Scandalous

by Martel Maxwell

  ‘Do you know?’

  Simon laughed. ‘Course I do. As discreet as hardcore porn, that one. Wait… you mean she didn’t run it by you last night before she filed her copy?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘What a tart. Lucy’s your sister.’

  Simon admired Max’s discretion – she had never boasted about her sister dating that posh Earl and made it clear she wouldn’t be divulging any details, no matter how much praise it might get her at the paper. What were brownie points worth when you’d sold a family member out, Max had told Simon.

  ‘Right,’ he continued. ‘She knows I’m your mate but couldn’t help boasting about her big story this morning. Apparently,’ Simon lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘she was hanging around in Claridge’s. You know the comfy chairs where you can have a drink and those nice cheesy nibbles and see everyone who comes in the main entrance?’

  This made sense. Mick Jagger and a couple of the 24 cast were staying there. Panicking at her lack exclusives of late, Jade would have sat in wait, hoping to witness something – an argument with a girlfriend or drunken conversations at the bar.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Well, in pops Daphne Kelner. She’d been out for dinner with Kirk. Jade saw her chance and went over to talk to her. Even tells her she’s a reporter and – bingo! – daft Daphne gives her every cough and spit of what’s just happened.’

  It all fell into place. There was no ‘daft’ Daphne about it. Kirk’s mum had known exactly what she was doing. After her son had been associated with the likes of Shagger Sheri, she would have been elated to see Kirk go for someone like Lucy. And after dating Hartley, Lucy couldn’t be further removed from the Fake Brigade who stalked her son in clubs, with pound signs in their eyes.

  ‘OK, thanks, Si.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘Did you give up the fags?’

  Simon dug a pound coin out of his pocket and slotted it into the vending machine. He pressed a button for a packet of salt and vinegar Snack a Jacks.

  After he had been complaining about his growing gut, Max had told him they were far lower in calories than normal crisps and suggested he had a packet when hungry. He was averaging six packets a day.

  ‘Did I fuck! Lasted half a day. It’s this fucking job. How can anyone give up anything when life’s a free bar?’

  MARJ TAKES CHARGE

  Surreal wasn’t the word. Here was Lucy, explaining to her mum and sister why she hadn’t slept with one of the world’s most famous men.

  ‘I’d had so much to drink – I was on a bit of a mission – and somehow, when I was kissing Kirk and my eyes were closed, I… well, I got a fright when I opened them and didn’t see Hartley’s face. It freaked me out a bit.’ Lucy paused and laughed. ‘God, now I say it out loud I feel a bit stupid. Kirk Kelner.’

  ‘Completely understandable, Lucy. It’s not that long since you split up with Hartley. But Kirk – he is such a dish.’

  ‘Dish? That’s so 1980s, Mum.’ Max laughed.

  ‘Hey, Mum, you’re being pretty cool about all this,’ Lucy said.

  ‘What’s there not to be cool about?’ Marj asked, matter-of-factly. ‘For starters, you don’t suddenly lose your sense of humour when you turn fifty. Secondly, Hartley is bound to see what he’s missing when he reads how you attracted the attentions of Kirk Kelner.’

  ‘Or, given Kirk’s reputation with the ladies, he’ll think I’m just another notch on his bedpost,’ Lucy offered. Thoughts of Hartley had been the main reason she hadn’t slept with Kirk. But thoughts of all those stories – the nanny and the kiss-and-tell girl among them – hadn’t been far from her mind either. He had made her feel special, but maybe he excelled at making all the girls feel like that.

  ‘True, darling,’ Marj replied. ‘I bet he’s used to girls being rather, shall we say, accommodating?’

  ‘Or,’ Lucy added, ‘Hartley could just think I’m a millionaire-chaser. That’s how I’m portrayed in the paper.’

  Lucy hadn’t mentioned her encounter with Philippa Bonner a few days ago. She had been standing behind her in the queue at Starbucks. Lucy had tapped her shoulder and said hello.

  Philippa had looked back slightly blank, smiled weakly and said: ‘Oh hello.’

  Odd, thought Lucy. She had been so friendly at Clarissa’s supper, drinking in her fashion expertise.

  ‘It’s me, Lucy Summers. We met at Clarissa’s.’

  Lucy could tell by the coldness in Philippa’s eyes that she had needed no reminder. She didn’t want to talk to Lucy.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she replied with a fake half smile. ‘Oh… my turn to be served.’

  And with that, Philippa turned to the counter, paid for her coffee and left without saying goodbye.

  Lucy was shocked. Philippa had seemed to genuinely like her when they first met. Clearly the thing she really liked was her status while dating Hartley. Oh God, Philippa’s family had known Hartley’s for years. Was this a sign he hated her and was so distraught that his friends couldn’t even bring themselves to acknowledge Lucy?

  While Philippa’s reaction had come as a surprise, Lucy had only met her once. Far more upsetting was that she hadn’t heard from Clarissa for weeks. Lucy had always known Clarissa was eager to get to know her because of Hartley, but still, she thought she had glimpsed the makings of a real friendship. She had been sure Clarissa enjoyed her company; Lucy had certainly warmed to Clarissa. Was it possible she had been discarded so casually because of rumours that had spread?

  Cutting through Lucy’s thoughts, Marj said in a chirpy tone, like she was talking about the weather, ‘Granted, it makes last night sound premeditated on your part – like you sought him out – but from what Max says that’s down to a bitter writer.’ Marj fluffed up the cushions on the sofa then turned to face her daughters. ‘We ladies have to rise above this nonsense. I did not bring my girls up to worry about what people think. If they change their opinion of you because of something they read, it says more about them than it does about you.’

  Bloody bitter, scheming Jade, Max thought. She could almost forgive her for not running the story by Max. After all, she would only have tried to persuade Jade not to tell their boss about it. As Jade was one ambitious woman, she had clearly put her career above any respect she had for Max. That was to be expected from someone like Jade, but she couldn’t forgive the vicious way in which she had written about her sister, portraying her as a fame-seeker when nothing could be further from the truth. Of course, if confronted, Jade would put the blame on the sub editors. It was their job to polish the copy to make it sparkle, as though you were trying to get the attention of a guy in the pub who’d already had a couple of pints, and had to lure him with your first two sentences; then they had to cut the copy to make it fit into the allocated space. But Max had long suspected Jade was simply a nasty piece of work. The fact that Max had landed a string of big exclusives recently had eaten away at her and she would do anything to get one over on Max.

  ‘I know, Mum, but –’

  ‘No buts about it. It’s better to be talked about than not at all. The people who matter know the truth. Anyway, for goodness sake, there are worse things people could write than describing how Kirk Kelner is smitten by you. In life’s big pond today’s front page is but a drop, darling.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘I guess.’

  The power of Marj’s positivity was infectious. Somehow she had a way of making everything better.

  BRIDGET THINKS ON HER FEET

  That little tramp. Lucy Summers had wasted no time in snaring Kirk Kelner. Bridget had to read the first few paragraphs several times before she believed them. Of course, she never normally read such rags but Dorcas had rung her that morning to say she’d heard Hartley’s ex had pulled Kirk Kelner.

  Dorcas’s voice had sounded teasing on the phone, like she was goading Bridget by telling her Hartley’s ex must be stunning if she could pull someone like Kelner.

  Bridget had played it down, sa
ying with a laugh, ‘Oh you know the tabloids. They probably said hello to each other and they’ve made a story out of it.’

  The last thing Bridget wanted Dorcas to know was how much she detested Lucy.

  ‘Then again,’ Bridget added, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Kirk was interested in Lucy. She is quite stunning, after all.’ It had almost killed Bridget to say that but she was most pleased she had. Dorcas had been silenced. Now she could only tell the friends in their set that Bridget seemed to have no bad feelings towards Lucy, quite the opposite in fact.

  ‘So, erm, how are things going with Hartley?’ Dorcas had asked when she had finally collected her thoughts.

  ‘Oh darling, it’s as though we’ve never been apart.’

  Ha, that had got her. Bridget couldn’t wait for Dorcas to spread that little gem around. That would get everyone talking. She prayed the rumour mill would go into overdrive if everyone thought she had started up where she had left off with Hartley.

  Her mother had been spreading the word within her own set too, which was excellent as it consisted of many of her own friends’ mothers. She was subtly letting them know her daughter was once again close to the Earl, dropping into their conversations details of where they had been for dinner or the latest on Hartley’s Foundation. Mother would be pleased with how Bridget had handled Dorcas.

  Dorcas’s news of the front page had simply confirmed Bridget’s suspicions that Lucy was a gold-grabbing slut. She was no better than the wannabes who hung around clubs waiting for their chance with stars. Hartley had made a lucky escape.

  But Bridget couldn’t help feeling a rising sense of irritation. Who did Lucy think she was? The picture they had of her on the front page was stunning – a fact Bridget hated to admit, even to herself. What if Hartley read the article and wondered what he was missing? Why couldn’t Lucy just go away? With Lucy in the limelight with Kirk Kelner, Hartley would be forced to think about her all over again. Bridget must ensure she planted some key bits of information in his head.

  Yes, Bridget could well have spoken to a friend who was in Sheekey’s last night and witnessed what a fool Lucy had made of herself. She was all over the actor like a rash. Excellent. And anyway, it probably wasn’t far from the truth.

  HARTLEY IS STUNNED BY SPLASH

  ‘I’ve arranged for a few friends to come round for supper tonight, sweetie. Mel and Tom. Oh and Philippa will be there.’

  Bridget and Hartley’s families had known the Bonners since they were children. Philippa was a good friend. She had been eager to report her sighting of Lucy the other day. Annoyingly, she said Lucy still looked good. Bridget had hoped the flattering picture of her in the paper had been an old image and that she had let herself go. It would have made Bridget’s day to hear she’d piled on a stone or had broken out in spots since her split with Hartley. Never mind. Philippa had given her an icy reception. Hopefully, Lucy was getting the message: she was not welcome in their circle.

  Claudia was another matter. Bridget had had no choice but to give her a severe warning.

  She had decided to give her mousy friend another chance. Instead of completely cutting her off, Bridget had realized Claudia was still of use. After all, her father was president of Daddy’s golf club and got them those fab tickets to the annual Spring Ball.

  Just the other day she had invited Claudia to her house for an early supper – all protein, no carbs after 2 p.m. was doing wonders for her weight.

  Bridget had made a passing comment about Lucy – how trashy she was, what with setting up the photographer and now chasing after her next meal ticket, Kirk Kelner.

  ‘Poor Hartley had a lucky escape there,’ she told her friend knowingly.

  ‘Now, Bridget,’ Claudia had said, rather bravely Bridget thought, ‘I know it looks like she must have been behind the thing in Scotland, but I can’t believe it was her. Honestly, Bridget, if you’d seen her afterwards… She was a wreck. She seemed so lovely. It just doesn’t seem the sort of thing she would do.’

  Bridget felt her anger rise with every pathetic dribbling word that came out of Claudia’s feeble mouth.

  ‘How dare you?’ she said, looking at Claudia with disdain.

  She stood up, thumping her glass of water on the table in front of her. If the table had been glass instead of solid oak, it would have smashed to pieces.

  ‘You have the gall to defend this slut even when she has betrayed Hartley? I have known you for years, I have helped you in every way I could – taking you to the right places, helping you get over your geek chic, if I can even call it that.’ Bridget was shouting now, her face reddening through her pale matt foundation. ‘You’ve known this imposter for two minutes and come into my house and tell me how wonderful she is, how happy she was with Hartley. How fucking dare you?’

  Claudia looked down, her face bright red and full of fear. She looked like she would burst into tears at any second.

  Bridget was now incandescent with rage, screaming so hard that specks of spit were flying from her mouth. ‘If it wasn’t for me he’d still be with that little bitch, still thinking she was sweetness and fucking light. I’m the one he should thank, you should all thank, for making him see the kind of thing she’d do –’

  Bridget stopped suddenly. Shit, she’d almost told Claudia about Scotland. She was so sick of playing the angelic card that sometimes she just wanted to be congratulated for being so bloody clever, for opening Hartley’s eyes. But no, that wouldn’t do. Got to keep up the act. She’d nearly let it slip. Claudia wouldn’t put two and two together, though. She looked too bloody terrified to take her next breath of air, let alone work out what Bridget had done.

  Bridget took a deep breath and exhaled, then another. She sat down and ran her fingers through her sleek black bob. She did not need such stress.

  Claudia didn’t say much except to apologize, as she should. Bridget made her promise not to even think about having contact with Lucy and never to bring her up again unless she had something of interest to report.

  ‘I expect loyalty from my best friends,’ Bridget told Claudia when she had calmed down.

  Claudia had nodded and smiled.

  Bridget was now drumming her fingers on her cup as she stared at Hartley. He wasn’t paying her any attention. A workman had left his copy of the Daily News on the table beside them and Hartley had spotted Lucy’s picture on the front page. Well, it was as good a time as any. It saved Bridget bringing the topic up herself.

  She watched as Hartley leaned over and picked up the paper. She gave him time to take in the words.

  ‘Oh darling, is that the story about Lucy?’

  Hartley looked up as though he had just noticed Bridget was there.

  ‘Ah yes. How funny. I didn’t realize it would make the papers,’ she lied.

  Hartley looked down at the headline then back at Bridget, confused.

  ‘My friend Jasper called me this morning to say he had seen Lucy in Sheekey’s last night and she had been all over Kirk Kelner.’ Bridget lowered her tone to almost a whisper. ‘Apparently, she tipped the waiter and asked him to send a note over – with something very suggestive on it.’ Bridget grimaced for effect.

  Bridget watched Hartley’s expression and saw a fleeting sorrow in his eyes, replaced by a duller sadness. This was very good news. The more wounded he was, the more likely he was to fall into bed with Bridget, especially after the few drinks that she would ensure he had that evening.

  ‘But, sweetie, I didn’t want you to think I was gossiping – I take no notice of such stories. But there it is for the world to see.’

  Could this be the same sweet girl Hartley had known? Had Lucy blinded him with an act? It was so odd that she was on the front of a newspaper – the Daily News – the one her sister worked for. Had they colluded to get her on the front page? Hartley didn’t know much about newspapers but surely Max would know if her sister was the main story of the day? Lucy had seemed so resistant to attention when he was with her. Was that a
sham too?

  ‘So, sweetie – supper tonight. You can come?’

  Hartley nodded vacantly, agreeing to whatever it was Bridget was asking.

  MARJ COMES CLEAN

  Marj had loved seeing her girls in London. They had spent a glorious weekend together, catching the Thames riverboat to Greenwich, buying each other little gifts from the hand-made jewellery stalls there, taking in Jersey Boys, a musical in the West End, and having cosy nights in when she cooked their favourites: fish pie, her special prawn and pea risotto with mint, and rich bread and butter pudding with vanilla custard.

  ‘Just as well you don’t live here all the time,’ Max had told her, ‘we’d be fattened up in no time.’

  Fergal joked he knew it was dinner time when he heard the beautiful sound of a fork piercing a microwaveable lid. Cheeky thing – that only happened once or twice a week when she was in a hurry to get to her yoga class.

  Marj had chosen one such night, when the girls had finished supper and were curled up on the sofa in their pyjamas, watching television, to tell them about her operation. For a moment or two she built up the courage to tell them. She didn’t want to spoil the night – they looked so happy. It might have been two decades ago but had so much changed from when she’d tuck them up on the sofa at home with a cosy fleecy blanket? Then, she had watched them, all rosy-cheeked and full of anticipation, as she handed them mugs of milky hot chocolate. She knew she was blessed to have such beautiful girls who loved not only her but each other so much. She knew that then and she knew it now.

  ‘Girls, I have something to tell you,’ she said, pressing mute on the remote control.

  They looked up at her expectantly, their sweet-featured faces blank canvases. Part of Marj didn’t want to tell them. She loved being there for them, sharing their funny stories, helping when things went wrong. She was there to worry about them; that’s what mothers were for. She never wanted that role to be reversed. And yet she had told her girls they could tell her anything – secrets were only kept between those who never truly trusted each other – so it was only fair she applied the same logic to herself.