by Karen Swan
‘Did you . . . did you get any of my messages?’ Laura asked, repressing the urge to step back from the woman’s intense scrutiny and the small fork in her hand.
The woman stopped twenty feet away. ‘Go.’ She swung her arm out like a hinge towards the gate. Laura followed the point with her eyes.
‘But if you could just let me explain,’ Laura began. ‘I didn’t mean to trespass. But I live awfully far away and as Mrs Tremayne hasn’t returned any of my calls, I just thought I’d try to make contact directly.’
‘Go,’ the woman repeated in a lower voice. Her chin was dipped down towards her chest and Laura could see tremors rippling across her dress like wind over water. ‘You are not welcome here.’
‘But Rob ask—’
The woman silently repeated her gesture towards the gates.
Laura sighed. ‘Fine. I’m going,’ she said, holding her hands up and beginning to walk backwards. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’ She turned away, marching quickly down the drive. It felt so much longer on the way out than on the way in. As she passed the sensor and the gate’s motors started up, Laura turned round. The woman was watching her, and her arm was still up, pointing the way out. She looked like a statue in her eerie stillness.
Freaked out, Laura began to run through the opening gates and back to Dolly. She started the car up immediately and pulled away from the kerb with a squeal of tyres, the vision of the woman’s stony stare still chasing her down the street like a hound.
Not until she was back on the motorway did her pulse settle down enough for her to begin to realize what this meant. If that woman had been Olive Tremayne – and it seemed more than likely that she was – she clearly had no intention of contributing to her sister’s gift. Rob Blake was going to have to go back to the drawing board on this. His big romantic idea wasn’t going according to plan.
Chapter Thirteen
‘You’re exaggerating,’ Fee said, sitting back and admiring her black metallic toenails. ‘Like?’ she asked, waggling them.
Laura grunted at her workbench, huddled over her parallel pliers as she gently bent the gold thread to shape. ‘I am not. You didn’t see her. She was like some kind of Medusa woman – all mad hair and cold eyes and witchy fingers. Jeez, she’s about as far from Cat Blake as I expected her to be.’
‘Well, why should they be alike just because they’re sisters? Loads of sisters hate each other’s guts. They’re probably complete opposites.’
Laura considered the comment – one of Fee’s frighteningly astute ones – and remembered something Kitty had said about them being closer than sisters, than twins even. Laura had taken it as a harmless boast, just a turn of phrase. But what if she’d actually been referring to an estranged relationship between Cat and her sister Olive?
‘Yes, well, she’s shot her bolt with me, I can tell you, throwing me out like I’d done something wrong. I’m not going to work with her after that. She’s off the commission as far as I’m concerned.’
Fee raised her eyebrows. ‘And have you told Rob Blake that?’
Laura shook her head. ‘Not yet. No doubt the mad harpy will get to him first and tell him I’ve been snooping around the grounds or something.’
‘Oh, I doubt he’ll be sympathetic to her. After all, he’s the one desperate to make all this happen for his beloved wife, remember. And he did say he’d got everyone lined up for you.’
‘Whatever. I’m moving on,’ Laura muttered stroppily. ‘Next charm, next name on the list.’
Fee looked up at her. ‘As your manager, it’s probably worth reminding you that you’re getting two thousand four hundred pounds per charm. You might want to suggest he chooses someone else for the charm rather than just drop it altogether.’
Laura shot her a look.
‘What? I’m just saying,’ Fee protested, the nail-polish brush in one hand, the bottle in the other. ‘It’s not your fault she’s been uncooperative and weird. Why should you miss out on that extra cash just because of her strange behaviour? You could buy a car from that one charm alone.’
‘One without an engine maybe,’ Laura argued, wrinkling her nose as she gently tapped her brass hammer, forcing the gold in her hand to yield and bend. ‘But you might have a point,’ she conceded after a while.
‘I most certainly do,’ Fee replied, no doubt relieved her commission wasn’t going to be cut further. ‘So who’s next on the list, then?’
Laura put down her blowtorch and reached for some papers just off to her left. ‘Uh . . . Alex. Alex Windermere.’
‘Want me to set up the appointment now? I can talk with wet toes you know.’
‘Wow! Multi-tasker extraordinaire. What men could learn from you!’
‘Cheeky,’ Fee laughed, chucking a used cotton-wool ball at her. Too light, it barely got to the end of the sofa.
‘No, there’s no point. He’s the one in Milan. I’ll have to talk to him in Verbier.’
‘Oh. So you are going, then?’
‘I think I’m going to have to. Kitty’s the only one who’s been any use so far. Rob’s about as confiding as a spy, I’ve not had more than ten minutes with Orlando, I can’t get Olive Tremayne to even talk to me, and they all live over here. God knows how I’d pin down the two living abroad,’ Laura sighed.
‘What charm have you decided on for Kitty?’
Laura hesitated. ‘I haven’t yet. She has shared some good stories from their childhood together, but I’m slightly worried she’s been glossing them up – making the two of them out to be BFFs when actually I’m not sure they even see each other that much any more.’
‘Does that matter? So they were friends as kids. That’s fine. That’s what you show.’
‘I know, I know . . . I just need to make sure that what she’s telling me is actually rooted in the truth and not fantasy. This is practically a twenty-grand necklace, Fee – it needs to be right.’
‘Well,’ Fee said dubiously, beginning her top coat, ‘at some point you’re just going to have to make a decision and commit to it. Time and tide wait for no woman.’ She burst out laughing as she looked out of the window. ‘God knows you know that better than anyone.’
Laura rolled her eyes at her friend’s amusement, just as they heard a shout below them.
‘Anybody home?’
‘Jack?’ Fee replied brightly as he stomped noisily up the steps. ‘Oh, say you’ve brought lunch!’
He stopped in the doorway, two brown paper bags in his hands, grinning at the sight of the two of them – Laura frowning in her goggles at the bench, Fee sprawled on the sofa, nail polish in hand and feet on the coffee table. ‘I should have known – a hive of industry in here.’
He walked over, kissing Laura softly on the mouth. ‘How are you?’ he murmured gently.
Laura nodded. ‘Yup. Just pushing on with these orders.’
Jack turned to Fee, who was hobbling across the floor – loo roll woven between her toes – to answer the phone.
‘Hello?’ she asked. ‘Yes, just a sec . . .’ She held the phone out towards Laura. ‘For you.’
‘Who is it?’ Laura asked.
‘Didn’t say,’ Fee shrugged. ‘What’s in the bags, Jack? You must have read my mind. I’m starving.’
‘You’re supposed to ask who’s calling,’ Laura muttered, taking the handset from her. ‘Hello?’
‘Laura, it’s Rob Blake.’
‘Oh, hi.’ Laura watched Fee peering in the bags, her eyes widening at the sight of the saveloy inside.
‘I haven’t heard back from you about the trip, and I need an answer. My secretary’s booking the flights at the moment, and it makes sense for us all to travel together.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Laura looked at Jack handing Fee a can of full-fat Coke, teasing her by threatening to shake it.
‘So?’ Rob asked into the silence. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Uh . . .’
She heard a small sigh whistle down the line. ‘There’s not much time left,
and this is by far the most efficient way of speaking to everyone you need to. Laura? Are you still there?’
His voice sounded far away to her. She was watching Fee and Jack sitting on the arms of the sofa, chatting away comfortably, and she knew he had no idea yet – his manner was too relaxed. It had been remarkably easy managing to avoid spending time alone with him. She was working late most evenings on the pretext of her seasonal rush, and he was busy too, of course, in the run-up to Christmas; everybody wanted their sofas ready for the post-turkey collapse.
She watched as Jack gallantly ripped open the ketchup packet for Fee with his teeth. This was how it always was – the three of them together, their tight unit closer than any family, bonded by a tie stronger than blood. Safety in their number had worked for them all, but right now, the fit was wrong: one on one with either of them felt too intense for her at the moment and she was bickering with Fee almost constantly. But the three of them together felt too distracting, overwhelming. She needed time and space to think. And in spite of Fee’s bullish logic, she might not want to be a mother, but that didn’t mean she could easily live with the alternative open to her. She couldn’t bring herself to take the test yet, either, for as soon as the pregnancy was confirmed, she would be obliged to act one way or the other. Denial had been her chosen path up till now, but Rob wasn’t the only one running out of time: not making a decision would soon become the decision, nature would do the rest.
‘Laura? I need an answer – are you coming to Verbier or not?’ Rob pressed impatiently.
Time and space . . . She hadn’t mentioned the possibility of the trip to Jack yet, but it suddenly occurred to her that Verbier could offer her both those things. It was exactly what she needed. ‘Tell her to go ahead.’
‘Good. That’s good. It’ll simplify things enormously.’ The relief in Rob’s voice was evident. ‘Can you get back to Claudia within the hour with your passport details?’
‘Okay.’
‘Great. She’ll give you all the information then. See you Friday.’ And he hung up.
Laura rolled her eyes. She hated that he kept doing that to her.
‘Who was that?’ Jack asked as she replaced the handset and walked back over to him. He handed her a latte bought from the café at the top of the shipyard and a thickly buttered bacon bap.
‘The client for this charm necklace I’m working on.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got to travel for some of the interviews.’
‘I thought you already were. You’ve been up and down that motorway like a rat up a drainpipe.’
‘Well, one of the interviewees is in Milan, and—’
‘Milan?’ Jack’s jaw dropped open.
‘And the other one’s in Frankfurt.’
‘What? You’ve got to go there for a necklace?’
‘No. I’m going to Verbier instead.’
‘What?’
‘They’re all going to be out there together. It’s someone’s birthday, blah, blah, and they reckon it’s simpler if I just catch them all under one roof.’
Jack stared at her open-mouthed. ‘But you never take holidays.’
‘This isn’t a holiday. It’s work, Jack. Very lucrative work.’
He shook his head, baffled. ‘But . . . I mean, when is it?’
‘It’s this Friday and I get back Monday.’
‘This weekend? But we were going to do the Christmas tree together.’
She suppressed a sigh of frustration. ‘And you still can. It’ll be lovely for me to come home to find the house all decorated,’ she shrugged.
‘It won’t be the same without you.’
‘Fee will help, won’t you, Fee?’ She forced a smile and shot Fee a ‘help me’ look.
‘If you like,’ Fee mumbled with her mouth full.
‘But what about . . . I mean, there’s that band playing in the pub on Friday night. I got tickets for you as a surprise – Smack Doris. You loved them last time.’
Laura kept her smile fixed. She really hadn’t. ‘It’s just a few days, Jack. Over and done with by this time next week.’
He stared at her for a second as he heard the finality in her voice. ‘And if I hadn’t been here just now, when were you going to tell me? Send me a text as you boarded the plane?’
‘Jack, don’t be daft – of course not!’ she said dismissively, wandering back to her bench.
‘It’s nowhere near as implausible as you want it to sound,’ he muttered to her back, scrunching the bag up in his hand and tossing it through the open door of the wood burner.
Fee looked between them nervously as the bag instantly ignited. ‘Me and Paul will come with you to the pub, Jack.’
‘Isn’t Paul working then?’ Jack asked, looking down at her.
‘No. Not this weekend.’
‘You know about Paul?’ Laura asked him.
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’
Laura swallowed and shook her head. She was the link that connected them, and yet sometimes she felt like the spare part in their threesome. ‘No reason.’
‘So it’s all booked, then, is it?’ he asked, throwing his arms out. ‘I don’t get any say in it whatsoever?’
Laura sighed. ‘I don’t see what the big deal is.’
Jack stared at her sadly, his cheeks flushed. ‘No. I guess you wouldn’t.’
Chapter Fourteen
Laura clutched the ticket tightly in her hands as she moved through the security scanners. There were only twenty minutes to go till departure, and she was beginning to worry she might have left it too late after all. She had actually arrived at Heathrow two hours earlier, allowing for delays on the motorways, but not wanting to spend any longer with this group of strangers than was necessary, she had spent ninety minutes of that time sitting in Dolly in the short-term car park. Now she realized she’d underestimated the queues at check-in, and getting through the security checks was taking an interminable time.
Picking up her leather satchel from the conveyor belt and slinging the strap across her body, she walked out into the departure hall. Her eyes scanned the jostling, noisy space, looking for the champagne bar Claudia had told her about. It was opposite Harrods and below Garfunkel’s, ‘probably next to a Lamborghini’.
Laura found it easily, even without the giveaway £100,000 car revolving next to it. The group of people standing around drinking champagne and chatting animatedly were catching everyone’s eyes. They were glossier and shinier, somehow, than the average travellers in elasticated waistbands and trainers.
Laura took a series of deep breaths and rolled her lips together anxiously as she drew nearer, annoyed with herself for feeling so nervous about meeting Cat at last. She felt it confirmed the aura of ‘specialness’ that Kitty and Orlando had conjured up about the woman – her great taste! Her staggering beauty! Her selfless kindness and off-the-scale emotional intelligence! When probably, in all reality, she told herself, they were embellishing the truth and flattering Cat artificially. After all, being asked to contribute memories and thoughts about someone for a gift automatically implied a rose-tinted perspective. Still, Laura was undeniably intrigued to at last meet the woman who had the mighty Rob Blake in her thrall. She’d give her that, at least.
‘Laura!’ Kitty cried, spotting her first and careering over.
‘Hi, Kitty.’ Laura smiled as Kitty enveloped her in a soft, talcumed hug.
‘We were just wondering where you were,’ she said, planting a champagne flute in Laura’s hand. ‘She’s here, everybody!’ Kitty cried, holding Laura’s arm up as if she was a lost toddler.
Everyone turned and Laura felt herself shrink an inch as four pairs of eyes swivelled over to her. She shifted her weight nervously, aware of her tummy growling at her. The drive down meant she had skipped breakfast.
Rob came over to her, still in his business suit, although his tie had been fractionally loosened. ‘Laura, you cut it fine. I was beginning to think you might miss the plane. We’re leaving for the gate in a mome
nt.’
‘Traffic,’ Laura replied, trying to smile, aware of a hawk-eyed redhead watching her with keen interest. ‘I’ve had rather further to come than you.’
He nodded, but with an expression that almost made her feel he knew she’d been hiding away in the car park, delaying the start of this weekend for as long as possible.
‘Let me introduce you to the others.’ He swung an arm around to enclose the group. ‘This is Sam Radcliffe and her husband David.’
The redhead offered a slim, scarlet-manicured hand. She had a strong oval face with a small, thin-lipped mouth and hazel eyes. But it was her hair, a magnificent mane of titian brushed-through ringlets that did all the talking about her.
‘Hi, Laura,’ Sam said in a deep, almost mannish, voice. ‘Just been hearing all about you.’ The inflexions in her voice made it appear that the conversation had been interesting, which Laura found hard to believe.
‘Pleased to meet you, Laura,’ her husband David said, shaking her hand. He was tall and slightly balding, with dark hair just on the turn and an easy smile.
‘These guys have just come in from Frankfurt,’ Rob explained.
‘Well, I have,’ Sam corrected him coolly. ‘David’s been here since Wednesday. Playing.’
‘Shooting,’ David corrected her. ‘Corporate necessity.’
‘Oh,’ Laura said interestedly. ‘And what do you do in Frankfurt, Sam?’
‘I’m a lawyer at Deutsche Bank.’
‘Oh.’ That hair plus lawyer plus bank. It was hard to think of a more intimidating combination.
‘And I believe you’ve already met Orlando,’ Rob continued.
‘Briefly,’ Laura smiled, offering a polite hand, but Orlando, looking very European in a snug lilac cashmere V-neck and jet-black jeans, ignored her hand altogether and kissed her exuberantly four times on her cheeks.
‘Oh! My!’ she gasped as she was swung from side to side.
‘This woman,’ Orlando grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘She is so funny. And so wicked.’ He winked at her.