Guilty Pleasures

by Tasmina Perry

  He shrugged and motioned with his thumb towards the other side of the hotel.

  ‘I was having a drink in Panton’s bar with a friend. There’s a big notice-board in the lobby saying that the Milford dinner dance was in the Gainsborough restaurant and, well, I just wanted to come and say hi.’

  ‘Well, hi,’ she said curtly, unconsciously smoothing down the thin black velvet of her cocktail dress, then stopping herself.

  ‘So how’ve you been?’ said Rob after a pause.

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Rob with a nervous laugh. ‘Me too, I haven’t even been to Chilcot for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Yes, the Christmas party season must be hectic,’ she said, unable to stop it coming out like a barb. Rob looked like he was about to reply, then thought better of it. Instead, he said, ‘I’ve been in New York quite a lot. It was Polly’s birthday among other things.’

  Emma did not want him to spoil her night and she was cross with both Rob and herself that his presence at the party was doing just that.

  ‘Look, I’d better go,’ said Emma, looking across the dance floor.

  ‘OK, sure. Listen, I heard you were staying in Chilcot for Christmas. I’m off to Courchevel on Boxing Day but I’m around on Christmas Day if you fancied a festive drink at the Feathers?’

  ‘I really don’t know what my plans are yet,’ she lied, wondering who he was going to Courchevel with. Another glamorous blonde, no doubt.

  ‘Well, whatever you do, I hope it’s fun,’ said Rob, giving Emma his playboy smile. Suddenly it had lost all its charm.

  ‘And if you want to have some fun together, just give me a call and I’ll…’

  ‘Rob, don’t,’ she snapped, cutting him off.

  ‘Don’t what?’ he frowned.

  ‘Don’t flirt with me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You truly are an insensitive bastard, you know that,’ she replied shaking her head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard,’ she said, already walking away from him.

  He pulled her arm.

  ‘Look, Emma, there’s something you should know.’

  At that moment Virginia appeared behind Emma.

  ‘Darling, I need to talk to you,’ she said, putting an arm around her shoulders. For once, Emma welcomed her mother’s interruption. Whatever Rob wanted to tell her, Emma felt sure it wasn’t going to be good news.

  ‘Oh, hello, Rob,’ said Virginia with little warmth. ‘I’m just trying to persuade Emma to come to Gstaad with us. Roger positively insists she come along and I think it will be so good for the family.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ nodded Rob.

  Emma glared at him, not welcoming the interruption. Her life was none of his business.

  ‘I’ll see you in the New Year, Rob,’ said Emma finally.

  ‘I’d better get back to my friend,’ replied Rob stiffly and turned away.

  ‘I do think it’s wonderfully generous of Roger to invite you to the chalet,’ said Virginia, guiding Emma to the bar. ‘Particularly as you started the year by firing him.’ Emma looked at her mother. She looked great, perhaps twenty years younger than her sixty years in a long-sleeved grey silk cocktail dress worn with a simple string of pearls.

  ‘Cassandra’s going too,’ continued Virginia. ‘Julia tells me there’s been some bad blood there as well so I think you can resolve a lot of differences if you can be bothered to make it.’

  Emma was suddenly in no mood for her mother’s sly digs.

  ‘Oh, Mother, stop it!’ she snapped. ‘Can’t you give your own daughter the benefit of the doubt for once? You make it sound as if I’m the one that’s been in the wrong all year.’ Emma didn’t want to tell her mother about Cassandra’s scheming; after all, business was good and if Cassandra had been trying to further sabotage the company, she hadn’t been successful. Emma hoped her cousin had got the message that she was only hurting Julia’s shareholding; perhaps she had just got bored and had turned her destructive urges elsewhere. Before Virginia could respond, they were interrupted.

  ‘Great speech, Em. I think you’ve won a few more hearts and minds tonight.’

  She looked up to see Ruan, looking disturbingly handsome in a midnight blue tux. His dark hair curled on his collar and buoyed by good food and drink, he seemed a little less intense.

  ‘You two should go and dance,’ said Virginia, motioning towards the packed dance floor. ‘The shop floor just don’t know how it’s done.’

  They all looked towards Albert, the factory janitor, who was twirling his arms around like a helicopter, his large dickie bow flopping round his neck like a dead bird. Emma rolled her eyes at her mother’s snobbery. Albert wasn’t quite Fred Astaire, but he was having a good time and desperately trying to catch the eye of Abby Ferguson, Milford’s marketing executive. Just then, the music changed pace as the singer began to croon Sinatra’s ‘I’ve got you under my skin,’ to a slow, swinging beat.

  ‘Come on then, lady-boss, show us your fancy footwork,’ smiled Ruan pulling Emma towards him and turning her in time to the music. She squealed as he dipped her to the floor and felt herself blush as Ruan expertly whirled her around the floor, suddenly enjoying both the levity and the attention.

  ‘Why, Mr McCormack, I had no idea you were so accomplished,’ grinned Emma.

  ‘Just one of my many talents,’ murmured Ruan into her ear as he turned her smoothly.

  ‘Oh? And what are the others, pray tell?’

  Ruan’s mouth was smiling, but his dark eyes were more intense than ever. ‘That would be telling.’

  Emma felt a blush spread down her neck and across her chest. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. As the music finished and they turned to clap the band, she snuck a sideways glance at Ruan, a curious smile on her face.

  By midnight the crowds were dispersing. The remaining guests were laughing in Panton House’s bar and the noisy chugging of taxis outside was almost drowned by out-of-tune but good-natured Christmas songs being sung by partygoers queuing for their lifts.

  ‘I’m getting a cab to Chilcot. Want to share?’ asked Ruan, flipping up the collar of his charcoal overcoat.

  Emma nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  They climbed into the back seat and the taxi grumbled along the road. Ruan and Emma sat in silence, just watching the village slip past. Emma could see the silvery clock face of the church hovering above a line of shadowy trees like the moon. Ruan had a large honey-coloured cottage right at the end of the village. Emma remembered his parents living there and how the track down the side led to a pond in which they would swim in the summer.

  ‘Do you know all this time I’ve been back in Chilcot I have never been inside your house?’ said Emma, overcome by nostalgia.

  ‘Well, come in then,’ said Ruan. ‘Albert got me a bottle of good Scotch for Christmas that needs drinking.’

  ‘You’ve already opened your Christmas presents?’ said Emma with mock-shock.

  ‘That one, yes. It was bottle-shaped and wrapped in Santa Claus paper so the element of surprise was gone,’ he smiled.

  Ruan let them in with a key he kept under a flowerpot on the window-sill. Innocent country ways, thought Emma with a smile. Inside, there was a stone floor covered with a huge brown rug and the living room was furnished in cosy, if masculine, style. Without thinking Emma decided it needed a female touch. She was embarrassed that she had never been here before. She considered Ruan a friend, but the truth was she barely knew him out of the workplace.

  ‘I can’t believe you haven’t got a Christmas tree,’ she laughed.

  ‘Why put something up, only for it to have to come down a week later?’

  ‘Spoilsport’, she said. ‘I think we need to do something about that, Scrooge.’ She turned and disappeared out of the front door, returning with a twig sprouting leaves and berries which she pushed into the top of an empty wine bottle on the dining-room table.

  ‘What’s that?’ laughed
Ruan.

  ‘Festive cheer,’ she smiled.

  Ruan chuckled and crouched down by the fireplace, busying himself with the task of lighting the coal. Emma flopped onto the sofa and gazed at him breaking up firelighters and arranging kindling.

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without you, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he said, turning around. ‘You’re the business brains and Stella is the design wizard. The sisters did it for themselves.’

  ‘But I couldn’t have understood the industry so quickly without you being there every step of the way, not judging me for my mistakes. In those early days I think I might have given up and gone back to Boston if you hadn’t been there.’

  Satisfied that the fire was burning well, he crawled over and sat on the rug near Emma’s feet.

  ‘Listen, Em, Milford meant everything to my parents and my grandparents before them. My family has worked for Milford for generations and now it means everything to me too. I’ve always wanted the company to do as well as you have and if you’d have been around ten years ago we might already be the British Hermès.’

  ‘Ten years ago I was 20 years old,’ she grinned. ‘The only thing I’d have been good for at Milford is making cups of tea.’

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘England?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘One summer you were there, the next you’d gone. I thought you’d got a place at Oxford or something, but then I heard you’d gone to Harvard.’

  ‘America suited me better,’ she said, smirking at the thought that Ruan had taken a vague interest in her whereabouts. Had she had known that as an 18-year-old she’d have been doing cartwheels – perhaps she might even have taken up her place at Oxford. She lay back on the sofa, her eyes closing.

  ‘Ruan, I think you’d better call me a cab. I’m completely beat.’

  He picked up the phone and made a call.

  ‘There’s no taxis for at least forty-five minutes. They’re all at Panton Hall ferrying everyone home,’ he said finally putting down the receiver.

  ‘Then I’ll walk.’

  Ruan laughed.

  ‘Don’t be mad! You don’t want to go walking through the estate at this time of night. I saw Rob at the party. Maybe he’s still there and could pick you up on the way past.’

  ‘No!’ she shouted.

  Ruan looked surprised and then gave a low laugh.

  ‘I did hear a rumour.’

  ‘What rumour?’ said Emma feeling her cheeks blaze pink.

  ‘You and Rob?’

  It felt wrong to lie to him, especially in his own home.

  Finally she shrugged. ‘It was a one-off. A mental aberration. I knew he was a bit of a bastard and I thought I’d be the last person to get caught in his web.’

  ‘You women, you’re so predictable,’ he tutted. She picked up a newspaper from the sofa and hit him with it.

  ‘That’s right, rub it in. I’m a sucker for a handsome face and a fat wallet.’ She sat back in the sofa and sipped the whisky he had offered her. ‘Anyway, what about you? You were the heart-throb of Chilcot. Sorry, the whole of Oxfordshire; I thought you’d have settled down years ago.’

  ‘Well, I almost did. I got engaged about three years ago,’ he said frankly.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she said, suddenly curious about what sort of woman Ruan would be interested in. ‘So … ?’

  ‘So she left me for someone else.’

  ‘Handsome face, fat wallet?’ smiled Emma sadly.

  ‘Something like that. And the last woman I fell for was married. So here I am. Still single. I guess you could say I haven’t had the best of luck.’

  He gave her a long penetrating look which unnerved her considerably, but she was too tired to try to get up. All she could do was sit there, thinking how good-looking he was and what a waste it was that he was alone. Certainly Ruan was more handsome than Rob and Mark, but they had been able to arouse great passion in Emma, a passion that had taken her out of her comfort zone and had made her feel alive, whether it was deliriously happy or prickling with rage.

  Ruan was another sort of man entirely. More stable, more solid. Hard-working and serious, in many ways he reminded her of herself. He had consistently been her friend and supporter and she was terribly fond of him.

  Suddenly she felt Ruan take off her shoes and put them to the side of the fireplace. The small, intimate gesture sent a jolt through her and she sat up.

  ‘Let me pull out the sofa-bed for you,’ he said softly.

  He pulled himself up onto his knees and as he did so, his face passed within inches of Emma’s. Before she could even think about what she was doing she reached forward and put her hand on his cheek, guiding him down until their lips pressed gently together. Her eyes closed and she enjoyed the soft, natural sensation of their kiss. She felt him pull away gently and her split second of pleasure was replaced with an unbearable awkwardness.

  ‘I’m drunk,’ she smiled, trying to make light of it.

  ‘You’re my boss,’ he corrected quietly. ‘Otherwise it might be different.’

  ‘Look, I’d better go,’ she said quickly, moving to get up.

  ‘You’re drunk and tired,’ he said with a low laugh. ‘Crash here. I’ll just get you a blanket.’

  As he brought over a tartan wool throw their eyes locked and she felt herself flush.

  ‘I’m not embarrassed if you’re not,’ said Ruan and Emma smiled gratefully.

  She remembered him turning off the living room light and the gentle padding of his feet as he went upstairs. The next thing she knew her eyes were open and dawn light was cracking through the cottage window. She squinted at her watch: 8 a.m. Ruan was still asleep and the Milford office had officially closed for Christmas. She was desperate for a cup of coffee but there was no time to hang around – she swung her legs off the sofa, moaning as she felt the pain in her head. Speaking in a low voice, she called a taxi and went across to the chair where her coat had been flung. She winced at the memory of last night as she spotted her shoes by the fireplace where Ruan left them, a small but potent reminder of what had happened. How could I have been so bloody stupid? she thought. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the thought of staying in Chilcot and bumping into either Rob or Ruan made her cringe. But there was another option and as she heard the taxi toot outside Ruan’s cottage, she made up her mind. She was going to take the lesser of the two evils. She was going to Gstaad.

  54

  Sitting outside one of Gstaad’s most popular cafés, Tom unzipped his ski jacket, took a sip of black coffee, and watched the Gstaad wonderland go by. Tom was usually unmoved by anything Cassandra loved, but he had to admit that the gingerbread houses with their powdered sugar snow twinkling in the fading afternoon light was enough to convince anyone that Gstaad was the prettiest village in the world. And to think he almost hadn’t come. Not that it had been plain sailing. The bruising around his eye had already prompted difficult questions from Virginia and Roger and he’d almost rather face those goons again than have another showdown with Cassandra, who was due to arrive at the Milford chalet any second. His sister had consistently refused to take his phone calls since that stupid party in Paris. It was ludicrous! Nearly a year had passed and yet she was still behaving as if he’d killed her puppy or something. But then, even with that little pleasure hanging over his head, somehow the sights and the smells of Gstaad made it all seem worthwhile.

  ‘Emma! Hey, Emma, over here!’

  Emma was looking good. Fresh off the slopes, she had a healthy pink-cheeked glow and her smile was wide as she hoiked her skis off her shoulder and sat down next to him.

  ‘Tom! I didn’t know you were coming!’ she cried, reaching over to give him a kiss with genuine affection. ‘I could have done with some company on the Wasserngrat.’

  ‘I’m out of action,’ shrugged Tom. He was reckless by nature, but even he wasn’t convinced his knees would be strong enough to snowboard after being hit with a ba
seball bat two weeks earlier. ‘I think the booze and cigarettes are finally catching up with me.’

  ‘Oh yes? Stella told me you were trying to quit.’

  ‘You’ve been talking about me behind my back then, have you?’ he replied, secretly pleased.

  ‘I’ve been curious since the second I heard you’d both been down to St Ives to see her dad,’ she nudged him in the ribs.

  ‘We’re just friends,’ he said quickly.

  ‘I’m glad. She needs cheering up. Johnny Brinton is a viper. I saw him all over some woman at the Dugdale Festival. I tried to tell Stella but she didn’t want to hear it at the time. I don’t blame her. When you’re in love who wants to hear it?’

  ‘Viper? He’s a worm. No, he’s lower than a worm. He’s a slug!’

  ‘Just friends, hey?’ smiled Emma sensing the fierce, protective tone in Tom’s voice.’

  ‘Stella’s great.’

  Emma started laughing quietly.

  Tom sat bolt upright in his chair.

  ‘Emma Bailey! You work in fashion for two minutes and already you’ve become this terrible gossip. What’s happened to you?’

  ‘I heard about Chessie,’ said Emma, more seriously.

  ‘Did Stella tell you what else happened at Trencarrow? It turns out that Christopher has been sculpting all this time. I’m going to have a word with my mum to see if she can introduce him to a big gallery in London.’

  It was only then that Tom realized with a sinking feeling that he still hadn’t asked Julia about Christopher. After all she had done for him, it somehow felt rude asking her to suggest a big London gallery for Christopher. But then Tom had to admit he wasn’t really doing it for Christopher; he was doing it for Stella.

  He glanced at his watch.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’d better go and face the music’

  Emma pulled a face.

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think they’ll be back yet,’ he said, patting her hand. ‘They’re still at the Eagle Club having lunch. Apparently Cassandra’s gone straight up there to meet all her terrible Eurotrash friends. She finds it terribly embarrassing that Roger goes up there. My heart bleeds.’