‘I was. There’s only the top airing cupboard left and I can’t reach that. Not without a set of steps, and those are strapped to the roof of my hired van.’
‘Point me to it, then,’ Morgan said.
‘Even if we find it,’ Carrie said, ‘I don’t know that it’s a good idea for me to come with you.’
She made no move to show him where the airing cupboard was. Instead she put two more slices of bread in the toaster and depressed the button.
‘Well, I do. Genifer would love to see you.’
‘That’s blackmail.’
‘Incentive.’
‘Top of the stairs, on the left,’ Carrie said.
If he were to find her passport there, then she’d go with him. Maybe.
But it was more than her passport that Morgan found. He came into the kitchen carrying her tatty case – the only one she had because Aaron had taken the new ones they’d bought for their honeymoon.
Instantly, Carrie remembered what was in the case. Her wedding dress. And shoes. And trousseau – such a wonderfully old-fashioned word, trousseau.
And her engagement ring – sapphires the same shade of blue as her eyes – in a black velvet box.
‘This is all that was in there,’ Morgan said. ‘I opened it, but closed it again when I realised what it contained.’
But he hadn’t shut it properly and there was a crushed piece of raw slub silk hanging out the side.
‘Oh. Oh, I’d forgotten …’
And then Carrie burst into tears, her sobs making her shoulders judder, and her breathing jagged.
‘Ssh, ssh, it’s all right. We all hang onto things for all sorts of reasons, when sometimes perhaps we shouldn’t.’
He was still clutching the suitcase to him.
‘Do we?’ Carrie sniffed.
‘I’ve still got a photograph of Georgina. Just the one. But it’s time for it to go, I think.’ Morgan placed the suitcase very carefully on the table and opened his arms to Carrie. ‘Come here, sweetheart. Let it all out. I don’t suppose you have, have you?’
Carrie shook her head. But she didn’t walk into Morgan’s outstretched arms. She wanted to walk into them because he wanted to love her and not because he pitied her.
‘I’m going to make an executive decision,’ Morgan said.
He walked to Carrie and placed a hand behind her head and pulled her gently towards his shoulder.
He began to rock her gently, and she gave herself up to the rhythm of his rocking – her sobs becoming less juddery, quieter.
After what seemed ages, Carrie pulled away from him gently.
‘I don’t usually weep all over men I’ve only just met. Sorry. Or even ones I’ve known for ages actually. And I know I should have thrown it all away long before now,’ she said. ‘He’s not coming back, is he?’
‘I think you know the answer to that, Carrie.’
‘We could,’ Carrie said, ‘drop them off at the charity shop on the way to the airport?’
‘We certainly could!’ Morgan said.
‘All except the ring, perhaps,’ Carrie said.
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘I do. I’ll take that to the jewellers and see if I can sell it,’ she said. ‘I think the time’s come to move on.’
‘We’d better shift, then,’ Morgan said. ‘I’ll have to ring the pilot.’
‘The pilot? You know the pilot?’
‘Well, it is my plane,’ he said.
Chapter Eight
‘Carrie!’ Genifer squealed with delight at seeing her – the pleasure and love in her friend’s eyes bringing a lump to Carrie’s throat. ‘This is some surprise!’
‘Not least to me!’ Carrie laughed.
She gave Genifer a quick resumé of what had happened back in Farchester to make her suddenly agree to come over, stealing her gaze away from her friend’s face now and then to glance around Morgan’s office. It was huge – almost the size of the aircraft hanger the Lear jet had been towed out from. On the walls were poster-sized black and white photos of racing yachts. And portrait shots of lots of celebrities Carrie had only ever seen in magazines or on TV before.
‘And thank goodness my passport was in that tatty old case after all,’ Carrie finished. She pointed to the celebrity photos. ‘Does Morgan know all these people?’
‘I wouldn’t say he was bestest buddies or anything, but it’s quite a gallery, isn’t it?’ Genifer said. ‘All signed with thanks to Morgan. All the aristos ...’
‘Aristos?’
‘Well, you do know …’ Genifer began, then stopped abruptly. She started tidying papers that didn’t really need tidying on the desk.
‘Know what, Gen?’ Carrie asked.
‘Oh, things,’ Genifer said.
‘What sort of things?’ Carrie felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, and her mouth went dry. What else didn’t she know about Morgan?
‘Things I can’t tell you, Carrie. Sorry. Now, everything’s up to date here, so shall we go hit Monaco and some shops?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Carrie said. ‘One, I haven’t brought any euros with me, and two, I really can’t afford to buy things I don’t need. And I’ve …’
‘Stop!’ Genifer held up a hand. She reached in the drawer of the desk and pulled out a wad of notes. She waggled them at Carrie. ‘Morgan’s left this little lot. Spending money.’
‘Well, you can leave it there,’ Carrie said. She didn’t want Morgan spending his money on her, because she didn’t want to feel obliged. Or have him feel sorry for her that she was strapped for cash. ‘Where is Morgan anyway?’
‘Gone to his villa. Things he needed to do, he said. Now, are you sure you won’t change your mind about spending this little lot?’
‘Certain.’
‘Okay. Well, we’ll go to Monaco anyway. At least let me buy you a coffee. And I’ll treat you to lunch.’
‘You’re on,’ Carrie said. It really was good to see Gen – see her looking so well, and so pleased to see her. Just for a second, Carrie wondered if Gen had had to cancel anything at short notice to spend time with her. But she decided not to ask. ‘Hey,’ she said instead, ‘you’ve really settled into the life down here – driving on the other side of the road and all that!’
‘Oh, we’re not driving,’ Genifer said. ‘We’re walking over to Quai M. Laubeuf and the helicopter. Morgan’s orders.’
‘The famed Casino,’ Genifer said, waving an arm towards the grand steps up which two women Carrie vaguely recognised were running on very high heels. ‘Monte Carlo in a nutshell.’
‘I’ve only ever seen it in films,’ Carrie said. ‘It’s smaller than I thought it was, and yet more grand. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfect sense,’ Genifer said.
‘And is that Merriel, um, what’s her name, just going inside? And that other one …’
‘Merriel Evans. And Johanna Beaumont. They live together here somewhere.’
‘You mean as in lovers?’
‘I expect so,’ Genifer laughed. ‘Gosh, you really do live a sheltered life back in Farchester if the very idea of a couple of women living together throws you like that – you should see your face!’
‘It doesn’t throw me – I just thought, you know, they’re always wrapped around some hunk of a bloke in films.’
‘And films are fantasy, right?’ Genifer said.
Carrie felt herself blush. She must be coming across as so unworldly, so gauche. Was that how Morgan saw her?
‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ Genifer said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. But you’re going to have to get used to seeing celebrities in Monaco – they’re all over the place. And in Cannes. When you live here you see it all as normal. And you learn to be very discreet about who is seen with whom and where and how many times. Especially who hires Morgan’s yachts and what they get up to on them.’
‘You do?’
‘And so will you when you’ve been here a few more times – Morgan expects it of his
employees. Morgan has mentioned he wants a complete make-over at his villa, and he’d like you to do it, hasn’t he?’
Which, Carrie thought, was a not very subtle reminder that was exactly what she was – just one of Morgan’s employees, nothing special. And this was the first she’d heard about being commissioned to do a makeover on Morgan’s villa. But she nodded, not knowing what to say.
But it seemed that Genifer hadn’t noticed her gaffe. She steered Carrie to an outside table of the Café de Paris. They sat down, Carrie feeling like a kid in a toyshop looking at all the expensive goodies – clothes and bags and shoes – on display. Women’s chatter – like birds joyfully greeting a new dawn – filled the air. But, Carrie noticed, while they might have drunk their coffee, their cakes remained uneaten on the plates.
Within seconds a waiter glided up and took their order, and Carrie was surprised to hear her friend speaking rapidly in French – far too fast for her to translate from her ill-remembered school day French lessons.
‘I’ve ordered coffee and galettes aux pignons – sort of pine nut biscuity things. Okay?’
‘Fine,’ Carrie said. ‘And your French is impressive!’
‘I should hope so,’ Genifer said. ‘The length of time I’ve been here! Yours will be, too, the longer you’re here.’
Carrie shrugged.
‘I don’t know that I’ll be here long.’
‘Well, unless you’re Wonder Woman and can whiz through the makeover of Morgan’s villa, it’s going to take you a while.’
‘That’s something I’ll need to discuss with Morgan,’ Carrie said, perhaps a bit too sharply.
‘Oooh, have I touched a raw nerve? You know, Aaron …’
‘Who? Who?’ Carrie said, a faux-puzzled look on her face.
Genifer reached across the table and hugged her friend, and Carrie hugged her back.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Forgiven,’ Carrie told her.
‘Now, are you sure you don’t want so spend some of that money Morgan left for you?’
‘Absolutely certain,’ Carrie said. ‘Although, I suppose I could buy a pretty scarf or something for my mother.’
‘Of course you can. We’ll have lunch over by the Grimaldi palace - the pink walls of the buildings over there look so pretty in the afternoon sun. And we’ll shop on the way. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
The two women fell silent – Genifer eating her galette and Carrie people-watching. There were so many beautiful people here, so much wealth being paraded in clothes and shoes and handbags.
A Rolls Royce purred to a halt outside the Casino, and a uniformed member of staff appeared as if by magic, to open the driver’s door. British number plates, she noticed. A tall, elegantly dressed man got out and without speaking handed over his keys.
‘But that’s … that’s …’ Carrie said, but the name of the British MP flew from her mind. ‘Oh, I can’t think who he is now.’
‘Well, best forget anyway,’ Genifer laughed. ‘And best not notice who that is arriving now.’ Genifer pointed to a taxi pulling in where the Rolls Royce had so recently been.
‘Oh!’ Carrie said, as a well-known UK news announcer slid out of the taxi and hurried up the steps to the Casino. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,’ she said, thoughtfully, ‘you know, all the subterfuge these people must have to go to, to meet whoever it is they ought not to be meeting.’
She shivered remembering how often Aaron had said he was at the gym or working late or visiting his mother, when he wasn’t doing any of those things – he was with her.
‘It’s not your worry,’ Genifer said. ‘And really, it’s only a tiny minority. Now, if we’re finished here, shall we go?’
‘In here?’ Carrie said. ‘We’re going in?’
They were standing outside the door of Giorgio Armani.
‘Well, we can’t let the vendeuse know what we want by telepathy, can we?’ Genifer laughed, as someone came to open the door for them.
Once inside Carrie stood transfixed – the interior must have cost hundreds of thousands to furnish. Why, the wall lights alone would be in four figures – each.
‘Close your mouth,’ Genifer giggled. ‘You look like a fish gasping for air.’
‘Probably,’ Carrie said. ‘But it’s all, sort of, not what I’m used to. Although there are a few interior decorating tips in here I can nick.’
‘Ssh, not so loud. Most of these vendeuses speak many languages, and can …’
‘… make love in all of them,’ Carrie finished for her, sotto voce.
‘Oh, you are naughty, but I’m so glad you’re here. Now, get shopping!’
Carrie allowed Genifer to buy a scarf in sea-green silk for her mother, but refused to let her pay for a kaftan the colour of midnight. It had silver embroidery at the low cut neckline, and Carrie knew it would look perfect with a camisole underneath, worn over her linen trousers.
She’d picked it up and held it against her, and Genifer told her – as she’d known her friend would – that it suited her and why didn’t she spend some of Morgan’s money on it?
Carrie had said no – it was not a good idea. At the back of her mind, still, was the nursery Morgan had asked her to design for whoever it was that was going to have his children. Was that whom he was with now – unable to wait a second longer to be with her once he’d seen Carrie into Genifer’s care? Had he only comforted her the way he had in her flat because he was kind? If people having illicit liaisons was what Morgan was used to, and what he thought of as normal, then it certainly wasn’t Carrie’s way of doing things.
But then Genifer had spoken to the saleswoman in French far too fast for Carrie to pick out more than a couple of words.
‘What did you say?’ Carrie had asked, but Genifer had shrugged and said nothing much, just general comments about the colour and the cut and how pretty it was.
Now, after marvelling at the Grimaldi Palace and watching the changing of the guard, and having peered out over the wall to the harbour, full of gin palaces below, Carrie and Genifer were sitting in the shade of the high buildings outside a restaurant.
Carrie picked up a menu and studied it.
‘I don’t think I’m very hungry,’ she said.
‘Salade niçoise, then?’ Genifer said. ‘That’s light, and I can ask to have the dressing served separately.’
‘It’s not that,’ Carrie said. ‘It’s the prices – they’re making my eyes water.’
Genifer laughed.
‘It is steep even by south of France standards,’ she said. ‘But it will be worth it. Oh, and I’ve ordered champagne, seeing as I’m not driving.’
Carrie immediately flipped the menu card to see what the prices were for champagne on the back, but Genifer grabbed it from her.
‘Relax, Carrie,’ she said. ‘You’re wound tighter than a watch-spring – not that watches have springs these days.’
Carrie laughed nervously. She knew she was tense. And that was because she didn’t know what was expected of her. She was beginning to regret coming now. But Morgan had been so kind and understanding when he’d found her wedding dress and all the other things on which she’d once pinned so much hope. It was just his way of giving her a treat, wasn’t it? The money angle was irrelevant as far as he was concerned – £10 to Carrie was probably somewhere in the region of £10,000 to Morgan, wasn’t it?
‘I know,’ Carrie said slowly. ‘But it all happened so fast this morning. I got the shock of my life to see Morgan sitting outside when I answered the door to the postman. He looked like he’d been there all night.’
‘Perhaps he had,’ Genifer said. ‘I spoke to him just before midnight. But …’
‘But what?’
‘But maybe I’ve said too much already.’
The waiter arrived then and Genifer gave the order. Seconds later the wine waiter arrived with two glasses and the champagne in a bucket, and he pulled the cork with a faint ‘pop’.
; ‘Don’t think too much, Carrie,’ Genifer said. ‘Follow your heart for a change.’
‘I did that once, remember? And look what it did to me!’
‘That was four years ago. How many men have you slept with since then?’
Carrie laughed – this was so Gen, and they’d slipped back so easily into their old friendship when they could ask the most personal of questions.
‘Zero, would you believe?’
‘Oh my God!’ Genifer said. ‘You’ll need oiling the first time you have sex now then, won’t you?’
‘Gen! People will hear!’
Genifer merely shrugged her shoulders and grinned.
‘Anyway,’ Carrie said, ‘I’ve got Mum to think about.’
‘Sure she’s not just an excuse for you? You know, you don’t have to risk trusting a man again because of your – in inverted commas – “responsibilities”?’
‘Hmm, maybe,’ Carrie said. She told Genifer about her mother being missing and about Paul, and how Morgan had come over to help.
‘Oh, that’s why he rang and cancelled skippering one of our yachts this weekend.’
‘He did that?’
‘Didn’t I just say?’ Genifer said. ‘By the way, there’s a little worry groove in the centre of your forehead.’
Carrie’s hand flew to her forehead, but Genifer reached for her hand and pulled it away.
‘But being here this weekend should sort that. Try and go with the flow, Carrie. Leave the UK where it is – over there.’ Genifer waved an arm in a vague arc. ‘Just be.’
‘I’ll try,’ Carrie said, sipping carefully so that the bubbles didn’t rush up her nose. ‘I’m looking forward to us having a good catch-up chat later. You know, the way we did when we were teenagers and I stopped over at your place. We used to stay up all night talking – remember? And we hardly had a wink of sleep.’
‘So, where are you going to sleep tonight?’ Genifer asked with a saucy wink.
‘Well, at your place. Aren’t I?’
‘Nope,’ Genifer said, a slow smile turning up the corners of her mouth. ‘Jean-Claude’s sister and her three children are filling our place up. You’re stopping at the villa with Morgan.’
Gorgeous Reads for Christmas (Choc Lit) Page 33