by Lulu Taylor
Jemima stared at her with a look of amusement mixed with respect. ‘I’m sure we can,’ she said slowly. ‘I get the feeling we understand each other.’
Daisy felt a tremor of surprise. Jemima Calthorpe reminded her of girls at her old school: born to wealth and privilege, just as she herself had been, and endowed with that magical combination of beauty, brains and confidence. But there was the faintest trace of vulnerability about her, as though she had faced her own demons and was determined to beat them.
‘Maybe we do,’ she said slowly.
Jemima leaned forward. ‘You’re young, I can see that. How old are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? You’re in charge of your own chain of hotels … and you didn’t even inherit it from Daddy.’
Daisy’s stomach flipped over but she tried to keep control of her face and not reveal any of her emotions.
‘I respect that,’ Jemima continued. ‘Really. More than you can know. I’d love for us to be a part of your success story. Because I’ll tell you now, women like you become successes. You don’t rely on anyone else for your motivation – it comes from in here.’ She tapped her chest. The next moment, she was leaning forward, concerned. ‘Hey – are you OK?’
‘Yes.’ Daisy fought for composure, knowing that she was showing her emotions on her face: Jemima’s words had struck home, creating an upsurge of sadness inside her. Was she really succeeding on her own? Was she really capable of making it? Sometimes she became so fixated on the final goal that she forgot she was achieving it all on her own merits. ‘I’m fine, really.’
Jemima didn’t say anything more but watched sympathetically as Daisy composed herself. She brushed away a couple of stray tears and then smiled at the other woman.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. I just … something you said … I’m fine. It’s been a long day.’
‘Really, it’s quite all right.’ Jemima smiled at her. ‘I guess I triggered something. I’m sorry. Shall we finish our wine and I’ll tell you about our pricing options?’
‘That would be great,’ Daisy said, and opened her notebook.
48
MARGARET HAD TOLD Coco to spend as much time with Xander as she could before beginning her mission, and that, for Coco, wasn’t exactly a hardship. He was easy to be with: amusing, good-natured, handsome and always at her disposal.
‘So you don’t have a job?’ she asked him, when he’d spent the morning lounging about on her sofa, watching her finishing up some grammar homework for her coach.
‘Nope!’ Xander gave her one of his grins, and an almost rueful look. ‘’Fraid I’m not really very employable.’
‘Why not? Did you drop out?’
‘Mmm, not exactly. But I came down from Oxford with a third and haven’t set the world alight.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve done some bits and bobs. My pal James gave me a job in his hedge fund for a while, but that didn’t really work out. Too boring and technical for me and I did a rather massive fuck-up one day, lost a ton of cash. James was not a happy bunny and he let me go after that. Then I was a porter in an auction house for a while, and had a go at growing willow to make cricket bats … but I lost interest after a bit.’ He looked a little sheepish. ‘I have lots of friends who don’t really work, you see. It’s not so odd in my experience.’
Coco nodded. She knew plenty of people who didn’t work as well. Her mother had never had a job. ‘So, are you on benefits?’
Xander laughed, looking slightly scandalised. ‘Er, no! Best not to mention things like benefits when you’re hanging out with Will’s crowd. We don’t do benefits. I’ve got an allowance from my dad – though it’s pretty bloody small – and I stay at his house in Onslow Square sometimes. Or I hang out with friends. Or go home to Scotland.’
‘Sounds like a pretty easy life, then.’ Coco stared over at him. Bloody hell, these kids have no idea.
‘It sounds all right, but, you know, it’s stressful. I’m always short of cash. I never have quite enough.’ His voice tailed off and he looked rather wistful.
‘Is that why you’re doing this? I take it Mr Dangerfield’s paying you well to ease me into the inner circle.’
Xander flushed and dropped his gaze to his lap for a moment, twisting his hands. ‘It sounds pretty crumby when you put it like that,’ he said at last. ‘But, yeah, it was a fairly irresistible offer. And I don’t know Will all that well – he’s not my best friend or anything. I mean, we weren’t at school together. He was at Winchester. But I did know him at uni. We moved in the same circles, as they say. He might be surprised to hear from me, but not amazed. It’s likely I’d look him up if we were in the same city.’
‘And you know what his dad’s got planned?’
Xander shrugged, frowning. ‘Not a clue. Look, Will’s a big boy and he can look after himself. I, for one, am pretty certain you’re not going to get much out of him. He’s not a big talker, he’s a private kind of guy. That’s why I thought it would be OK to take the dosh for facilitating a small introduction, you know? God, let’s have a fag. Have you got any?’
Xander, Coco found, never liked to talk about anything serious for long. He was happier chatting away about trivialities and gossip, but it was useful for her. In his long streams of chatter, she picked up plenty of hints about the way his kind expressed themselves, and their interests. For all of Penny’s best efforts, she couldn’t teach Coco the slang and idiom that this circle of privileged youngsters used without thinking about it. Penny wanted her to talk in tightly perfect, grammatical sentences; she didn’t realise that Coco would need to have a lazier, more natural style if she were really going to fit in. All of this Coco was quietly picking up from Xander, along with his attitudes. Actually, his careless, live-in-the-moment approach to money wasn’t all that different from her own; they both shared the belief that something would turn up, and it always did.
There was also something else she could see about him almost from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, but she said nothing about that. She wasn’t the nosy type, and she was sure enough of her instincts.
‘Hey,’ Xander said one day, when they’d spent the afternoon smoking and drinking, coffee for Coco and pints for Xander, outside a pub in South Ken, ‘I need some cash. I’m going to see my sister tonight, she usually helps out when I’m short. Do you want to come? She works at this amazingly smart nightclub, it’ll be worth seeing.’
‘Yeah, OK.’ Coco perked up. A nightclub. That meant dancing. She realised that it was a long time since she’d danced and longed to lose herself in music again, find the wonderful escape she’d always loved so much. What would she wear? Something short and glittery for getting attention on the dance floor, and the highest heels in her wardrobe. She had a sparkly dress that Leanne had said would be good for smart poolside parties on warm nights. That was just the thing.
When she opened the front door to Xander later that evening in her shimmering dress and silver platforms, her hair a glossy curtain of golden caramel and her lips a shining red, she was surprised to see him in a jacket and tie, though his blond hair was typically dishevelled and he had a light growth of stubble over his chin.
‘Ah,’ he said, grinning, ‘you look terrific. Like a big silver … Easter Egg.’
‘Thanks a lot! That’s not the look I’m going for,’ Coco said crossly. ‘Why are you wearing a tie? You don’t wear a tie when you go clubbing!’
‘Crossed wires,’ he said apologetically. ‘I should have said. It’s not like going clubbing. Look, you’ll be fine. Lots of the girls wear gorgeous dresses like that one. But the blokes wear ties, OK? Come on.’
It was ten o’clock when they arrived in Berkeley Square, Xander explaining that he wanted to get there early so he could see his sister without too many distractions as she got busier when the club filled up. The square didn’t look like the kind of place where you’d find a club, in Coco’s opinion, and there was no queue, no sound of thudding music and no bouncers. There wasn’t even a huddle of barely dressed
smokers on the pavement indicating where the action was. Xander led her towards a grand Regency house with a tented awning at the front and to the side, a doorman in a smart navy uniform and peaked cap standing next to it.
‘Evening, Harry,’ Xander greeted him as they got close.
‘Evening, Mr McCorquodale,’ said the doorman with a smile of recognition.
‘My sister’s in tonight?’
‘Oh, yes, sir.’
‘Good, good.’ He looked over his shoulder at Coco. ‘Let’s go down.’
They went under the awning and down a flight of stairs, and the next moment they were walking into a long, narrow hallway, through a pair of open saloon-style doors painted the same dull cream as the walls, past the cloakrooms and down underneath the great house above.
‘This is Colette’s,’ Xander explained. ‘Bit of an institution. It was started by my uncle David in the sixties, and my sister helps him run it now he’s getting on a bit.’ He greeted a man in a dark suit standing by a small reception-style window. ‘Evening, Gennaro, I’ve got one guest tonight. Do I need to sign her in?’
‘Good evening, sir. No, as it’s you, that’s fine,’ the man returned in a smooth voice with a hint of an Italian accent. ‘Lady Allegra is in the bar.’
Bloody hell, thought Coco, who’d been reduced to awed silence. This was not what she’d been expecting. This place, with its atmosphere of louche luxury, was not her idea of a nightclub. Lady Allegra? What the fuck?’ ‘You didn’t say your sister was a lady,’ she hissed, as they continued down towards the hall. ‘What are you, a lord?’
‘Nope, just an Honourable. Sorry. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything.’
He led the way into the bar area, a warm and comfortable place painted in pumpkin yellow and hung with all manner of paintings, mostly of racing, and framed vintage cartoons. Several people were sitting about, or leaning on the bar, or in a cosy seating area across the hall, where there were red velvet banquettes and silk cushions below a vaulted ceiling. Behind the bar, a large man in a grey jacket that strained at the buttons was mixing a cocktail, and an exquisite girl with a thick mane of blonde hair was watching him.
‘Sinbad, it never ceases to amaze me how brilliantly you do that,’ she was saying as Xander darted up and put his hands on her back where her halter-necked black dress had left it bare. She squealed and turned round. Immediately, Coco could see the resemblance to Xander in the girl’s fine-featured face and her navy blue eyes with their frame of dark lashes. ‘Xander!’ she cried, her surprise melting into pleasure. ‘What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming in.’
‘I wanted to see you.’ He dropped a kiss on his sister’s cheek. Her gaze moved over his shoulder to Coco and her eyebrows rose quizzically. Coco smiled back timidly, feeling out of her depth again.
Xander pulled away and indicated her with a movement of his hand. ‘Allegra, this is my friend Coco. Coco, my sister Allegra.’
‘Hi,’ Coco said in a small voice. She had never felt this intimidated. This girl was gorgeous, and clearly strong and intelligent with it, and she was a goddamned lady. How lucky could one person be?
‘Hi, Coco.’ Allegra smiled in a friendly enough way, but there was a spark of suspicion in her eyes. ‘Well, this is a nice surprise. Shall I get Sinbad to mix us all some drinks?’
The barman made house cocktails, then Allegra led them through to the banquettes in the seating area while she and Xander swapped family gossip and talked about how the club was doing. It was quiet, considering it was going on for ten-thirty, and Allegra talked wistfully about how she hoped to attract more young people into the club but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Coco sipped her delicious drink – it had lemon in it, she was sure – and listened to Allegra and Xander talking. After a while, they went through to the back of the club, passing cosy sitting areas in small vaulted bays, then going through a darkly glamorous restaurant area where the pillars were covered in gleaming beaten brass panels, and a dance floor that twinkled with stars, although there weren’t any dancers on it yet. Some boppy pop music played and Coco gazed wistfully at the dance floor as she passed. It wasn’t exactly her favourite track but she still itched to get moving to the beat.
‘It’s such a bore having to come out here,’ Allegra said, leading them out of a back door into a tiny area open to the night sky, ‘but I suppose the ban is making us all smoke less!’
‘You guys go ahead,’ Xander said, ‘I’ll be back in mo’.’
He disappeared back inside, leaving Coco and Allegra alone together. Coco felt very ill at ease with the other girl as they lit up and puffed away. After a pause that seemed to be going on forever, Allegra blew out a long stream of smoke that looked white in the darkness and spoke.
‘So,’ she said, in a slightly cooler tone, ‘are you Xander’s new girlfriend?’
‘Oh, no,’ Coco said quickly, sensing the undercurrent of hostility. ‘It’s not like that. He’s just a friend.’ It was true. She thought Xander was very good-looking and he made her laugh, but he didn’t do anything for her. There was no spark.
‘Oh. A friend.’ Allegra tapped her ash and tossed her blonde hair back over one shoulder. ‘Right. OK. I hope you’re a good friend, and not a bad one. You see, Xander has plenty of bad friends and he doesn’t need any more … enablers.’
Coco said quickly, ‘Don’t worry, I’m a good influence. I promise.’
‘Has he asked you for money?’
‘No. Actually, he’s going to ask you for some.’ Coco gave her a little apologetic smile.
Allegra sighed. Her hostility softened. ‘I know. He usually does. What can I do? I have to give it to him, though I’ll make him work for it. I’ve got something he can do for me. I can’t have him starving on the streets. But I do worry about him.’
‘Why?’ Coco asked. Her suspicions about Xander appeared well grounded. ‘He seems OK. Just a bit directionless.’
‘Well …’
Just then Xander came back, taking a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. ‘Panic’s over, ladies. I’m back.’ He lit up his cigarette. ‘What’ve you been talking about?’
‘You,’ Allegra said pointedly.
‘Ah. Is that my favourite topic? I can’t quite decide. On second thoughts, it isn’t. Tell me how things are getting on here. How’s David?’
‘Fine, fine.’ Allegra seemed distracted now, Coco noticed. ‘Listen, Xander, I’ve got something that needs doing. I want you to pay Jemima a visit. She’s got some samples for me and I said I’d collect them but I’m tied up here. As she’s family, I want to keep her sweet …’
‘Ah, the deadly McCorquodale charm. Don’t worry. I can do it.’
‘Thanks, honey. There’s a nice tip in it for you if you do.’
Xander smiled. ‘Excellent. I’m getting a bit low, as a matter of fact. But I’m off on a trip quite soon – with Coco, as it happens.’ Allegra threw her another look but said nothing. ‘So I’d appreciate it if you can give me the money now and I’ll squeeze in a duty call to Jemima before I go.’
‘OK.’ Allegra dropped her cigarette butt and ground it out with the sole of her elegant shoe. ‘Let’s go to the office and I’ll get it for you.’
Coco and Xander left Colette’s about an hour later, after he had returned from the office with Allegra. He was looking happy and patting his pocket. ‘All done, we can get out of here.’
But he hadn’t wanted to go home. Instead he’d suggested a late-night drink in Soho.
‘OK,’ Coco said slowly. They were out in the dark London streets, taxis roaring past them and people wandering by on their way to stations and bus stops. She turned to face him. ‘Xander, did you need money so you could go and score?’
He grinned at her sheepishly. ‘Mmm. Maybe. Are you shocked?’
She stared at him. If you only knew. She thought back to Jamal, and the days of trading drugs all over South London. It was partly men like Xander who kept the whole sorry bu
siness going: the rich boys who had no idea of the misery and death their habits were dealing out to others with the misfortune to be born at the other end of the scale. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not shocked.’
‘Good,’ he said happily. ‘Well, we can score together then, can’t we?’ He looked at her eagerly, obviously hoping she might be a partner in the undertaking.
Coco shook her head. ‘I don’t do drugs.’
‘What, nothing?’
‘Maybe a spliff. But nothing else.’
‘Oh.’ Xander looked cross suddenly, like a little boy who’d been caught being naughty. ‘You’re going to disapprove of me, aren’t you?’
‘No, man,’ Coco said, slipping back into her old jargon. ‘Your life is your life. You do what you like. I’m not judging anyone. Do what makes you happy.’
His face cleared. ‘Good. Come on then, it won’t take long.’
He hurried off along the pavement, eager to get to his dealer. Coco followed behind, shivering a little despite her coat. No wonder he’d needed money. And she’d been able to read the signs of a habit on his face – the subtle pointers were all there.
She understood now. It was the dark side of having everything.
49
THE LAUNCH OF the new chain was not so far off now. Daisy was spending most of her time racing between one hotel and another, solving problems as they arose and overseeing the work. The transformation was already remarkable: where there had been a motley collection of different styles, menus, decoration and service, there was now cohesion and a noticeable, but not overbearing, brand identity. The Craven Hotels logo, a grey oval with an elegant C and H inside, was discreetly present. The new membership cards had just arrived for those customers who wanted to join the loyalty scheme, and they were very smart: pale cream with the grey logo in the middle and nothing else. All the membership details were on the back instead of the front.
It was a relief to take a day off and go to London. Daisy had decided to ask Trevellyan to provide the hotel toiletries and was taking the contracts to Jemima herself so that they could celebrate their partnership. She had struck up an instant rapport with the other woman, despite the age difference of a few years between them, and was keen to see her again. Jemima felt like the first real friend she had made since she’d started life as Daphne Fraser, a proper girlfriend she wanted to confide in and laugh with and just be herself – well, as much herself as it was possible to be.