Sister to Sister

by Olivia Hayfield

What did the text say?

  There was a tap on the door, and Pippa’s face appeared round it. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt; Mackenzie’s wondering if there’s anything she can do? Or should she just leave? she says.’

  ‘I’ll come have a word,’ said Chess.

  Eliza had started to shake; she felt sick.

  Had Amy killed herself?

  But surely Chess was right – throwing herself down a flight of stairs wouldn’t be the way to do that?

  How will we get through this?

  Chess came back in. ‘Mac’s gone. Are you going to be OK? You look terrible.’

  ‘I can’t see the way ahead,’ she said, beginning to cry as Chess hugged her. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Sit tight, Eliza. That’s all we can do. Wait until we have a clearer picture. I’m sure it was an accident. And if it wasn’t, then . . . you know she’s suffered from depression for a long time, on and off. She had it all through her relationship with Rob. Look, why don’t you go home? Shall I sort you a taxi?’

  ‘I don’t want to be alone. Kit. Find Kit.’

  ‘Kit? Why?’

  ‘Just find him, please?’

  Chess gave her a quizzical look, but left the room again.

  Eliza wiped away her tears, sat back and shut her eyes.

  The door opened again, and then Kit was there, holding her tight. Immediately she felt calmer.

  ‘Come on, I’ll take you home.’

  He got them a cab, and back at the apartment he wrapped her in a blanket and made her Marmite toast and tea.

  He sat beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Gradually the terrible feelings that had swamped her – the dread, the guilt – receded, and she was able to take a step back.

  ‘Poor Amy,’ she said.

  ‘I had . . . ’ He shook his head.

  ‘You had what?’

  ‘I don’t know. A sense of something.’

  She remembered his strange words that time at his house.

  ‘Tell me what you know, Kit.’

  ‘Amy’s mind was in a dark place.’

  ‘But you never met her! How could you know that?’

  ‘No idea. I rarely understand my own mind, as you know.’

  ‘My god.’

  ‘Where’s Rob?’

  ‘He won’t see me.’

  ‘Don’t push it.’

  ‘How do we get through this, Kit? Me and Rob?’

  ‘Give him space. He’ll have some serious shit to work through.’

  ‘So . . . you don’t think it was an accident?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. It was going to happen, that’s all I know.’

  Kit stayed over, and the next morning Eliza rang Pippa to say she’d be in later. There was no word from Rob, and she took Chess’s advice to leave him alone, to wait until he contacted her. Kit had made her switch off her phone, but it was time to talk to Harry.

  At the sound of his voice, she began to cry. ‘Dad, I don’t know what to do. Rob . . . he hasn’t been in touch. Is this partly my fault?’

  ‘No, Lizzie. I know what you’re feeling and, more to the point, what he’s feeling. Guilt’s a horrible thing.’

  ‘But, Dad. Those things you said to me. About people being fragile, about not smashing their relationships. Treading carefully.’

  ‘You waited – you did everything properly. Rob’s marriage was clearly a mistake. And he’ll come right, it’ll just take time.’

  Kit appeared, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

  ‘I’m talking to Dad,’ she said.

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Harry.

  ‘Kit. I asked him to stay.’

  Harry was silent. ‘Are the press outside?’

  Eliza hadn’t even considered the possibility. She went over to the window and saw a group of photographers and reporters on the path below.

  ‘Oh god, they are, yes.’

  ‘Have you seen this morning’s news?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right. The press are all over the story. I’d strongly advise you to avoid the newspapers and TV. It’s all idle speculation. And, of course, they’re loving it – they build you up to knock you down. I might have some experience of that myself.’

  ‘What are they saying?’ She steeled herself.

  ‘All tediously predictable. Sweet, gentle nurse versus fiery media queen temptress.’

  ‘Temptress?’

  ‘I warned you about that dress.’

  ‘It was just a look.’

  ‘It’s never just a look.’

  ‘Are we back in the twentieth century?’

  ‘As far as the likes of the Sun are concerned, we absolutely are.’ He paused. ‘And I’m afraid . . . there was a copy of the Standard on Amy’s bed. The press are making much of the fact that you and Rob were on the front page.’

  Eliza couldn’t help picturing it – Amy staring at the photograph, the confirmation that he’d moved on, right there in front of her eyes.

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘It’s not necessarily significant. And remember, it’ll be yesterday’s news soon. But you do need to make sure they don’t see Kit.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Eliza, for heaven’s sake! You’ve been in this business long enough. Kit’s reputation . . . well, my own pales into insignificance. It wouldn’t be wise to let the press know he spent the night with you.’

  ‘This is stupid.’

  ‘And, Lizzie. There’s obviously a question mark over Rob until they’ve established a time of death. I’m sure he’ll be in the clear soon, but be aware of the finger-pointing.’

  ‘What? You mean . . . ? But that’s ridiculous!’

  ‘He left Richmond early enough to have caught her before work. Their place is only across the park. That’s why the police need to be thorough. Look, I’d say come home, but I think you should ride this out. Go to work, carry on as normal. Hold your head high; don’t skulk.’

  Kit sneaked out a side door, his hair tucked under a baseball hat of Eliza’s, and soon after, dressed in a sensible-length skirt and jacket, Eliza headed off to work, stopping for a quick word with the press pack outside before hailing a cab.

  Yes, it was dreadful news about Rob’s ex-wife. Her thoughts were with Amy’s family at this difficult time. No, she hadn’t been seeing Rob behind Amy’s back; they’d waited for his divorce to come through. No further comment.

  Chapter 36

  Eliza

  The gauntlet to the top floor was lined with staff pretending not to stare. Receptionists, security guards, staff milling in the atrium or waiting for the lifts – familiar faces that always had a smile for Eliza.

  Today, none of them met her eye.

  Even Pippa. ‘Oh . . . Eliza. I thought you probably wouldn’t be in.’

  ‘Can you get me a coffee? Then come through and update me.’

  She scrolled through her email inbox. Nothing that couldn’t wait.

  One from Terri.

  Eliza – #MeToo piece on hold. Here if you need me X

  One from Mac:

  Hi Eliza

  I’m so sorry about what has happened to Rob. This must be a difficult time for you.

  Further to our meeting I’m attaching my CV and hope to hear from you once you’ve had a chance to liaise with your HR dept (or @ People!). As I mentioned, perhaps a role in Marketing would be a good fit?

  Warmest regards

  Mac

  Mac could bloody wait. How much did she know? Not that it was any of her business. How much did anyone know? What were people saying? Why those looks from her staff, who’d always been nothing but loyal and friendly?

  Harry’s words about avoiding the press coverage were sensible. Yet how could she get things back on track unless she knew what she was dealing with?

  She googled Amy Hart death Rob Studley Eliza Rose, and clicked on the Daily Mail’s website.

  It was the lead story. The headline read:

  ‘AMY WAS DEVASTATED BY THEIR
SPLIT.’ WIFE OF ELIZA ROSE’S LOVER FOUND DEAD AT HOME

  Beneath the headline was the Evening Standard photo Harry had shown her, captioned: A newspaper article featuring this photo was found close to Amy’s body.

  Eliza closed her eyes for a moment before reading on.

  Amy Studley, wife of Rose Corp film producer Rob Studley, was found dead yesterday at her Kingston home. Her body was reportedly discovered by her husband at the foot of a staircase.

  Studley has recently been seen in public with media boss Eliza Rose, daughter of five-timesmarried Harry Rose, former head of Rose Corp.

  A source close to Amy, a paediatric nurse, told the Mail she’d been suffering from depression after discovering her husband’s affair. ‘Amy was devastated by Rob’s desertion. I was so worried about her, all alone in that big house.’

  The reason for Studley’s visit yesterday morning remains unclear. He is currently helping police with their enquiries . . .

  She exited the website as Pippa came in.

  ‘Eliza, all the calls about . . . what’s happened. We’re putting them through to the PR department. There’s a statement saying nobody will be commenting until the police have finished their investigation. We thought it best not to include a sympathy quote from you.’

  ‘Right. I need you to tell me the truth, Pippa. What’s the office grapevine’s take on this?’

  ‘Much as you’d expect. Did Amy fall, or did she throw herself down the stairs because of you and Rob. Some – quite a few – saying maybe they had a row that got physical. Even that she was pushed. And people don’t know what the staircase looked like, so they’re speculating about whether it was high enough for Amy to have . . . well. It’s all awful, anyway.’

  It was worse than awful. How could anyone imagine Rob would be capable of hurting Amy. Of killing her?

  ‘Thanks, that’s helpful. Let’s attempt to continue as normal until there’s further news.’

  Next, Eliza called Chess.

  ‘How is he?’ she asked, as soon as her cousin answered.

  ‘Hi, Eliza.’ Chess dropped her voice. ‘The police are all done with him. The time of death’s been established – between eight p.m. and midnight. Rob’s in the clear. Amy’s family are waiting on the post-mortem report so they can organize the funeral. We’ll be going up to Kenilworth with Rob when it’s all sorted, so long as there’s no need for an inquest.’

  ‘But how is he?’

  ‘A little better than he was.’

  ‘He hasn’t been in touch.’

  ‘No. I’m afraid he’s still beating himself up. It was only yesterday he found her, Eliza.’

  ‘I haven’t had a word from him, Chess. Not a word!’ Tears threatened. ‘Where is he? Still at yours?’

  ‘Yes, with Gil. The press are outside – you mustn’t go round.’

  ‘So what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Let me speak to him tonight. I know how hard this must be for you.’

  Eliza ended the call and brought up Rob’s contact details. Her hands were shaking as she texted: Please, Rob. Don’t shut me out. xx

  By the time Eliza went to bed that night, there was no reply.

  The post-mortem confirmed Amy’s neck had broken as a result of falling down the stairs. The report stated there was no reason to suppose it was anything other than an accident, in spite of the victim’s history of depression.

  The press stopped pointing the finger at Rob, instead using the term ‘mysterious circumstances’, and interest died down.

  At last, almost two weeks after Amy’s death, Eliza received a response to all the messages she’d sent.

  ROB: Sorry. Can I come over tonight?

  She almost cried with relief as she texted back.

  ELIZA: Of course. Home around 6.30 xxx

  Would he want to eat? Would he stay the night? Eliza moved between the kitchen and the living area, tidying up, plumping cushions, in a fever of nervous energy. She poured herself a glass of wine to steady her nerves.

  He arrived at seven, looking tired and drawn. He glanced at her quickly, saying nothing as he came in.

  ‘Rob, this is all so awful. I’ve been out of my mind worrying about you.’

  ‘Sorry. With everything . . . I thought it best to stay away.’ He walked ahead of her down the hallway.

  ‘It’s been hell for me too,’ said Eliza. ‘The papers painted me as the bad guy.’

  He stopped and turned, and his dark eyes flashed. ‘Why is it always about you, Eliza?’

  She flinched. ‘I’m sorry. Please, Rob, don’t do this to us.’ The tears came, and she reached out a hand. ‘Rob?’

  He regarded her for a moment, then his expression softened. ‘I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.’

  They held each other tight, saying nothing for a long time.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked, as they sat down on the sofa.

  ‘We should.’

  ‘You got a text from her. That morning at Richmond.’

  He sighed. ‘It was from the night before.’

  She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. Did she really want to know what it said? Did she have a right to know?

  ‘It was ambiguous,’ he said. ‘It said, I hope you’ll . . . I hope you’ll be . . . ’ He couldn’t continue; he squeezed his eyes shut.

  ‘Oh god, Rob.’

  He opened them, and they were full of tears.

  He took a breath. ‘It said, I hope you’ll be happy. I thought . . . ’ He choked up again. ‘I thought, when I got it, she was being snarky – as in, I hope you’ll be as miserable as sin. Last time I saw her she was pretty angry. But then I wondered – that was why I left early. And now . . . I think it was a goodbye, Lizzie.’

  He looked away from her, swiping at his tears.

  She pulled him close, and he buried his face in her shoulder.

  ‘You can’t know that,’ she said, rubbing his back, trying to absorb some of his pain.

  ‘The divorce coming through, though . . . ’

  ‘Rob, surely she wouldn’t attempt suicide by throwing herself down a flight of stairs. Chances are you’d end up with a crack on the head and a few broken bones. Painful, but not lethal. Right?’

  ‘It’s a steep staircase. Pretty lethal, actually.’

  ‘Well, the police didn’t think so, and neither do I.’

  He pulled back and looked at her. ‘Really?’

  Probably not, but she needed to be strong for him.

  ‘The police know their stuff. Don’t blame yourself.’

  He blew out a breath. ‘I don’t know how to move on.’

  ‘I’ll help you work through it.’ She took his face in her hands and kissed him, then wiped away his tears with her thumbs. ‘Me and you. We’re OK?’

  He sniffed, gave her a weak smile. ‘Always.’

  She fetched a box of tissues and handed them to him. ‘Do you want to eat? I got something in.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Will you stay tonight?’

  ‘Not tonight. I’m sorry, my head’s still all over the place.’

  ‘So what would you like to do?’

  ‘Truth? Sleep.’

  He stretched out, put his head in her lap and closed his eyes. As she stroked his hair, he fell asleep.

  Amy’s death was already old news, but Eliza was painfully aware that her golden-girl image had been tarnished. Predictably, the press had had a field day putting their spin on the story, and while her friends and family told her to ignore it, that wasn’t so easy. Mud stuck, and it was going to be a long time before she managed to regain her former shine. Meantime, there was no way she could be seen out and about with Rob.

  It was Leigh who suggested a way forward.

  ‘We really need a RoseGold presence in the US, Eliza. And Rob’s so good at this stuff now – wheeling and dealing. I do the walking, he does the talking. It’s better face to face. It’ll take a while to recruit the right people, make the right c
ontacts. Rob should be there for all that. And it’ll take his mind off things.’

  Eliza felt bleak at the prospect of him being away, but recognized the sense in her words.

  ‘You’re right. And we need a marketing campaign there for Most Human. Rob should manage that.’

  She broached the subject a couple of days later.

  ‘Leigh already discussed it with me,’ he said. ‘It’s a no-brainer. I need to go, and it’ll stop the gossip about us. By the time I get back – probably two, three months – it’ll be ancient history.’

  ‘I’ll miss you so much, though. It’s going to be hard.’

  ‘What’s a couple more months on top of the . . . ’ he thought for a moment, ‘one hundred and eighty-three I waited.’

  She laughed. ‘I forgot you’re good at maths.’

  ‘I’ll be counting down the days. Yes, it’ll be hard, but I think it’ll see us back on track.’

  ‘Please, god, let that finally happen.’

  It was the night before Rob was due to fly out, and he was cooking a farewell dinner at her flat, grimacing at her supermarket-brand ingredients as he lobbed them into his stir-fry.

  Eliza smiled as she watched him showing off, but her expression changed as she contemplated the weeks to come.

  Rob noticed. ‘Cheer up, Snow White. And I’m sorry I haven’t been the greatest company recently.’

  ‘Don’t apologize.’

  ‘I hope this time away will get me sorted.’

  ‘Me too. You’ve lost your twinkle, Rob.’

  ‘You’re not so sparkly, either.’

  He poured them each a glass of wine. ‘Let’s drink to getting some of that back.’

  He stayed the night, and it was the first time since . . . their first time. There was none of the joy or magic, and there was a sense of them together against the world, shutting it all out. But by morning Eliza felt their reconnection, and wondered if they’d turned the corner.

  Summer faded into melancholy autumn, and the morning air grew sharper as Eliza walked to work.

  She organized a PR position in women’s magazines for Mac. The marketing director wasn’t happy about it, but Eliza explained that Mac’s substantial shareholding meant she had a right to choose her career path at Rose.