Trophy Life (23 page)

Could her sister be right? Was there someone who would want to humiliate her so completely and publicly? She thought of Olivia and her annoyance at not being in charge of the event. Olivia had wanted to be involved in every aspect of the planning. She would have had the opportunity to take the information, maybe change the form. And yet, even if this was true, how could she prove it?

'Don’t you have anybody you could ask? Or talk to?' Julia’s question made them both stop and think.

'I mean there’s Giselle, but I would feel bad putting her in the middle of all this.' After a moment, Amy spoke up again. 'Andrea I suppose. I mean, she has an interest in it. The story was bad for the whole club.'

'Hmm, I’m not sure about that Aims. The woman just kicked you out of her precious club.'

Amy sighed, cringing at the cold hard fact. The memory was still a bit too raw. 'I know, but I think she deserves to know what happened. And I also want to let her know how hard I worked on it. I mean, she’s my mother-in-law, it’s not like I can escape her. Maybe it’s good to get it all out into the open.'

'Or maybe you’ll just make it a million times more awkward,' Julia suggested, quite unhelpfully. Amy ignored her.

'But I can’t just go accusing Olivia. I have to be subtle somehow.'

'Maybe Harry should talk to her,' Julia said.

'No.' Amy was adamant about this, shaking her head. She couldn’t ask Harry to do that. He was so close to his mother and the whole situation was so mortifying, she didn’t want him to think about it more than he absolutely had to. It was bad enough that his name had been linked to hers in the story. She couldn’t also ask him to play go-between between her and his mum.

'I think I know what to say,' Amy said, more decisively than she felt. I’ll just try to do it casually. Informally. I’ll just tell her that there was an error with the wine and go through it all step by step. If I just present her with the facts, she’ll have to ask who was in charge of the wine. Then when I say it was Olivia she’ll realise it was her and not me.'

'Well, I’ll say this. I like your optimism.' Julia looked doubtful.

'You just let me know if you have a better suggestion. I am all ears. Otherwise, I guess Friday night will be the night I talk to her. We’re having dinner.'

'Rather you than me, that’s all I’d say,' Julia finished before sipping her drink. 

***

That Friday, Amy and Harry arrived at the same time as Giselle and James, allowing them all to say their hellos on the doorstep.

'Amy, looking beautiful as ever,' James said exuberantly. Amy wondered if he knew what had been happening with the Society, if he’d read the story. He must have heard. It was in the national press for goodness’ sake. But he was acting just like his usual self. In fact, everyone was acting disturbingly normal. Harry’s family had always had a knack for sweeping things under the carpet, but she had never realised just how accomplished they were in the art of denial. She was beginning to question if it had even happened. Only an especially tight hug from Giselle signalled that anything was amiss.

Andrea in particular seemed wedded to maintaining an atmosphere of normality. Smiling and laughing and behaving like the quintessential hostess, nobody would know she had expelled her daughter like an Amish person shunned for using a hair dryer. 

Amy was disappointed to find that Lord and Lady Hijinx were there that night. Would that leave any time for her to talk to Andrea? Probably not.

Dinner was a lively affair, everyone talking nineteen to the dozen, as if even a moment of silence would open the way for an unappetising topic. James and Harry got into a heated debate about the family history and went into their father’s old office to find the family tree. Amy followed them, having hardly been into that room and curious about how Andrea now kept it.

While James and Harry perused old albums, Amy looked around the walls. One of them held several certificates, each framed in gold and carefully spaced. Another was a family photo wall. There were childhood snaps of James and Harry on holiday, pictures of the twins, faded photos of Andrea and Steven’s wedding and various graduation shots. There were even old family photos dating back decades. One photo looked like it was from the seventies and featured a group of four girls, bright eyed and happy, their arms around each other. Looking carefully, Amy recognised Andrea.

'Your mum is so young here.' She also looked beautiful with her long hair worn straight down and her pretty dress accentuating a very slight frame. There was hardly a hint of the hard woman she would become.

Harry looked up and said, 'Oh yes, that was from university I think?'

James walked over, looking at the photo. 'She still knows all of them.' He sounded proud. 'That’s Miriam Tellman, Amber Felding-Wright and Sophie Grenwald, Olivia Hollingcroft’s mother. Quite amazing really.' Amy recognised Miriam from London Ladies and it would be hard not to have heard of Sophie, who was still reading the news on a satellite news channel having started an illustrious career in journalism some thirty years ago.

Of course Andrea had known Olivia’s mother for years. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amy had known that. She studied the photo further, searching for clues into her mother-in-law’s past. Something that might tell her more about what made her tick. But that was a lot to ask of a single shot.

'Got it!' Harry said triumphantly, slamming his finger down on the page of an album. 'Third cousin twice removed.'

Amy went home that night, deflated and annoyed at how the evening had panned out. She would have to find another time to talk to Andrea.

The next morning, still frustrated, she was scrolling through the
Daily Mail
for her regular hit of guilty gossip. It was ridiculous really. After all, this was the paper that had shamed her, but she still couldn’t live without its candid columns. Then something caught her eye. In the showbiz section, there was a story about the Hijinx sisters and their latest club attendance. Amy studied the picture of Binky Hijinx with a pair of headphones. She had apparently taken up DJing as a hobby.

It was normal fare for the paper; just another photo of the stunning heiress. But what was remarkable about this was the author of the accompanying article. She hadn’t noticed it at first. Had almost closed down the app without seeing it. Even once it had caught her eye, Amy had to check twice, but the name was there in black and white.

'By Flo Felding-Wright for the Daily Mail
'

No. It was just a coincidence, she told herself. But then she couldn’t shake the thought. Could it be? Amy remembered the photograph from last night. The beautiful shot of Andrea with her friends. One of them, she was sure, had been called something Felding-Wright.

Amy went to check the article about the dinner event and, sure enough, it too was by Flo Felding-Wright. Such an unusual surname. Could she be related to Andrea’s friend? And if so, was that a coincidence? It must be. After all, why would Andrea’s friend write such a negative story in the press about the Society? Had they fallen out? James had said they were still in touch, but he might not know everything. Then there was the presence of the other women in the photograph. Apparently they had all been close, including-

She pictured the smiling visage of Sophie Grenwald, now Sophie Hollingcroft. She would have to ask Andrea about this. Warn her, perhaps?

Amy’s phone rang.

'Amy Green?' The sharp male voice didn’t wait for her to answer. 'I’m calling from
The Daily Mail
. Our readers have been very interested in the story about your club. What do you say to allegations that you spent charitable funds on wine and your own entertainment?'

Stunned, Amy looked at her handset and couldn’t think of what to do except hang up the phone. She did so robotically and looked around the room as if there was something there that could help. There was only one thing for it. She grabbed her bag, shoved her phone inside and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

She must have driven on auto-pilot because without any memory of the journey itself, she found herself at the Society headquarters. Standing outside, she couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of any signs of the works she had been told were being carried out. There was no skip, no builders’ vans. Not so much as an exposed bum crack in sight.

She rang the bell.

'Can I help you?' the tinny voice sounded over the intercom.

'Hi Esther, it’s Amy. Can I come in?'

Esther sounded distinctly rattled. 'Oh, um, Amy. Hold on.'

There was a rustling and muffled sounds. Amy could tell Esther had covered the phone mouthpiece. But after a moment or two the door buzzed and Amy stepped in. Penelope wasn’t at her desk so Amy went straight to the tea room. There she found what she had been looking for.

Olivia was sitting forward on a plush vintage sofa, green tea in hand, in deep conversation with Darcy and Binky. As usual, each woman was coiffed and preened to perfection, legs crossed just so and tea cups held at just the correct angle to appease their etiquette teachers. They didn’t look up, even as she loomed over them.

'Olivia, can we have a quick chat?' Amy’s voice came out so serenely that she was unsure it was her own.

Olivia’s face was a picture of surprise while Darcy and Binky suddenly seemed very interested in their phones. 'Amy, wouldn’t have expected to see you here.' She sounded amused and Amy felt her anger rise. She looked around at all of the other women in the room, all pretending not to be looking, but clearly eavesdropping. Amy motioned for Olivia to follow her to another room and, rolling her eyes, Olivia obliged.

They went to the small atrium garden to sit on a bench.

'Olivia, did you order the wine I wanted or did you change it?' Amy was trying to stay calm.

'Excuse me?' Olivia looked genuinely horrified, so much so that Amy wondered whether she was wrong. But she knew she wasn’t. It was clear. Olivia had never liked her and had wanted the more expensive wine. It was a no brainer.

'Well then how did it happen? I gave you the form, I know what I requested. And then it all ends up as a national story in the very newspaper where one of your mum’s oldest friends has a daughter working as a journalist. Any ideas?' Olivia wasn’t even flinching. In fact she looked more confident than Amy had ever seen her. Amy decided to take a new, more appeasing tack. 'Because it’s not just affecting me now. Your actions have impacted my husband, my mother-in-law. This whole club.'

'Not me darling. Not a bad idea I suppose, but I just never felt you needed help cocking things up. You seem to do it so well on your own.' Olivia looked supremely bored. She was actually just checking her nails.

Amy stared at Olivia and felt something snap. This woman, this bitter woman had something against her and for the life of her she just couldn’t understand what it was. She was more convinced than ever now that Olivia was behind everything, but she was determined to make her confess. And she was done with skirting around the issue.

'Will you just tell me why you hate me so much that you humiliated me like this?' She sensed several London Ladies craning their necks to see what was happening. Olivia’s face was a picture of condescension meeting ennui. She rolled her eyes.

'Ok let’s start with this. I don’t care enough about you to hate you. Face it. You don’t belong here. You’re not one of us. You just happen to have a pretty face.' Olivia’s voice was a steady stage whisper. 'You’re only here because somehow you managed to marry in and now you’ve been shown up to be exactly what you are. You’re not fit to be a London Lady.'

'That’s quite enough Olivia.' The voice in the doorway to the garden had an instantaneous effect on Olivia. Her face immediately shut down. Literally in the case of her mouth, which went from open in readiness to espouse more vitriol, to clamped shut. They both turned to look at Andrea. 'Amy, come with me.'

Amy obeyed and, without looking at Olivia, left the mini garden. Once inside Andrea’s office, she and her mother-in-law each sat on opposite sides of her enormous wooden desk.

It was Andrea who began to speak first. 'She’s a smart girl Olivia, but she can be so crass.'

Amy smiled at her gratefully, 'Thanks for stopping her, Andrea.'

But Andrea ignored Amy and kept talking, swivelling her chair away from Amy to look out of the window.

'When I joined the Society, they looked at me like I was dirt. I wasn’t good enough. They called me newbie, which I thought was just a reference to the fact that I had joined recently, but it wasn’t. They were talking about what I was. Basically a bank manager’s wife. New money.  New title. All new.' She stopped talking and stood. 'I was determined to make them forget. It wasn’t easy. Especially with the whole scandal about the investments and things. It took me years in fact.' Andrea’s face clouded at some distant memory as Amy balked at her mother-in-law’s use of the word ‘scandal’. She would never usually associate herself with such a word. Amy couldn’t help but feel this was an indication that this was a moment of extreme candour. Andrea continued.

'And then, finally, they forgot so completely that,' she turned and spread her hands in front of her, palms up, indicating the expanse of her office. 'I wasn’t just one of them. I was their leader.'