Winner Takes It All (5 page)

She decided not to tell
Tim about meeting Mel. He never liked to talk about her life before
meeting him. Despite calling himself a feminist, Alex couldn’t help
but guess there was just the slightest hint of a chauvinist pig
lurking in him that hated the thought of his girlfriend having had
more sexual partners than him. When the gig finished, he jumped
down from the stage and headed straight for her, putting his arm
around her waist and kissing her.

‘
What did you
think?’ he asked.

‘
Superb,’ she
lied. ‘As always.’

They were joined by the
rest of the band and the men went off to get drinks, leaving Alex
alone with Annika and her partner Jolene, a South African girl who
worked as a lecturer at Goldsmiths. They looked like twins rather
than lovers, with their matching auburn bobs, black cardigans and
flowery frocks.

‘
I do think
Toby’s lyrics have such depth and meaning,’ Jolene nodded solemnly.
‘He’s a poet for this generation.’

Alex could only stifle
her giggles at their pretentiousness and walked away, pretending to
need the toilet. Her love affair with the intelligentsia was coming
to an end and she couldn’t help but wonder how long her love affair
with Tim would last too.

***

Alex met Mel outside
Selfridges the next day and laughed to see her friend looking like
a doctor in her white coat. She explained she had a franchise with
Confirmation Cosmetics, whereby she went from store to store
selling their products. Alex admired Mel so much. She was an
ordinary girl from a council estate in Liverpool and yet she was
determined to better herself and was willing to do it any way she
could. It made Alex feel all the more angry towards her brother;
Michael had been born into such privilege and had just pissed it up
the wall.

They found a cheap
restaurant off South Molten Street called Greens. It was empty
enough for them to be able to hear each other speak. Alex was
conscious that she’d put on a stone over the past couple of months
and ordered a green salad. The enviably thin Mel asked for a
burger, fries and a coke. Alex recalled how, at university, Mel had
lived on McDonalds and fry ups from the local greasy spoon and
never put an ounce, whereas Alex only had to look at a cream cake
to gain half a stone.

‘
So how many
jobs do you have exactly?’ Alex laughed, sipping her iced mineral
water.

‘
Well let me
see,’ Mel giggled, rolling her eyes to the ceiling to keep count.
‘There’s the franchise with Confirmation. I work at the Amersham
Arms two nights a week; I do a bit of hairdressing from home. Oh
and I also walk me next door neighbour’s dog three days a
week.’

‘
My God.
Wouldn’t it be easier for you to get a full-time job?’

‘
Nah, you know
me Al I’m a free spirit. Anyway, I can increase me work load any
time I like, so I can save money quicker.’

‘
Why have you
chosen Ibiza?’

‘
I spent six
months there last year. I fookin’ love it Al, it’s a wicked Island.
You ever been?’

‘
No, Tim and I
usually holiday in England. He doesn’t like flying.’

‘
Prick,’ Mel
laughed, suddenly realising how rude she’d been. ‘Sorry la, it’s
just that you used to pull some seriously hot fellas back at
Colchester. I want to know how you ended up with him.’

‘
Opposites
attract I suppose. It’s a running joke that the Cusacks are thick.
Daddy’s fantastic at running Sheridans but get him to do the
Times
crossword and he’s stumped. We’ve got good heads for
business but none of us are academics. Even my Aunt Paula who is
probably the brainiest person I know, dropped out of Oxford. I
think Jo might prove us all wrong though. She’s studying Literature
at Exeter and shows no signs of faltering.’

‘
Your little
sister Jo?’ Mel exclaimed. ‘Bloody hell, when I last saw you, she
was only eleven.’

‘
Time moves
on. Anyway, back when I was at Essex it was a puzzle how I’d even
managed to get into university, so when Tim showed an interest in
me, I was flattered.’

‘
You
flattered! He should have been knocked out, a cracking lass like
you interested in
him
.’

‘
I suppose so.
I guess being an academic was my feeble attempt at rebellion Mel. I
switched to Media Studies after you left and ended up with a first.
That was all down to Tim and his mates helping me.’

‘
And you’re
still madly in love now.’

‘
I wouldn’t
say madly. You know what relationships are like.’

‘
Not really
given my longest one was six months!’

‘
What are you
like?’ Alex giggled. ‘Anyway, tell me about this bar in
Ibiza.’

‘
Well, there’s
a new complex being built in San Antonio. It used to be a bit of
waste ground where there was a market on a Monday and a Thursday
but a developer has bought it and is turning it into a leisure
complex. There’s gonna be a couple of bars in there and I want one
of them.’

Alarm bells rang in
Alex’s mind. Maybe, just maybe running into her old friend was
going to be even more beneficial than she thought.

‘
So what else
is going to be in this complex?’ she asked.

‘
Dunno,’ Mel
shrugged, distracted because she saw her food heading towards her.
She pounced on the burger the moment it was laid on her plate,
whereas Alex could only pick at her salad – too excited to
eat.

‘
I’m only
asking because my dad has set me a challenge to buy three hotels in
one year. If I make a success of it, I get to take over Sheridans
when he retires in four years time.’

‘
You’re
kidding!’ Mel gasped. ‘I thought it was always going to your
brother?’

‘
Daddy’s
starting to see Michael for the waster he is and he’s decided to
include me in the race. Michael’s got to start up a package holiday
company but as usual he’s just getting other people to do his work
for him. I want to prove to daddy that I’m competent. But I don’t
know how to go about looking for a hotel, I’m a PR girl not a
business woman.’

‘
Where have
these hotels got to be?’

‘
Anywhere.’

‘
Maybe I can
help in more ways than one.’

‘
Go
on.’

‘
Well there’s
the Felicidades Complex in Ibiza and there’s also my cousin Jack.
He fancies himself as a bit of a property developer. Perhaps you
could talk to him.’

‘
What sort of
property?’

‘
Dunno. Jack’s
a bit like me, done a bit of everything. He was in the Army up
until he was thirty, then he left and took up boxing again. Now
he’s given that up and has started to buy property. It must be in
the blood.’

‘
Is this up in
Liverpool?’

‘
Yeah. Does it
matter?’

‘
No of course
not. Daddy said it didn’t matter where the hotels were.’

‘
Okay I’ll see
what I can do.’

Alex had to think fast.
Mel was loud, pushy, obnoxious and knew loads of people. Maybe she
could prove to be an asset. She had planned on recruiting people
using the traditional methods but in business it was quite often
about who you knew.

‘
Mel would you
be interested in working for me?’ she asked.

‘
Eh?’

‘
Daddy has
given me a shit load of money to recruit people on a year’s
contract. I was wondering if you’d like to be a
consultant.’

Mel’s big blue eyes
opened even wider, her generous mouth gasping in
surprise.

‘
Are you
winding me up?’

‘
No. You’re
better at putting yourself about far more than I am. I’ve spent the
past eight years surrounded by intellectuals, I’ve withdrawn into
myself. I need someone to get out there for me.’

‘
Sounds
great.’

‘
I can pay you
thirty thousand a year and daddy will probably let you have a
company car.’

‘
I can’t
believe this,’ Mel smiled with a shake of the head. ‘That’ll give
me more than enough money to save up for me bar.’

‘
Good, glad to
be of help.’

‘
But one thing
girl. If you’re going into business, you’re going to have to let
yer fairy Godmother Mel give you a makeover.’

‘
What sort of
makeover?’

‘
Look at you
Al. You’re not even thirty, but that plank Tim has got you dressing
like some fifty year old lecturer. I am going to sex you
up.’

Alex laughed.

‘
Nothing too
outrageous Mel, I’m not eighteen any more.’

‘
No, you’re
older and more experienced and should be celebrating that. Leave it
with me Al, you’ll be looking like a Goddess by the end of the
week.’

Four

Jackson Pearce lived in
the most spectacular apartment Tom had ever seen. It took up the
entire top floor of a mansion block overlooking Central Park and
had every conceivable luxury and mod con. He had a rather sexy
looking Spanish girl called Bonita as a housekeeper and Tom guessed
she probably provided other services too. A part of Tom couldn’t
help but feel bitter. He was the oldest of Sorcha’s grandchildren
by two months and should have been the rightful heir to the
Montague fortune, and yet because of his grandmother’s dogmatism
and misplaced principles, he’d been pushed aside; resigned to a
life of poor state schools, crummy jobs and failure. It didn’t seem
fair and now he was here, on the threshold of being accepted back
into the bosom of his family, and he was determined to make the
most of it.

‘
First thing
we’re going to do with you is tidy you up,’ Jackson said after
they’d enjoyed a lunch of fresh sushi, delivered from the local
Japanese restaurant, washed down with Tiger beer. ‘Looking like you
do, Grandmother’s just going to think you’re some sort of lower
class lout.’

‘
I don’t want
to look like a male model or something. I’ve got my own individual
style.’

‘
And where has
that individual style got you Tom? I’ve made you an appointment to
see Marcus Farrell this afternoon. He’s my personal stylist and
groomer. He’ll sort you out. Then this evening we’re going to go to
Zen’s. It’s my favourite club. My sort of girlfriend, Lisa has her
English friend staying over and we’re meeting them
there.’

Tom felt like telling him
to slow down a bit. He was still jet-lagged, nervous about meeting
his grandmother and just a little worried about the prospect of
crossing the Cusack family. Women were the last thing on his mind –
which was actually quite unusual. Still, it was best not to argue
with Jackson; he was controlling the purse strings after
all.

‘
I still don’t
know what I’m supposed to do in all this,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m hardly
spy material.’

‘
Just leave it
to us,’ Jackson said with a wave of the hand. ‘You’ll be fine. But
let’s concentrate on getting you looking good first.’

Marcus Farrell’s salon
was on Fifth Avenue. It took up a huge, brownstone building; the
ground floor was occupied by the hairdresser and personal groomer,
and each floor subsequently held the various stylists who worked
for Farrell. Tom was taken straight to the top floor and the man
himself. Marcus Farrell was a small, camp black man, whose
effeminate manners made Tom giggle. On the floor, a ginger
Chihuahua walked around and within moments of Tom and Jackson
entering the room, it crouched down and shat on the carpet. Farrell
went into hysterics, yelling for Jose, his assistant to come and
clean it up.

Once the drama had died
down and the dog had been banished to Jose’s office, the men got
down to business. Farrell told Tom to stand in the middle of the
room, while he walked around him, clutching his chin and murmuring
to himself.

‘
How tall are
you?’ he asked.

‘
Six,
one.’

‘
Weight.’

‘
About twelve
stone I think.’

‘
Stone? Stone?
What are stones?’

‘
A hundred and
sixty eight pounds Marcus,’ Jackson chipped in, making Tom feel
stupid, remembering the Americans measured in pounds, not
stones.

‘
He has very
striking blue eyes,’ Farrell said, peering up at Tom, making him
feel just a little uncomfortable. ‘We need to work with
that.’

He left Tom and told him
to sit at his desk. Farrell then proceeded to sit beside Jackson on
one of the plush, brown leather sofas.

‘
So what will
he be doing?’ he asked.

‘
He’s going to
be working in a museum hopefully,’ Jackson said, shocking Tom a
little. No one had mentioned working in a museum before. ‘So we
don’t want casual. We want preppy but approachable.’

‘
I’ve got
you,’ Marcus smiled. ‘Leave him here with me. Within hours we’ll
have him looking like a different man.’

Jackson left and Tom was
rushed down to the first floor beauty studio. He zoned out while
stylists shaved off his beard, did weird things to his skin,
plucked hairs out of his nose and God knows what else. He kept
thinking about Jackson’s words. He’d no recollection of being told
he was going to be working in a museum. He could only assume his
cousin was talking about The Museum of Irish History in Summerset.
It used to be Claremont Hall, the home of the Sheridan family,
where his grandmother had grown up. When Louisa Cusack had bought
it in 1973 she’d opened it as a museum celebrating Summerset’s
strange affinity with Ireland. Tom wondered how on earth working
here was going to help him get Jackson in as head of
Sheridans.