Marcus smiled and took her hand. She hoped he wasn’t going to be tiresome over the issue of overseas property. A woman like her needed a villa or two. But then again, she thought, I can be very persuasive.
The grounds of the palazzo were so enormous that it had been easy for Summer to find a secluded spot away from the braying guests where she could think. Staying at the villa also brought with it the very real possibility of being confronted by the happy couple, Karin and Adam. So why have you come? Summer asked herself for the thousandth time. She felt physically sick just being here, but when Karin had phoned her personally to invite her, insisting she would not take no for answer, Summer could not think of a believable excuse. Molly had also been insistent, convinced that her daughter could still convert her relationship with Adam into something more substantial. ‘Look, darling, fucking Adam is one thing,’ she had said, ‘but this could be your last real chance to stand side by side with Karin and show him that he is with the wrong woman.’
Worst of all, Adam had insisted she come, particularly when he’d found out that she had a modelling job in Milan on the Monday after the party.
‘It will look odd if you’re not there,’ Adam had told her in bed a week before the Como party, when Summer was once again feeling hesitant and guilty about attending. ‘You’re the face of Karenza swimwear. Don’t make her suspicious. You know what she’s like.’
Summer had desperately wanted to finish their affair after he’d told her about his engagement, but when he had appeared at her flat, several days after their dinner at the Fat Duck, Summer had found it impossible to resist him. Life without Adam had felt so wretched, empty and pointless that she came to the swift conclusion that she was prepared to accept their relationship on whatever terms it now came.
But it didn’t make her feel good. Summer sat down on a bench she had found between two long cypress trees and pulled her feet up so her knees tucked under her chin. She picked a fuchsia-coloured flower and began to tear the petals off slowly, letting them twirl to the ground one by one. Molly was right. This was probably the last real chance of reclaiming Adam from his fiancée before the wedding plans went so far it would get too messy and embarrassing to stop them. And what her mum didn’t know was that she had a much bigger reason to make it happen. Her period was two weeks late. A home pregnancy test had confirmed that she was pregnant.
By eight o’clock the sun was setting, spilling russet-gold light across the lake, the cypress trees surrounding the grounds silhouetted black like sentry guards. Erin had gone out to wander through the gardens, cool and sweet-smelling in the dimming light. As she had walked across the terrace, Erin had spotted Karin sitting alone on a wall by the swimming pool, smoking a cigarette. She knew this was her opportunity. She took a deep breath to compose herself and went down to sit beside her, the stone cold under the thin fabric of her dress.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ said Erin, wondering if she was coming across as strange, forced. She certainly felt it.
Karin shrugged and threw the cigarette stub on the floor. There was a gentle hiss as it fell in a splash of water from the swimming pool.
‘Haven’t smoked in ten years, but sometimes needs must,’ she smiled. ‘It’s been a big day.’
Erin glanced up at her ex-boss, her face illuminated by the light shining from the palazzo. There was a slight lift to her brow, a subtle flare of her nostril; it was the arrogant yet slightly surprised look of someone who knew they could get whatever they wanted but still couldn’t believe their luck that it had finally arrived. It made Erin press on.
‘You know, I went home to Cornwall last week to see my grandmother and I was telling her where I was going. She asked me how you were going to top this for your wedding. You’re going to have to go some.’
Karin smiled slightly, but Erin thought she looked flustered to hear her talk of home. ‘Yes, I heard you’d gone back to see your family. Adam does get terribly panicked when you’re not around, but I tried to tell him that you have your own life and you’re not at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day. After all, you’re not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.’ Karin laughed a little harshly. ‘At least, I hope not.’
As Karin rose to leave, Erin touched her arm. ‘What, darling?’ she said, irritated. ‘I really have to get back to the party.’
‘My grandmother told me something about you while I was back in Cornwall.’
Karin’s brow furrowed. As she turned towards Erin, her foot kicked over a glass of red wine that Erin had left on the floor.
‘What? Something she read in the gossip section of the Daily Mail?’
Erin felt a flutter of sickness in her stomach. Karin had a formidable presence: not just with her imperious manner, but in her four-inch Manolo heels she stood over six feet tall.
‘I know your real name is Karen Wenkle.’
‘Oh, darling that’s no big surprise. You’ve worked for me before. You’ve probably seen my passport.’
‘And I know your father was Terence Wenkle. The man who destroyed my father’s business. My grandmother told me everything.’
Karin snorted and turned away from Erin, opening her tiny clutch bag to take out another cigarette, which she promptly lit. ‘Well, I’m surprised you didn’t know that either,’ said Karin, blowing smoke back over her shoulder at Erin. ‘Do you walk around with your eyes and ears closed?’
Erin looked up at her ex-boss who was holding her cigarette aloft and staring out into the darkness. Erin felt more bold having come this far. ‘Did you know who I was when you gave me the job?’
Karin nodded. A gust of wind blew a sheaf of raven hair across her face.
‘So why do it?’ snapped Erin angrily. ‘Did you want to rub my nose in everything you’ve got and I haven’t? Or was it pity?’
She had felt so angry for so many years about her father’s death, and now she had someone to project all that raw, violent emotion onto.
Karin pushed the hair out of her face and took a step towards Erin, her eyes cold. ‘I gave you the job as a favour,’ she said, her mouth curling, ‘because I thought you could do with the break, you ungrateful cow.’
Karin turned away from Erin, looking momentarily embarrassed that someone had seen a chink in her armour.
‘So it was a coincidence? Me working for you?’
‘Yes,’ said Karin. ‘Well, in so far as, when I was recruiting for the PA job, I asked for some girls to be sent over from an agency. You were one of them. I recognized your name. Erin Devereux – it’s fairly distinctive. I was old enough to know what happened with that business with your father. I was sorry for what happened. I still am.’
‘So you gave me the job because you thought it would make up for things?’ said Erin sarcastically.
It was dark now and the temperature had dropped. The pool was like a sheet of black ice surrounded by the greyness of the lawns. Karin wrapped her arms around her body to protect herself from the cold. ‘Do you want the truth, Erin? The truth is that giving you the job did make me feel a little better about what my father had done.’
Erin laughed bitterly. ‘Does Adam know he’s marrying Mother Teresa?’
‘I saved you from some shitty little life in Cornwall.’
‘My life wasn’t shitty,’ said Erin, suddenly full of protective pride.
Karin rolled her eyes and began to walk away, but Erin stood in front of her. ‘You used me to make you feel better about having a ruthless crooked shark for a father,’ she said. ‘You are only where you are today because he shafted and murdered people, to make money and give you opportunities.’
Karin’s expression instantly hardened. ‘Erin, darling, I would be up here, and you would be down there, regardless of what our fathers might have done twenty-five years ago. It has nothing to do with where we came from, but who we are.’
‘Well I’d certainly hate to be you,’ said Erin as calmly as she could, her cheeks blazing with humiliation.
‘Really,’ smiled Karin,
lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at Adam. You expect me to believe you wouldn’t rather be the successful businesswoman about to marry Adam Gold? That you’d rather be the failed writer who answers his phones? I don’t think so, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get back to the party.’
She turned back to look at Erin. ‘Oh, and Erin? I suggest you stop having little tantrums like this; otherwise you might find it’s the last party you ever go to.’
The pink champagne was flowing, the ice sculpture was melting, the atmosphere fizzed with the chatter and laughter of everyone having a fabulous time at somebody else’s enormous expense. There was dancing in the ballroom, cigar chomping on the terrace and, in the conservatory, transformed into a casino for the evening, Molly and Summer were standing over the blackjack table, wondering when their luck was going to turn.
‘Well? Have you spoken to him yet?’ asked Molly, eyeing her daughter up and down. Even in such glamorous company, surrounded by New York and London’s most gorgeous creatures, Summer Sinclair stood out with her natural beauty. Her face did not need Botox or eye-lifts or any of the other cosmetic procedures on display in the palazzo. Her long thin silk Versace gown, in the palest apricot, made her skin seem to glow; her hair, dyed back to its natural honey blonde, made her look like a pearly goddess who had just stepped out of an oyster.
Summer placed a pile of blue chips in front of her and watched as the croupier dealt the cards. A queen and a seven.
‘Seventeen, signorina?’
Summer bit her lip. ‘Stick,’ she said.
The dealer flipped over his cards. An ace and a jack. Twenty-one.
‘I don’t seem to be having much luck tonight,’ said Summer, pretending to concentrate on the croupier raking up all the losing chips. She didn’t want to talk about Adam. She didn’t want the pressure from her mother. She felt sick enough at the prospect of seeing him tonight, let alone speaking to him.
‘We make our own luck, darling,’ replied Molly, taking Summer by the arm and leading her away from the table. She led her into a corner behind a pillar and fixed Summer with her best ‘displeased’ glare.
‘What are you playing at, Summer?’ she snapped. ‘I’ve counted at least half a dozen opportunities when you could have caught him on his own, but you don’t seem to have taken any of them.’
Summer looked at her mother, who had the confident self-important air of somebody on coke.
‘I want you to go and find him now,’ said Molly, pushing her face up close to Summer’s. ‘Because if you don’t, I will.’
The enormous sweeping marble steps that led from the French windows of the ballroom down to the edge of the lake were like a set from an Audrey Hepburn movie, the perfect place for a heroine to finally kiss her hero to a swelling string quartet and tears from the popcorn-munching audience. Well, there was going to be nothing like that tonight, thought Erin, walking to the final step and sitting down so that her feet almost dangled in the water. Not for me, anyway. She rested her elbows on her knees and listened to the gentle lapping of the lake. If she half closed her eyes it was as if she was back in Cornwall, walking back home from the Golden Lion pub in the village, always taking a minute to pause on the harbour wall and listen to the waves. She looked up at the palazzo behind her, its windows glowing yolky light, illuminating men in tuxedos like tiny penguins. She pulled a face. She wasn’t in Cornwall any more and she had never felt more lonely.
She heard a gentle tapping behind her and Erin looked up. High heels coming down the terrace, then the shape of a woman coming down the stairs towards her. For a second Erin thought it was Jilly. There was the same volume of grey hair piled on top of her head, the same slender figure showing the slight gnarl of age. As she came closer, Erin could see that the woman was a lot more polished than Jilly. The silver hair was brushed and coiffed, her long dress was made of blue silk that screamed Oscar de la Renta and shimmered in the low light. She had a strong face, but the same intelligent, questioning eyes as Erin’s grandmother.
As she got closer, Erin saw that it was Adam’s mother. Erin had only spoken to her briefly at the airport, but Erin knew quite a lot about her. She knew that she lived in Greenwich, Connecticut, that she had been sixty-seven last birthday and had received a walnut Steinway piano from her only son. She knew all this because she had bought it and arranged for it to be delivered at Adam’s request. She also knew that Julia was going to receive a Hockney painting for Christmas, which Adam had just bought from a recent Sotheby’s sale and which he was keeping for her until 20 December, when he would spend two days in Connecticut before flying off to spend Christmas in St Barts with Karin. It was the most important job skill for a PA: you had to know.
‘What are you doing out here all alone?’ asked Julia Gold. ‘Didn’t you know one of Europe’s most glittering social occasions is occurring right behind you as we speak?’ She smiled kindly. ‘… Or so I read on Page Six anyway.’
‘I don’t think I’m here to enjoy myself,’ smiled Erin, immediately warming to her.
‘Just because you work for Adam, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to have fun. He’s not that bad, is he? Or have I raised a monster?’
‘He’s not bad,’ smiled Erin, ‘for a global tycoon.’
‘Funny, most people expect him to be like that.’
‘Me too. I come from Cornwall, where there aren’t too many billionaire industrialists. I’d watched Wall Street and that’s how I expected everyone to be. Hideous and ruthless.’
‘So I take it you’ve survived? Not been chewed up and spat out?’
Not by Adam, maybe, thought Erin. But try his fiancée.
Julia Gold was too graceful to crouch on the floor like Erin, who had got the hem of her long midnight-blue dress dirty and dusty. Instead, Julia rested elegantly against a pillar and looked thoughtfully out at the lake, which had now turned black and was framed by the looming shadows of the cliffs surrounding it.
‘It’s funny,’ she said after a pause, ‘I never thought Adam would end up doing what he does. I don’t know how much you know about our family?’
Erin shrugged. She knew a little colour from a Forbes magazine feature she had read on Adam, but her boss gave out very little personal information on himself.
‘Adam’s grandfather Aaron was a very rich man, but Adam’s father didn’t inherit a cent because Aaron didn’t approve of our marriage. Adam’s father and I were happy and comfortable enough and we did our best for Adam, but we couldn’t really afford the fancy prep schools or those exclusive summer camps.’
She paused and looked back at the magnificent palazzo in the background. ‘Adam was very driven from an early age. He was good at everything, he made sure of it. He always used to say, “We’ll show grandfather, we don’t need him.” I don’t know if you know, but Adam is a wonderful artist. He had a place at Parsons to study graphics. But he didn’t think a career in art could make him money. Not the serious money he wanted, anyway. So he studied economics at Yale and dropped out when Wall Street came calling.’
‘I really didn’t have Adam down as the creative type,’ said Erin, genuinely shocked.
Julia shrugged and smiled. ‘Well, now he buys art instead of painting it. I still have some of his old drawings hung up in the house. They mean more to me than any Hockney.’
Erin thought of Julia’s very expensive Christmas present and winced.
‘And what do you want to do with your life, Erin?’ asked Julia suddenly.
‘Why do you ask?’
The old woman smiled kindly; even in the dark Erin could see the lines around her eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘I consider myself to be a fairly good judge of character, and I wouldn’t have put you in the ruthless world of business.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Erin. ‘Don’t tell your son that.’
Julia looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. It was meant to be a compliment. And anyway, Adam thinks you’re marvellous.’
Erin felt her heart flutter. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t say I’m “in the world of business”, as you put it,’ said Erin. ‘I’m only his executive assistant – his PA really. It started off as a way to make money while I was writing a book, but now Adam says I have a future with the company and that maybe I could eventually move into marketing or something …’
‘I knew it!’ Julia looked remarkably gratified. ‘I knew you were a creative soul.’
Once again, Erin didn’t know whether it was an insult or a compliment.
‘Well, don’t hold your breath, Mrs Gold,’ said Erin. ‘I think I’ve been sidetracked.’
‘Really?’ said Julia thoughtfully. ‘Well, let me ask you a question, then. Would you rather have a library lined with beautiful first editions or a bookshelf stacked with your own novels?’
‘Oh, the second one, definitely,’ said Erin immediately. ‘That’s what I’ve always wanted. Just to see a novel I’ve written in a bookshop.’
‘So why are you wasting your time with Adam?’ asked Julia.
The words ‘For the money’ were on the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth closed. But she could see that Julia was right. Who was she to look at Molly Sinclair, even Karin, and criticize them for money-grabbing and social climbing, when she was prepared to shelve her own ambition for a fat pay cheque?
‘I’ve written something I’m pretty pleased with. I gave it to my agent last week and he loves it too.’
‘Can I read it?’ asked Julia.
Erin hesitated before recognizing the enthusiasm in Julia’s eyes. ‘I have my laptop with me, but I’m sure you don’t want to read it at the party.’
‘I’m nearly seventy,’ smiled Julia, ‘it’s too boisterous for me back there. I want to be tucked up with a good book.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure, Erin. Now come on and impress me.’
Gold Diggers Page 41