Naked Truths

by Jo Carnegie

  ‘So we’re not closing?’ someone asked, still a little tentative.

  ‘Definitely not,’ said Catherine. ‘In fact, I am just in the process of sorting out the bonuses everyone is going to get for working so hard. It may not be six figures but it will pay for a well-deserved holiday.’

  Everyone whooped again, and Saffron found herself flinging her arms around Tom Fellows. They jumped apart, embarrassed, but in the carnival atmosphere no one noticed.

  ‘There is one more thing,’ called Catherine, straining to be heard above the noise.

  ‘Quiet!’ someone shouted.

  ‘We have made Soirée the best monthly magazine in Britain, and it’s down to each and every one of you. I know I’ve pushed you over the past six months but you’ve risen to the challenge admirably. You are an exceptionally talented team of people, and it has been a privilege to work with you. I know Soirée is going on to even bigger and better things . . .’ She gave a sad smile. ‘But unfortunately, it won’t be with me.’

  Alexander looked shocked. ‘Darling, you’re leaving?’

  Catherine tried to reassure the worried faces. ‘Hey, you’ll be fine. And I’m confident that whoever becomes editor next will do a great job.’ She continued. ‘The good news is that I’m still going to be involved with the Soirée brand. Yesterday Gail Barker from Soirée Sponsors very kindly offered me a job on her team. I’m going to be working to make us even bigger and better, with plans to go nationwide in the next two years.’ Catherine gave a wry grin. ‘Of course, most of you know by now that I always like to have more than enough on my plate. Three hours ago, I also signed a book deal with Starlight Publishing to write a story about my life. If anyone does feel like reading it, all profits from the sales will be going to charity.’

  ‘I’m going to buy ten copies, darling!’ Alexander shouted out, as others murmured their agreement.

  Catherine smiled at him. ‘You haven’t read it yet!’ Her tone grew more serious. ‘It’s not going to be an easy journey, but I’m the only one who can set the record straight about what happened that night. My mother was a wonderful person and I haven’t had the chance to grieve for her properly because I’ve always shut out the past. I’m hoping this book will clear her name and give me the peace I’ve been looking for all these years. And if it helps even one woman who is suffering domestic violence to get out of her situation, then it’s all been worth it.’ Catherine looked around, slightly embarrassed, at the spellbound faces. ‘Well, that’s all folks,’ she added awkwardly.

  Saffron started clapping softly, and everyone joined in, louder and louder, their faces etched with admiration. Catherine’s candour had touched them all. They’d never work for anyone as inspirational again.

  Catherine felt overwhelmed at the show of solidarity. Alexander rushed over and planted two emotional kisses on her cheeks. ‘How we will miss you! What on earth is the world of magazines going to do without Catherine Connor?’

  Catherine choked back the tears. ‘It will survive, Al, just like we all have.’

  It was past seven o’clock by the time Catherine left work. It had been a funny day: everyone was delighted the magazine was safe, but at the same time sad their boss was leaving. The only solution to the conflicting emotions seemed to be going to the pub, but Catherine eschewed the invite. She’d celebrate properly with them at her leaving party, and besides, she had pressing things to be getting on with: drafting out her official resignation letter to Adam, for one thing. She wondered how long he’d last without her.

  Spring was definitely in the air as Catherine left the building. She thought about walking home, but then looked ruefully at her feet, encased in a pair of pointed Gucci slingbacks. That was going to be one of the things she definitely wouldn’t miss about Soirée.

  His voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

  ‘Catherine?’

  Fighting to keep control, she turned round. And hated how she felt.

  Even now, after everything that had happened, her stomach still flipped as she found herself facing John Milton. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans, his hair as thick and black as ever. The olive-green eyes, normally so penetrating, were almost opaque with an emotion Catherine couldn’t decipher.

  Her reaction was instinctive. Marching over, she slapped him hard across the face.

  John Milton didn’t even flinch. His eyes looked into hers, a red mark from her hand already starting to form on his cheek.

  Catherine stared back defiantly: she wasn’t going to fall for his shit again. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? Come to finish off what you and your girlfriend started?’

  The emotions she’d been trying so desperately to keep down bubbled over and Catherine lifted her hand to strike him again. She wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt her. She needed him to feel that physical pain.

  This time John caught her wrist and held it in a steel grip.

  ‘Get off me!’ she hissed furiously.

  He released her. ‘I wanted to see if you were OK.’

  Catherine couldn’t believe his audacity. ‘Are you having a fucking laugh?’

  Not for the first time, they were attracting the attention of passers-by. There was a little coffee shop next door.

  ‘Can we go somewhere more private?’ John asked, tilting his head in that direction.

  ‘I think you’ve already taken my privacy away from me,’ Catherine responded icily.

  He sighed. ‘Please, Catherine. Let me explain.’

  Something in his voice made Catherine think twice about walking away. ‘Five minutes.’

  Inside the tiny coffee shop, there was only a cramped table for two. Catherine leaned against the wall, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible, but she could still feel the heat from John’s body, and smell the familiar scent of his aftershave. ‘Shoot,’ she said, in her most businesslike tone.

  John looked at her with his steady gaze. ‘Isabella and I have never once been an item.’

  Catherine gave a derisive snort. ‘Oh, please! She wasted no time in telling me how into each other you both were.’

  Confusion flashed across John’s face. ‘I honestly have no idea why she would say that. You might, as you seem to know her better, but God’s honest truth, Catherine, is that the only contact I’ve had with Isabella has been in a business capacity.’

  Catherine raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but couldn’t help but ask. ‘Why were you together at Duvalls?’

  John looked at her. ‘It was a rather weird chain of events that led to us being there at all, and I certainly wouldn’t have agreed to go if I’d known you two knew each other, or what she was capable of.’ He sighed. ‘I’d been to pick up some paperwork from one of my clients, an American guy named Teddy Barsmann. I met Isabella at his office. I take it they’re some kind of couple or something – she was certainly all over him when I arrived. Anyway, Teddy suddenly had to work at the last minute, and Isabella made a scene about him not taking her out. So he asked if I would go in his place. I must admit, I was pretty shocked, but Teddy seemed keen to get her out of there. I didn’t want to, but I felt I couldn’t say no. He’s one of our biggest clients.’

  ‘You looked very cosy together,’ Catherine shot back.

  ‘It was the worst evening of my life! Isabella isn’t my kind of person, anyway, but as soon as she found out I knew you, she wouldn’t stop talking about you and asking questions. I just said we were old school friends but she kept quizzing me if we’d had any kind of relationship. I told her it was none of her business. The woman is obsessed with you. She’s clearly jealous.’ John smiled. ‘And so she should be.’

  Catherine ignored the compliment. ‘So you didn’t sleep together?’

  He looked angry now. ‘Of course not! When I saw you leaving, it took all I had not to follow you.’ John frowned. ‘And anyway, what about that guy you were with?’

  Catherine flushed guiltily at the memory of waking up next to Tolstoy. ‘He took me home
,’ she said quickly. ‘He’s just a work friend.’

  John wouldn’t take his eyes off her, and she tried not to get drawn into those impossibly dark-green pools.

  ‘What about the house you’re doing up, the one that Lord Fairfax used to own? Isabella practically told me you had sex in the attic room.’

  John looked disgusted. ‘For God’s sake! Teddy Barsmann has just bought it, that’s who I’m working for at the moment! Isabella dropped round out of the blue one day, and asked if I’d give her a tour. I couldn’t very well turn down the client’s girlfriend.’ John smiled grimly. ‘Although, from what I hear, she’s not his only girlfriend. I’m sure they’ve met their match in each other.’

  Catherine was feeling more thrown by the minute.

  ‘So you’re telling me you told Isabella nothing about my background? About who my mother was?’

  ‘Catherine, do you really have such a low opinion of me?’ A passing waitress heard John’s raised voice and glanced over. ‘Isabella must have found out some other way, but I can assure you it wasn’t through me.’

  ‘Why should I believe you?’ she demanded, but her voice had lost some of its hard edge.

  ‘Because it’s the truth!’ John sighed in exasperation. ‘Will you give me a break? You never gave me the chance to explain. I know you’ve been through a tough time, but everything you blame me for is entirely in your imagination.’

  Suddenly, Catherine felt hugely embarrassed. She knew he was right. She had so little trust in people that she had jumped the gun and automatically thought the worst. As she looked at John, she saw for the first time how weary he looked, the fine worry lines at his temples. ‘Maybe I should be the one apologizing,’ she admitted. ‘I shouldn’t have just assumed . . .’ She started again. ‘I guess I’ve got so little confidence in myself it was easier to believe her over you.’ She shook her head helplessly, trying to take it all in. ‘How did Isabella find out, John? I should have listened to my friend Fiona. She warned me Isabella was a troublemaker.’ Catherine gave a small smile. ‘I just didn’t realize how much trouble.’

  John reached over and put his hand over hers. She let it stay there.

  ‘These past weeks must have been terrible for you,’ he said gently. ‘When I saw the papers and the news . . .’ He smiled at her. ‘I turned up at your apartment, you know, the day the story broke in the papers. You looked amazing in that red dress.’

  Catherine looked shocked. ‘You were there? I didn’t see you!’

  John smiled wryly. ‘I was keeping a low profile. I wanted to see you, but I honestly didn’t know what reaction I’d get.’

  ‘Probably an even worse one than I gave you earlier.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘Sorry for hitting you.’

  He grinned crookedly. ‘Nothing worse than you’ve done to my heart already.’

  His comment hung heavy in the air. Catherine looked at him. ‘I’ve left my job. I’ve got a book deal to write my life story.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I still can’t believe it. The thing I was most afraid of happened, and nothing but good seems to be coming out of it.’

  ‘I think it’s a really brave thing you’re doing.’

  She looked thoughtful. ‘Let’s see. But as well as setting the record straight, it will be a proper chance for me to say goodbye to Mum. We had so much unfinished stuff between us. I want to get it all out, otherwise I’m never going to be able to move on.’

  John squeezed her hand hard. ‘She’d be very proud of you.’

  Tears pricked the back of Catherine’s eyes. ‘I hope so,’ she whispered.

  Another moment passed before John spoke. ‘Where does this leave us, Catherine?’

  She sighed, trying to find the right words. ‘Oh, John. You really do mean the world to me.’

  He cocked an eyebrow. ‘But?’ He was smiling but his hand had clenched hers even more tightly.

  Catherine hesitated, willing herself to say the words that would set their lives on different paths again. ‘I think you and I just met at the wrong time. Too much water has passed under the bridge.’

  John’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘Let me be the judge of that. Don’t write me off because of the past, I’ve never cared about that. I want to look after you, Catherine.’

  Catherine looked down at his hand wrapped over hers. ‘That’s just it, John, I need to do this on my own. I’m going to have shit days, and it’s not going to be pretty, and I don’t want to put you through it all again. It sounds clichéd, but I need to find out who I am. I need to be me, not just a person who is shaped by secrets and tragedy. Once I’ve dealt with it all, a fresh start is the only way forward. Do you understand?’

  John Milton’s broad shoulders sank. He knew now that he’d lost her.

  Catherine gently took her hand from beneath his and reached across to stroke his face. ‘Goodbye, John.’

  His handsome features were filled with pain. ‘You don’t always have to run away.’

  Catherine stood up and smiled. ‘I know. And for the first time in my life, I’ve stopped running.’

  Chapter 63

  SAFFRON WAS MEETING Tom in a new bar in Notting Hill. It was one of those minimalist, glass-fronted places where everyone sat poised in cliques, eyes constantly on the door to see who had come in.

  As she sat on a stool at the bar, Saffron wondered if it had been a good idea to meet Tom here. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb; this was the kind of place where outfit was everything. Tom had had a few days off, and the last time she’d seen him at work, he’d just sat on his glasses by accident and was sticking them back together with silver masking-tape. Saffron hoped fervently he’d managed to visit the optician’s.

  Twenty minutes later he still hadn’t arrived. Saffron looked at her watch. This wasn’t like him. Normally she would be the one who was late, and Tom would be at the bar, waiting with her vodka and cranberry. She’d called earlier to check they were still on for tonight, and his phone had gone straight through to voicemail. He hadn’t called her back. The knot of anxiety growing in her stomach surprised Saffron; she never normally worried about people being late, especially Tom Fellows. She ordered another drink and got her BlackBerry out, playing with it to kill time.

  A few minutes later her mobile went. Tom! But it was her mother. Saffron felt a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. Despite Babs promising to take things slowly, she had been calling Saffron almost every day. Saffron found Babs’s neediness claustrophobic, but the more she backed off, the more desperate her mother became.

  ‘Hi, Babs.’

  ‘Darling! Please call me Mummy, you know how it upsets me if you don’t.’

  Saffron sighed.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ This felt so weird.

  ‘Where are you? It sounds very noisy.’ Before Saffron had a chance to answer, Babs was off and away.

  ‘I’m simply exhausted! I’ve been working on this new exhibition; I swear I haven’t slept in weeks. Will you come and see it with me, darling? I’d love to know what you think.’

  Saffron winced, that would be a tricky one.

  ‘I’d love to, Babs. I mean, Mum . . .’

  ‘Excellent! So, where did you say you were?’

  ‘I didn’t. I’m in a bar waiting to meet someone.’

  Babs took a dramatic intake of breath. ‘Might this someone be a gentleman?’

  ‘Might be,’ Saffron replied shortly. She wasn’t going to get into this now. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Are you using protection?’ Babs cried.

  ‘What? Look. I’m not talking to you about this! I’ll call tomorrow, OK?’

  ‘Promise me you will, darling!’

  Saffron promised and hung up. Her mother left her feeling so confused! Part of her wanted to welcome Babs back with open arms, but the other part wanted to punish her and make her feel crap, the way she herself had felt all these years. She sighed again; why weren’t mother-daughter relationships ever easy?

  Out of the corner of he
r eye, the bar door had opened, and the beautiful crowd started chattering wildly. Saffron turned to see a face and body that had graced just about every advertising board in the land. Dark hair cropped fashionably short framed the heavenly cheekbones, inky black eyes and full lips. The famous torso with wide shoulders and narrow hips was shown off casually in a thin silk John Smedley jumper, and dark jeans. He wore no jewellery, apart from a discreet silver identity bracelet glinting at his wrist – sexy, stylish but not overdone.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s Rex Sullivan!’ cried the rail-thin woman next to Saffron.

  Saffron gasped. Rex Sullivan! Put simply, he was the hottest male model the industry had seen since nineties phenomenon Markus Schenkenberg. Armani, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren . . . everyone wanted a piece of the British-born model.

  Despite the stares in his direction, it seemed Rex Sullivan was heading straight for Saffron. Confused, she looked around to see if Kate Moss or some other model was sitting behind her.

  She couldn’t believe it when he stopped right in front of her. Up close, his looks were magnetic, but there wasn’t a hint of arrogance. In fact, an almost shy expression crossed the model’s face. Hang on, those eyelashes looked familiar . . .

  ‘Er, hi there,’ said Tom Fellows.

  Saffron’s mouth fell open.

  ‘Tom?’

  ‘Sorry I’m late, they took ages in the hairdressers.’

  ‘But how . . . what?’ In shocked wonder, Saffron put her hand up to touch his new haircut.

  Tom looked bashful. ‘I got contacts instead, thought it was about time. And Alexander took me clothes shopping.’ Saffron couldn’t speak. Tom had gone the same colour as Saffron’s red nail varnish. ‘What do you think?’ he asked shyly.

  She looked him up and down. Even his feet looked smaller, dressed as they were in a pair of elegant tan leather shoes.

  ‘I think, I think . . .’ Saffron tried to find the right words. What she really thought was Tom Fellows looked fit as anything, but there was no way she was going to say that. ‘I think you look really nice.’

  Tom looked disappointed at her lukewarm reaction. ‘Really? You don’t think it’s too much?’