Drawing a deep breath, she dived cleanly through the still surface of the water, plunging down, down into the refreshingly cool depths of the pool, sending waves in four directions. Her blonde hair flattened, eyes shut, gasping for breath, she surfaced with a swoosh. For a few seconds she trod water, vaguely taking in the only two other people in the water with her, religiously clocking up lengths before the clock beat them to the beginning of their day.
It had been weeks since Ellie had found time to go to the Phoenix, having enrolled in a burst of good intentions at the beginning of the summer with little regard for how many times she would use their facilities to justify the horrendous membership fee. But this morning, striking out in a rapid crawl, her brown arms cutting through the water, her legs kicking out strongly behind, Ellie would have paid twice as much for the relief that the physical exertion gave to compensate for the chaos that was enveloping her mentally. After four lengths of the pool, panting but invigorated, she rolled over and floated on her back, now able to reflect with greater calm and sense on the last twenty-four hours. Indeed, the last week or so. Was that all it was since the phone call from Oliver? Only a matter of days since Theo Stirling had erupted into her life.
As she closed her eyes and drifted silently down the pool, the grubbiness of yesterday’s events became easier to handle, the sleepless night a receding memory.
Stupid woman, she chided herself as she gently kicked against the water, allowing the weightlessness of her body to flow at will, it’s just a lot of pressure building up. Taken one at a time, each problem was containable. Why, anyone would feel exhausted trying to cope with the uncertain future they all faced, let alone Oliver’s problems, or indeed Paul. Turning her body in the water, she swam leisurely to the side. Grasping the rail of the short ladder, she swiftly pulled herself from the water and, squeezing her hair dry, she could already feel her confidence returning, a sense of optimism that if she didn’t allow charm and good looks to confuse her, all would be well.
Of that she was certain. She even allowed herself a small smile as she caught sight of her serious face in the mirror as she towel-dried her hair.
Showered, refreshed and restored to something approximating her usual positive self, Ellie drove home, poured a glass of juice, downed some coffee, changed and slapped on some blusher, and was out of the flat, albeit with still damp hair, twenty-five minutes later and heading for the office.
I should do that more often, she reflected as she walked briskly from Green Park tube to the office. The best of all possible ways to start the day.
She was still feeling the benefit of her early morning swim when at five o’clock the call from Jessica came through just as Ellie had abandoned any hope — or fear — that it would.
Jessica was nervous, inarticulate with a peculiar accent which could have been American, cockney or even Irish. She wanted, she said, to see justice done. It occurred to Ellie as she automatically began taking notes that Jessica sounded as though she was reading from a script.
‘In what way?’ asked Ellie politely, signalling through her window to Jed that he should go on without her to the launch party of a new perfume.
Jed pushed open the door, scribbled on a message pad the name of a bar where he would be later for a drink and left Ellie to her phone call.
‘Well, Lady Caroline was good to me,’ said the faceless Jessica. ‘I think she was treated badly. When she was forced out of the apartment in New York, so was I. I was her maid, you see.’
It crossed Ellie’s mind that this Jessica person didn’t sound like a maid who would be given a job in Theo Stirling’s household, but then she was learning a lot about Mr Stirling and not one tiny bit of it did she like. Yet she had imagined she would enjoy hearing his reputation being ruined, but she didn’t. She would have hated to analyse why.
Jessica’s voice whined on. ‘She did everything for him. Everything. Entertained all those people, none of them her friends. Pulled in all kinds of people for business for him. And then just one evening she had a few friends of her own in, invited me along as well. Caroline was one of the kindest people I ever met.
‘Anyway, we were all sitting around having a few drinks and enjoying ourselves when he came in and threw them all out and Caroline along with them.’
Ellie was frankly sceptical and said so. ‘Why should he do that? It doesn’t sound very reasonable or rational, and I wouldn’t have said he was anything but well — at least rational.’
The voice didn’t even pause.
‘Well, he had his reasons all right. It all came out a few days later when he took up with that Austrian woman, Gisella, and now I hear he’s with Debra Carlysle.
‘Honestly, some women never learn. But Caroline did. None of her family wanted her to live with him. She was even cut off without a penny because she did. As a matter of fact, Caroline told me her father loathed Theo. And she was up against Ria, of course.’
‘Ria Stirling, you mean?’ asked Ellie.
‘Yes, that’s right, Theo’s mother. She was dead jealous of Caroline. Never came to the apartment the whole time Caroline lived there unless it was to report back to Theo what she was doing. So Caroline, who had given everything up for him, found herself out on the street. Well, we came back to England and Caroline went over to stay with some friends in Ireland. We stay in touch. But my livelihood was ruined as well by that stuck-up snob, Stirling.’
Ellie thought the woman was quite vile and refrained from saying if she had been Theo she would have chucked her out as well. Instead she tried asking about the identity of the mysterious caller who had put Jessica in touch with her.
‘Well,’ said Jessica, a crafty note creeping into her voice as well as a snigger, ‘let’s just say she is a good friend who wants to see justice done.’
After Jessica had rung off, Ellie sat for a long time staring out of the window. Suddenly she felt out of her depth, delving into a kind of journalism that at best was muck raking and at worst, unjustified.
No. It was justified. Oliver, herself and her father had a right to protect themselves. But not this way.
The argument raged back and forth in her head. Unable to reach a decision, she walked into Roland’s office at six, to ask for the next day off. Seeing her white, drawn face, the editor suggested she took two.
Ellie shook her head. ‘No, I just need a long weekend with Oliver. I’ll be fine.’
There were times, she told herself as she let herself into her flat, when she hated her job and hated people who were prepared to take part in such a demolition job on a man’s character.
But most of all, she thought miserably as she poured a glass of wine, she hated herself and for caring so much that she was going to be the instrument to bring Theo Stirling to his knees.
Chapter Nine
Ellie first heard the news as she arrived at her desk straight from a breakfast interview with a bestselling author who had successfully resisted the government’s attempt to have his book banned on the grounds of national security.
She felt elated. Every newspaper in Fleet Street had been trying to get Clive O’Connell Moore. So too had the heavyweight television programmes. But she had beaten all of them. Okay, so she had to make concessions to get it, giving him copy approval of all his direct quotes and agreeing not to enquire too closely into his private life, but nevertheless that was better than no interview at all.
But the compensation was enormous since he had, on what appeared to be a whim as they were parting after a congenial meal together, revealed exclusively to her that the leader of the opposition was telling friends that he was quitting after the next general election.
Roland would be thrilled. Just the sort of exclusive he wanted in these trying times. And just the sort of quotes he wanted to take his mind off the fact that she was nowhere near ready to let him see so much as a line on Theo Stirling.
She had to admit, she was glad of the excuse too.
A weekend with Oliver and Jill, two days of
family life, taking her small twin nephew and niece for walks on the beach, playing chase and catching up with their news — anxious though it was — had restored her spirits to their customary positive level. More important, Ellie realized that a weekend away from all the pressures of London had strengthened her resolve not to forget that even the most charming of men could be ruthless in the quest to achieve their goals. Driving back along the motorway the night before, she had congratulated herself that she finally had Theo Stirling in perspective and it would serve no useful purpose to run any kind of feature on him just yet.
The wrangling for Linton’s Field had taken on a new dimension and she’d listened intently as Oliver filled in the details over a quiet dinner she’d shared with him and Jill in the pretty hotel dining room.
‘Conrad Linton wants to sell, but he’s waiting to finalize other deals he’s got going before he decides on the price and that will be influenced by whether planning permission is granted and, of course, inflation. It won’t make any difference to me. Stirling’s bid is still there and so is Oldburns’. But because Linton can’t get back here until the spring, planning permission to redevelop the area is dragging its feet.’
Ellie wasn’t sure what difference that would make. With two property developers slugging it out, the outcome seemed to her a foregone conclusion. Oliver was just delaying the awful moment. Beating Theo Stirling with his own weapons seemed to her an eminently more effective way to get the result they wanted, and she said so.
But for the first time since they sat down Oliver looked triumphant.
‘Well, maybe. But don’t you see? It will give me a chance to whip up local sympathy to keep the land as it is. It also means that the chances of all that stuff about Dad coming to light again will be kept at bay. The only danger is that Stirling might win on the popularity vote.’
Ellie almost screamed.
‘Popularity? What popularity? He — the whole family — just ride roughshod over anyone and anything that gets in their way. Who on earth would find that appealing?’
Really, she fumed, Oliver and Jill had been living in the sticks for far too long. Didn’t they understand about ruthless people?
Jill shot her husband a warning look and squeezed his hand, deftly averting a squabble that might have made Miles and Chloe sound reasonable. Honestly, she quietly seethed. Ellie might stop to think that Oliver could be right for once. Instead she explained.
‘Jobs, Ellie. Maybe low-level starter homes. That’s what he can offer and at times like this, it’s potent stuff. Frankly even I would hesitate if I thought some of the people in the town might get a chance to pull through this recession if Stirling Industries decided that developing the land was viable. And don’t look like that, Oliver, because you know you would too. It’s an awful dilemma because it’s our livelihood that would be sacrificed.’
Still feeling wrung out after two dreadful weeks, Ellie was not willing to leave anything to chance.
‘Well, let’s be prepared. A plan for survival is what you need. And honestly I’ll help. Look...’
She paused and took in their anxious faces. ‘Oh, all right, sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I just get so mad when I know what some people are capable of. Look, it might not come to anything, but let me tell you what I’ve found out.’
They’d talked long into the night and finally, walking slowly back to the house where Oliver and Jill lived away from the bustle of the hotel, all three felt that if they eventually went down, at least they were going to go down fighting.
When Jill had gone to check on the twins, Oliver looked thoughtfully at his sister. She had told them about the problems at work, but she hadn’t dwelt on them.
Ellie had changed. Oliver knew it and Jill did too. Sometimes he saw flashes of the old Ellie and knew under that cynical, tougher exterior that she presented to the world these days, the same vulnerable, passionate girl still existed.
Pouring her a nightcap he walked over to where she was sitting, lost in thought, gazing into an empty fireplace and handed her a drink.
‘El, I know we’ve got problems, but if push comes to shove and these redundancies affect you, you’ve always got a home here — you know that, don’t you?’
Ellie was startled. She hadn’t thought her feelings were so obvious, but then Oliver always could read her like a book.
‘You’re a pal, kid,’ she said, playfully punching his arm. ‘But I don’t think it will affect me like that. It’s just not knowing how extensive the changes are going to be that’s causing the headaches.’
What she didn’t tell him was that the idea of going back to her roots filled her with dismay. Her whole life, the way she thought and lived was now light years away from Willetts Green and certainly far removed from the few years she had spent in Devon with Pa and Alison. Most certain of all was that the domesticity Oliver and Jill obviously adored, held no real excitement for her.
It was still home, but it was no longer where she belonged.
*
This is where I belong, she thought, as she arrived the following morning at Belvedere Publishing. Independent, but part of a team, belonging somewhere where I mean something.
Bubbling with excitement about her breakfast interview, she halted as she emerged from the lift at the fifth floor and instead of turning left towards her own office she made for the opposite direction, intending to put her head round Roland’s door to give him the good news.
The sight of Marcus Margolis emerging from the private lift on the other side of the lobby and heading towards Roland’s office changed her mind. What appeared to be his usual posse of acolytes came bustling after him. Shrugging, she turned back and bumped into Angus, the chief sub, striding away from the art department piled high with layouts and proofs, and walked with him the short distance to his office. She nodded over her shoulder, to the group disappearing into Roland’s office.
‘Wonder what brings him down at this hour?’
Angus looked thoughtful. He had been at Focus almost as long as Roland. A dour Scotsman, he generally gave little away and now was no exception.
‘In the fullness of time, lassie,’ he sighed. ‘In the fullness of time,’ and disappeared in the direction of the production room.
Ellie smiled after him but immediately forgot the activity of the powers that be as she saw the flash of scarlet through her office window.
The bouquet of red roses was visible even before she had opened her door. Already arranged in matching tubular glass vases, the tightly furled velvet buds splayed out in a vivid splash of colour in her tiny office. A grinning Lucy was gathering up the cellophane and ribbon in which they had arrived. Paul would be dropping by later to talk to Roland and would Ellie have lunch?
‘Are the roses from him as well?’ Ellie asked, moving one of the vases from her desk to the window sill. She knew full well that Lucy would not have been able to resist peeking at the card that accompanied them.
‘Um... oh well, yes they are,’ said an unrepentant Lucy. ‘But I didn’t read the message, honest.’
Ellie took a swift look at the card. Innocuous enough. Quite loving. Nothing that Lucy could interpret as anything other than a gift from a devoted man.
It occurred to Lucy that Ellie wasn’t exactly in transports of delight at such an extravagant gesture, and she was right. The elation Ellie had felt at securing a meeting with Clive O’Connell Moore began to evaporate.
There had been a time when she had been intoxicated with the power of being so enveloped in passion. A time when the making up with Paul was more intense, more agonizing in its depth than the rows that had precipitated it. It had taken her a long time, and a great deal of soul searching, to confront what she had always suspected but feared to test: that Paul was utterly childish in how to get his own way.
Recently she had begun to have the strangest feeling that he liked hurting her. Once, feeling wretched after a wearying exchange of doubts and suspicions, she had looked up to find him watchi
ng her carefully, with a passiveness that belied his claims to be in the depths of misery. It was gone in a flash, but the doubt in her mind took root.
It had been such a long time since she had been able to apply words like tender, sensitive, fun and the sheer joy of being in love, to her relationship with Paul. Too long. Sometimes, sitting on the tube, crossing town in a taxi, jogging across the common on Sunday morning, alone late at night, she wondered if those words had ever applied or whether, by just wanting something so much, she had made it seem as though that was what she and Paul shared.
Theo Stirling hadn’t been like that. It was odd, but for moment or two when they had been talking she had seen something that contradicted the image of a tough, unbending man. Not warmth, that would be taking it too far, but a directness about him that she thought would not leave anyone close to him in any doubt about where they stood with him.
Bad enough having a resentful, accusing Paul on her hands. She hadn’t heard from him for five days. Five days of punishing her, and now this. Today, she said to herself, you don’t need this. And not for the world would she have admitted that for a brief moment she had hoped the roses had been from someone else.
But then the idea that a man like that would have sent anything so obvious as roses, was unlikely. And red ones at that.
‘Ellie? Roland’s office pronto,’ came Lucy’s urgent voice through the door.
Ellie looked round sharply and saw a buzz of movement in the outer office. Everyone in sight was rising and moving towards the editor’s office.
‘What is it?’ she asked, hastily swinging away from the window. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Not a clue,’ answered Lucy, automatically picking up a notebook and pencil and waiting for Ellie to precede her.
Ellie joined the throng making their way down the wide, stoutly carpeted corridor to the editor’s suite.
‘No idea, ducky,’ yawned Jed as she caught up with him. ‘Dixie just told us all to assemble.’
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