Scandalous

by Martel Maxwell

  Max squeezed his hand, willing him to go on.

  ‘It’s not that she’s a bad person, Max. It’s just… she really resents what happened, even now. I think she’s the reason we never met you or Marj. She wouldn’t have it. So, God, you can imagine how she feels. The one thing that might bring the families together…’

  ‘I understand,’ Max told Luke quietly.

  Luke smiled, taking a deep breath. ‘Anyway, we had an argument. I told her I was spending New Year with you at the Hogmanay Ball. She said over her dead body – she’d arranged some family gathering.’

  ‘Oh I didn’t know. You already had plans?’

  ‘No, no, I don’t. Ben’s not going either. It’s for a few of their couple friends, really, and a few relatives. I’d have got out of it to be with friends anyway. But she’s turned it into an ultimatum, painting it as a straight choice: you or her.’

  Max’s shoulders drooped; suddenly she felt tired. How awful to put Luke in this position. Patricia sounded like a nasty piece of work. But she was his mum. Sure, he might not have the kind of relationship she had with Marj, but still, you can’t change your family. What if he decided to put her feelings first?

  Luke lifted her chin with his finger. ‘Hey, don’t look so sad.’ His bright blue eyes were wide and looking into hers. ‘I know what she’s doing is wrong. Sometimes there’s no reasoning with her. I tried to but she wouldn’t listen.’ Leaning in to kiss her forehead, he whispered, ‘Don’t worry. Everything will be OK.’

  Max smiled. She hoped with everything she had it would be. But making Luke choose between his mother and a girl he’d known for a few weeks? How could that ever work out OK?

  WHAT GOES AROUND…

  Lucy pulled up to her office car park in her shiny black Z4. A luxury she probably didn’t need but, hell, you were only young once and she shared the costs with Max.

  Her heart leaped as she spotted the dress hanging in the corner of the office. It was by far her favourite gown from any of the shoots she’d been part of since joining the magazine. The model had had to have it pinned to fit her tiny frame. Today there would be no need for pinning as Lucy was a good two sizes bigger. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too small.

  ‘Lucy, Colin and Sherman are ready for you.’ Lucy turned round and saw Sarah smiling. Lucy was suddenly nervous, her stomach tight. Head up, chest out, as the little one would say.

  ‘Hello.’ Lucy smiled at the men, who looked unusually casual, dressed down in jeans and jumpers. They had clearly come into the office just to meet with Lucy. She had opted for bootleg brown-moleskin trousers she’d picked up from a trendy Kings Road charity shop, brown LK Bennett ankle boots and a coffee-coloured lambswool polo neck.

  The men kissed her cheeks and wished her a belated merry Christmas.

  Colin, a Mr Darcy-style character, always immaculately dressed, pretty posh and terribly polite, perched on his desk. As managing editor, he had overall control of staff matters on Lucy’s magazine as well as a couple of other publications in the company. He was married with young twins, much to the disappointment of half the female staff.

  Sherman, the editor, sat opposite Lucy on a two-seater sofa. He was a charismatic Liverpudlian, with floppy dark hair and big brown eyes. He had been quite the ladies’ man a few years back, with rumours of female staff receiving generous redundancy packages after their office romances had turned sour. But since being appointed editor, Lucy guessed he’d been warned off any more indiscretions. He was now engaged and displaying the early indications of being in a comfortable relationship: the beginnings of a belly and a few grey hairs.

  ‘Lucy, thanks for joining us,’ Colin said warmly.

  Lucy hoped she didn’t look nervous. She’d had few dealings with the men. They met regularly with Genevieve, to discuss fashion ideas for the mag, as well as with the heads of the various departments, health, travel, beauty and so on. With Carlos too, of course, who was paid so well in part to offer advice to the men on matters of PR, celebrity relationships and marketing. Why speak to Lucy? Were they going to sack her?

  ‘First, we want to say how well we think you’ve managed while Genevieve has been on holiday,’ Sherman told her.

  Bugger. The blow of a sacking was always cushioned by a compliment – everyone knew that.

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ Colin agreed. He paused before continuing. ‘The thing is, Lucy, we’ve been watching Genevieve for a little while now. The bottom line is that we’re not happy with her performance. No doubt she’s a talented woman but she is not delivering the ideas we need to put us head and shoulders above the competition.’

  Sherman took the baton.

  ‘That’s right. Word reached us that she had taken a freebie holiday and promised to write about it. As you can imagine, Liza, the travel editor, was none too happy when she found out. It compromises her severely as it’s her job to do such deals with holiday companies.’

  Lucy nodded. She understood what they were saying but had yet to fathom how it involved her.

  ‘It was quite wrong of Genevieve to arrange her own deals like that,’ Sherman told Lucy, Colin nodding in agreement. ‘But, to be brutally honest, we would have turned a blind eye if she was a fantastic fashion editor. The point is, she’s not. We suspect that any good ideas she has in conference are those of her staff, though she rarely gives them credit. We’ve voiced our concerns to her and she’s been defensive. We have concluded she’s out of her depth.’

  Lucy couldn’t shake the feeling she was part of some conspiracy, talking about Genevieve behind her back. Though why Lucy should feel bad in any way, given Genevieve’s general vileness towards her, was beyond her.

  ‘We met with Genevieve this morning,’ Colin offered. ‘We voiced our concerns and offered her a very generous deal. A pay-off, if you like.’

  This was typical of the media world. As soon as someone displayed signs they were either past their best or failing to live up to expectations, they were seen as dead wood and disposed of in haste. From what Max had told her, newspaper editors were even more ruthless.

  Looking back, it really was only a matter of time before this happened. Genevieve talked a good game but rarely delivered any dynamic ideas. Even her organizational skills left much to be desired; she often forgot to put an important event in the diary and relied on agency writers and staff to cover it for her.

  ‘So,’ Colin continued, looking at Sherman, ‘we have talked it over and decided to offer you the job of fashion editor.’

  He let the words hang in the air, gauging Lucy’s response.

  ‘Yes,’ Sherman said. It was quite a double act they had going. ‘As we say, we’ve been impressed with your work. We’ve been watching you for a while. You’ve got on with things quietly, you haven’t sought glory and we think you will be a fantastic fashion editor.’

  Lucy hadn’t expected this.

  ‘Thank you. I’m very flattered.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sherman said, ‘it is a demanding job. You’ll be in charge of six writers and you’ll have a shared PA. As you know, our standards are high.’

  Lucy nodded.

  Sherman and Colin stood and offered their hands, congratulating her on her new job.

  She couldn’t help but ask: ‘And Genevieve? Has she left?’

  ‘Yes,’ Colin said. ‘We’ve told her that we will, of course, give any help we can. But there’s no need for you to feel bad. We wanted her out. It was time she went. And, well, we do feel you are much stronger for the role.’

  And there it was. No more being sent out for lattes and watching publishers’ nieces take the plum jobs. Lucy was the boss. She couldn’t wait.

  ‘You should know how well thought of you are on the floor,’ Sherman told her. ‘ “Professional” is a word that often crops up with staff when talking about you. And Carlos Santiago, well, he is well and truly the leader of your fan club – and he’s not a man who is easily impressed. We asked him for his thoughts on how you would compare to Genevie
ve as head of fashion and he left us in no doubt as to your attributes.’

  Colin laughed. ‘I think the comparison in taste and style he made was Ugly Betty with Claudia Schiffer.’

  That sounded like Carlos. He’d kept that one quiet, but maybe he hadn’t wanted to raise her hopes. Then again, she did remember a recent conversation when he’d winked and told her that great things lay ahead for her.

  Lucy shouldn’t be giving Genevieve a second thought. She had no doubt she wouldn’t consider Lucy’s feelings if the ankle boot was on the other foot. But Lucy resolved to call her former boss and offer to buy her lunch, to show there were no hard feelings.

  Fergal had always told her that making it to the top required guts and drive, but she should never compromise who she was. And that was a good person, he had told her. One who knew how to treat others well, no matter how badly her peers behaved.

  She would tell Genevieve she could call her any time, perhaps offer her articles on a freelance basis. In truth, Genevieve had been lucky to land a cushy cash package from the magazine. She’d failed to deliver and been paid to go. Lucy had no doubt that within a few months Genevieve would turn up on another mag with a fancy title. That’s the way it often worked: the good workers stayed and grafted their way up the ranks while others who talked a good game flitted from one publication to another, landing great jobs by trading off their last title. More often than not, new employers took their CV at face value. They would assume they were up to their last job title and hire them with high expectations. So often they had been forced out of their last job too, either sacked for poor performance or under pressure to leave because they felt out of their depth.

  When staff didn’t deliver, they were brushed aside within a year.

  Yes, Genevieve had been vile but how much of that was down to crushing insecurity?

  ‘Oh we’ve decided to double your current salary,’ continued Colin. ‘You were overdue a hefty rise in any case but this will bring you in line with the other heads of department. Hard work deserves reward. We are very excited about this, Lucy, and if things go as well as we hope, we have plenty more ideas about how you can rise further within the magazine.’

  She felt a little dizzy with all this information. Her dream job. The money was beyond her expectations. Maybe she’d be able to treat Max to outfits and dinners now. But it was the opportunity more than anything that was so exciting. She’d had no idea she was being watched. As she shook their hands, Lucy beamed at them.

  ‘Thank you so much. I won’t let you down,’ she told them.

  She felt like she was walking on air when she left the office. She couldn’t wait to celebrate at the Hogmanay Ball.

  THE TIME HAS COME

  Lucy squeezed Max’s hand. Without her sister at her side she’d have been a bag of nerves walking into the grand entrance of the Grosvenor for the Hogmanay Ball. But Max somehow gave her confidence, as she always had.

  ‘I can’t actually believe how beautiful you look,’ Max had told her as she walked out of her bedroom in her gown. Lucy was relieved that, minus the pins, it fitted perfectly. The thin cream-satin fabric clung to Lucy’s curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and her long legs. It skimmed the floor, her deep-red Manolos just visible when she walked.

  While most women would have immersed themselves in Fake Bake or St Tropez tan to carry off the paleness of the dress, Lucy’s fair but peachy skin worked perfectly, giving the illusion her entire body was glowing. Her hair had been loosely pinned up with a few of the finer white-blonde locks falling at the side, framing her face.

  Her blue eyes sparkled, expertly outlined with the finest black line; her lips were plump and rosy with berry-red gloss and liner. Lucy had matched her nails with her shoes and accessorized with a delicate necklace, the centrepiece a ruby with tiny diamonds around it – the finest costume jewellery Lucy could find and a dead ringer for the real thing.

  ‘No bloody wonder you wanted that dress. If Hartley doesn’t realize what he’s missing when he sees you in it, every other guy at the ball will.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ Lucy chided Max with a grin. She was grateful for the compliment which settled her stomach a little.

  ‘Course it’s not,’ Max told her with a knowing wink. They both knew it did no harm whatsoever to look one’s stunning best whenever in close proximity to an ex.

  ‘Max, you look fabulous. Luke’s a very lucky boy.’

  Max did a twirl for effect, showing off the dress which seemed to have been moulded to fit her perfectly. The deep-purple velvet bodice accentuated her tiny waist, before flowing to the ground, folds of the luxurious fabric catching the light as she moved.

  ‘Cheers, Luce. Right, let’s get this mutual appreciation society on the road.’

  And now the Summers sisters were making their way into the ballroom. Luke was meeting them there, as were Clarissa and Clive.

  Lucy felt odd knowing Hartley would be there. How differently things had panned out from her expectations of the Hogmanay Ball a few months back. She had been so excited at organizing the bash, revelling in the finer details of tartan ribbons and Scottish dances. Now she was single and attending with her sister, who was falling madly in love with her brother. Lucy looked at Max and squeezed her hand.

  Max smiled back. ‘OK, sis. Now we’ve arrived the party can start.’

  Max might be working the next day but she didn’t have to be in until 11 a.m. and it would be an easy ride so long as a member of the Royal family didn’t go and die or something. She would have a good few drinks – hell, it was Hogmanay, after all. Just not so many that she’d be dizzy focusing on her computer screen in the morning. And definitely not so many she thought she’d faint in morning conference – that was never a pleasant experience. And then there was Luke. It was the first time she could remember being anywhere as anything other than single. She’d been scared a boyfriend would suffocate her, stop her chatting to people at parties, would roll his eyes as she had another cocktail. But she didn’t feel like that with Luke. It took her by surprise to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

  He had called her that morning to say he had spoken to his mum. Max felt her heart flip as he said the words. She had convinced herself Luke would decide he simply couldn’t jeopardize his relationship with his mother and would pull out of the ball. Even if he did come, Patricia might have planted a seed of doubt about their relationship with all the vile things she’d said.

  ‘Max, I thought a lot after I spoke to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about how hurt you looked when I told you about my mum…’

  Max tried hard to concentrate on what Luke was saying, but she was gripped by a horrible feeling of dread. The truth was that Luke meant everything to her. But what if the saying ‘what goes around comes around’ was true and, by some stroke of karma, this was the retribution she deserved for being so careless with the emotions of guys over the years? Maybe she didn’t deserve to live happily ever after.

  ‘It hit me that there was only one thing I could do.’

  Oh fuck.

  ‘I told Mum that if she was going to make me choose, it would be you.’

  ‘Me?’

  Luke laughed. ‘Yes, of course you. She should never have made it into a choice in the first place. I told her I wanted you to meet my family, and I dearly wanted to include her but, if she refused, I’d be taking you for lunch with Ben and Dad in the New Year.’

  ‘Oh my God. What did she say?’

  ‘Not a lot. I think Dad had stood up for himself for once too and told her he would stand by me if I wanted to be with you. Ben too.’

  ‘And…’ Max’s voice was quiet and worried as she took in what Luke had been prepared to do for her. ‘What does that mean? What will she do now?’

  As overwhelmed with relief as she was, Max didn’t want to be the cause of him falling out with his mum.

  Luke’s tone was lighter now. ‘Oh I think everything will
be OK. If I know my mum, she’ll come round. Even she knows what she did was wrong. And she knows now how I feel about you.’

  ‘And how’s that, Luke?’ Max asked playfully.

  ‘I think you know, Miss Summers.’

  Max smiled. How wonderful. Their relationship was not up for debate. With anyone.

  With Luke in the picture, things seemed to make more sense. Max knew she would soon leave behind the world of showbiz and parties, but she also realized what a kick-ass ride it was, and that it was one she should make the most of for a few months while she figured out what it was she wanted to do next.

  Hell, if she didn’t hanker after doing something that might make more of a difference, being a showbiz reporter was the best job in the world.

  As Lucy and Max walked into the grand hall, they were immersed in the buzz around them. A sea of dresses – sparkly, black, backless, puff-skirted – mixed with the men, so smart in their tails and a few kilts dotted around the room. Champagne glasses clinked and the din rose to the high ceiling.

  A man stopped the sisters as they approached steps leading down to the main floor and asked their names so he could announce them. Again Max squeezed Lucy’s hand.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the man’s deep voice boomed, ‘Miss Maxine Summers and Miss Lucy Summers.’

  As the words fell on the ballroom, the chatter of the guests subsided a little. Some people stopped and stared, others were nudged by a friend encouraging them to give their full attention to this unexpected guest. Some chatted on, oblivious to the fact the Earl of Balmyle’s ex had just walked in, even though by all accounts she should be far too embarrassed ever to be in the same vicinity as him.

  Lucy’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t anticipated quite so public an introduction to the hundreds of guests.

  She glimpsed a woman quickly turn back to the group she was with, shielding her mouth with her hand while they lowered their heads to hear what she was saying.

  As the sisters walked down the stairs, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder what was being said: had she no shame? Was she here to have another go at snaring Hartley? Oh did you hear he’s back with Lady Bridget?