by Clare Ashton
‘Has Cate seen the photo by the way?’ Ed asked.
‘Yes, I showed it to her earlier. She loved it.’
‘And she’s all right with us using it?’
‘Yes?’ Pia asked, confused. ‘Why?’
Ed frowned. ‘Well, the pose is quite sexual in a way.’
‘Is it?’ Pia tipped the photo from side to side.
‘What I mean is that Lottie is embracing her as if she was the love of her life, not simply remembering her.’
‘Oh,’ Pia said. ‘So?’
‘So the connotation is that Cate is gay.’
‘And?’
‘Oh dear God. Stop being so dense shortarse.’ Ed puffed out in despair. ‘Is that an aspect of her life that she wants put into question? Does Cate want, however subliminally, to be presented as a lesbian?’
Pia was a little piqued. ‘And what’s wrong with being a lesbian?’
‘Oh nothing at all my dear. I’ve enjoyed it immensely since I kissed my convent school teacher when I was fourteen. But that doesn’t mean Cate thinks so.’
Pia stared opened-mouthed at the formidable and tall figure of Ed. ‘You’re a lesbian?’
‘You seriously didn’t spot it?’
‘Sorry. Faulty gaydar.’
‘Shortarse, you are a piss poor excuse for a dyke if you can’t spot me as a carpet muncher.’
‘Oh,’ sighed Pia, deflating. ‘People surprise me all the time.’
At that moment, they heard raised voices from the office next door. Pia blushed, recognising Rafe’s voice followed by Cate’s softer tones. She shuffled and tried to pretend she was studying the photograph again.
‘Those two have got to sort things out.’ Ed nodded in the direction of the wall.
Pia blushed. ‘I hadn’t noticed there was anything wrong.’
‘Really.’ Ed raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a question, or an exclamation of surprise, just plain disbelief. ‘For a start, I don’t think Cate has ever been committed to this magazine. She was distracted and underwhelmed at the kickoff meeting. If you were tall enough you might have seen. Of course, I suppose there could be other issues?’ Ed tilted her head to the side in expectation.
Pia tensed with alarm, but for once was sensible enough to stay silent.
‘Well, among other things,’ Ed continued, ‘Cate turned down a secondment to the NYT. I’m surprised it didn’t make her choke coming to this rag instead.’
Pia frowned at her, not for the first time rankled by Ed’s dismissal of the magazine. ‘Why do you work here? You have no respect for this magazine.’
‘Money, darling. This pays twice what the broadsheets gave me as a senior editor.’
‘Money,’ Pia muttered. ‘Why is it always money?’
Ed flicked her hand in a dismissive wave. ‘Oh I know at your age it doesn’t seem to matter and money isn’t very romantic. When I was young I was quite happy pissing, snorting and smoking it away. But this side of fifty, darling, things are a little different. If I’m going to retire and live in the lap of luxury, and preferably in the lap of a young floozy, then I need cash.’
Pia grumbled. ‘Young floozy? I didn’t think you were the type.’
‘You’re right, quite right. Old floozy, young floozy. I don’t mind. Just so long as it’s a floozy.’
Pia broke into a smile. ‘I suppose that sometimes there’s nothing better than a floozy.’
‘Except two floozies.’
‘Or three floozies,’ Pia laughed.
‘Indeed. But three is the absolute maximum, because then you run out of hands and tongue and—’
‘Stop.’ Pia spread both hands in front of her. ‘I do not want to know.’
Ed rolled her eyes. ‘Piss poor excuse for a dyke.’
-
The sky was deepening to dark indigo when Ed opened the door of her old Mini. ‘Hop in shortarse.’
The small car was roomy enough for someone like Pia, but the six feet of Ed was awkwardly folded over the steering wheel.
‘You look like you’re driving a toy car.’ Pia giggled.
‘I know it’s quite absurd, but the heart wants what the heart wants.’ Ed sighed, and she patted the leather steering wheel.
With a roar from the engine and a fart from the exhaust pipe, the small car scooted down Fleet Street. They headed further into the city and out across the river. The Thames glittered with boats and the illuminated Tower Bridge stood guard further downstream.
‘Where do they live?’ Pia asked. She’d been reluctant to check. It felt like stalking.
‘Up in the sky.’ Ed pointed across the bridge to the sparkling Shard that cut into the night sky. Pia gawped at the tallest building in London, which cast its shadow like a sun dial during the day and glinted as a steel blade in the twilight.
‘You’re kidding,’ Pia said. ‘Don’t those apartments cost tens of millions of pounds?’
‘I did say the fool had money to burn.’
Pia squeaked back in the Mini’s leather seat, her mouth agog. The wealth of Cate’s circle of friends and relatives was sobering, and she sat dumb for the rest of the drive.
The Shard’s lift took a whole minute to reach the top floors. Rafe’s flat occupied a corner of the building so that the floor to ceiling windows revealed the river and a domineering view over the city. The Gherkin and other landmarks were reduced to the scale of the ordinary below the wisps of eerie clouds that floated below Pia and Ed’s feet.
Pia squashed her nose against the window. ‘This is nuts.’
‘Sleeping in the clouds is rather romantic though, don’t you think,’ Ed said with her lips pressed against the window.
Pia muttered her agreement. It was a child’s dream to have a den like this. But its unattainable exclusivity made her nauseous. It wasn’t out of jealousy or disapproval. Leagues separated someone like Pia and Rafe, and it was an unscalable chasm that Pia would have to cross if she was ever to have a chance with Cate.
She twirled away from the window, with a numb white nose, and studied the luxury apartment. Furnishing was sparse and the room was dominated by its top-end light oak flooring. A group of anonymous low-level square sofas sat in the corner, and a glossy kitchen of black cabinets and large island was spread at the back. The rear wall had two pictures by Warhol—multiple Marilyns and bananas—and a nude woman made from ebony reclined by the sofas.
‘It’s not Cate though is it,’ Pia muttered. She found it unfathomable that she lived in this characterless luxury box. Pia peeped towards a door that allowed a glimpse into a low-lit bedroom. The thought of what must happen in there made her feel ill and she tore away her gaze.
Ed cleared her throat. ‘I’m sure she’ll make an impression on it at some point, if she wants to.’
The apartment was beginning to fill with people that Pia recognised and their partners that she did not. Denise burst in grinning from ear to ear.
‘I brought a karaoke box,’ she squealed, holding a microphone in the air for anyone to see who doubted her.
‘Lord save us,’ Ed grumbled and Pia at least smiled at Denise’s enthusiasm. They watched Rafe bound over and congratulate Denise on her fabulous idea and wrestle the karaoke machine to a prominent position by the windows for all of London to see.
‘I suppose I’d better go and say hello to the silly tit,’ Ed said, and she left Pia to swirl her glass of white wine alone.
The bedroom door caught Pia’s attention as it opened wider. Cate stepped out, refined in a black dress, her hair tied up in a swirl to reveal her elegant neck. Her arms were bare and she looked like royalty as she reached out to greet a guest, her face a perfect picture of serenity and cordiality.
Pia glared down at her drink and swirled it round the glass, embarrassed to see her well-worn trainers ripple through the liquid. She was tempted to abandon her drink and leave, but when she glanced up Cate was staring at her. Cate waved and broke into a beaming grin. Her expression was full of relief and joy at the sight of Pi
a.
Pia’s discomfort and self-consciousness of a moment ago evaporated and she found herself smiling without restraint and her cheeks glowing. Cate skipped towards her, almost breaking into a run, and Pia moved to greet her.
Cate stopped a foot away. Both of them leaned together, Cate seeming as eager as Pia to close even this small gap.
‘Hi.’ Cate gazed into her eyes. Her face was soft in the dim light, and Pia could feel her warmth against her cheek.
‘Hi,’ Pia whispered. She was transfixed by the look on Cate’s face and her dark eyes.
‘I didn’t know if you’d come,’ Cate breathed. ‘I’m so glad you have.’
She slipped her fingers between Pia’s, and Pia felt her insides thrill at the sensation of their touch. As their fingers entwined and palms moulded together, Pia’s arm fluttered with delight.
‘Let me get you some Champagne.’ Cate’s voice was hypnotic. ‘I know it’s the one luxury you have a weakness for. I bought some Billecart-Salmon for you.’
Pia followed, entranced and submissive to Cate’s wishes. As Cate leaned down to the drinks cooler, Pia’s eyes seduced her body. She stroked the curve of her back and hips. She admired the light downy hair on her neck as she poured the bubbling drink. The temptation to lean forward and caress her neck with butterfly kisses was overwhelming. Her whole body longed to touch her.
Cate turned and gave Pia a flute. It was cool and wet in her fingers with the mist of condensation. Their fingers touched, soft and blazing against the cold drink. Pia sipped at the Champagne, bubbles prickling her lips and the icy liquid chilling her chest. But her body recovered in an instant, burning again for Cate’s touch.
‘I have to be the polite hostess for a while,’ Cate whispered. She reached out and rested her fingertips on Pia’s arm with the lightest of touches. ‘Please don’t go while I’m away.’
Her eyes lingered on Pia’s and her lips parted as if she were about to say more. Pia opened her mouth in expectation, but all she could think was ‘kiss me’. Open those lips and kiss me. Run your tongue inside my mouth and slide your lips over mine. Tear off my shirt and tease my nipples between your fingers. Spread me naked over your luxurious kitchen island. Lick and devour me and don’t stop until I scream.
Pia gulped and nodded, and Cate sauntered into the room. Her pupils were dark as she looked back over her shoulder. When the party consumed her, Pia breathed out.
‘Oh God.’
Chapter 18.
Pia’s arousal and emotional high ebbed as the rest of the room came into focus. Then it drained away completely when she noticed Ed analysing her over her spectacles.
She strolled up to Pia. ‘So, are you having a good time shortarse?’
Pia mumbled something that wasn’t coherent when it left her brain let alone after it had been mangled by her tongue. She took several generous sips of champagne in an attempt to cover up her unintelligibility. ‘Think I need another drink.’ She set her glass on a curving, modern-classic dining table and grabbed a bottle of Champagne.
Ed frowned and touched the tabletop, stroking along its glossy veneer. ‘You know, I’d bet good money this is an original Isokon.’
Pia examined it more closely. Its modern design suggested a purchase for a few thousand from the King’s Road, but the wood had a tinge of ochre and wear that implied greater age.
‘They’re expensive aren’t they?’ Pia assumed they were.
‘Some are museum pieces.’ Ed slipped a coaster under Pia’s glass. ‘Got to give him credit. He does have some good taste.’ And she glanced towards Cate who was being the gracious hostess on the other side of the room.
Pia glugged her second glass and refilled it.
‘Have you seen their wedding photos by the way?’ Ed enquired.
Pia’s heart sank. ‘No. I haven’t seen the wedding pictures.’
‘There’s a copy somewhere.’ Ed squeezed through bodies to a plush sideboard. Pia expected her to return with a leather-bound album, but she thrust into her hand a magazine.
‘They were in Hello?’ Pia said, in disbelief. ‘Of course they were in Hello.’ She was all the more dejected and the magazine felt repellent in her hands.
‘Aren’t you going to look?’ Ed nudged her. ‘I thought you’d be interested in the photographs.’
With reluctance Pia flicked open the magazine that naturally fell to a double-page spread of Rafe and Cate. Their airbrushed images and alarming white teeth smiled out at her. Rafe beamed and was dashing in his morning suit. Cate was stunning. She had on a simple, elegant dress, and flowers in her hair was all that were needed to make it sublime. Pia stared into the image of Cate’s eyes and didn’t recognise her there. Perhaps the airbrushing had worn her away. Pia begrudged reading the caption and gave up when she understood they’d married at Kensington Palace.
‘There’s more. Flick over the page.’
What followed was even more nauseating: Cate and Rafe’s honeymoon. The main photograph showed them gazing at a twilight ocean from their exclusive villa balcony on the island of Mustique. Cate wore a light dress and her face was turned away. Rafe stood behind her, commanding the picture, his shirt undone to the waist and his strong arms holding her like a vice. His masculinity and wealth dripped from the photo.
Pia handed back the magazine and refilled her glass once more. ‘Very nice,’ she mumbled.
Ed frowned at her the entire time that it took Pia to drain her glass. ‘I didn’t take you for a big drinker. How many glasses have you had?’
‘M’not,’ Pia noticed that her mouth felt rather numb and clumsy around the words.
‘How many glasses shortarse?’
‘Losssst count.’ Pia stared at the one she held. ‘‘scuse me. Think I need some air.’
She filled her glass and wandered aimlessly, and incompetently, across the room. The closest she could find to fresh air was the great window over London.
She leant her head against the glass. ‘Well…’ she sighed. ‘Bugger.’
What was she doing here lusting after someone so beyond her? She lifted her glass to her lips and slurped without removing her head from the window. She was not feeling well, but more alcohol was irresistible at that moment.
‘Can I have your attention everyone!’ Rafe’s voice boomed across the room and the chatter faded. Pia stumbled around and blinked to focus. Rafe leapt onto the precious dining table, his shoes clattering on the surface. His large, muscular presence seemed to fill the room.
‘That’s better,’ he shouted. ‘I can see everyone now. I wanted to thank you all for coming this evening. We have the editorial for the first edition bang on time, and all we’re missing is a photograph of the team. So in a few minutes I’ve organised something a little bit special for the inside front cover of Bennet no. 1. Hold on to your hats.’ He leapt off the table.
‘Flash bastard,’ Pia heard someone mutter nearby. She turned to see one of the young subeditors gossiping to another. ‘Do you know he bought this place off plan? Didn’t even bother with a viewing. He throws several million around as if he’s buying groceries.’
Pia was beginning to feel sick of the sound of money, and no doubt a bit sick from the alcohol. She lurched around the room, asking for the loo, and at someone’s direction stumbled into a short corridor behind the kitchen.
She pushed open the heavy bathroom door and leant back against it. It eased shut behind her and sealed out the noise of the party. She sighed, free from the constant reminder of riches.
‘Oh that’s better.’ Her body relaxed. The stress and strain flowed down her limbs and dissipated, leaving her light and euphoric from the champagne. ‘Much better.’ She lifted her glass and enjoyed the cool sparkling liquid on her lips. But her head was spinning. Giddy, she opened her eyes, but then she became quite irate.
‘Oh come on,’ she said exasperated.
The room was white smoky marble from the floor to the ceiling. The bowl itself was unassuming white pottery and suspend
ed from the wall. But to its side was another full-height window with London resplendent beneath it. Even the bog had a multi-million-pound view and was more prime real estate than any house Pia would ever own.
‘This is taking the piss,’ she slurred.
She guzzled the last of the Champagne and clinked the glass down on the marble. She stomped over to the window and glared down.
‘Who the hell thinks London should see their arse on the loo?’
She surveyed the city below, its gleaming spires built from money made from money, and thought of all the financiers that spent the millions from millions on things as stupid as a loo with a view. She had an irresistible urge to shout at London. She wanted to raise two fingers to it and not at all in victory.
But instead, with her new habit, she twirled round, pulled down her trousers and bared her best asset. And if she could have peed down a drain pipe of the Shard she would have done.
For a drunken moment it was satisfying. She showed London exactly what she thought of its exclusive city. But a strange and loud sound pulsed outside the window. It was like something powerful chopping into the air at high speed. She could feel it throbbing through her whole body. She peeped over her shoulder.
There was a helicopter hovering outside. It was a little distance from the building, but the pilot was quite clear. There was also an additional person with what appeared to be a camera.
Above the chopper noise she heard a cheer from the main room.
‘What the…?
She struggled with her trousers. With no small amount of panic she tripped and shuffled away from the window. She wrestled with her zip to more cheering from inside the apartment. When she opened the door, the entire team was standing by the window with glasses raised for a group photo.
Rafe spotted her exit from the toilet. ‘Pia! Come on. You’re missing the team photo.’
‘Oh no.’ She bowed her head and her shoulders slumped. She sloped towards the happy group, hoping that indeed she had missed the photo.
-
