Glittering Fortunes (11 page)

‘Oh, God, look who it is.’ Beth whipped round. ‘Don’t let him see me.’

‘What? Who?’

‘I’ve probably got stuff in my teeth from all those spinach blinis. Have I?’

‘Your teeth are fine. What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Sackville Grey—I should’ve known he’d be here.’

‘So why don’t you go and talk to him?’

‘I can’t! What am I meant to say?’

‘How about, “Hi, it’s Beth, good to see you again”...?’

Beth looked at her as if she’d suggested stripping naked and crawling up to him on all fours. ‘Are you
insane
?’

Olivia smiled. Her friend had carried a torch for Sackville, owner of the Round House art gallery, since his car had broken down outside the stables one day and Beth had phoned for help. Sackville was achingly Hoxton, tonight donning a pair of drainpipe cords, suede lace-ups and a sharp blazer. His dark hair relinquished a flash of silver around the temples and he carried the air of someone who spent their evenings in a candlelit attic scribbling romantic poetry into a battered leather-bound notebook. Since moving from London Sackville had made a raging success of the gallery space and now it was one of
the
places to be exhibited in the West Country.

‘Go on.’ Olivia handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Dutch courage.’

‘No way.’

‘Why not?’

Beth glimpsed him again. ‘OMG. Look who he’s talking to. That’s our way in. Will you? Please?’

‘I can’t believe you said OMG. I’m considering never speaking to you again.’

‘Fine, you don’t have to, so long as you do this one last thing for me.’

Olivia sighed, and followed Beth’s gaze. Sackville had been accosted by a fiercely nattering Imogen Randall, owner of the tennis club, a stout, matter-of-fact woman with close-cropped ginger hair and wide, muscular haunches not totally dissimilar in shape to one of her cherished racquets. He wore an expression of faintly concealed alarm. Alongside them, sure enough, was Imogen’s son Theo.

‘Nice try,’ said Olivia. ‘Forget it.’

‘Come
on
!’

‘No. Absolutely not.’ Theo Randall was Olivia’s first boyfriend, with whom she had spent an entire summer aged twelve practising how to French kiss (not easy because Theo had just had braces fitted and they kept getting caught on her top lip). A year after the break-up (lots of sobbing, love notes, wild flowers on the doorstep— Theo was a romantic) she had bumped into him at a party, at which he’d sported an unsightly rash of chin-based acne boils that he’d tried to pass off as an injury after he’d been hit in the face by one of his mother’s fast-flying balls.

He was shorter than she remembered, and almost as spotty. She was surprised he hadn’t flown the nest in pursuit of a glittering tennis career—certainly Imogen had poured every determined ounce into making her son the next Andy Murray—but then whenever Olivia had seen Theo rally as a child he’d been arrestingly ill-coordinated, blundering about the court and earning for his efforts a hotly embarrassing lambasting in front of his friends. Imogen, in her day, had once played doubles with Sue Barker.

It was too late. Theo had seen her. Raising his hand, he made his way over.

Sackville, desperate to escape Imogen, moved with him. Beth presented herself in a great big rush—’HidoyourememberImBethIworkattheBarleyNook’—and Olivia just had time to inwardly groan when across the room she spied a flash of golden hair and the broad line of a familiar pair of shoulders.

Her heart flipped. What was Addy doing here?

Her eyes travelled down. Piece by piece it became clear.

He wasn’t alone. His arm, the arm that just last week had been looped around her waist, had pulled her close in the swaying lull of the ocean, was now wedged proprietorially in the fly-trap grip of Thomasina Feeny.

* * *

A
TINKLING
GLASS
ahead of a speech was one of Susanna’s favourite sounds in the world. It reminded her of warmly lit society functions and very good quality red wine, and of rich men in suits who kissed your hand on introduction.

After a sumptuous dinner of tuna and asparagus salad, golden baby chicken and lemon pudding brûlée, Cato stood from the head of the top table, glass in hand, and began to address the crowd.

Susanna closed her eyes, savouring the moment.

‘Everyone, if I could steal your attention for just a couple of minutes...’

She stared up, waiting for her cue. Would Cato do it now, right now, and catch her off-guard by dropping to his knees?

‘Some of you have been to Usherwood before; for others it’s your first time.’

No, he would ease her into it, the gentleman that he was.

‘For me, well,’ he swirled the glass, ‘it’s damn emotional to see the place as it should be.’ His voice splintered and a respectful silence fell. Susanna reached to touch his arm. ‘When my parents were with us this house was no stranger to such lavish gatherings. I’m sure you’ll agree that Usherwood thrives on light and laughter, of which I trust there will be plenty more to come this evening.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said an old fogey at the back. The guests raised their glasses.

Susanna’s gaze flicked across the room. She spotted Charlie. Darkly suited, he had slipped into the room unnoticed. His hair was rumpled and he needed to shave. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and he wore no tie.

‘To Richmond and Beatrice,’ pronounced Cato gravely, and the room echoed his words. Susanna pressed a tissue to her eyes.

‘Not that tonight would have been possible without the help of several very special people,’ said Cato. ‘First, Fiona and Wilson Montgomery of the Quillets Vineyard, whose generous donation I dare say we’ll be enjoying long into the night.’

He lifted his glass and the salute came back: ‘Fiona and Wilson.’

‘Second, my housekeeper Mrs Bewlis-Teet, who has allowed us to turn the place upside-down and has been unflinchingly good-spirited at every stage. Mrs B-T.’

‘Mrs B-T,’ sang the repeat.

‘And this woman.’ He motioned to Susanna. Now—it would be now! She looked demurely to the floor. ‘She really has put her all into organising this event and for that we must be thankful.’ Gosh, it was like the Lord’s Prayer! ‘Dear old Mole.’

There was a pause, and seemed to be some confusion as to whether another toast should be raised. A few uncertain rumblings of ‘Dear old Mole’ staggered across the assembly. In the corner, Caggie Shaw stifled a laugh.

Bitch!
Susanna thought. Once she was installed she would be firing that upstart cook so fast her head would spin.

‘I’m thrilled so many could join us to help put Usherwood back on the map,’ Cato concluded. Susanna wanted to grab him:
Haven’t you forgotten something?
‘Hollywood might be my mistress, but England, glorious England, remains my wife.’

There was a long, deliberate quiet.

‘Which is why, as of the New Year, I will be assuming my position as heir and successor to this estate... As the rightful Lord Lomax of Usherwood.’

A ripple of interest passed through the space.

‘I will be relocating permanently to Cornwall and taking the reins from my long-suffering brother. Goodness knows Charles has struggled with the property, so doubtless this will be a relief to everybody concerned.’

Susanna’s eyes swung to Charles. She watched the colour drain from his face, top to bottom, like a leaking fish tank.

‘And that brings me to the most important point of all.’

She steeled herself.

‘To thank you: this community. Heaven knows this family—such as it is—has been through the mill. I treasure this town, just as my parents did, and their parents before. That’s the crux of the duty I pledge to undertake: never to forget what brought me here, my history, my chronicle, because whoever said, “With great power comes great responsibility” was bang on the money. It’s all of
you
, Lustell Cove, who make this part of the world such a special place, and such a great pleasure to return to.’

The ballroom rang with applause and the band resumed playing. Cato stepped off the podium and gladly received his flock of supporters.

‘You must be terribly pleased,’ said a producer acquaintance, sidling up to Susanna with a smile. ‘I take it you’ll be relocating with him?’

‘Of course I will,’ she snapped. She caught him ogling her see-through attire and failed to mask her scowl. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and find a drink.’

Chapter Sixteen

‘C
AN
YOU
BELIEVE
it?’ Addy raved, diving into Beth’s seat the instant the speech was done. Beth had received a phone call partway through the oration and had taken it outside. ‘Tony Jeffries, Elizabeth Caulder, Sam Levy... Oli, this place is like a who’s who of everyone—it’s mental!’ He craned to see. ‘Do you think you can introduce me to Cato now? I can’t believe it’s really him. He’s shorter than I imagined. Susanna’s a fox, though, isn’t she? I’ve got this wicked idea for a thriller—well, it’s kind of like
Die Hard
only a tropical version, like
Predator
with sex, sort of, and it’s set on this island with all these super-fit women. They’re castaways who were on this mad party boat but then it sank and they got washed into shore and then they have to wrestle this alien thing that comes after them and it’s so hot they can’t wear any clothes, like
any
. It’s got Cato all over it, for the hero, and I’ve got my part pegged...’

Olivia tuned out. She absorbed how handsome he looked in a too-small tux that clung in all the right places. With his corn-coloured hair and butterscotch skin, he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. What was he doing with Thomasina?

Finally Addy wound to a pause. Clocking Olivia’s nonplussed expression, he checked himself. ‘Hey,’ he reached out, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch after Friday. My phone died and then I had this batshit crazy night and after that, like seriously, I slept for a week, and then Dax was bunking down with me and then I got held up at the Paradise and then suddenly it was tonight...’ He shrugged with boyish innocence, the shrug of someone adept in charming his way out of tricky situations. ‘Anyhow Thomasina’s dad got invites, so I didn’t need to tag with you, after all.’

Tag with you
... Was that all it came to?

Of course Daddy Feeny had been on the list—he was an MP. Across the room a crab-faced Thomasina was eyeballing them, Lavender skulking behind. The twins were searingly orange in floor-length silk kimonos that probably cost near on a thousand pounds and made them look like giant Wotsits.

He touched her arm. ‘No hard feelings, yeah?’

‘Look, Addy, about that night—’

‘Shit, he’s coming over.’ Addy straightened. ‘Can you take a photo, Cato and me together? I want to tweet it.’

Olivia had checked out Addy’s Twitter page. It described him as ‘Model, Actor, Surfer,’ and the shot he’d picked was like something out of a Davidoff ad.

‘I’d rather not,’ she said.

‘Why? You work for him, don’t you?’

‘Exactly. It’s unprofessional.’

He grinned that grin. ‘For me?’

Cato disappeared through the terrace doors, cigar in hand, and his crowd of hangers-on followed. Olivia found it excruciating to be joining them, but Addy insisted, and anyway the coolness of the veranda turned out to be a welcome break. It was clammy inside the house, saturated with perfumes and wine breath.

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’ she asked.

‘Hmm?’ Addy’s eyes skimmed over her. ‘Oh. Right. Sure.’

They ducked round the side of the orangery. A wooden swing seat was bathed in moonlight. It was deserted. Olivia sat and he flopped down next to her.

‘It’s about...’ she began. Typically she hated skirting round subjects, it was better to just get to the point, but somehow with Addy it was always so difficult. She never quite found the words she meant to say. Nervously she twirled the chain around her neck. ‘It’s about us—’

He cut her off with a kiss. Dazedly she returned it, as sweet as it had been on the beach, his fingers on her chin and the back of her neck, stroking her hair.

‘Hey,’ he told her, breaking away. ‘What is there to talk about? I’m not with Thomasina, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s nothing to me. I came with her so I could see Cato. And you, obviously, I wanted to see you. I’ve said I’m sorry for not calling. What else is there?’ He leaned in. ‘You taste good...’

‘But Addy, I have to know where—’

He put a finger to her lips. ‘Shh... We’ve known each other our whole lives. Let’s just go with it if it feels right.’ His mouth was on hers again, passionately this time, and she melted into his warm chest, drowning in the light, citrusy notes of an expensive aftershave, and decided that Addy’s kiss was the only answer she needed.

* * *

O
LIVIA
HEARD
B
ETH
before she saw her. Having deposited a blusteringly enthusiastic Addy with an acutely uninterested Cato, she took a shortcut round the back of the gardens and detected a muted snivelling blowing towards her through the portico.

‘Beth...?’ She stepped through. ‘My God, what’s happened?’

Her friend was slumped on the crumbling wall. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and sniffed wetly. Her tear-streaked face glowed eerily in the dark.

‘That’s it, Oli,’ she sobbed. ‘We have to sell Archie.’

Olivia’s good mood evaporated. ‘
What?’

‘That was Dad. He’s received an offer. It’s too good to refuse.’

Olivia sat down next to her and pulled her close. She’d feared this day would come—perhaps Beth had, too, only it was too painful to talk about so neither girl had mentioned it. The horse was way too costly to keep, an expense they could no longer afford, even if he had become part of the family. The fact that the Merrills had kept him this long, had preserved him even over the sale of their house, spoke volumes.

‘I’m so sorry, Beth.’ She hugged her. ‘Really, I am. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s stupid.’ Beth dried her cheeks. ‘He’s just a horse, right?’

‘No, he isn’t,’ comforted Olivia. ‘I know how much he means to you.’

‘I feel like I’m orphaning him,’ she wept, ‘like I’m deserting him. He doesn’t understand what’s going on!’

Olivia rooted around for something her friend could blow her nose on and surfaced with a broad-leaved dock. Beth snorted loudly into it.

‘There must be something we can do.’ Olivia couldn’t bear seeing her so unhappy. This was Beth she had played knights and steeds with in the rainy moss, Beth she had dyed her hair pink with to avoid having their school photographs taken, Beth she had paddled on the ocean with until four a.m. on her sixteenth birthday, sad because her dad wasn’t there. She knew Beth better than anyone.

‘There isn’t.’ Beth shook her head. ‘It would take thousands for us to match this offer. Since the business folded we just can’t justify it. It’s over.’

The chiming laughter of the Feeny twins blew over on the breeze and Olivia prayed they wouldn’t materialise. Sure enough, seconds later, the sisters popped their matching heads round the wall, goblets of wine sloshing in their fat hands.

‘Yoo-hoo!’ trilled Thomasina. ‘We thought we heard someone out here.’

Beth attempted to shield her face but it was too late.

‘Or should we say
boo-hoo
?’ Lavender crowed. ‘What’s the matter with
her
?’

‘Nothing.’ Olivia didn’t want their grubby paws all over Beth’s misery.

‘It must be about having to pawn off that tatty old horse,’ pondered Thomasina, arranging her porcine features into something she imagined to be sympathy. ‘We heard about that... It’s a crying shame, isn’t it, Lav?’

Lav
was what her mother called the loo, which normally pleased Olivia, but right now she felt too glum for it to register any satisfaction.

‘At least he’s going to a good home.’ Thomasina examined her manicure.

Olivia glared. ‘How would you know?’

‘How would we
know
?’ Lavender giggled. ‘Isn’t it
obvious
?’

‘Daddy’s the one who put in the offer!’ declared Thomasina smugly. ‘You ought to be grateful; otherwise I expect he’d have to get put down or something.’

‘
You’re
the one buying him?’ Beth could barely get the words out. ‘
You?’

The twins beamed.

‘But you’ve already got seven horses!’ she spluttered.

‘So this one should fit right in. I suppose he’s all
right
, don’t you, Lav?’

Lavender screwed up her face. ‘Hmm, yah, I guess he’ll
do
.’

‘We’ll allow you to visit,’ Thomasina offered sweetly. ‘Daddy wants to purchase in the autumn, so we’ll invite you round for Christmas.’

With a final burst of self-satisfied sniggering, they zigzagged back inside.

‘Oh, God.’ Beth turned, stricken. ‘Oh,
God!
’

‘It’ll be OK,’ Olivia managed. ‘It will, you’ll see...’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. It just will.’

‘It can’t be. It’s fucked. The whole thing’s fucked.’

‘Don’t say that...’

Beth got to her feet, frustration spilling to anger. ‘What would you know? You don’t understand what we’ve gone through; the sacrifices Mum and Dad have had to make. You’ve been in London the whole time. You weren’t here when I needed you. And even now you’re back all you care about is bloody Addy.’

‘That’s not true,’ she protested. ‘We emailed all the time while I was away. I’d do anything for you, Beth; you’re my best friend. Don’t say things like that.’

‘Why not?’ she choked, swiping her eyes. ‘It’s true. All you can think about is your precious relationship with Addy—Addy this, Addy that, ever since you came back you haven’t stopped talking about him. Anyone would think working at Usherwood might have given you something else to think about, but no, as far as you’re concerned the rest of the world can just disappear. I saw you just now, draped off him, hanging off his every word, all pathetic and moony-eyed. Can’t you see he’s come with someone else tonight? Can’t you see him for what he really is? You’re not yourself when you’re with him, Oli. You’re embarrassing.’

It was as if she’d been slapped.

Beth was upset. She didn’t mean it. She didn’t know what she was saying.

‘I’m trying to help,’ Olivia said thickly.

‘Don’t bother. Leave me alone.’

They had never fought before. It felt horrible. ‘Beth, please...’

‘No. Go away. I want to be by myself. Haven’t you got your boyfriend to get back to? Until he latches on to some other girl, that is.’

Olivia’s patience snapped.

‘Exactly how are my feelings for Addy anything whatsoever to do with you?’ she blasted. ‘I thought friends were supposed to confide in each other. I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known it was such a chore for you to listen, and that I’d get it all thrown back in my face. You don’t know him like I do—’

‘You’re right. I don’t. No one does, because you’re deluded.’

‘Well if I am then so are you. How do you think Sackville’s ever going to look twice at you if you’re too much of a wimp to go and talk to him? It’s just like at school. What do you want me to do, go and do it for you?’

‘Don’t you think maybe I’ve had other things to deal with?’

‘According to you it never crossed my mind. I don’t care, remember?’

‘You said it.’

‘I’ve had enough of this.’

‘So have I.’ Beth stormed across the patio. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Good. I wish you’d never come in the first place.’

The patio door slammed.

Olivia kicked the wall with one of the stupid uncomfortable wedge heels she hadn’t even wanted to wear. She stubbed her toe and bit back the pain. Yanking the shoe off she flung it into the night and limped miserably back inside.

* * *

A
T
ELEVEN
P
.
M
.
Susanna decided to take matters into her own hands. Men! Sometimes they needed a firm shove in the right direction.

‘Come for a walk,’ she breathed, clutching Cato’s elbow as he engaged in a charm offensive with RAMA Award-winning actress Meredith Castille.

‘You’re pissed,’ he slid back through gritted teeth. ‘Hoick that dress up.’

She glanced down. The shadow of a nipple was peeping out from behind the velvet detail and she yanked the material to correct it.

‘
Oof!’
she exclaimed merrily. ‘That’s better.’

Meredith and her catalogue model husband appraised her, smiling stiffly.

Husband.
The word had taken on magical powers, elusive and essential.

‘Right-o,’ said Cato jovially, ‘I think some fresh air might be in order.’ A smirk passed between the men and Susanna squeezed his hand gratefully.

‘I’d like another martini,’ she garbled.

‘I don’t think so,’ came the gruff reply. Roughly Cato steered her though the hall, past the library and into a passage that smelled of rotten wine. The muddle of corridors was disorientating. She struggled to balance in her stilettoes.

‘Where are you taking me?’ She giggled, slipping off her heels. ‘Ouch!’

‘Somewhere discreet.’

‘Are you going to lock me up in the cellar?’

‘Maybe, if you don’t start behaving.’

Abruptly he hauled her through the rear doors and across the lawn. In her peripheral she spotted a comet, a soaring shape launched out of the walled garden. It looked like...
a
shoe
? She blinked away her drunkenness. The Usherwood maze crept towards them out of the night, a dense bank of labyrinth.

‘I’ve a good mind to abandon you out here until you sober up,’ said Cato.

She couldn’t tell if he was kidding. The prospect of Cato leaving her, in any capacity, was all of a sudden abominable, and she grabbed him.

‘Careful!’ he objected. ‘Do you know this suit cost me two thousand pounds?’

‘I was hoping you might ask me something,’ she drawled.

‘I just did.’

‘Not
that
...’

Susanna waited hopefully. It made sense, of course: there were too many people in the house and he would prefer to do it in private. She should have known—Cato had to play out so much of his life on the public stage, it was no wonder he had opted to save this just for them.

‘I know where we can be alone.’ She stepped through the entrance to the maze. ‘But if you want me,’ she murmured, turning at the last moment to catch the flame of lust ignite in his eyes, ‘you’ll have to catch me.’