When there was no response from Diana, Karin looked back at her friend. ‘You’re quiet.’
‘Oh, I’m fine’ said Diana. Karin frowned and searched her face for clues. Diana certainly looked impeccable, and things seemed to be going well for her family. Martin had just floated his online betting company, which had been valued at over £1 billion pounds, the offering heavily oversubscribed. Overnight, Martin and Diana were worth over £500 million, and they could have sold the shares five times over. But still, Karin thought she saw a sadness in Diana’s face.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ asked Karin. Under her wraparound sunglasses, Karin could see her friend’s eyebrows crease into crooked lines.
‘Not really,’ she smiled weakly.
Karin touched Diana’s knee sympathetically. ‘Honey, what’s wrong?’
A single tear rolled down from under Diana’s shades. ‘Last week I told Martin I had come off the pill and he almost had a seizure,’ said Diana, pressing a fingertip on her cheek to blot the tear.
‘Didn’t you discuss it?’
Diana shook her head so a wispy tendril of hair escaped from her chignon. ‘We’ve been married a year. I thought it was about time we started thinking about children.’
‘But he doesn’t?’
‘Got it in one, girlfriend,’ said Diana, dabbing under her shades with a table napkin. ‘After I told him, it was as if he suddenly decided he didn’t want to be married.’
‘Come on, he loves being married to you,’ laughed Karin gently. It was true. Every one of Diana’s girlfriends had been envious of the energy with which Martin had pursued her. She’d moved in with him only three months after they had met at that day in Savile Row and within six months he had presented her with a twenty-carat diamond engagement ring that set a new yardstick for her circle’s trophy jewellery.
‘I thought so too,’ said Diana, her voice cracking. ‘But the issue of children … it’s as if it’s made him wake up and want to be young, free and single again.’
‘But you did ask him if he wanted to have children with you before you got married …?’
Diana’s sob gave Karin her answer. It was so easily done; an unspoken issue was always an awkward one, and why bring up something that could break a deal? ‘I didn’t ask him then, no,’ said Diana. ‘But I asked him now. He said he didn’t want any more kids. Said he just wanted it to be just me and him and no responsibilities, no decisions to be made other than where we should go on holiday, Miami or Mustique, Barbados or the Bahamas.’
‘And I take it that’s not your dream?’
‘I love our life,’ said Diana, her voice almost a whisper.
‘But I’ve always wanted children. I never knew how much until Martin said he didn’t want to have any more.’
Karin looked at her. Behind the grooming, the diamonds, the head-to-toe Gucci, was a traditional, blue-blooded Home Counties girl. Her family’s star had fallen, their fortune dwindled to nothing, and in Martin she thought she could rekindle her family’s glory by marrying well. But that’s what she’d wanted all along; not the position, but the family.
‘And is having children a deal-breaker?’ asked Karin, trying to meet Diana’s gaze.
She couldn’t see her friend’s eyes through the black lenses, but she could see the tiny sad nod of her head, the movement that said ‘yes’.
Karin looked out at the Chiltern Hills, a smudge of muted colour in the sun, and shivered. It was funny how things changed. By the end of the summer, Diana could be falling out of the magic circle of millionaire wives. And Molly could be coming in.
Summer was standing by the hog-roast, helping the six-year-old son of the village butcher squeeze ketchup onto his hot dog. She was in a short white cotton dress so thin that the shadow of her body was visible in the sun, a stark contrast to the hazelnut brown of her long legs. It was the first weekend Summer had had off since Monaco and, while it had been enormous fun, she needed a break. Filming for ‘On Heat’, she had been to opera festivals, literary festivals, summer parties, Royal Ascot, the tennis, the Veuve Clicquot polo, Sardinia and St Tropez. Professionally, she had been on a steep learning curve, but she thought she was doing pretty well. Certainly, Simon Garrison kept saying that ‘On Heat’ was the best programme their production company had ever done. She took a swig of Pimms and the little boy ran off in the direction of the pony rides.
‘Why don’t you come and squeeze my hot dog?’ whispered Adam into her ear, running his fingers lightly along her arm.
She turned round to see him looking relaxed in a pair of jeans and a navy polo shirt, while the sun had smeared a streak of colour across his nose.
‘Adam. Don’t,’ giggled Summer behind her hand, looking round anxiously to see if anyone was watching. ‘Where’s Karin?’
‘She’s gone for a tour around the house with your mother. I think we’re safe for a while. But, just to be sure, why don’t you come and have your fortune read?’ he asked, jerking his head towards a striped tent at the bottom of the garden. ‘Meet you there in two minutes.’
Feeling a frisson of nerves and sexual excitement, she loitered for a count of 100, then followed Adam into the small tent. There was barely enough room for the two of them to move – and there was no sign of the fortune teller.
‘Where’s Madam Zorba then?’ asked Summer as she felt Adam’s hand slide up her thigh and under her panties. She groaned, every nerve end jangling with anticipation and the real prospect of getting caught.
‘I crossed her palm with silver to make her go and take a coffee break,’ mumbled Adam, biting gently on her earlobe.
Lifting her slightly into the air, he pushed her onto the tiny table behind her, slipping his hand up her thigh while his lips brushed her neck with kisses.
Summer arched her back and groaned softly. ‘Adam, please. Don’t. Someone is going to come.’
‘Hopefully you,’ smiled Adam, his fingertips dipping under her panties, finding her hot and wet. As he slid his finger over her clitoris, she gripped the edge of the table with desire, her nails clawing at the red baize of Madam Zorba’s table. Gasping, struggling to regain control, she forced herself to think of Karin only 100 feet away. Suddenly Summer had a flashback to all the times she had lain in her bed at night, the sounds of her mother having sex filtering through the walls. Right then, Summer felt the same guilt and shame, the same uncomfortable mixture of desire and disgust.
‘Stop it, stop it, Adam!’ she hissed, pushing him away from her. As she sat up, the table flipped forward, sending Madam Zorba’s tarot cards fluttering to the ground like butterflies.
‘Hey! What the fuck has got in to you?’ said Adam, pulling away from her sharply.
‘This is wrong, Adam. It’s all wrong.’
‘Too right it’s bloody wrong,’ he complained. ‘What are you stopping for?’
She pushed herself away from him and bent down to pick up the tarot cards. They were all face down on the grass and she quickly scooped them up and put them back on the table.
‘Come on. We’d better go back outside,’ she mumbled, smoothing down her dress. Adam tutted loudly and headed out into the fresh air, Summer following him. Neither of them saw the only two tarot cards upturned on the red baize. The first was the card of two lovers entwined. The second was the image of the hanged man.
From her vantage point on the terrace, Erin watched the activity of the fête panning out around her, feeling a uneasy sense of loneliness. She’d been grateful and excited when Marcus had invited her along earlier that week but, now she was here, she realized how socially unimportant she was. The people she knew best here – Molly, Karin and Adam – were too busy or uninterested to speak to her, and she found herself wishing that she was spending the afternoon with Chris, as she was increasingly spending her weekends.
Why didn’t I invite him along? she cursed herself, taking a swig of lemonade. I could have flirted with him in front of Adam.
She stopped the thought in her trac
ks, knowing she was being ridiculous. Her crush on Adam was ridiculous. It was unprofessional, wrong and unfair that he was so sexy, unavailable and out of her league, she thought, catching sight of his sexy, handsome physique coming out of the fortune-teller’s tent.
Something made her do a double take. As she looked more closely, she caught the thunderous expression on Adam’s face and saw another figure coming out of Madame Zorba’s tent: Summer.
Erin had been wondering where Molly’s daughter had got to. Only twenty minutes ago they’d been having a giggle together on the terrace, catching up on all the gossip since the last time they’d met in Monte Carlo. Summer had proved to be the only friendly person at the fête, and Erin had welcomed her being around. But the sight of her now made Erin feel chilly, especially when she could now see Madam Zorba five hundred yards away at the Portaloos.
What were Adam and Summer doing alone together in the tent? Erin had felt a sickening, thumping realization of what she had just seen. For the past few weeks she had noticed Adam take phone calls with his office door shut. She had always assumed it was top secret business or just personal calls to Karin, but his uneasiness after such calls had recently made Erin wonder if there was another woman on the scene. Now she felt sure of it.
‘There you are, Erin,’ said Karin, striding out of the main house, fanning herself with a fête programme. ‘I didn’t know you were coming this afternoon. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Adam, have you?’
Erin felt herself panic, glancing nervously down to Madam Zorba’s tent. ‘Karin. How great to see you,’ she stuttered.
Karin stood at the edge of the terrace, surveying the grounds, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun.
Seeing Summer and Adam still shiftily standing together, Erin grabbed Karin by the arm and spun her around to face the house.
‘Drink?’ Erin smiled nervously, grabbing two glasses of punch from a passing waiter.
‘Has this got red wine in it?’ Karin asked the waiter, pointing at the tumbler.
The waiter nodded. ‘Well, take it away. It’ll give me a terrible headache. Get me an Evian, will you?’
The waiter mumbled apologetically and ran off in the direction of the house.
Erin was glad of the distraction, noticing over Karin’s shoulder that Adam and Summer had now walked off in separate directions.
‘So, Adam? You were looking for him.’
Karin nodded cautiously, examining Erin, whose cheeks appeared to have flushed slightly.
‘We’ve got a dinner party tonight at the Rothschilds, and if we don’t leave in an hour I’ll never fit in a blow-dry.’ The older woman narrowed her eyes, looking for a reaction from Erin. She had been on red alert all afternoon after seeing Claudia Falcon at the raffle, and Erin’s behaviour was setting off more alarm bells.
‘Erin, is anything the matter?’
‘No, no, I’m just feeling a bit sick, that’s all. Too much candyfloss and sitting in the sun, I expect.’ She gave a wan smile.
Karin wasn’t convinced, but she had little doubt that Adam’s PA would be doggedly loyal to him even if she did know something, so she merely nodded.
‘Ah, there’s Adam,’ Erin said, pointing in the direction of the raffle. ‘Do you want me to run down and tell him you want to go?’
‘That would be kind of you,’ said Karin quickly. She put her hand on Erin’s shoulder and smiled more warmly. ‘It’s so nice having you as Adam’s assistant, you being my old PA and me basically getting you the job with Adam. I really feel as if I can trust you. Rely on you.’
Erin felt her cheeks flush again. ‘Of course you can rely on me,’ she replied in her most professional tone of voice.
Karin watched her run down the stone steps towards the main throng of the party. I’ll have to keep an eye on that one, she thought. She knows something.
Summer had needed to take a walk around the entire grounds to cool off from her brush with Adam. She had just reached the stables when she noticed she was being followed by a very pretty blonde teenager.
‘Hi, I’m Ellie Bradshaw,’ said the girl breathlessly. ‘I think you’re beautiful. I’ve got your picture on my bedroom wall and everything.’
Summer had to laugh. It wasn’t so long ago that she was feeling in awe of her mother’s glamorous modelling friends, who would drop by the house. As she fell into step beside Summer, Ellie bombarded Summer with questions about London and Tokyo and modelling and all the famous people she had met. She was quite lovely, thought Summer, giving Ellie a sidelong glance. Sun-washed blonde hair, a small button nose. Her eyes were too small and close together to be truly beautiful, and the voluptuous figure busting out of her tight pink T-shirt ruled out catwalk, but she was certainly a very pretty girl.
‘So what do you want to do when you leave college?’ asked Summer.
‘I’ve got a job in the pub this summer, but when I leave college next year I want to be famous.’
Summer laughed. ‘Being famous isn’t a career decision, Ellie. You have to do something to become famous.’
Ellie looked confused at this and Summer had to concede she had a point. There were plenty of people littering the magazines and tabloids who wouldn’t be able to tell you what they did if their life depended on it.
‘I was thinking about going on that pop programme on telly, but I can’t sing,’ said Ellie earnestly, ‘And I’m not pretty enough to model.’
‘You’re really pretty,’ said Summer frowning. She recognized that simmer of self-loathing from her own teenage-hood. ‘Anyway, not all pretty girls are models and not all models are pretty,’ she added, suddenly feeling enormously protective of this sweet, vulnerable girl. She hadn’t been much older than Ellie when she had gone to Japan. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll find something you’re good at and you’ll have a great life, I promise.’
Ellie screwed up her face. ‘Well, I wish it would hurry up and happen,’ she said.
Molly’s voice, announcing that the raffle was about to be drawn, suddenly crackled through a tannoy across the lawns.
Summer led Ellie towards the action of the fête. They were just passing the bouncy castle when Summer saw a face in the crowd and froze. Ricardo Lantis. He was dressed in a pair of white linen trousers and a shirt open to the waist, so you could see a thick black line of hair creeping up above the golden H of his Hermès belt.
‘And which two lovely ladies do we have here?’ smirked Ricardo as he saw them approach, turning to leer at Ellie.
‘Who invited you?’ snapped Summer, looking around.
‘Your mother, of course,’ smiled Ricardo.
‘I’m Ellie, by the way,’ said the girl, reaching out her hand politely. Ricardo lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. ‘Enchanté …’ he purred. ‘Are you one of Summer’s modelling friends?’
Ellie blushed furiously with colour. ‘Oh no!’ she giggled. ‘I only work in the pub in the village.’
‘Well, that’s a pub I really must visit,’ said Ricardo, still holding onto her hand.
‘Ellie, can you go and check my raffle ticket to make sure I’m not missing out on winning,’ said Summer, stepping between Ellie and Ricardo and pressing a yellow cloakroom ticket into her hand.
‘Don’t you dare, you old lech,’ hissed Summer, as Ricardo’s eyes followed Ellie trotting across the lawn.
‘Ah, at last, the mouse roars,’ smiled Ricardo, showing a mouthful of white teeth.
‘I could have shopped you to the police that night, Ricardo. Don’t start pushing your luck.’
‘Shopped me to the police?’ mocked Ricardo. ‘Whatever for? Double parking the Bentley?’
‘You put Rohypnol in my drink, you bastard. You wanted to have sex with me.’
Ricardo laughed, slowly, cruelly. ‘I don’t need drugs to score a fuck.’
‘That’s not the case though, is it?’ said Summer, standing her ground, her hands on her hips. ‘Men like you want to have sex with the woman they can’t have sex with.’
/> Ricardo reached out a hand to stroke Summer’s face and she jerked away. ‘You’re very spiky today, darling. It must be the sun.’
‘Look who we have here!’ said Molly, tottering across the lawns in her heels.
Summer shot her mother a sour glance. ‘Ricardo was just leaving,’ she said tartly.
‘Oh Ricardo, you can’t leave,’ purred Molly, stroking the dark hairs on his arm. ‘We’re all going to the pub later. It’s very quaint.’
Ricardo kissed her on the cheek before turning to watch Ellie again. ‘I might see you there then,’ he said, winking at Summer. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave mother and daughter alone to congratulate themselves on a wonderful afternoon.’
‘He’s right, isn’t he?’ smiled Molly triumphantly after he’d gone.‘Marcus is practically wetting himself it’s been so successful.’
‘I can’t believe you,’ said Summer, shaking her head slowly.
Molly sighed theatrically. ‘What have I done this time, darling?’
‘You invited Ricardo Lantis,’ replied Summer, her voice shaking. ‘I told you what happened the night of our so-called date, and you still invite him to your home.’
Molly pursed her lips. ‘Darling, I’m not exactly sure what happened that evening – you don’t seem terribly clear yourself,’ she laughed. The main thing she remembered about Summer’s date with Ricardo was that it was the night her daughter had ended back at Adam Gold’s house. ‘But I can assure you that Ricardo is not the hazard to society you seem to think he is. You just got a bit drunk,’ smiled Molly. ‘We’ve all been there.’
‘What bit don’t you understand, mother?’ snapped Summer. ‘Ricardo gave me Rohypnol. He would have raped me. Look at him now, on the prowl for any young girl he can lay his hands on,’ she said, instantly worrying about Ellie.
‘Summer, Ricardo is an important businessman,’ said Molly patiently. ‘More than that, he’s a good friend, a generous friend. He did not try to rape you and spreading lies like that could land you in a lot of trouble, young lady.’
Gold Diggers Page 32