‘And I did. If you knew how stupid that sounded in front of my editor, refusing to do my own job, and how much it – it demeans me – to have to ask but there is no other way. If I don’t do it someone else will and they’ll find out about my father. Bound to. I will not have him hurt again. This way I can make sure his name is kept out of the interview. Anyone else would go for the better story. You ruining him. Actually, I’m doing you a real favour.’
‘You are?’
She nodded. ‘You give me an interview in which all that stuff is overlooked. My father is protected and – for what it’s worth, your reputation as well.’
‘And this is how you get interviews? Threatening people? How charming is that?’
‘I’m not threatening anyone. I’m just protecting my family. And I don’t pretend to be charming. Not like you.’
‘Pretend? What on earth are you talking about? I’m polite, courteous to my business colleagues. What else would I be?’
‘You fake it,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve seen you – the real you. And frankly charm wasn’t right up there on your list of how to get what you wanted.’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never smiled, said yes when you meant no, because you wanted the result to be a big splashy story in that magazine of yours. You wouldn’t get an interview with a doorpost if you didn’t turn on the charm. Total claptrap. For God’s sake grow up.’
‘Grow up? Are you suggesting-’
‘Not suggesting anything,’ he said watching her get to her feet, hugging the gown tightly round herself. ‘I’ve seen you in action. Tonight, Lionel Cranleigh. Smiling away, agreeing to have lunch. A trained monkey could see what he was after. And there you were, smiling and being – charming.’
‘That was different,’ she said. ‘God, you fill me with contempt. You’d turn the most innocent gesture into something repellent. Frankly the only reason anyone would want to interview you, is to expose you for your ruthlessness, your selfishness and your blind ambition.’
Too far down the path of venting her rage, a speech she’d nursed for years came pouring out. She ploughed recklessly on, knowing that even as she uttered it she would regret it.
‘I could provide all the proof you or anyone else would need to show what you’re like. You ruined my father. You took away my home. Now you’re going to do the same to Oliver. Why do you want that land? Oh yes,’ she said bitterly, the flicker of surprise on his face not lost on her. ‘I know you’re the bidder. Why don’t you let Oliver buy it instead of building some God knows what on it and ruining his business?’
‘Is that who told you about my interest in Linton’s land?’ Theo asked sharply. ‘This Jed person. The gossip columnist?’
‘No. He hasn’t a clue. He’s only interested in you marrying Debra Carlysle and my editor in scooping the city pages with an interview. I’m not interested in you at all.’
Theo hadn’t moved. He sat watching her. Finally he said:
‘Now let me tell you a couple of things. I never give interviews. And I’m not going to start now. And-’ he held up his hand to stop her interrupting. ‘I will buy whatever land I want, when I want. You would be well advised not to repeat to anyone what you know. I’m not even going to ask how you know, I’m simply going to advise you once more. Stay out of this or you’ll end up getting hurt and so will a lot of other people.’
‘Oh, I’ve no doubt in your hands we all will,’ said Ellie. ‘Except of course for you. You don’t know what it is to be hurt and you’re too loaded to ever to be in danger of finding out.’
He shook his head impatiently. ‘Christ, you’re a typical journalist. Typical career woman, too, using charm to get what you want and then screaming foul when your victim oversteps the mark. Clichés and assumptions-’
‘Assumptions?’ Ellie interrupted furiously. ‘I never assume anything. But I tell you this. If you go ahead, and build on that land, you will ruin Oliver. If you do then there is no reason for me to remain quiet. You have a choice. An interview for Focus written by me, or risk someone else dragging up the past. And they will. Otherwise, I’m going to write a profile on you that will expose you for the heartless man you are. And, my God, no-one will be left to assume anything.’
‘Now you can see why I never allow myself to be interviewed,’ Theo said as she stopped, trying to recover her breath. ‘I expect it will be a highly selective account. Just like those of most of your colleagues. Perhaps you should take lessons in accuracy,’ he suggested slowly rising to his feet and walking towards her.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she breathed.
‘Touch you?’ he shouted back. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I was merely going to say, write what you like, it won’t affect my plans. Or me. Oh for God’s sake. Now what are you doing?’
‘Leaving,’ she yelled. ‘Get out of my way.’
‘Jesus,’ he yelped ducking as she grabbed her handbag accidentally whirling it around to sling across her shoulder, narrowly missing his face. ‘Are you insane?’
‘Insane?’ She breathed. ‘Insane? Just coming to my senses more like. I should have known better than think you might see reason. Goodnight.’
‘You can’t go out like that,’ he yelled back. He tried to take her arm to pull her back but at that moment, the door to the elevator opened outwards sending them both staggering against the opposite wall, the sound of a crack and a muttered oath as Theo’s wrist hit the edge of a console table. They both stopped as a very angry-looking Debra Carlysle, stepped out.
*
It was only when she reached the corner of Park Lane that Ellie realized why she was attracting so many odd looks. Tossing her head defiantly, she drew herself up to her full height, and proceeded to extract what little dignity she could from finding herself alone and shoeless on a chilly June night, trying to flag down a taxi in Park Lane, clutching an evening bag, wearing someone else’s dressing gown with Debra’s voice ringing in her ears.
‘Darling?’ she was demanding. ‘Why is she wearing a robe? Why are you swearing and what on earth have you done to your wrist?’
Chapter Six
As dawn broke the following morning, Ellie rose, unable to sleep. She gazed at herself in the mirror. A wreck stared back.
‘Who are you kidding?’ she asked the bleary eyed woman staring back at her.
At first, as she had careered down Park Lane in the back of a cab clutching her robe to her neck, her plans had circled around the desperate need to get herself back on an even footing with Theo Stirling, but a long sleepless night had put paid to that. Sod it, she muttered, shuddering at the sight of the blue towelling robe slung on a wicker chair in the corner.
‘Equal footing,’ she told herself in the mirror. ‘Like hell you do. If it kills me I’m going to get the better of him.’ She dragged a brush through her tangled hair. ‘If he can hold a weapon over Oliver’s head, then I can hold one over his. He has no idea who he’s up against.’
It didn’t occur to her just then, but for the first time in her life anger had replaced fear at the thought of his name.
In the kitchen, she downed two cups of black coffee to try and get her muzzy brain working and then headed for the office, not entirely sure what this grand plan would be, but confident it would work itself out.
She had – out of necessity – given Jed a carefully edited account of what had taken place after her hasty exit from Lady Broughton’s, in what appeared to be a very intimate manner with the most eligible man in the room.
‘I can’t tell you how stupid I felt, standing shoeless on Park Lane trying to flag down a taxi,’ she told him. ‘Honestly, Jed, there really isn’t any need to make such a noise. Jed! Really, stop it. It wasn’t funny.’
For a second Ellie gazed at the convulsed figure in annoyance but the sight of Jed’s shoulders shaking made her mouth start to twitch, her natural sense of humour overcame her and she began to rock with laughter. The noise brought Roland in demanding to know what was s
o funny.
‘Debra Carlisle’s face when Ellie disappeared with Stirling onto the street,’ he replied promptly with a well edited version of events. ‘Thunderous,’ he said. ‘She’s a hopeless actress. Tried to pretend she knew all about it, which she didn’t.’
‘And did you get your interview?’ asked a grinning Roland, whose mind never strayed far from the object of the exercise.
‘He refused,’ said Ellie carefully. ‘But believe me I will. I’m working on a different kind of profile and I promise you, once it’s compiled, he won’t have much option but to agree.’
Roland looked reassured. ‘Knew you wouldn’t let a little thing like a refusal get in your way,’ he said, and exited without another word to the chairman’s office for a private meeting.
Ellie and Jed exchanged glances. Roland was spending an awful lot of time with the chairman. Ellie gave a wry smile and got up to go.
‘Dodgy, eh? I wonder when we’ll know. Anyway, bugger off now. I’ve entertained you enough for one day.’
What she hadn’t bargained for was the deafening silence from the people who knew Theo Stirling. For some curious reason he aroused a sense of extraordinary loyalty in those around him.
Or fear, thought Ellie cynically. After all, hadn’t she kept silent for so long, never acknowledging for a second that their paths had crossed all those years before? And not just her, but Oliver too. Apart from when he was with his wife, Jill, he had become accustomed to looking blank if the name Stirling had ever been mentioned in his company. How many others had been forced into silence?
She had decided on the kind of profile she would write in the belief that if she talked to anyone who had ever worked with him, dated him or even slept with him, a picture of the man would emerge with enough critical comment to put before him and sting him into an interview and, better still, a deal. A very straightforward one: back off from buying what she now regarded as Oliver’s rightful land and she would kill the profile. How she could do this was still unclear in her half formed plan, but somehow she would.
She was also perfectly certain that she would not have the nerve or the stomach to print such a damaging profile, but Theo Stirling wasn’t to know that. He had written her off as nothing short of a manipulative frankly deranged woman, and if that’s what he thought, she might find it useful to let him go on believing it until it suited her to let him see that, unlike him, she was not unprincipled, she had moral scruples and most of all she didn’t give a jot what he thought of her.
Which in itself was odd, because if she didn’t care what he thought of her, why did it bother her so much that she wanted him to know he was so wrong about her?
After a day making fruitless calls to names that Theo Stirling had been linked with either professionally or personally, she had realized that she was too tired to address the problem sensibly. When Oliver phoned to say an old school friend of Jill’s had unexpectedly descended on them, Ellie had to admit she was relieved that her visit would have to be postponed, and instead took off for a weekend in Wiltshire where Amanda now lived in rural tranquillity with her husband, dogs and horses.
Once there she had driven Amanda to distraction by doing exactly what she said she wouldn’t do: thinking about getting even with Theo Stirling.
By the time she reached the office on Monday morning, and had drawn blanks on four phone calls, she had enlisted the help of Jed, who in turn had dragooned Judith in, and together they had embarked on attempting to unearth a few choice comments about the mysterious Mr Stirling.
Judith, with her trademark Hermes scarf, Gucci loafers and a list of friends drawn straight from Debrett’s, had from the outset declared they were on a fool’s errand. With a sinking heart Ellie had begun to believe her. Judith’s closely guarded contact book was the envy of the office.
She remembered Jed saying when he’d hired Judith with no journalistic experience whatsoever, that he didn’t give a monkey’s about that.
‘For a society columnist she has impeccable qualifications — the private numbers of anyone who is anyone are packed into that book, a mischievous nature, she went to Chartbury and every one of the girls in her year are my bread and butter.’
Leaning back in his chair, he’d swung his legs on the desk, and smirked.
‘I therefore rest my case. However,’ he added, being incurably honest, ‘according to her father — you know he’s a retired diplomat? — it was simply fortuitous that the headmistress’s request to remove his daughter from the school coincided with the whole family moving to Washington for a year and the only reason she can truthfully claim that she hadn’t been expelled.’
Judith had been a great believer in short cuts even then and, as Jed had so rightly pointed out, she still pursued that policy to get her what she wanted. Not for the first time Ellie wondered why a girl with a brain, good looks and social connections to die for, should find it necessary to swap sex for a smooth path to the top.
An hour later, sitting like a coiled wire on the edge of Jed’s desk, Ellie could see getting anyone to talk about Theo Stirling was harder than wading through treacle.
‘This is really hopeless,’ muttered Jed. ‘They either think he’s terrific...’
‘Poppycock,’ snapped Ellie.
‘... or they don’t want to say anything at all,’ said Judith wearily.
‘Paid off,’ Ellie said curtly.
Jed and Judith exchanged a swift glance. What had got into her?
‘Honest, Ellie, I’d love to help and all that,’ she sighed. ‘But Stirling’s first league and there is this sort of irritating code that if you speak, you’re out. Hang on. Just thought of someone.’
Ellie glanced at her. Their eyes met. Judith knew Ellie would not gossip about the little scene in Roland’s office. Ellie in turn knew that Judith’s unstinting help had been an unspoken gesture to say thank you. Another kind of code.
Jed slumped back in his chair, wishing that Ellie would sit down or even just calm down.
‘No good,’ he said, referring to the phone call he had just finished. ‘Says Stirling was tough but professional. Has nothing but praise for him. Likes the man personally too.’
Ellie acknowledged Jed’s remark with a brief nod, still listening to Judith’s very county accent trying to prise a comment out of the beautiful young Austrian Baroness, Gisella Hohlen-Spier, who had once been rumoured to have been significant in Theo Stirling’s life.
‘Oh c’mon, Sella,’ she was saying into the phone. ‘Of course I won’t quote you, but you were linked with the guy for nearly a year, you must be able to say something about him. It’s just for background. Okay, I understand. No, honestly, I won’t even say you picked up the phone. And no, in case you were worried, I won’t mention you and Rupert Liversely, I mean,’ she gave a very fake laugh. ‘What would his wife say?’
Ellie winced.
‘What?’ Judith grinned at them giving a thumbs up.
They held their breath.
‘You’re sure? But that was two years ago. Really? She’s back in New York? Brill. Yes, lunch soon. Sella, you’re a doll.’
Ellie held her breath. ‘What?’
‘Stupid Cow,’ Judith said. ‘Pain at school too. No of course I wouldn’t mention bloody Liversley. Give me a break. I’m not that vile. She said to try Caroline Granger. Lady Caroline actually. Lived in his apartment in New York for almost a year. No idea what went on, but a bit of a scandal. She was the daughter of friends of Robert Stirling, Theo’s father. Then it all suddenly was off. She moved out. Someone said he slung her out. And she went off to a ranch in Mexico. Here. Her number in New York. But I can tell you now it’s a complete waste of time. Never understood what he saw in her. Now, my darlings I really must get on. Ellie? Don’t hold your breath.’
‘Ellie,’ said Jed, carefully rubbing his eyes. ‘Why don’t we just take a break and then this evening I’ll buy you dinner and we’ll come back to it with less dog-eared brains.’
Ellie looked at t
hem gazing hopefully back at her and was instantly contrite.
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ she said ruefully. ‘You’ve been wonderful. I couldn’t have covered so many contacts without you. Tonight, however, I’m having dinner with the great Brook Wetherby. And you needn’t look so relieved,’ she laughed at Jed.
‘Well, I am,’ he said frankly. ‘Supper with you in this mood isn’t my idea of relaxing. Mind you, Brook moved fast, didn’t he? You only met him last week at Sarah Broughton’s.’
‘I know, but he rang the next morning and said he was prepared to be interviewed but it would have to be over dinner. Prepared, mark you. Dear God. On the other hand, it is only dinner.’
‘Watch him,’ warned Judith. ‘He’s got a brain the size of a grape, but when it comes to roving arms, he makes an octopus look under-endowed.’
‘Well, he can’t do much in a restaurant, can he?’ said Ellie practically. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going,’ she protested, as Jed began to push her from her perch on his desk.
‘Sorry, but Roland’s waiting for my copy,’ he said, glancing at the clock. ‘And if I’m to keep Sarah Broughton happy, I really must write some more compulsive rubbish.’
Ellie blew him a kiss, waved an airy hand at Judith who was back on the phone asking a famous countess if there was any truth in the rumour that her eighteen-year-old daughter had moved in with the drummer in a rock group, and walked slowly back to her own office, hands dug deep into the pockets of her skirt clutching Caroline Grangers number.
As Judith had predicted, the voice who answered the phone in New York where it was only just breakfast time, politely told her that Lady Caroline never spoke to the press and apart from that she was no longer in New York. She wouldn’t say where she was, but out of politeness agreed to pass on Ellie’s message. She left her number anyway, suggesting if she had a change of heart to call her. The chances she knew were slim to zilch.
Shortly after lunch, which Ellie spent flying around Selfridges trying to find presents to send to Oliver’s children for their birthday at the weekend, she dumped several parcels and her coat on her desk. Lucy followed her in, depositing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her boss before reeling off a list of messages that had arrived.
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