‘He wasn’t happy at first,’ I tell him. ‘But he’s come to an agreement with the monastery to have the money repaid. He’s happy to keep the whole thing quiet.’
‘Well, that’s one good thing, I suppose.’ Mark manages a weak smile and fixes me with his small blue eyes. ‘You’ll probably have to deal with some of that – Andrei pays for all his art through me.’
‘I know. I expect the paperwork will be waiting for me in the office.’
There’s a pause while Mark considers what I’ve told him. He looks mournful. Then he turns to me again. ‘You know I didn’t want my name given out as the authenticator of the painting but that was done anyway. I wasn’t happy at all.’
I reach out and put my hand on his arm. ‘I know! I know that. It seems so unfair.’
‘Hmm.’ Mark sighs. ‘I wonder if this will mark a natural end for my relationship with Dubrovski. It’s worked well for both of us for so long but I have a feeling that this will have changed all that.’ He looks suddenly very tired.
‘I think that’s enough for now, Beth,’ Caroline says. ‘Mark had better rest. He hasn’t talked so much in days.’
‘Yes, of course.’ I get up.
‘They’re saving my radiotherapy until after Christmas,’ Mark announces, suddenly cheerful again. ‘Isn’t that nice of them?’
I touch his arm again. ‘Very nice. But you need it, you know, to get better.’
‘Perhaps.’ Mark’s eyelids flicker and close and he exhales gently.
‘See you later, Mark,’ I say, and go quickly and quietly out of the conservatory and up to the office.
I’m glad that the burden of telling Mark about the painting is off my conscience but I’m more afraid than ever of what Andrei might do. I have some emails from his office about the details of funnelling the monastery money back to Andrei but nothing from Andrei himself. Perhaps he’s still in New York, in that palatial but chilly apartment of his. He will have had the parcel of clothes back now. He’ll know for sure that I’m not coming back – and soon I’ll formally turn down his offer of working at his apartment next year. It’s just not possible now.
Later that day I get an email from Dominic:
I have to leave the country for a short while. I’ll be back before Christmas. I’ll let you know when I’m home. Stay strong and don’t worry. Can’t wait to see you.
D x x
I can’t help feeling melancholy when I read it. Somehow I know that life with Dominic is always going to be like this. He’ll always be on the move, doing something, meeting someone, sorting something out or cutting a big deal. What I hate is being left behind – if I could be with him, I wouldn’t mind at all.
Another more cheerful message comes through a bit later.
Hi Beth
It’s our Christmas party tomorrow night and Dominic’s supposed to be joining us. I understand that you two are an item again so please do come along if you’d like to. It would be lovely to see you and have your help toasting a bright new future for us all. Details attached, just rsvp my assistant Grace.
Best wishes
Tom Finlay
I read it over a couple of times and look at the attachment. The party is at a smart hotel in Piccadilly. It sounds fun, but I have no idea if Dominic will be there or not. He might still be abroad, doing whatever his secret mission is. On impulse I email Tom’s assistant saying I’d love to come and asking if I can bring a friend. When she says yes, I send Laura an email telling her that tomorrow night is party night. She emails back:
Whee! I’ll get the glad rags out. Sounds fun. See you later!
Lx
The next day there’s still no word from Dominic and I’m beginning to feel the familiar sense of being taken for granted. It makes me all the more determined to go out and enjoy myself that evening, so I take a party dress and shoes into work with me and get changed at Mark’s house.
I look in the mirror at my plain black dress and for a moment I’m wistful for the sexy scarlet number I had in New York, along with the shoes and the beautiful pearls, but I put them out of my mind.
They came at too high a price, remember?
I say goodbye to Caroline and Mark, and hail a cab outside his house to take me up to Piccadilly; I’m meeting Laura in a pub near the hotel where the Finlay party is being held. She’s waiting for me when I walk through the door, standing by the bar and looking very pretty in a short green sparkly dress and high heels.
‘Thank goodness you’re here!’ she says. ‘People are certainly getting into the party spirit. I’ve had to fight off three blokes already.’
‘I’m not surprised, you look fantastic,’ I say.
‘Thanks, sweetie. So do you – although you’re off the market now, of course! I got you a drink.’
‘Thank you.’ I take the glass that Laura passes me and sip the white wine.
‘So what’s this party in aid of?’ she asks.
‘It’s Dominic’s business partner,’ I reply. ‘I think this is a courtesy invitation to reflect the fact that they’ve set up this new venture.’
‘Great, any excuse for a party is fine by me. Will Dominic be coming?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say regretfully. ‘I think he’s away.’
She looks at me with a trace of pity. I know she thinks that Dominic is perfect apart from his little disappearing acts.
‘It’s business,’ I say a touch defensively. ‘And once this is dealt with, we’ll be able to spend a lot more time together.’ I sound a lot more convinced than I feel on this particular point.
‘Good,’ she says. ‘I only want you to be happy, you know that. Now shall we get along to this party?’
Finlay Venture Capital has a private room at the back of a smart hotel on Albemarle Street. We’re shown in and I’m a little taken aback at how few people are there. Then I remember the small offices on Tanner Square. I have a feeling that the company isn’t all that huge and they’ve probably invited me just to help swell the numbers.
‘Beth, how fantastic to see you!’ Tom Finlay strides across the room towards me, smiling, his brown eyes friendly behind the dark-rimmed glasses. He’s a short, stocky man but he’s got a vibrancy that makes him seem energetic and friendly. I like his dark brown beard and his cheery smile. ‘Is Dominic not with you?’
‘Not tonight,’ I say. ‘He’s out of town. Again.’
‘You won’t be jumping on any trains to Paris to track him down, will you?’ Tom laughs at his own joke. ‘I was very excited to have a little part to play in your romance. Dominic obviously doesn’t mind that I told you where X marked the spot.’
‘No – I think he was pleased in the end.’ I smile. ‘By the way, this is my friend, Laura.’
‘Hi, Laura.’ Tom leans in and kisses her cheek politely. ‘A pleasure to have you with us. Do you work with Beth?’
‘Oh no,’ Laura says with a laugh, and I think how attractive she’s looking tonight, with her light brown hair curling down her back and her face given just enough party sparkle on her lids and lips. ‘She’s in the very glamorous world of art. I’m just a boring management consultant.’
‘Try being a venture capitalist!’ exclaims Tom. ‘People fall asleep on my shoulder while I’m still getting the words out! They’re comatose on the floor when I explain what I do. Now – you haven’t got a drink. Let’s go and find you a Moscow Mule, they’re great here.’
We accompany Tom over to the bar and get ourselves a cocktail each. He and Laura are soon talking away like old friends, while I get into a long discussion with Grace, the company assistant, about whether it’s better to live in north or south London. Once I’ve finished talking to Grace, I get caught up in another group who are chatting about their favourite Christmas television programmes and I’m on my third Moscow Mule before I manage to get away and try to find Laura again.
She’s still with Tom but they’ve ended up sitting next to one another on a leather sofa, deep in discussion, both looking a little
flushed after several drinks.
So that’s the way the wind is blowing. I’m pleased for Laura, it’s been a while since she’s had a relationship and she is clearly hitting it off with Tom. I just hope it’s not one of those one-night wonders, if something does happen. It would do wonders for Laura’s confidence to have something more lasting.
It makes me a little wistful though. I’ve got plenty of romance of my own – or I would do, if my partner would stop vanishing.
I step out into the hall and check my phone. There’s nothing there – no message, no text. I quickly tap out a message.
Where are you? I’m missing you so badly! Please tell me when you’ll be home. I can’t wait to see you. B x
I press send and then loiter in the hotel hall. In a nearby room, another more raucous Christmas party is going on, with loud music, singing and some energetically drunken dancing. Back in the Finlay party, the interminable conversations are continuing and Laura and Tom are still in deep discussion on the sofa. Even from here I can see that they are now flirting heavily, all the signals are there. I don’t want to go back in there where I don’t know anyone and can’t face another long talk about nothing while sipping yet another drink.
I decide I’ll take a walk around the block. Some fresh air will clear my head from the fuzziness induced by the three Moscow Mules, and by the time I come back, Laura might be ready to go home. I collect my coat from the cloakroom and head out.
It’s cold outside but the air is full of celebration. There are obviously parties going on everywhere, and the pavements are scattered with people in skimpy clothing having cigarettes in the chilly night air. I wander down Albemarle Street and then take a turning into Dover Street, past a pub thronged with revellers and along the pavement. Opposite is me is a row of handsome Georgian houses, their windows blazing with the light of ornate chandeliers, and I can see people moving about in the upstairs rooms. There’s a big party going on. I stop and stare for a moment and I realise that it’s a private club, one of those glitzy places that count actors, models and minor royals among their members. As I watch a black cab pulls out, and a woman gets out. My eyes are drawn to her at once – she’s beautiful with her sharp cheekbones and slanting eyes. She also has a marvellous body, her perfect legs shown off to the best advantage by a short tight black dress. As she turns to pay the driver I see her properly for the first time and it’s all I can do to stifle a shout.
It’s Anna! Oh my God, what is she doing here?
I watch her sashay up to the doorman and I hear her distinctive low voice with its rolling Russian accent. ‘I’m here for the Barclay party.’
The doorman says, ‘Second floor, ma’am.’
Anna stalks inside, her hips swinging as she goes up the steps.
I stare after her, hardly able to believe my eyes. I haven’t seen her since the day in Albany when she invited me to join her and Andrei in bed. Not long after that he sacked her, because, he said, she was in the habit of slipping him various drugs.
I don’t know what impulse makes me do it, but the next moment I’m walking across the road towards the club, an imperious look on my face. I’m glad that I’m wearing my best heels as I stride over, pausing long enough by the doorman to say, ‘The Barclay party?’
‘Second floor, ma’am,’ he says with a nod, and I walk past him and up the steps.
Inside I see that I haven’t cleared the hurdle quite yet: there’s a reception desk where names are being ticked off a guest list.
Oh God, this is it. Humiliation.
I begin to walk towards the desk, wondering what I’m going to say, when there’s a sudden commotion behind me. I turn to see a familiar face coming through the door accompanied by a crowd of people pressing close to her. For a second I wonder if it’s a friend of mine before I realise that the reason the sculpted features and long blonde hair are so familiar is because they belong to a very famous Oscar-winning actress.
Immediately all the attention turns to the new arrival, excitement rippling around the room. I take advantage of the diversion and turn quietly for the stairs, stopping to hand in my coat to the cloakroom attendant whose mouth is hanging open as she stares at the big star just a few feet away. The next moment I’m climbing the grand staircase on my way to the Barclay party.
To my relief there’s no one taking names on the door, just a couple of waiters standing with trays of drinks for the arrivals. I pick up a glass of champagne as I pass by and walk into the room. Clutching my drink and looking into the middle distance, I manage to make my way through the crowd without being challenged and soon I start to relax as I realise that most people are concentrating only on the group they are with and no one is that interested in confronting me. I try to spot Anna without attracting any attention.
Why am I here? What will I say to her when I find her?
I’m beginning to regret this crazy impulse, and I’m about to put my drink down and leave when I see her. She’s in a corner talking animatedly to two men in suits who seem completely entranced by her – but that’s no surprise considering her vivacity and that feline beauty. I watch, trying not to stare too openly, and see her pull a phone out of her clutch bag and check it. The next moment she makes her excuses to the men she is talking to and heads out of the room via another door at the back. I put my glass down on a table and follow her, threading my way through the crowd until I reach the door. I step through it and discover myself in a quiet reading room, and look around just in time to see Anna disappearing out at the other end. I hurry after her and emerge from the reading room into a carpeted corridor, where Anna is standing with her back to me, talking into her telephone.
‘Yes,’ she is saying, ‘I’m at the Dover Street Club. You know the one – I’m at the Barclay party. Yes, I will see you, I’ve already agreed to that. Whether I’ll tell you what you want to know, that’s another matter altogether. All right. I’ll meet you in the top-floor bar in twenty minutes.’
As she ends her call, I slip back into the reading room and run lightly back to the party. I find a spot by the window and watch her re-enter the room and go back to the men in the corner.
So now I know that she’s meeting someone here. I don’t have a clue who that might be – so why do I feel so afraid?
I already know that I’m going to be in the top-floor bar when Anna has her rendezvous so I go and wait in the ladies where I can be out of sight until the time comes.
I check my phone. There’s a text from Laura.
Where are you? Have you gone home?
I text back:
No, went out for a walk. Sorry, should have said. Are you all right?
Her reply comes back quickly:
In a taxi with Tom. He’s taking me home. He lives in East London.
I smile. So they’ve definitely found a spark then. Maybe it’s better that I’m not there to cramp Laura’s style. I send back a message:
Take care and have fun. I’ll be home later. Not far behind.
Then I check my watch. It’s nearly time for Anna’s meeting in the bar. I emerge from the ladies and head upstairs to the top floor.
I find the bar easily enough and sit down at a low table in a shadowy corner. A waiter comes up and asks for my order, so I ask for a lime and soda.
A few minutes before the time for the meeting is due, I see a man walking across the room towards the bar, where he takes a seat on one of the high stools. My heart sinks and depression floods my body. I suspected all along from the moment I saw Anna that once again she was going to be trouble for me, and I lean back into the darkness so that Dominic won’t see me from where he is, ordering a beer at the bar and waiting for Anna.
She arrives only a moment later, smiling seductively as she walks towards him with the grace and elegance of a model. She sits down on the stool next to Dominic and I can see her face plainly, although I only have a view of Dominic’s back. They are talking with ease and I hear her laugh and the sound of his voice as it floats over to me.
I’m seized with a desire to get up and walk over there, demand to know why they are meeting and what they are saying. What reason does Dominic have to see Anna? Her obsession with him has caused a lot of difficulties for us. I feel fury boiling up inside me, a mixture of jealousy and betrayal. Why would he see her without telling me?
Then another voice speaks up, telling me to calm down. Dominic told me he wanted to sort out the mess with Andrei. Surely seeing Anna must be part of that. If I spring out of the shadows now, I could spoil whatever it is Dominic is doing.
Do you trust him?
I remember that I never did find out how Anna knew the secrets of my relationship with Dominic. He utterly denied telling her but he was the only person apart from me who knew the details – and she knew everything from what happened in the dungeon at The Asylum to the marks of the scourge on Dominic’s back. I’ve tried to forget about the confusion I felt and the fact it’s never been resolved but seeing Anna is bringing it all back.
So do you trust him or not?
I look into my heart. I think of everything we’ve been through. I remember Dominic’s eyes gazing down into mine, the pain I’ve seen there, the tenderness, the love. He doesn’t need to pretend any of those things with me. I’ve always believed that he truly feels them. I know he loves me.
I do trust him.
So prove it, I tell myself.
I hear their laughter reach me again. I get up very quietly and without being noticed, I put some money down for my drink and slip out of the room. I walk quickly down the stairs to the cloakroom, get my coat and hurry outside to try my luck hailing a taxi home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Promises After Dark (After Dark Book 3) Page 19