told her how precarious his finances were.
“You know I’m right,” said Emily, when Gemma didn’t respond. “You’ve ruined Callum South’s career and mine. I know you won’t care about me, but I hope you’re proud of yourself for wrecking his life! No wonder he wishes he’d never met you.”
Gemma flinched. She didn’t want to believe this, but Cal’s silence since yesterday spoke volumes.
“I never meant any of this to happen,” she said. Her voice was faint.
“Well it has. You’ve ruined everything.” Emily stalked from the room, pausing in the doorway to survey the devastation. “Everything!”
She spun on her heel. Moments later the shop bell tinkled and Gemma was left alone. The kitchen was quiet again apart from the radio.
Gemma stood still for a moment. Then her eyes filled and the ruined kitchen swam. The truth hit her with gale force. She was a laughing stock and she really had ruined Callum’s career, however unintentionally. No wonder the iPhone had been silent. Callum couldn’t bear to speak to her because he blamed her too. He wouldn’t be calling in a hurry. Emily was right: she’d spoiled everything.
With tears spilling down her cheeks Gemma bent down and began to pick up the broken bowl. The broken pieces of her heart would have to wait.
Chapter 40
“You’re late,” were Jax’s opening words when a breathless Andi knocked on the door of the elegant Victorian townhouse the older woman had rented for August. “You do realise I won’t be paying you for the time you’ve missed?”
Andi, still out of breath from running most of the way from Trendaway Farm to Rock, glanced down at her watch. It was three minutes past the hour. Oh dear. She feared this set the tone for the evening.
“I’m really sorry,” she apologised, following Jax through into a stunning glass and chrome atrium, filled with white fairy lights, lush potted palms and tables covered in neat rows of sparkling champagne glasses. The caterers were already hard at work unloading food onto trestle tables. Glancing over, Andi saw helpings of pink prawns swimming in garlic mayonnaise, glistening black caviar piled onto blinis and, to top it all, several large lobsters standing guard over steaming vats of bisque. Goodness, Jax was really pushing the boat out to impress.
“It’s been a really busy day,” Andi attempted to explain when Jax didn’t reply. She actually thought she’d done incredibly well to make it at all. Her hangover had really kicked in. No amount of coffee had been able to revive
her and it had felt as though Cornwall Council’s road gang were using pneumatic drills inside her skull. Mel had taken one look at Andi’s green face and packed her off home straight away. She’d spent most of the day tucked up in her bunk sleeping it off. Now, after lots of water and Nurofen, she was feeling slightly more human – but her temples were still pounding and the sight of all the food made her feel queasy.
Jax gave Andi scathing a look, which suggested she could see through the neatly tied back hair, white smock top and agnès b. trousers to the hung-over wreck beneath. Dressed in a stunning black dress slashed so low that it showed both kinds of cleavage, and with her hair straightened to within an inch of its life and her face beautifully made up, Jax looked the antithesis of how Andi felt.
“There’s a lot to do,” she said curtly. “The guests arrive at half seven. I need you to take their bags and coats when they arrive and then pass around the canapés. I’m expecting most people to walk through and be on the terrace, so make sure you’re there and on hand to refill their glasses too. Afterwards you can wash the dishes and glasses so they’re clean to return.”
Andi waited for a please but it didn’t come. With a sinking heart she followed the older woman through the atrium and out onto the terrace where once again it seemed no expense was to be spared. Citronella torches were already lit to keep the midges at bay and a string quartet was warming up by a forest of potted bay trees. Jax was going all out to impress her neighbours; that was for certain. As well as Andi there were several other local women she recognised, dressed in waitressing attire. Surely she was surplus to requirements?
Or was Jax putting her very firmly in her place? As she busied herself pouring champagne, the thought of alcohol making her stomach lurch alarmingly, Andi had to admire Jax’s logic. She wanted Jonty back, that much was obvious, and she hated and was threatened by his friendship with Andi. However misplaced this insecurity was, to be the beautiful queen bee at an elegant party while Andi looked dowdy and served the drinks was a stroke of genius that would have impressed Machiavelli. While Jax barked orders, Andi gritted her teeth and thought that if it hadn’t been for all her debts she’d have told Jax exactly where she could shove her lobsters. Not for the first time, she cursed Tom.
At about half seven the first of the guests started to arrive and Andi was busy collecting pashminas and more designer bags than the ground floor of Selfridges could boast, as the great and good of Rock arrived for the free Taittinger and food. Before long the terrace had filled with guests and she was rushed off her feet offering drinks and canapés while Jax drifted from guest to guest, feigning interest but with her eyes always sifting through the crowds. In between asking people if they wanted a drink or a canapé, Andi amused herself with some people spotting. It was like a who’s who of Rock’s high society. So far she’d spied two celebrity chefs, somebody who looked very much like Martin Clunes and, believe it or not, Angel’s old nemesis Mr Yuri. With a gulp and hoping desperately that he’d visited Cornwall for a holiday rather than to fit her sister out with a pair of concrete boots, Andi concentrated on pouring champagne and being generally invisible.
Finally, and much champagne-pouring later, Simon and Mel arrived. Relieved to see friendly faces, Andi left her work for a moment and joined them in the garden.
“Champagne? Canapé?” she asked.
Mel looked taken aback to see her. “Andi? What on earth are you doing serving drinks for Evil Edna?”
“Earning some extra pennies,” said Andi with a grin. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I didn’t expect to see you here though. I thought you weren’t a fan of Jax?”
“Believe me, I’m not.” Mel took two glasses of Taittinger. Draining one and then the other in swift succession, she added, “That’s better. Now I can face the next hour.”
“My wife only came because she wants a nosy at Jax’s house,” grinned Si. “It’s one up from watching Come Dine With Me, for her!”
Mel walloped him. “Don’t be a bugger. You know full well I’ve come to make sure Jonty isn’t eaten alive. I don’t trust that woman an inch.” She waved her hand in the direction of the atrium, lit up now by the candles and fairy lights as dusk had fallen. “I mean, just look at her!”
Andi followed Mel’s gesture and her stomach slowly looped the loop when she glanced into the atrium and saw that Jonty had arrived. He stood framed in the glass of the atrium, a slim but powerful figure dressed in a white Quiksilver shirt and faded jeans. In his simple yet stylish surf dude’s outfit, Jonty stood out from everyone else in their Armani and Ralph Lauren. Jax had cornered him already and even from a distance it was clear that they were deep in conversation. Jax had her hand on his chest and her head was tilted up at him, giving Jonty the full benefit of her tanned cleavage. Jonty, though, was too busy saying something back, in between much head shaking and waving of hands, to be distracted by the barely-there frock. His attention was one-hundred percent focused on whatever it was he was saying.
“I can’t believe he came,” Mel said. She looked upset and two spots of colour bloomed above her achingly familiar cheekbones. “Has he flipped?
“Course he hasn’t.” Si put his arm around his wife and drew her close. Dropping a kiss onto her dark hair, he added, “You know why he came. Jonty wants to make sure Jax doesn’t—”
“Darling, look: there’s Alice and Hugo!” interrupted Mel. “We’d better go and say hello! We’ll catch you later, Andi!”
“See you tomorrow,” said Si as his wife towed him away. Over his shoulder he added with a wink, “Unless you go on the lash again, that is!”
Andi poked her tongue out at him and went back to the serious business of refilling glasses. Although she was busy – even if they were some of the UK’s wealthiest citizens Jax’s neighbours seemed determined to make the most of all the free booze – Andi’s gaze kept returning to the couple framed in the window, lost in conversation and oblivious to everyone around them. Maybe they were sorting things out? Jax had stepped even closer to him now and was doing this weird thing where she kept tossing her hair about and struggling to keep her dress on both shoulders. It was as though her skin was made of Teflon. Jonty’s arms were crossed and he kept shaking his head, although he made no move to leave. Quite the opposite. He looked as though he had an awful lot to say. Then he glanced away from Jax and out of the atrium towards the garden. For a split second his eyes locked with hers and they stared at each other. Although it was a warm evening, goosebumps rose on her arms. He raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “Where’s Travis?”
Andi looked away, hot with embarrassment. Although it was none of Jonty’s business what she did, the idea that he believed she’d spent the night with Travis irked her.
Ignoring him, she concentrated on filling glasses, deciding that it was actually a relief to be invisible amongst the guests. They weren’t at all interested in her and as she served the drinks Andi let their conversations drift like dandelion seeds on the breeze. When she did attempt to sneak another glimpse at Jonty and Jax they were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they’d gone somewhere more private? They probably had plenty of things to discuss. Whatever was going on it was their business anyway. Maybe she should just concentrate on topping up glasses, seeing as that was what she was being paid to do?
The night was falling in earnest now; the air was thick with the scent of evening stock and the river below the terrace was just an inky void. Strains of Vivaldi drifted on the breeze, while the chatter of the guests grew louder as they consumed more alcohol. Andi’s headache fluttered again near her temples and she was almost felled by a wave of exhaustion.
After several hours she was losing track of how many trips she’d made carrying trays laden with dirty glasses. Her head was thudding intensely and she felt giddy. Moving as cautiously as she could through the crowd of drunken and excited partygoers, she was attempting to make a return journey to the kitchen when the room pitched and rolled like a boat driven by Travis. Andi wasn’t quite sure how it happ
ened, but the next thing she knew she was sprawled on the floor surrounded by broken glass and gawping onlookers. She tried to get up but the room was spinning. Putting her hand out to steady herself, she yelped in pain.
“Oh my God!” Andi heard Mel cry. “Andi! Are you OK?”
“She’s bleeding!” somebody else gasped.
“I’m so sorry everyone!” Jax’s voice, bright with false good humour, was as welcome to Andi as nails scraping a chalkboard. “I hadn’t realised we were having Greek night!”
Andi attempted to sit up. Whoa! That wasn’t very nice. Why couldn’t everyone stand still?
“Andi? Hey, take it easy. Don’t try to move.”
Escape for the Summer Page 35
