The Perfect Present

by Karen Swan

  ‘Falmouth Harbour, Antigua,’ the brunette replied with a mid-Atlantic twang.

  ‘And you’d be able to get a photo of it to me?’

  ‘Sure. I want you to get it absolutely spot on.’

  ‘Okay. Well, with that one on top, that would take you up to five charms.’

  The brunette clapped her hands together. ‘I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted one since I was a little girl, but all the ones I’ve seen are just either really heavy and old-fashioned, or these meaningless fashion ones.’ She picked up a bracelet threaded with three charms. ‘Yours are so light and pretty, and they look so modern. I think it’s genius threading them on the velvet too.’ She said it with a sense of wonder, as though Laura had unlocked the genome code with her designs.

  ‘Thanks,’ Laura replied modestly. The idea for the leather or velvet ‘ribbon bracelets’ had come as she’d been setting up, and worked well for a more casual edge.

  ‘What does this pigeon mean?’ another brunette asked, holding up a charm.

  ‘It’s a dove. Commonly it represents love, but in some instances peace. I had a client who lost her husband after a long illness, and she found it comforting to think of him at peace at last. But this interpretation was also private – no one else looking at it knew what it meant unless she wanted to tell them.’

  ‘Oh, I like the sound of that! Secrets hidden in plain sight?’ the woman said, nudging her companion knowingly.

  ‘I thought Cat was supposed to be here,’ a woman in a pink blazer asked, her glass in her hand, as she surveyed the tables without touching anything.

  ‘She will be. She was at the hairdresser’s. She must have got held up.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure,’ the woman murmured with a distinct undercurrent of sarcasm. ‘’Cause it just gets so busy in there at this time of year.’

  ‘It’s the day before Christmas Eve,’ Laura said pointedly. ‘Of course it does.’

  ‘There are roadworks in Queen’s Gate,’ the woman who’d been looking at the dove remarked. ‘Traffic’s backing up all the way past Gloucester Road.’

  Laura shot the rude woman a look, as if to say, ‘See?’

  Above the sea of hennaed heads, Laura suddenly caught sight of Bertie Penryn looking distinguished in black tie again as he made slow progress over to her. Not for the first time in the past hour she sent up a prayer of thanks to the assistants the party planners had hired to work as sales crew so that she could ‘mingle’. She gave the assistant next to her the chart she had hastily drawn up that showed what each charm symbolized, and a price list.

  ‘Mr Penryn, I can’t believe you made it!’ Laura said, shaking his hand as he came and stood in front of her.

  ‘Bertie, please,’ he said, almost panting from the effort. ‘And I’m afraid I don’t have as much time as I’d like,’ he smiled, pulling slightly on his barathea jacket to make his point.

  ‘I understand. I’m so grateful you b-bothered at all.’

  He noticed her nerves. ‘On the contrary, I’m intrigued. You’ve got this crowd in a frenzy. Tell me what’s so different about what you do?’

  She stepped aside so that he could look at it all. ‘I call it interpretive jewellery. For my bespoke work, I interview my clients for the stories or memories they want to remember, and come up with a motif unique to them. But there’s also an off-the-pillow line for more generalized charms – so beans and shamrocks for luck, that kind of thing.’

  Bertie peered closer at the gold nightingale necklace protected under a bell jar.

  ‘That’s a nightingale to denote a “songbird”, my client’s nickname for his wife. It’s their golden wedding anniversary and it was through her singing that they met.’ Laura swallowed as she remembered Fee’s wide eyes and breathy anticipation as Laura had recounted the story to her.

  ‘I like it,’ Bertie remarked, his eyes scanning quickly over the tables. ‘You’ve got a very distinct look, Laura. You can see that the same hand worked on all the charms on each piece. It gives them a coherence that many charm bracelets lack.’

  ‘Thank you. I want them to be beautiful in their own right, as well as emotionally significant. But they have to feel fresh and modern too if women like these are going to wear them. ’

  She watched as he picked up a gold hair slide – one of her newest designs – with a red enamelled heart swinging from it on a chain. ‘Well, this has a much younger feel to it.’

  ‘Yes. I thought with Valentine’s Day coming up, it would make a good gift for boyfriends to give. And it’s nine-carat gold, so a lower price point too.’

  ‘For the off-the-pillow range?’ Bertie smiled. ‘I like that name.’

  ‘I’m thinking about expanding the slide to include other motifs too, like a diamond star or two crossed arrows.’

  Bertie frowned. ‘Crossed arrows? What do they connote?’

  ‘It’s a Native Indian symbol for friendship.’

  Bertie nodded as he examined a hammered-gold cuff with a circular cutout and, inside that, a charm of a baby bear lying on its back, legs in the air. ‘Droll.’

  ‘Off-the-pillow again. The bear stands for strength, and of course the cuff itself is almost like a piece of armour, so I liked the juxtaposition of making the bear more playful and cute. Katie Hillier’s done so well with her bunnies . . . Ultimately, it has to appeal to a girl shopping on the King’s Road, not a warrior princess.’

  Bertie chuckled, watching with interest as the women clamoured at the tables and peeked into the trees.

  ‘I really like it, Laura. You have not just a great idea but the skill with which to back it up. You’re very, very good. Have you met Marsha Keble at Liberty yet?’

  Laura shook her head, her heart leaping at the mention of the L word.

  ‘I’ll arrange a meeting. I know she’d be very interested in you, although she might press you for exclusivity.’

  ‘Is that a bad thing?’

  ‘You might think so when you’re mobbed by the buyers at Fashion Week.’

  Laura gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. ‘You mean . . .’

  ‘I most certainly do. If I don’t snap you up, it’ll only be a matter of time before the CFDA is calling you.’ He laughed at Laura’s confused expression. ‘The BFC’sAmerican cousins. Don’t worry, you’ll learn. I’ll get my secretary to send you all the paperwork. In the meantime, you’ve got six weeks till show time to get these new ideas for off-the-pillow made up. Think you can do it?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Laura cried, her cheeks pinking up before him.

  She walked him to the door. ‘I can’t tell you what this means to me,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I imagine I can guess,’ he nodded. ‘You’ve timed it very well. The accessories market has been dominated by bags and then shoes for the best part of this decade, but jewellery’s moment in the sun is coming – that’s how the fashion pendulum works. I hope you realize you’re going to be rushed off your feet.’

  ‘I can take it,’ Laura replied firmly.

  ‘I get the feeling you can, yes.’ He smiled. ‘Have you booked your paraglide yet?’

  ‘Not yet. It’s a bit chilly up there at this time of year.’

  ‘Yes, quite. You’ve done it before, then, I take it?’

  ‘Many times.’

  A grey monogrammed balloon poked its way round the door. ‘Well, we’ll speak soon. I’ll get Laura Cunningham Designs on the tents list as soon as the office reopens after Christmas,’ he said.

  Laura heard a car door slam in the street below and looked out of the hall window. It was the matt-black sports car again, the same one – B5H 5TK. She darted to the window, looking down to try to see who was in it, but the reflection on the windows made it impossible.

  ‘Someone you know?’ Bertie asked.

  ‘Uh . . . yes, yes,’ she said in a strained voice. ‘It’s Cat. She’s here at last.’

  Bertie’s right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. ‘Well, I’ll push off before I get caught in more con
versation. My driver’s outside. A bientôt, Laura. Merry Christmas!’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Bertie. And to you. See you soon.’ As soon as he was out of sight, she turned back to the window. Cat was leaning through the car window, talking animatedly to the driver, still wearing the clothes she’d left in earlier, her hair untouched.

  Laura listened as she heard Cat’s heels clicking on the parquet floor, and then the sound of gentle running up the stairs. If Cat found her here, she would know Laura had seen her and firmly, unequivocally knew what was going on.

  Turning, she dashed back into the flat, weaving her way through the crowd of women all laughing and drinking and chatting, and positioned herself behind the blossom-tree. She interrupted a conversation between two women who were arguing over the meaning of a butterfly charm.

  ‘Butterflies always represent change and transformation,’ one of them was saying. ‘It’s really nothing new to see that represented in this charm,’ and she put the charm down with an element of disdain.

  ‘You’re absolutely right, but in Chinese culture, they also represent long life,’ Laura said, forcing a smile.

  ‘Most butterflies live for a few days,’ the woman contradicted.

  ‘The Mandarin word for “butterfly” is “hu-tieh”. “Tieh” means “seventy years”, which is why it has that association. I used a butterfly like this for a single-charm necklace I was commissioned to make for a woman celebrating her hundredth birthday by her great-grandchildren.’

  ‘Oh.’ The woman was silenced.

  Laura heard the small gasps that immediately preceded Cat’s entrance, and she kept her eyes down, pretending to care about what these women – who thought they knew it and had seen it all – were saying.

  ‘Now this goddess figure is a particular favourite of mine, and one of the most versatile charms,’ Laura murmured, just as Cat swept straight over to her.

  ‘They love you!’ Cat whispered in her ear, hugging Laura to her tightly. ‘I knew they would. They’ve all got such monstrous egos, they can’t think of anything better than jewellery that’s all about them,’ she giggled.

  Laura pulled back and looked at her. How could she pretend everything was hunky-dory when she’d clearly just been with another man? Him again. ‘You didn’t get your hair done,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘Tch, yes, I know,’ Cat sighed. ‘Roadworks in Queen’s Gate. We were sitting in traffic for three-quarters of an hour before we decided to turn back. Everywhere’s gridlocked. Do I look a fright?’

  Laura stared at her, crushed by how easily Cat lied to her face.

  ‘Listen, I’ll just go get changed and then you can tell me what’s been going on. It looks like it’s been a blast. I’m so cross I’ve practically missed it.’

  Laura nodded, grateful for the brief reprieve. ‘How could Cat have seen him again on her birthday of all days? She watched as Cat wove her way through the crowd, kissing, smiling and squeezing hands with earnest declarations of getting together after Christmas.

  The crowd was beginning to thin out quickly. It was coming up to half past seven and everyone seemingly had eight o’clock appointments. Laura quickly scanned the notepads the busking sales assistants had written in – there were further orders and her eyes bulged at the sight of the total someone had quickly calculated for her.

  She sank on to the arm of a sofa and bit her lip. What Cat had done for her in the course of one night was beyond anything Fee could have hoped to achieve in five years. She might even get to be stocked in Liberty, for heaven’s sake! Could she really turn round and accuse Cat of cheating on Rob? What business was it of hers, anyway? Their marriage was their business.

  ‘Why so sad, pretty lady?’

  Laura looked up with a start.

  ‘Alex!’ she cried, jumping up. ‘I didn’t know you were coming!’

  ‘We’re all travelling to Cat’s birthday together. I must say, I thought from the number of drivers sitting along the street this party had been a triumph, but then I see you over here looking forlorn in the corner and I’m not so sure. What’s up?’

  Laura looked around them. ‘Where’s Isabella?’

  ‘I— Turin with her family. Why?’

  She paused for a moment, looking at him with vehement scorn. Everything made perfect sense. The photos. The two-year lie.

  ‘This is your flat.’ It was more of an accusation than a statement.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded, shrugging limply. ‘So?’

  ‘So it’s five minutes from Min Hetherington’s gallery . . .’

  ‘Yes. So?’ he repeated.

  ‘So you and I both know she hasn’t worked there for two years.’ She watched the pupils in his double-ringed eyes contract. ‘She’s using it as a cover for her affair with you. She meets you here every week, doesn’t she?’

  She licked her lips and watched him, but he was impassive, clearly calculating his defence strategy.

  ‘I was a decoy, wasn’t I?’ she continued, determined to provoke him. ‘You made a big show of coming on to me in Verbier so that Rob wouldn’t suspect you were actually sleeping with Cat.’

  His sigh was all the confirmation she needed.

  ‘Are you going to tell him?’ he asked after a moment.

  She looked down, conflicted. The affair made a mockery of the necklace and the all-encompassing love it represented, but Cat was her touchstone in this new life she had been thrown into without Jack and Fee.

  But what about Rob? She couldn’t pretend he was just her client; she couldn’t pretend he meant nothing to her. He was in her head the whole time, no matter how hard she tried to banish him. To see him humiliated like this, and he didn’t even know about it? How could she just stand by?

  She was in an impossible situation. To defend him would be to betray Cat. And to protect Cat would be to betray him. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ she replied, forlornly.

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘I found the photos of her in the bedside table.’ She saw the cloud darken his face. ‘And before you say it, I wasn’t snooping! I was looking for a damned hairdryer! It was hardly discreet to keep them in there.’

  He looked away, angry that the secret had been so carelessly given away, all because of this party. ‘They’re old photos, taken years ago,’ he said. ‘You know that Cat and I were lovers for years. Of course I’ve got photos of her.’

  ‘Don’t try and bluff your way out of this, Alex. She’s wearing her wedding ring in the pictures,’ Laura disputed, bluffing herself. She hadn’t noticed one way or the other whether or not Cat was wearing her ring, but she knew – absolutely knew – that it was Alex with whom Cat was having an affair. All the half-truths and part-revealed secrets had fallen into place. ‘Plus I saw her getting out of your car outside the hotel on Saturday morning, and again just now. What did you do? Agree to wait ten minutes before coming up?’

  Alex took a step back. ‘What car?’

  ‘Why? How many have you got?’ she asked sarcastically.

  He bent down so that his face was level with hers. ‘When did she get out of my car?’ he pressed more urgently, his eyes pinned on something behind her.

  But he was too late.

  ‘Oh good, you’re here already. Are you set to go?’ Rob asked over her shoulder.

  Laura got up off the sofa arm at the sound of his voice and whirled round to face him, her wide eyes darting nervously between him and Alex.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Rob asked, his gaze taking in Laura’s high flush and nervy behaviour.

  ‘Fine.’ It was good to look at him again. She hadn’t seen him since the morning after in her hotel room and she felt her pulse quicken. His gaze lingered on her, but he made no move to touch her or stand closer. They had both drawn their lines in the sand.

  ‘Where’s Cat?’ he asked after a moment, remembering Alex.

  ‘Getting changed.’

  ‘Well, do you want to give me the necklace now, then, before she co
mes out?’

  ‘Uh . . .’ Laura’s gaze drifted towards Alex. ‘No, if it’s okay, I’d rather give it to you when we get there. I just need to, uh, decide on some things first.’ She saw Alex shift his weight apprehensively. ‘There’s something I’m still deciding on.’

  ‘But surely it’s finished, Laura,’ Rob said intently. ‘We’re presenting it to her as soon as we get there.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is – it’s all done. I just need to be sure I’ve . . . I’ve got it exactly the way I want it. Sometimes I, uh . . . make some last-minute tweaks.’ She couldn’t look at him.

  Rob stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at her through narrowed eyes. She gulped under the scrutiny, and not just because he looked so damned good in his black velvet jacket and ivory shirt. Alex was doing the same – the two of them were trying to read her mind.

  ‘Alex, would you excuse us for a moment?’ Rob said suddenly. ‘Laura and I need to talk.’

  ‘Sure,’ Alex shrugged, his eyes texting to Laura a desperate plea to keep quiet.

  Rob took Laura by the elbow and steered her down the hall, past the stragglers, past the room where Cat was even now applying the finishing touches to her birthday look. He shut and locked the bathroom door behind them. Oh God. Rob Blake in a confined space. This was a bad idea.

  ‘You know,’ he said, turning to face her.

  ‘What? What do I know?’

  ‘You’ve found out about the affair. That’s why you’re dithering about handing over the necklace.’

  ‘You know?’ Laura cried in disbelief. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting him to say.

  ‘Of course I know.’ He gave his words a moment to settle. ‘It’s what all this is about.’

  ‘But . . .’ She was floored by the revelation.