Shadows of Pearl (The Pearl Trilogy, Part 2)

by Arianne Richmonde

  Amy is in Seventh Heaven. Coming from a city it’s a big change; she is free to roam about in the garden and when we go down to the beach she has no end of admirers. She has a sassy sense of humor and it isn’t long before she has a throng of people gather about, keen to hear a five year old’s outtake on life. She has an old soul for such a feisty child, and even though she doesn’t seem to know what is going on with her parents she comes out with things like, ‘Don’t worry, Mom, everything will work out just fine,’ and ‘Look at the waves, Mom – sometimes nature can be really powerful, more powerful than we are so don’t sweat the small stuff.’ She has made friends with one of the surfer’s children; a little boy named Pete.

  As Daisy and I are having a light picnic on the beach and Amy and Pete are busy making sandcastles, Daisy tells me about a new plan she has hatched. Payback for Johnny.

  “I’m not actually going to do anything, God forbid, but I’m going to let him know how it feels.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to catch on to her runaway train of thought. Every day she comes up with something different. A new-fangled plot to punish him.

  “I want him to feel what it’s like being in my shoes. I’m going to pretend I’m having a fling with a surfer.”

  I try to suppress a grin. Daisy is being dead serious.

  She raises her eyebrows. “Maybe that will shock him into action.”

  “Yes, but what kind of action? It could make him run into the arms of Mrs. Phoenix all the faster.”

  “You have a point there.”

  “The truth is, Daisy, honesty really is the best policy. Playing games is not the best line of action. At least if you are honest with your feelings you can hold your head up high with dignity. Because if you lie to him, or to yourself, it could catch up with you in the end.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “But at the same time you can’t be Johnny’s doormat. You need to be strong and have barriers. There are things you have to let him know that are not acceptable. It is not acceptable for him to expect you two to remain under the same roof while he makes up his procrastinating mind.”

  “I wish I had some of that ‘fuck-you’ money you told me about. Then I could get my own place.”

  “Yeah. That’s what every woman needs. You never know when things can change. It’s always good to be prepared. A woman needs to be like a one-band army. Ready with her ammunition, ready with her armor, yet actively seeking and living a peaceful existence. But if she is attacked emotionally or physically she has the tools – the strength to protect herself.”

  Daisy pulls her curly red hair into a high ponytail which sets off the cheekbones on her pretty freckled face. “In a perfect world,” she says with a sigh.

  “I know, easier said than done.”

  “I’m just not making enough money yet. I have a few clients but I depend on Johnny’s income. I can’t just get up and leave.”

  “Such an archetypal scenario,” I say. “Women the world over are in this predicament. Worse. Many of them are being physically abused or have five kids to feed. Think about it, Daisy. Maybe you and Amy should move in with me to my new apartment.”

  “How do you feel about that? Alexandre paying for your apartment when you aren’t even with him anymore.”

  “I told him I couldn’t accept it, that I wouldn’t move in.”

  “And what was his response?”

  “He said it was too late, that all my stuff had been moved there and if I didn’t take it, it would sit there empty. That’s why I came here. I needed time to sort my head out. I still don’t really know what the next step is.”

  “Maybe we should all move here to Kauai,” Daisy suggests with a giggle. “Life would be so much less complicated.”

  “That’s what my dad keeps telling me.”

  “So what are you going to do about Alexandre?”

  “There’s nothing really I can do, he’s decided for me.”

  “For your own peace of mind, I think you need to talk with Laura.”

  “I’ve tried calling. I’ve left messages.”

  “Well maybe you need to go and see her. She might be ignoring your messages because she’s scared of Sophie finding out and doesn’t want to attract attention to herself. You need to talk to her face to face. Sort out all this Sophie stuff once and for all.”

  “What difference does it make now? Alexandre and I aren’t together anymore.”

  “You say that, Pearl, but do you remember last time you split up? He came back to you. He was still in love with you. If that happens again, the Sophie problem will still be there. You need to know for sure what happened.”

  “She tried to kill Laura and pretended it was an accident.”

  “You really believe Sophie would have risked that? That’s attempted murder, Pearl. Surely Alexandre would have guessed?”

  “Not when it comes to Sophie. He can’t see the wood from the trees. He protects her no matter what. His loyalty is unwavering.”

  “Well, I still think you need to see Laura - one on one.”

  “Fly to London?”

  “You can stay with my mother, she’d be thrilled. I can set you up with some mates of mine – they’ve all heard about you – all dying to meet my beautiful American best friend, Pearl.”

  “You’ve told them about me?”

  “Yes, of course. Only terrible things, though.”

  I laugh, then grab a handful of sand and let it run through my fingers like an egg timer. “I need to get back to New York, though. This ‘break’ has morphed into too long a vacation. But still, at least I’ve been able to spend time with my family. Anthony and I have patched up our relationship and I’ve got to know my dad better. We’ve bonded with the surfing. It’s been a very healing time for me. Adversity sometimes brings hidden gifts.”

  “So what’s happening with HookedUp Enterprises?” Daisy asks, her eyes fixed on Amy as she rushes towards a wave with her little bucket.

  “Natalie and I are carrying on the company. I’ll finish Stone Trooper which has now started filming.”

  “Who was the movie star they picked in the end to play the male lead?”

  “Nobody famous – the budget simply wasn’t available even with Sophie’s input. But he’s an excellent actor and very handsome. I received the final script. It’s good, actually. I think it will turn out well.”

  “And then what?”

  I pour some iced-tea from a thermos flask into a paper cup and hand it to Daisy. “Back to documentaries. There are so many topics that deserve attention.”

  She takes a sip. “Good for you, Pearl. Do you feel deflated? Disappointed by all this?”

  “It’s been a learning curve. I always wanted to write scripts but the truth is, there is no better script than real life. Documentaries suit me way more.”

  “And what about Alexandre? If he came back to you, even if it meant the whole Sophie saga going on forever, would you want him anyway?”

  “Some days I feel the answer to that question is a definite ‘yes’ I’d want him, despite the risks, but I don’t know, I think you’re right, Daisy. I need to go and see Laura and talk to her face to face. She and Alexandre were together for at least a couple of years. If anyone knows Sophie, she does.”

  “Well if it isn’t Pearl, the jewel of Kauai.”

  Daisy and I look up abruptly from our girl-talk. A deep voice has interrupted us and for a moment I’m irritated. Go away, I think. Leave us to our privacy. But Daisy’s mouth hangs open and she quickly pulls her hair loose from its ponytail so I know the interruption must be worth it.

  “My name’s Zac,” the man says. His huge frame towers above us. Floppy blonde hair half covers his sparkling blue eyes. His toned and muscular legs are covered in sand and he grins down at us with a dazzling white smile.

  “You must be our local champion,” I say, my neck craned up at him, noticing his defined abs, not an inch to pinch anywhere.

  He crouches down on his
haunches and shakes both of our hands. “Finally I meet Billy’s beautiful daughter,” he says, gazing at me. “And who have we here? Her gorgeous friend, Daisy. There should be a law against having such stunning women grace our beaches. We’re trying to surf here, and you two women are way too distracting.”

  We both titter like teenagers. The fact he knows our names is very flattering. He must have been talking to my dad. And who doesn’t like a bit of male attention, especially when we are both nursing broken hearts and especially when it’s coming from a god-like apparition with a deep tan.

  “Perhaps we can hook up for a drink later?” Daisy suggests bravely.

  “Nothing would please me more,” he replies. “You two ladies have a good day now.” He stands up. “I’ll see you around. Excuse me, I need to catch a few waves while the going’s good.”

  He strolls off and we both trail our eyes after him. His neat butt in long black surfer shorts saunters along the shoreline and he picks up his surfboard, his rippling muscles moving as he lifts it up from the sand and carries it with him to the ocean.

  “There you go, Daisy, the answer to your payback plot. Maybe you can give Johnny something to genuinely worry about.”

  “It’s you he fancies,” she tells me, an eyebrow raised.

  “I don’t think so. Didn’t you see the way he eyed you up? Anyway, I’m too hung up on Alexandre.” I sigh. “Still - can’t complain about the attention.”

  Daisy lets out an exasperated groan. “And I’m too hung up on my bastard of a husband. Mind you, I wouldn’t kick Zac out of bed on a cold rainy day.”

  We both burst into a cascade of giggles.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It’s raining in London. Gray, dull and depressing. No wonder Alexandre prefers New York; even if it’s cold in winter, the skies are so often blue back home.

  Daisy’s mother is a sweetheart. She lives in a little house in Hampstead near Hampstead Heath, a wild and sprawling park where people take their dogs for rambling walks or play soccer on Sundays. Although part of London, Hampstead is like a village full of adorable pubs and quaint shops. Daisy’s mum, Doris, has set me up in a cozy room at the top of the house decorated with flowery wallpaper – quintessentially English – and she’s treating me like a daughter – she misses Daisy so much.

  I’ve done some wonderful sight-seeing here: the Crown Jewels, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, Portobello Rd, a street market on Friday and Saturday mornings where you can pick up silver for nothing and vintage clothes. Actually, despite the weather, this city really does have its charm. It feels like dozens of villages melded together, each with their unique character. I’ve been going out with some of Daisy’s friends who are more than welcoming. They have been taking me to local pubs, the theatre and walks along the Thames. The food in England is not the way it was when I came here as a teenager. Now, the cuisine is eclectic and plentiful with fabulous restaurants on every corner, the best of all being Indian food, inexpensive and delicious.

  I have had some business meetings here, too. I couldn’t justify to myself coming all this way to basically stalk Alexandre’s ex-fiancée. I needed a better reason so I have visited some television stations – making a few connections and fanning about some ideas. The British have always done great documentaries – so far, I have been taken seriously and given a list of people to contact for future projects. Natalie needs my input more than ever.

  I flew here straight from Hawaii with just a stop-over in L.A. I couldn’t face New York so I still haven’t ventured into my new apartment and I haven’t worked out what I’m going to do. I have called Alexandre several times but he is always too busy to discuss things in detail, or doesn’t want to. He simply won’t let me return the gifts. The Mercedes must be sitting in the garage in New York by now. I called Elodie. She had a wonderful trip with her friend driving across the States. It was she who provided me with Laura’s address.

  It is my final day here in London.

  I have left the most daunting task until last.

  ***

  I stand by Laura’s front door nervously. It doesn’t look dissimilar to number 10 Downing Street, where the British Prime Minister lives, with a big brass knocker and letterbox. The wood is painted in a high gloss black, flanked by matching wrought-iron railings. It is all extremely ‘grown-up’ and intimidating. And it screams serious wealth. I wonder if Laura bought this place with all her modeling money or if her husband is rich. I seem to remember Alexandre once mentioning that he works in the City; a hedge-fund manager or something – the type that makes a million or two just for his Christmas bonus.

  Finally, I pluck up the courage to rap the door knocker: the threatening head of a hefty brass lion.

  Nobody answers.

  My heart is pounding. Is it because I’m uninvited? Or that Alexandre was once so in love with Laura all those years ago? I don’t know the answer but blood is drumming in my ears and my hands are clammy with trepidation. Finally, I hear footsteps.

  The door opens slowly, guardedly. A head peeks out. By the way the person is dressed I guess that she’s a member of staff. “May I help you?” the voice inquires with suspicion.

  “Hi,” I say beaming to try and hide my nerves. “I’ve come to see Laura.”

  “Mrs. Heimann?”

  “Yes, is she in?”

  “Do you have an invitation?”

  Er, no. “I tried calling,” I manage with a dry throat. Why am I so nervous?

  “Who should I say is paying her a visit?”

  Jeez, this is so formal. “Pearl.”

  “You’re a pearl salesperson?”

  “No, my name is Pearl. Pearl Robinson.”

  “Wait one moment please.”

  I am already feeling as small as a sparrow but when the door is closed on me, I feel as if I might as well be invisible. I wait. Five minutes later, the door opens. Wide. My jaw drops. A tall woman in her early thirties stands before me who is achingly beautiful. She must be at least five ten or eleven because I am like a shrinking violet in comparison. She’s dressed in tight jeans, her legs go on forever. Her hair is wavy, long and blonde, her smile broad, with perfect, movie star teeth. She holds a black cane in her hand with a mother-of-pearl handle.

  She greets me like a long-lost friend. “Pearl, come in.”

  I step into the immense hallway. The floors are white marble and a huge bunch of calla lilies adorns a big round table in the middle of the entrance, the table draped with pale blue shot-silk.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company, the place is a mess,” she says with a faint giggle.

  The ‘place’ is immaculate. Laura is immaculate.

  I offer her my hand. “So nice to finally meet you. Alexandre always speaks…always spoke,” I correct myself, “so fondly of you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry he’s not here right now but he’s been in a meeting all day – you know how it is with him? Always jetting off on a plane somewhere to make another deal, always wheeling and dealing. Come through, would you like some tea?”

  Did I hear that right? ‘Sorry, Alexandre isn’t here right now?’ No, she must have said his name by mistake. It must be her husband she’s referring to.

  I follow her through to a grand room. She has a slight limp but nothing you’d hardly notice. I look about me in awe. The walls are hung with what look like grand masters, the vast sash windows are letting in an afternoon glow. I notice she’s wearing a huge ring on her engagement finger, not unlike mine.

  She sits on a sofa and jingles a little bell. Her back is erect, her posture perfect. “I’ll call for some tea and cake. I always get a bit peckish at this time of day,” she says in a plummy British accent (like some aristocratic character out of the TV show, Downton Abbey).

  “Did you mention Alexandre not being around?” I venture edgily.

  The same woman who answered the door to me earlier comes in to the room. “You called, Madam?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Blake. Tea for two please. La
psang Souchong. Oh no, actually that might be a little too fancy for our American guest – make it basic P.G Tips or whatever builders’ tea we have.” She smiles sweetly at me and I wonder if I have just heard correctly - Too fancy for our American guest?? Builders’ tea?

  “Where was I?” she continues in her posh accent. “Oh yes, Alexandre is out. He’ll be so upset he missed you.”

  Alexandre? This is crazy, what does she mean? “Where’s your husband?” I creak out, my mouth dry and parched. I need that tea even if it is only fit for builders.

  “My soon to be ex-husband, you mean? Or are you referring to Alexandre, my fiancé?”

  “You…and…Alexandre…are seeing each other again?” My brain is thumping with blood, I feel as if I’m about to collapse.

  “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him…I—”

  “We’re going to be married, Pearl.”

  “But…but…that’s impossible! He was engaged to me, he was going to marry me. You’re not divorced yet, Alexandre would never—”

  “Well, we’re an item again. He had a little…what should we call it…a detour. With you. You were the rebound, Pearl, his solace after a broken heart. I’m sorry, it must be very painful to hear this but…well…he’s always been in love with me, surely you guessed that?”

  My hands are shaking, my breathing pinched. I think of all those books of hers still at his house in Provence. “But you were happily married to—”