Something swelled up in Sara’s stomach, and in her throat, when she read Polly’s email. She dipped her head down, behind the monitor. She hoped that her features were not betraying her feelings, but she couldn’t be sure. She felt a modicum of betrayal, that Adam had kept his plans to himself. He must have already made the decision to switch publishers before their tour together. Yet why should she have been entitled to know his plans? Who was she to him? And wasn’t there a chance, in his mind, that she would have shown more loyalty to her publisher than to her author? And did he also know that he would be moving to New York? He hadn’t said anything. Was she supposed to be his last UK conquest? Sara experienced a gut wrenching sense of loss, or finality. Bradley House would no longer want to arrange any events for an author who had left them. She would never have cause to see him again. She felt something akin to grief. Yet Sara also felt happy for Adam. She was more pleased for him than she was disappointed for Bradley House. Adam had mentioned how much he wanted to write historical fiction – but how Julian had argued that he should just stick to what they knew.
Could things have turned out any differently?
Sara had more questions than answers about the whole affair, but wasn’t that the case with everyone about everything?
Move on – from Simon and him.
18.
The following day was the first day of Sara’s holiday, or the first day of the rest of her life, she determined. She called her sister and arranged for them to meet for lunch. Carly was a little surprised by the call – to the point of being suspicious and worried – but by the time she put down the phone she was pleased that Sara had got in touch.
After speaking to her sister Sara logged on to The Bookseller and other relevant trade websites to check for editorial assistant positions – and applied for a number of jobs.
I’m worth a hundred Julian Smythes.
As well as replying to Frank Porter to arrange a date for giving a talk to his crime and thriller writing group in Birmingham Sara also emailed a few contacts she had who ran other writing groups. She offered to give a talk to their members about publishing and publicity, for gratis.
Over the next week or so Sara continued to apply for jobs. She also started researching and writing her novel, a romance set in Regency London. Jane Austen and Coleridge would make cameo appearances. The story would revolve around the character of Virginia Rake, a governess torn between her faith/duty and her love for a Byronic poet, Aaron Miller. The working title of the book was Rake’s Progress.
Sara thought long and hard about it but decided, after a week, that she would just post a message up on her Twitter and Facebook pages to say that she had broken up with Simon. She wanted to put things behind her and didn’t want to tell everyone individually, re-living the hurt and embarrassment each time. Although Sara added that she wanted some privacy and there was no need to get in touch a couple of old friends from her modelling days insisted that they take her for a night out, to help take her mind off things. They went to a club off Bond St, wearing outfits that left little, or a lot, to the imagination. The club was full of neon, frosted glass and polished chrome – and dark corners and toilet cubicles that could house more than one occupant. Thankfully the music in the club wasn’t too intrusive and they played Rick Astley as well as, heaven forefend, Usher. Instead of shouting, or merely saying “pardon” or pretending to hear, Sara was able to genuinely catch up with Kelly and Sasha, who were still in the industry. Not much had changed, in terms of both their characters and their lives. They were flirting however with the idea of leaving modelling.
“We’re becoming too old and too fat,” Sasha half-joked.
Fortunately they were not in the mood to spend their time flirting with guys for the night, which, unfortunately, didn’t prevent various guys from trying to flirt with them. Even without comparing the would-be suitors to Adam they seemed dull and witless to Sara. One of them started to talk about how he loved Duncan Ferris, “comedy genius.” Most talked about themselves, or tried to. Kelly and Sasha were proficient at blunting the arrows on Cupid’s bow before they’d even been fired.
“I’ve been waiting for you all my life,” one hair-gelled copyright lawyer said.
“Really? I’ve been waiting for the past three minutes for you to leave,” Kelly replied.
When they were not being accosted by blokes (whose greatest love affair they’d ever have would be with themselves) Kelly and Sasha offered their old friend their support. Sara was better off without Simon, they asserted. They also conveyed how much they admired and envied Sara, for having gotten off the treadmill all those years ago and gone to university.
“You stepped off the Yellow Brick Road Sara – and found your own path. Which took a brain, a heart and courage,” Sasha remarked, pleasantly surprising herself by how much she meant what she said.
“You seem sorted in regards to what you want from your career now... But do you have your eye on anyone in the romance department?” Kelly said, thinking that she could ask both her fiancé and her other boyfriend if they knew anyone suitable she could date.
“No, I don’t have my eye on anyone,” Sara answered. Not unless I can buy myself a telescope that can see across to New York.
*
During her holiday Sara kept busy (she even still kindly helped Polly out from home, so she didn’t get overwhelmed with work and have Cruella on her back). She also tried to have fun with Rosie. They went out to the cinema and theatre – and Rosie suffered many a defeat at Scrabble in the evening in the name of their friendship.
Yet still Sara found time to frequently – and endlessly – think about the state of her heart. She thought little of Simon (in more than one sense), but thought a lot about Adam. There was something missing from her life – and she knew it was him. It was as if the spine had been broken on her favourite hardback book, or her favourite CD had been scratched and it could no longer play properly. She scrolled down to his number on her phone a couple of times, but refrained from calling.
Sara listened to music while she worked on her novel. It helped fill the leaden silences – and also some of the songs, about loneliness, made her feel less lonely. Where once love songs had resonated and made sense (for that brief moment), now only sad songs struck the right chord. She even made a playlist and listened to it on a loop: Celine Dion, Emmy Lou Harris, Billy Joel (of course) and The Dixie Chicks. “This ain’t nothing but a Heartbreak Town.”
But just when Sara depressingly thought that all love songs turn into sad songs she received a phone call one morning, from an unknown number.
19.
“Hello, Sara? This is Victoria Glass.”
Her voice was polite, posh and confident. Sara was so shocked she paused before replying, as if unsure of her own name and everything else.
“Yes, this is Sara.”
“I was wondering if you might be free this early afternoon for a coffee. I have a window in my schedule and I’d like to meet you, if it’s convenient.”
Although she proposed the meeting as a request, there was something in her tone that expected that the request would be granted. Victoria Glass was used to getting what she wanted.
Sara gave her address to Victoria (who relayed it to her driver) and then asked, “Would you mind telling me why you’d like to see me Miss Glass?”
“Please, call me Victoria. And there’s no need to worry, I’ll tell you everything when I get there. Although I suspect that you know what, or rather who, we’ll be discussing... My driver has just informed me that I should get to you within an hour or so...”
Not even Adam had made her heart beat as fast as it did right now. Confusion and anxiety twisted themselves together like rope and a knot grew in her stomach. At first Sara stood frozen to the spot, in her kitchen. It was late morning and she still wasn’t even dressed yet. People didn’t meet Victoria Glass wearing M&S pyjamas, especially not ones made from a blend material with a picture of Tigger on the front.
She changed quickly (changing her outfit twice), falling over whilst doing so when she couldn’t get her foot into the leg of her jeans. Once dressed Sara sped downstairs and did her best to go to war on her apartment, armed with some polish, a dust buster and a bin bag. As she did so Sara asked a hundred questions and formed even more answers as to why Adam’s ex-wife was coming to see her but until she arrived any speculation seemed fruitless. Her nerves eclipsed a sense of intrigue.
When the doorbell went Sara shivered, as if the noise announced the presence of the grim reaper. She took an involuntary deep breath and opened the door.
She was momentarily speechless. Victoria Glass was stunning. Nature had endowed her with a perfect figure, but she still worked-out to maintain, or improve, it. The midday sun gave an added lustre to her eyes, skin and glistening lips. Her long, glossy full-bodied black hair hung over her shoulders with precision as if she were about to audition for a shampoo commercial (and she would have got the part). Victoria Glass radiated both refinement and glamour, which is rarer than you might expect (certainly any number of footballers’ wives and presenters of Strictly Come Dancing are unable to do so). Victoria was wearing a simple yet elegant Alexander McQueen belted crepe dress. The snow white outfit showed off her tan, legs and arms – without somehow being revealing. Sara suspected that Victoria Glass could still give off an air of poise and style in a potato sack though. The pair of Christian Louboutin shoes she had on cost half the sum value of Sara’s entire wardrobe. Her Bvlgari sunglasses, which she courteously took off as Sara opened the door, doubtless cost as much as the remaining half.
For a brief moment Victoria narrowed her almond-shaped eyes and took in the book publicist. Sara felt like she was being assessed, as if she was being given the once over by modelling agents again.
“Hi, thank you for seeing me at such short notice,” Victoria warmly remarked, extending a finely manicured hand for Sara to shake. “Thank you James, if you want to wait back in the car I shall be half an hour or so,” she then said, turning to her driver who stood by the gate.
Sara invited Victoria to come in and asked if she wanted anything to drink. She felt nervous, uneasy in her own home as if royalty were visiting.
“Just a glass of water will be fine, thank you.”
Sara here felt even uneasier, realising that Rosie had finished off the last bottle of mineral water the evening before. Had Victoria Glass ever had to drink tap water?
“I’m sorry, but will tap water be okay? I’m afraid I’ve run out of bottled water. Usually I have plenty in.”
“Tap water will be fine,” her guest replied, smiling. She genuinely didn’t want her surprise visit to cause any undue anxiety in her host.
There was a part of Sara that was prepared to dislike her (sort of) rival. A part of her wanted Victoria to behave haughtily and conceitedly. Sara had envisioned the scene beforehand, similar to that of when Lady Catherine de Bourgh visits Lizzie Bennett at her home, towards the end of the Pride & Prejudice. She imagined that, for whatever reason, Victoria Glass would look to somehow intimidate or look down on her. Yet the tabloid courtesan was being unfailingly nice, disarmingly normal.
Sara invited Victoria to sit down on a chair (her best one). She noticed how Victoria not only wore little jewellery, but she often rubbed her ring finger from where her wedding band had once been.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” she remarked, giving Sara her third best smile – which was still more than enough to continue to melt any tension in the air.
“It had crossed my mind,” Sara replied with understatement, feeling a bit more at ease in the presence of the (powerfully) attractive socialite – Adam Cooper’s ex-wife.
“Partly I’m here due to a sense of curiosity. I had a long conversation with Adam over the phone last night. He’s still in New York, although he flies back tomorrow. By the end of the conversation I knew that he still cared about me, but he’s no longer in love with me... We’ve needed to have the conversation that we had last night for a long time. I tried to get through to him last week but he wasn’t answering my calls... I’m not sure how much you already know but we had a whirlwind romance...Yet there was a gentleness to the relationship also. We became friends as much as lovers. At the time I had developed a burgeoning drug problem. Adam took advice from professionals, as did I, but he more than anyone helped get me clean – and I’ll always be grateful to him for that. The likes of The Priory are for people who want to get publicity, rather than get well. Drugs cost less than the fees they charge...
“For all of the passion that we shared the thing I miss most is how Adam could make me laugh... We used to spend our days together, consciously living out of the spotlight. Adam would write in the morning and then we would have lunch, go for a walk or play tennis. Or I would drag him along on a shopping trip... Occasionally I would drag him along to a party too, which he would protest about but then charm anyone he spoke to. Most of the people I know had never encountered someone genuinely intelligent and gallant before...
“We occasionally would visit his family. They’re wonderful by the way, if you haven’t already met them. Adam’s still just a boy from South London at heart who loves his Mum and enjoys nothing more than going for a drink down the pub... He encouraged me to pursue acting. He had his writing and he wanted for me to have a similar purpose and passion in my life. I invited him to join me when I went over to Hollywood for a month but he had a deadline to meet and I knew how ill-suited he’d be to Los Angeles... I slept with a producer... It was stupid and it was wrong... Adam found out and left me...”
Victoria here took a sip of water. It was the first time that Sara thought that she might break down, when recounting her relationship with Adam. For once her pristine features appeared strained, pained.
“I used to think that people acting unfaithfully was the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps I still do. But I now know that it doesn’t make it right... I was in denial when I came back to London. I tried to blame Adam, for encouraging me to pursue a career in acting and go off to Hollywood. The whole town is greased by money and sex – and they didn’t want my money... I hated him for leaving me. He came back briefly, when I said that I was worried I’d return to taking drugs. I also lied and said I was pregnant... But once he knew the truth he left again... And I was angry at him again... The happiest day of my life was when Adam proposed. The saddest day of my life was when I signed my divorce papers... My agent and publicist said I needed to use my marriage, or rather divorce, as a selling point. But I cannot blame them entirely for creating the narrative that I was a wronged woman. I wanted to take things out on Adam for leaving me... I don’t particularly like parts of my life at the moment Sara... In order to play the fame game – and keep the ‘Victoria Glass brand in the spotlight’ as my agent says – I’ve wrongly insinuated that Adam drank too much and was unfaithful while we were married.
“I came here today to tell you that my sins do not belong to Adam. He never cheated on me, no matter what I might have alleged in the press. He doesn’t even cheat when it comes to playing Scrabble... He’s the best of men, if you haven’t already figured that out... Making other people happy makes him happy. What I want to say is, give him the chance to make you happy... Please don’t hurt him. I’ve hurt him enough... Finally, one of the reasons Adam called me last night was to let me know that he was hopefully going to start seeing someone again. He asked me not to comment on any story that might come out in the press, and to stoke any fire... He values his privacy and doesn’t want the tabloids door stepping you either. I want to let you know that I won’t say anything. I’m also no longer going to speak to the press about Adam or my marriage...”
There were times when Sara felt that the scene was surreal, of having Victoria Glass sit in her living room and lay bare her heart. She could have taped the conversation, sold the story to The Daily Mail and retired. Yet Sara was too often gripped by what was being said to have time to think abo
ut the strangeness of it all. She also couldn’t help but like the witty, dazzling yet vulnerable woman. In another world they might have even become friends, she speculated afterwards. Adam has good taste in women it seems, she wryly thought to herself. Victoria still clearly missed him. In some ways, Sara believed, she loved him more now than when they had been married. But it was over. She’d eroded his trust and admiration. Victoria Glass was now in a state of mourning for Adam, rather than deluding herself that she could bring their relationship back to life.
One of the reasons why Victoria had desired to meet Sara, that she was less forthright about, was that she wanted to divine Sara’s feelings for Adam. And what was it about the publicist that had captured his heart? But when she went fishing for answers Sara didn’t bite. But how could Sara articulate her feelings for Adam when she had yet to fully understand them herself? She remained coy about the state of her relationship, or non-relationship.
Victoria stayed for forty-five minutes, but then she heard her driver sound the horn outside. She again thanked Sara for seeing her on such short notice – and then apologised that she had to leave so abruptly. But she had an important meeting to attend across town. She needed to help re-design the shape of the bottle for her perfume.
20.
Sara slowly walked back into the living room after Victoria Glass’ car pulled away. She slumped down on the sofa. She was in a state of shock, as though someone had just told her that she’d just won the lottery or that two plus two really equalled five. The afternoon sun shone through the window but Sara still felt in the dark. There were still more questions than answers. Her head – and heart – were fit to bursting after hearing what her unexpected guest had to say. She struggled to take everything in.
Shortly after Victoria left Sara opened an email from Polly. She mentioned how Victoria Glass’ PA had called her and asked for Sara’s number. Polly also said how she had just checked her Facebook and was sorry to hear the news that Sara had broken up with her boyfriend.
Tell Him About It Page 8