When she was alone, Summer lifted up her pyjama top and stroked the scar along her abdomen. It was over with Adam, she knew that now. He knew about the baby, he knew about her emergency – he had paid for the room – but he hadn’t visited her in hospital. She could try and justify it a million ways – after all, his fiancée had just died – but if he had really cared, he would have come. Summer knew she was lucky to be alive. She’d pull through. She wasn’t going to be a victim any longer. It was time for a fresh start. Rehearsals for the film started in six weeks; filming would begin in the New Year. A whole new chapter of her life was beginning and she was going to enjoy it.
Hearing the door open, she looked up expecting to see the doctor. It was Molly. Her eyes were red, she looked drawn and haggard, but was trying to smile.
‘Am I allowed to say you’ve looked better?’ smiled Summer as Molly came to sit on the bed.
‘I could say the same about you,’ she retorted, and they both started laughing. Summer lay back and expected Molly to start jabbering on about being hassled by reporters, but she surprised Summer by being quiet and looking nervous.
‘Mum? What’s up? Is anything wrong?’
Molly walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. There were so many things she wanted to tell her daughter. Some, like her own tryst with Adam, she could never reveal no matter how much she wanted to share the truth. Other things, like the recent death of Kenneth Sinclair – a grandfather Summer had never known – she would tell her in time. But there had been something Molly had wanted to do right now. Something she had to share.
‘Listen, honey, I wanted to try and do something right for once in my life,’ she said, her voice cracking.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Summer, perplexed.
‘I’ve found him. I’ve found your father,’ she said quietly.
She opened her bag and removed a piece of paper which had James Bailey’s address and telephone number written on it.
Tears were now streaming down Molly’s face, and the regret she had been suppressing for so long suddenly overwhelmed her as she handed the piece of paper to Summer.
‘I hope you’ll forgive me one day. I hope you’ll both forgive me.’
Summer moved her fragile body forward and held her arms out towards her mother. Molly pulled her daughter’s head towards her shoulder and just held her.
‘Of course I forgive you,’ whispered Summer.
It had been a long night. More police statements. Erin was exhausted but strangely energized. It was over. It had been a strange sight seeing Marcus in handcuffs, weeping, his cool, intelligent façade broken.
Adam, Chris and Erin walked out onto the street outside Scotland Yard where Adam’s jet-black Maybach car was waiting for them. It had been raining, the night sky was charcoal black and a sour breeze blew in from the Thames. Adam’s driver jumped out of the front seat and opened the door nearest the kerb.
Adam stood in front of it waiting for Erin to jump in. ‘I take it you want to go straight home?’ smiled Adam. His face looked tired and drawn. For the first time since she had met him, he looked old. She paused to look at Chris who was hanging back from the car. Adam nodded at him. ‘You too.’
He shot a look at Adam and shrugged. ‘I’ve got my bike. I’d better not leave it in town all night.’
He turned to Erin. ‘I’ll see you back home in about half an hour. Are you sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Chauffeured all the way the home in a Maybach? Of course I’ll be okay,’ she grinned. ‘Seriously, I’m fine. Just a little shaken, but glad it’s over.’
She went up to him and hugged him. ‘We would never have got him without you,’ she whispered in his ear.
The door of the car shut with a heavy thud as Erin sank back in the leather seat, watching Chris unlock his bicycle from a railing opposite the station. The car pulled off onto Whitehall and she craned her neck to watch Big Ben’s face shining like a moon. London’s architecture was spectacular if only you bothered to look up, she thought.
‘I don’t suppose this is a great time to hand in my notice,’ she said, turning to Adam, who was reaching for a decanter of brandy in front of him. For a moment he had a look of complete surprise, then he shrugged and gave a soft laugh.
‘I always knew this day would come sooner rather than later,’ he said. ‘My mother said your book was too good to waste.’
Erin laughed to herself. ‘It’s not just the book, though,’ she said. ‘That building in South London. The one I bought? I found out this morning that I’ve got planning permission and I need to get started on work right away.’
‘Spoken like a tycoon in the making,’ he smiled, taking a sip of the deep orange liquid.
A tycoon, thought Erin. Suddenly she felt scared and exposed. She had no job, an empty building, and three-quarters of a book to write before Christmas. Only a few weeks before, the future had seemed full of promise; now it was so uncertain.
‘Oh God, Adam, what do I do now?’ she said.
Adam laughed. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, lifting his glass in toast. ‘Believe me, you’ll be more than fine. But if you will allow me to make one request, as your outgoing boss,’ he said, looking out of the window as the car stopped at the junction with Trafalgar Square. ‘There’s a very nice guy about to pull up next to us on a bicycle, and I think he could do with some company home.’
Erin turned to see Chris was drawing level with the Maybach on the inside lane.
‘You know me better than I know myself,’ she grinned as the car window purred down.
‘Pull over!’ she shouted to Chris above the noise of the traffic. ‘I’m taking you for dinner!’
Erin got out of the car as Chris pulled his bicycle onto the pavement. The Maybach tooted its horn as it drove off around Trafalgar Square.
‘Dinner? You can’t afford me,’ he smiled as they stood together under the flashing lights of a theatre. Has Chris always been this good looking? she asked herself as she suddenly felt her heart flutter. She felt contented and comfortable next to him, and realized that, over the past six months, it was moments like this, when it was just the two of them together, that she had felt most happy.
‘That car suited you,’ he said softly.
‘Nah. It’s not my style,’ she smiled, touching her fingertips ever so gently against his.
‘What is your style?’ he said, moving closer so their faces were only inches apart.
‘Someone like you,’ she said. He moved in to kiss her but she put a hand against his chest.
‘Not so fast,’ she said. ‘What about the redhead?’
‘What redhead?’ asked Chris, pulling away.
‘The pretty redhead I saw coming out of your flat.’
‘Oh, you mean Jenny,’ he replied, a little embarrassed. ‘Poor girl hasn’t heard from me for a couple of weeks now.’
‘Oh yes, lover boy?’ teased Erin. ‘And why not?’
He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t fair to date someone when I’m in love with you.’
His lips touched hers in a featherweight kiss that felt as sweet and delicate as a flower petal. When they finally uncoiled from each other, Chris picked up his bike and started pushing it with one hand, his other laced between Erin’s fingers. Trafalgar Square was lit up like a fairground, thought Erin, the illuminated frontage of the National Gallery spilling a soft buttery light onto the puddles. She didn’t want to go home; she wanted to savour the moment forever.
‘I’ve given my notice in to Adam.’
Chris gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Well, it really has been a strange day.’
‘And I have another confession, too. Remember those architect’s drawings you saw in the flat the other day? They weren’t from work, they’re mine. I bought a bit of a building wreck a few months ago to convert into apartments. The mortgage payments have been killing me, but planning permission has come through and I’m starting immediately. I hope I can get a bank loan now I haven’t got a job; oth
erwise I’ll have to sell it.’
‘You’re developing apartments?’ said Chris, nearly dropping his bicycle. ‘What about the book?’
‘I want to do both,’ she said firmly. ‘I know I can do both.’
‘I don’t doubt you for a minute,’ said Chris honestly. ‘But why didn’t you tell me about your building?’
‘I guess I didn’t want to admit to you, to myself, how crazy I was being. I mean, what do I know about developing property? I guess I was seduced by the life at Midas; thought I could do it too.’
He stopped and reached over to stroke back a lock of hair that had fallen in her face. ‘You’re not crazy. Just brave and clever. That’s what I love about you.’
Erin felt herself blush. ‘Well, it’s a scary prospect. I have a builder on standby ready to start, and I guess I’m going to have to project-manage it myself.’
‘If you want any help, just shout,’ he said.
‘Oh, I’ll come knocking alright. Make sure you have a big stock of brandy at the ready at the end of every day.’
‘I didn’t mean that. I’ve got a bit of experience in property development. I sort of dabble in property myself.’
It was Erin’s turn to look surprised. ‘You dabble in property? In what way do you “dabble”?’ she asked cheekily. ‘Define “dabble”.’ Their heads were only inches apart and she could feel his warm breath on her lips.
‘I own Peony House,’ Chris said quietly.
Erin jumped back. ‘You own my flat! My tenancy agreement says the landlord is JuniorCon Ltd or something.’
He nodded. ‘Well, I’m embarrassed to say it’s me. Peony House was bought and developed by my father’s property company. He transferred it over to me a few years ago when I told him I wanted to be a journalist and wasn’t going to join the family firm. I formed a limited company just to manage the building. It’s my nest egg.’
‘I thought you said your dad was a builder?’
‘He is. He’s got a building company. The Scanlan Group.’
Erin was shaking her head in disbelief. Scanlan were one of the biggest home-builders in Ireland. George Scanlan – Chris’s father, presumably – was an aristocratic industrialist of the old school, building schools and hospitals with his spare cash. Erin backed away from Chris, shaking her head.
‘Erin. What’s wrong?’ asked Chris, leaning his bike against a lamppost.
‘I thought I was through with rich men,’ she whispered through a half-smile.
‘Don’t hate me because I’m loaded,’ laughed Chris, taking her in his arms and kissing her as Big Ben struck midnight. It was a new day. A new start. A new life together.
Epilogue
Once Krakatoa had finished filming, and word spread about what an exciting new acting talent Summer Sinclair was, she was inundated with offers of roles. With money in the bank and a lot more promised, she moved to a bright, airy apartment in Chelsea that overlooked the Albert Bridge, which twinkled gloriously and made every night feel like Christmas. She also began getting to know James Bailey. An art teacher who lived in Dorset, he had a warm and friendly wife who had welcomed Summer with a generosity she had never encountered before, while James’s two teenager daughters Katie and Alice couldn’t believe their luck at having the Summer Sinclair as a half-sister. It was going to take a long time to catch up on all the wasted years but she had the rest of her life to do it. She had spent years looking for a father figure but, now that she had one, she wondered how she could ever have found the forty-something men on the Cipriani and Chinawhite circuit attractive.
At the Krakatoa premiere in London, with the paparazzi screaming her name and glowing reviews in the trade papers, she couldn’t believe how far she’d come in the last twelve months. After her ectopic pregnancy and the end of her relationship with Adam, she had felt that she could never feel happy again. She smiled to herself and turned behind her, where Charlie McDonald was signing autographs for screaming girls behind the crash barrier. In a midnight-blue suit, his blondy-brown hair flopping onto his face, he looked gorgeous.
Charlie looked up and grinned. And, as their eyes met, the noise and people seemed to bleed away until it was just the two of them.
Lovers. Friends.
He walked over to Summer and whispered in her ear. ‘Come on, honey. I think it’s time to go in.’
He squeezed her hand and she felt safe. Life got better all the time.
Adam Gold was investigated by the FSA. He vigorously denied receiving any tips about share purchases of Ginsui and, since there was little or no evidence to the contrary, he was cleared of insider dealing. His appearance at the FSA’s Canary Wharf offices did not however, go unnoticed, and Midas Corporation’s share price wobbled. For six months it looked as if the company might even go under. But when Midas suddenly announced it was to build a thirty-acre residential, shopping and leisure complex by the Thames the company’s fortunes recovered. Adam climbed twenty-five places on the Sunday Times Rich List. He moved more heavily into philanthropy. A Karin Cavendish scholarship fund for gifted students at St Martin’s College of Art was one of several donations. Adam Gold is still single. Huge sums of money are exchanged at charity functions to sit next to him.
Christina Levy is about to move into Reggie Bryce’s twenty-bedroom mansion in Bel-Air which has a bowling alley, a soccer pitch and en-suite everything. She considers herself to be going home. Reggie’s place is only fifteen miles away from Christina’s childhood home, a trailer in the Valley.
Diana Birtwell finally left Martin, who went running back to Tracey and their children. His Internet business promptly stalled. Diana is pregnant with an Icelandic sportswear millionaire, four hundred places above Martin on the Sunday Times Rich List.
Donna Delemere’s organic food empire goes from strength to strength. In time, Donna and Daniel forgave Alexander. Alex in turn grew to respect Donna for her sassy business skills and forgiveness.
Molly would have stood by Marcus during his time in prison; she had grown terribly fond of The Standlings. Marcus, however, had other ideas and insisted she moved out after his arrest. ‘It was all a sham,’ he’d told her after the trial. ‘I don’t love you. I love Karin.’
Molly posed nude for an American men’s magazine and is currently living off the proceeds. After bemoaning the lack of decent men in London – it was quite pathetic, she would tell anyone who would listen, how men were only interested in twenty-two-year-olds in skinny jeans – she decided that she could do worse than reunite with Harry Levin. He refuses to take her calls.
Marcus is serving ten years for manslaughter in HMP Risley. With good behaviour he is expected to get out in six.
Adam begged Erin to do two months’ notice. ‘This is the last thing you do for me. You’ve got a book to finish and a building to develop,’ he told her, promising to give her a large bonus for the duration of her stay at Midas. Erin’s last job in his employment was to go and box up everything in Karin’s home.
‘I’m kind of going to miss him,’ she told Chris while they were taking silver photoframes from the expensive looking cabinets and covering them in bubble wrap.
Chris looked bruised. ‘You don’t feel anything for him still, do you?’ he asked, taking her hands and pulling her towards him.
She shook her head softly. She didn’t hate herself for falling for Adam. Every girl was allowed an unsuitable crush, an unrequited love. But true love was a different beast, she thought, looking at Chris. Love crept up quietly on you. She didn’t need the fancy restaurants or the private jet to have fun with Chris. She just needed him there. And, standing in Karin’s hallway, he had never looked more handsome; her feelings towards him had never been more certain.
‘There’s only one person I’m in love with, and he’s standing in front of me.’
‘In that case, I think we’re wasting money,’ he said with a smile.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Two apartments. How about, after this, we go home and move
all your stuff into mine? I’ve got a feeling the landlord might let you off a month’s notice.’
He grinned, and Erin rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Stuff that,’ she laughed. ‘How about you move into mine?’
Suddenly it felt strange, laughing and kissing in Karin’s house, and they moved away from each other, speeding up the packing. The underfloor heating was turned off. It was the middle of November and the air had the sharp pinch of winter. It was quiet, still and haunting.
‘Who is going to get the house?’ asked Chris to fill the silence.
Erin shrugged. ‘Karin’s got no family, but there was a will. Adam gets the house and most of her shares in the business. Can you believe she wanted Diana to have twenty per cent of her shares?’
‘Maybe she wasn’t all bad.’
Erin didn’t want to speak ill of the dead and said nothing. ‘Adam wants all the personal belongings boxed up so he can collect them later.’
‘Let’s split up. It’ll will be quicker. And I can’t wait to get you home,’ he grinned.
While Chris stayed downstairs to pack away Karin’s books into boxes, Erin went upstairs to her bedroom. What a beautiful room, she thought, standing gingerly at the doorway. Cold, bright sunlight flooded in through the long windows hung with heavy cream shot-silk drapes. The en-suite bathroom was still piled high with expensive beauty products and creams that would never be used. A white fluffy towel had a smudge of black mascara on it. She shuddered and walked to the wardrobe and opened it. A row of beautiful clothes, acres of silk and chiffon and tulle in all the colours of the rainbow.
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