Party Girl at Heart

by Karen Elaine Campbell

  Jazz listened to the noisy chatter in the background and guessed that Bertie was still in the pub. “So you saw the stunt that Crystal pulled, right in the middle of the airfield then?”

  “Hmm, sorry. So did half of Wiltshire too, mate. Can’t stop that one, you’re going to have to weather the storm there.”

  “Yeah, yeah, just a bit more fodder for the rumour mill, if they make the connection, that is. Makes a change from it being me as the guilty party, I suppose.”

  Bertie coughed, delicately, as he decided to ask Jazz for help. “I was wondering…” he started, as Jazz spoke again.

  “So, about the wedding. I know it’s not your thing, but Saskia and Jeremy are very insistent that they don’t want their special day turned into a three ring circus. It’s not just the UK press they’re worried about, they really need to keep a lid on this one if it’s to remain a ‘family’ occasion. We need to tie this thing down and maybe offer an edited ‘exclusive’ to just one paper or magazine after the event.” He paused for a second, “between you and me Saskia reckons that Phil is very keen to keep the US press out as well. There’s something else going on there, but I’m not sure what it is and I can’t ask him now that he’s gone back to LA again and taken Lolly with him,” he mused.

  Bertie took a sharp intake of breath as the full impact of Jazz’s words hit home. His mind raked through the stories that he’d covered over the years and then he blinked hard and snapped his mind back to the conversation in hand. “Saskia already e-mailed me with pretty much the same concerns over the wedding photos. Don’t worry mate, it’s all in hand. I’ll do it myself, if I have to,” he chuckled.

  “You’re on the guest list, you twit. You can’t be press photographer as well.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. The invite’s on the wall, and in the diary. I’ll be there, in me best bib’n’tucker, don’t you worry,” he confirmed.

  “Right. So I can leave it with you then, can I?” Jazz asked again.

  “It’s done. No American press. I get the message. All above board, all sorted. Give Jeremy and Saskia my best, mate, and see you on the big day.”

  “Cheers.”

  The line snapped off before he had a chance to say any more, not that he would have asked questions now anyway, he had an answer of sorts, though not the one that he wanted. He sat there and stared blankly at the now silent phone in his hand for quite some time, before he returned it to his trouser pocket.

  Jazz returned the phone handset to the cradle and watched the refraction of light as it bounced off the cut crystal of his whisky glass in the glow from the fire in the hearth. He flicked on the stereo system and Rachmaninov burst into life. He picked up the glass and took a couple more mouthfuls of an ancient and very exclusive malt, rolling the liquor around on his tongue as he leaned back in his chair reflectively. He’d needed a drink by the time he’d dispatched his sister, back to her own house on the green. He wondered what time Crystal would make it home, assuming that she came home at all, that was.

  He knew that Crystal hated confrontation and would go to almost any lengths to avoid getting down to the serious stuff, but it was well past time for them to talk. He’d been skirting the issues himself, for weeks now, trying to avoid raking over the coals of the past, but he knew that he needed to ‘come clean’ with her, put a few ghosts to rest, once and for all. How she would take the news he was reluctantly planning to impart was anyone’s guess, but he couldn’t see how he could get out of it now. Perhaps if he’d explained things weeks ago, they’d never have reached the situation they were in today at all, who could tell?

  He heard the tyres of the Aston kicking up the gravel at the front of the house long before Crystal pushed open the front door, and he paddled barefoot over the smooth wooden floor of the study and out into the hallway to meet her, momentarily aware of his own nakedness beneath the faded Levis and favourite thin white tee shirt.

  He’d been in the shower when Imogen had let herself in through the front door earlier. She had proceeded to prowl around the ground floor of the house calling out his name. He could hardly pretend he wasn’t here, with the Land Rover parked outside so prominently, so he’d dragged on the first thing that he could find and headed her off on her way up the stairs. Now he saw no reason to change again, he wasn’t going anywhere else tonight, and Crystal wouldn’t mind, if things went the way that he intended, of course.

  Crystal noticed the bare feet immediately. Jazz never went barefoot around the house, not unless he was in the middle of putting clothes on or taking them off. Her antennae sprang onto ‘red-alert’. She thought back over the telephone conversation with the hotel clerk earlier this-morning, surely he’d not been entertaining his lover in their house already, today; in their bed? She immediately spun around looking for Verity, had he brought that evil witch here with him? He wouldn’t entertain her here, in their house, the house that he shared with her, would he?

  The thought left a sour taste in her mouth and she realised that she was not in the mood for playing games. She tossed her head haughtily and hit the subject square-on: “Where did you meet her, for your dirty little assignations then Jazz? Here, in our house? Is this where you’ve been meeting your girl-friend?” she attacked, angrily.

  Jazz flinched, visibly.

  Crystal was on a roll. “Wasn’t Knightsbridge good enough for you, or was it getting a bit pricey, what with all of the beauty treatments and things? She has expensive tastes, the little tart,” she accused. “Don’t bother denying it, the evidence is in the post, in black and white,” she added scornfully, eyes flashing as a high colour flushed up along her cheekbones.

  Jazz took a step backwards, wrong-footed, for once. Whoa, he’d not expected this kind of reception today, he’d expected Crystal to sneak in through the back door looking meek and mild and faintly guilty, following the stunt that she’d pulled at the airfield earlier, not furiously angry and ready to tear him apart. His brain registered the one word she’d expected him to pick up on, Knightsbridge. Who had been talking, he wondered. Surely not Verity, she had more than enough reasons of her own to stay silent.

  He felt defensive for the first time in his life, and he didn’t like it, he didn’t like it one little bit. He needed to slow this thing down, find out exactly what Crystal knew before he began any explanations. There were some things that he still wasn’t at liberty to share with her, even now.

  “Come on through into the study, I’ll get you a drink, we can sit down and talk this through by the fire, it’s turning cool outside and I’ve set a small fire in the hearth,” he told her as he held out a hand and invited. “Come on, we can’t talk here, and we need to talk Crystal, we really do,” he owned.

  Crystal’s palm itched. She wanted to slap his face, but she didn’t quite dare. Her eyes flashed her impatience, but she allowed herself to be directed trough to the study. She perched on the arm of the sofa, nearest to the blaze in the grate and left Jazz to find her a drink.

  “There’s a decent bottle of red already open in the kitchen, shall I pour you one, or do you want something stronger?” he asked.

  “The wine will do,” Crystal responded, she may as well finish it if she was here anyway, she decided.

  Jazz looked distinctly uncomfortable when he returned with her drink. He slid into the room sideways, carrying the cat under one arm and a glass and a bottle of wine in the other.

  Lindsay took one look at Crystal and gave a yeowl of fury, extending her claws and jumping free from his arms to land neatly at the feet of her mistress, where she proceeded to wend her way rhythmically around Crystal’s ankles, purring her delight.

  “So, what is this all about then?” Jazz asked without preamble, as the cat settled herself quite happily on the sofa beside Crystal, claws sheathed again and purring contentedly. “Who has been filling your head with ideas and spouting half-truths?” he asked, back in control again, automatically moving onto the attack.

  For response, Crystal delved into her
large leather shoulder bag and pulled out the brown envelope, crinkled, battered and bent double, but still stuffed with incriminating photos.”

  Jazz swore colourfully as she removed each photo, one by one, from the envelope and lined them all up on the desk. Where had these come from, who had sent them to Crystal? He picked up the nearest one. “That’s Harley Street, Crystal, even a moron can quite plainly see that, and you most definitely do not qualify for that tag either,” he muttered. “You said Knightsbridge earlier, so, tell me what you know about Knightsbridge and then we’ll fill in the pieces from there,” he offered.

  Crystal baulked. He looked cross, he didn’t look guilty, he didn’t look even slightly guilty, she registered. What was he up to, what was going on?

  “We’ll do this my way, and in any order I bloody well choose,” she corrected. “Now I want to know why you’re hand in hand with Verity outside a baby clinic Jazz, when you quite plainly told me that you hadn’t seen her recently and that the letter I found in the trunk was old history and of no consequence now. Then we’ll discuss Knightsbridge after,” she insisted. “If the conversation lasts that long,” she warned.

  Jazz slumped down into the chair and sighed heavily. He had no idea how those photo’s had reached Crystal, or how long she’d had them, but it left him with some explaining to do and put a different slant on the information that he was prepared to impart. This whole fiasco was getting stickier by the second.

  “Right. At the start. We need to begin at the start,” he decided. He pinned Crystal with one of his most serious stares. “Do you remember a time, just after we first met, one or two weeks after you came back from America, when you met Brad for lunch in Salisbury?”

  “Salisbury? That was years ago. What has this got to do with Brad? We’re discussing Harley Street, baby clinics and Verity, Jazz. Don’t try to wriggle out of this one, I want some answers, some straight answers and quickly. Don’t forget, I’ve seen you in the boardroom, I know what your tactics are. No messing around on this one,” she insisted.

  Jazz gave a heavy sigh. “Crystal, I’m trying, really I am. Just bear with me okay?”

  Crystal rolled her eyes and rotated her ankle so that the bright red sole of one of her new Christian Laboutin shoes winked up at her in the warm glow from the fire.

  “Salisbury, February, five years ago,” Jazz stated. “Six months after my father’s death. I drove directly to the Solicitor’s office, as did my mother and my sister. We all met up for a reading of the will. Everyone in the room got an envelope as did another member of the family, someone who was not present in the room, but a person who was described in the will as the ‘daughter of a dear friend’.”

  Crystal narrowed her eyes.

  “There were many bequests in the will; my father was a generous man. The will was very well worded and there were many pieces of paper that changed hands that afternoon.” Jazz sighed heavily. “So, when the solicitor, a man I had known almost all of my life, asked me to stay behind after the initial reading of the will, I wasn’t unduly surprised. I actually received a second letter that day Crystal, one which put the deeds to the London flat in my name as custodian only, not as owner, just as a temporary measure until the intended beneficiary came of age to inherit her bequest.”

  “The London flat. It wasn’t yours then? You didn’t own it?”

  “No Crystal, I did not. It was held in trust for my illegitimate half-sister. A young lady of dubious morals and even more questionable taste, whom I’d been asked to employ some two years earlier on the understanding that she was the daughter of a ‘friend’ of my father and needed my protection.”

  Jazz waited while the penny dropped.

  “Verity. Your half-sister is Verity?” she asked incredulously. “Your dad was Verity’s father? Are you sure?”

  Jazz smiled wryly. “I sure hope so, or else this elaborate ruse, which I have been carrying with me for the past half-decade or more, has all been in vain.”

  “B… b… but, why, how? Why didn’t your father just come clean in the will? He’s dead and gone now. Why keep up the pretence? He obviously had a conscience where his bastard child was concerned, otherwise he wouldn’t have put her in your care?”

  Jazz winced at Crystal’s colourful use of pretty accurate terminology, but he answered her readily enough. “My mother is ill, she’s been in poor health for years, as you know. For her to find out now serves no useful purpose and would taint the family reputation too, something that my mother would find untenable, as I’m sure you can appreciate? He’d already humiliated her enough by ‘playing away’, and I guess that in the twilight years of his life, he developed a conscience of some kind. My father had his faults, Crystal, as we all do, but he was a fair and honest man – in his professional life, anyway.”

  Crystal nodded, his mother was a narrow-minded and spoilt woman in her view, and Imogen was cut from the same cloth, too. She could see exactly why Sir Donal, the old rogue, had made a bit of mischief on the side. She also doubted that there was little wrong with his mother that a brisk walk and some fresh air wouldn’t cure, but she was wise enough to keep her opinions to herself.

  She digested this news in silence for a moment. It explained a lot, though not everything. “So, those photos? At the baby clinic in Harley Street? You were there with Verity.”

  Jazz nodded. “As big brother, not as the father of the child, Crystal. Verity is refusing to name the guy and she won’t tell me who he is either. I can see history repeating itself, in this case, unfortunately.”

  “He’s married then.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

  “It looks that way, yes.”

  “And the suite in Knightsbridge, you were there with Verity too.”

  “Only for part of the day. I left her there, I suppose she used the facilities and charged them to my account. Verity still hasn’t quite got to grips with the fact that she’s a very wealthy young lady. The flat in London was transferred into her name when she turned twenty-five, my mother assumed that I’d sold it and I didn’t correct her. To my knowledge Verity hasn’t even used it yet, she’s struggling to come to terms with her parentage. It’s not every day that a long lost father turns up in your life, dead again, for the second time in your life. Don’t be too hard on her Crystal, she’s had a lot to deal with these past few years.”

  “It seems almost cruel. I’d always thought that there was something odd about her, but now that you fill in the gaps, I suppose it all adds up. She disappeared out of our lives, so soon after the Hunt Ball, I guess that once she found out about your father she needed to move away, to put some distance between the family and herself,” Crystal murmured, as she strove to piece together the facts.

  “I helped her to find a new job, made a few recommendations, put a few words in the right ear, if you know what I mean?” Jazz replied. Only now, with the benefit of hindsight, he wished that he had left well alone.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before Jazz? Why keep it a secret?”

  “Verity didn’t want anyone to know, my father didn’t want anyone to know and my mother is in delicate health. How many more reasons do you need?” he shrugged. “I know that I haven’t handled this situation well. In business, the lines are clear, the areas neatly outlined, decision-making is easy, almost child’s play. It’s my private life that gives me the most concern.” He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck with one strong, square-fingered, well-manicured hand. “I’m no angel Crystal, as you well know, and I make my fair share of mistakes, but this is not of my making and not of my doing, either; I just got landed with the whole mess. I’m sorry that I couldn’t and didn’t trust you with this earlier, but I thought that I could handle it all on my own. I knew that the press had hold of those shots and were intending to cause mischief with them, but I trusted Bertie when he said that he had all of the copies and he’d make sure that they wouldn’t be used. I’m sure you can imagine the headlines if the press thought I was the father of V
erity’s child? I thought that the fewer people to know about this, the better, but now I can see that it has poisoned all of our lives, led to more uncertainty and mis-understanding. It has driven a wedge between us, you and me. You thought I was having an affair. Did you really think me capable of that?” He took a large swig of bourbon from his glass.

  Crystal wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. Her chin came up. “Yes. No. Not really, I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Some days you acted really secretively, and you nearly blew a fuse when I found that letter in the trunk. I didn’t know what to think. I don’t have a very good track record myself, the last man I fell in love with, before you, had a wife tucked up neatly at home and lied to me repeatedly. I guess life has turned me into a bit of a cynic.”

  Jazz swirled the liquid around in his glass and stared deep into the glass as if he expected the answer to their problems to materialise there within its cool amber depths. He still hadn’t come clean, not entirely, and that secret was not his to tell, either. Would Crystal ever forgive him if he failed her now? She clearly needed him to lay all of his cards on the table so that they could move forwards together, secure, as one unit, but he wasn’t at liberty to give her what she wanted. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t. His whole integrity, that intrinsic part of his being which forged his character was at stake, and he couldn’t break the promise he’d made, he just couldn’t. There had to be a way out of this, but he was struggling to find a compromise.

  “Let’s just take it one step at a time then, shall we?” he asked instead. His thoughts led him onto another sticky problem that had presented itself tonight, and although every inch of his being screamed that this moment was really not the right time for this conversation he didn’t have a choice, he had to broach the subject here and now. “Imogen stopped by earlier, before you came back from the charity event.”