Guilty Pleasures

by Tasmina Perry

  ‘I’d forgotten what a beautiful house it is,’ said Astrid as Winterfold loomed into view, the drive lined with torches, its windows glowing pumpkin. ‘Do you think it’s more beautiful than ours?’

  ‘So I suppose now you want to move?’ said Blake sardonically, turning round.

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ snapped Astrid. ‘I was just saying how fabulous it is. But at least someone suitable like Rob Holland lives here now. It would have been frightful if Roger and Rebecca Milford had moved in.’

  ‘What have you got against them?’ asked Cassandra, feeling slightly defensive about her own flesh and blood.

  ‘Dreadful social climbers, the pair of them,’ said Astrid. ‘Helen, our nanny, used to go to school with Rebecca – apparently she used to be so common. It’s everywhere now though, isn’t it? Such vulgarity. Everybody wants to become a billionaire without doing anything. Did you see some frightful nouveaux riches Russians have bought Wadham Court? I mean it’s the fourth best house in the county after Blenheim, Greywood and Winterfold!’

  Cassandra looked at her friend and almost smiled at her hypocrisy. Instead, she felt a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach: she knew this was just the start. It was going to be a night of furious social competition.

  The party was glorious. Guests had come from London in their hundreds, by courtesy car or helicopter, with many staying in every country-house hotel in a 20-mile radius. Since the show, Stella had already had three job offers and had been lavished with praise from some of the top retails buyers in the world. Harvey Nicks and Harrods, Colette in Paris and Bergdorf’s in New York, had all told her that despite the limited run of the collection – Stella had insisted that only 100 copies of each piece would be made available-they were all going to put in large orders. Standing under a heater on Winterfold’s impressive parterre, Stella felt as if she was watching a glamorous Fifties movie, as if she were inside a glamorous Fifties movie. She took a deep breath of night air and thought to herself that, for the first time in a long time, she couldn’t be happier. Well, with one big exception, she thought darkly, but then shook all thoughts of Johnny from her mind as she reached out and held her father’s hand. Christopher Chase’s fingers felt knotty and hard like the top of an old walking stick. She felt closer to him than she had for years and that made up for everything; she was glad that he seemed to be coping with Chessie’s disappearance so well. He’s been through it all before, I suppose, she thought with a wry smile. Before Christmas Christopher had turned down Stella’s offer to come and live with her, even on a temporary basis, but he had delighted her by turning up to both the show in London and the party in Chilcot.

  ‘He seems to have grown into a nice young man,’ said Christopher, nodding over to Tom who was chatting animatedly to Ste Donahue.

  ‘He is nice. In lots of ways,’ said Stella taking a contented sip of champagne.

  ‘In the important ways?’ asked Christopher.

  ‘He’s kind and decent and funny.’

  ‘But?’ said Christopher raising one bushy, white eyebrow.

  ‘He’s a bit directionless and irresponsible,’ she replied, feeling slightly disloyal, especially as they were things she’d heard said about Tom second-hand.

  ‘There are worse things to be, such as selfish, pompous and vain,’ smiled Christopher and his reference to Johnny Brinton was crystal clear. ‘Those people you can’t help. Other people, people with a good heart, you can.’

  ‘People can only help themselves, Dad.’

  ‘You helped me.’

  He put his arm around her and they both smiled. It was time to start helping each other.

  Emma had come into the courtyard to get some fresh air. Her head was spinning; she had just spent the last ten minutes talking to Tom Ford. She had giggled and blushed like a schoolgirl, but suddenly she felt that whatever the last year had thrown at her, she could take it all on again if it gave her one ounce of the contentment and self-worth that she was feeling right now. It was cold outside and while her dress, a long column of bottle-green silk, made her feel like the subject of a Tamara de Lempika painting, it offered no protection against the chill.

  She turned round and saw a dark figure silhouetted in the light of the courtyard doorway. As he moved closer, she could see that it was Rob. Standing hidden in the shadows, she watched him for a moment as he took a gold cigar cutter out of his pocket and cut off the end of his Cohiba.

  ‘You know you don’t have to step outside to smoke?’ she said, walking into the light. ‘Saul used to chomp on cigars like they were going out of fashion.’

  He looked up and laughed.

  ‘Now you tell me,’ he grinned. ‘Happy Birthday, by the way.’

  ‘You know, with all the excitement of the day, I keep forgetting.’

  He nodded, looking her up and down. He whistled.

  ‘You look incredible tonight.’

  ‘Aw, this old thing? These are just my usual work clothes,’ she said, avoiding his eye. After her accident, they’d got their friendship back on track, but it still made her awkward to be complimented by him.

  ‘Well, I hope this has been a better birthday than last year?’ he asked.

  She laughed. That evening in Boston, standing in the rain with Mark after he had got a Price Donahue partnership, seemed like such a distant memory it was almost as if it had never happened.

  ‘Well, thanks for letting us have the party here.’

  ‘Hey, it’s your house.’

  ‘The company’s,’ she corrected him, ‘… although for how much longer I’m not sure.’ She looked up at him. ‘The truth is, I’ve been thinking about selling Winterfold.’

  Rob stamped out his cigar and frowned.

  ‘I thought you said you’d never sell. Hasn’t your family had this house for like a hundred years or something?’

  ‘I never said “never”. I mean, what do we need it for? It’s vanity. Ego.’

  ‘You could look at it like that, I suppose. Personally, I’d say it was history, your family’s heritage.’

  Her family. While she loved Saul and was grateful for the opportunity he had given her, she was still bitter about the way the rest of the family had treated her – and on top of that, there was the nagging suspicion that someone close to her had been involved in that attempt on her life in Gstaad. Until she had found out who had been driving the car which pushed her off the road, she couldn’t trust a single member of her family.

  ‘I’m not sure the family needs bricks and mortar to define itself,’ she said diplomatically. ‘Well, maybe some of them do,’ she laughed.

  ‘Roger you mean?’ smirked Rob.

  ‘I didn’t say that, you did. No, I do love Winterfold but what’s important is the business. The house is an extravagance. We still have the factory and the offices and a sale would get rid of a lot of the corporate debt.’

  Rob raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You’re not one to let sentimentality get in the way of a decision, are you?’

  ‘So if we do sell, would you be interested?’ she asked directly.

  ‘Ah, so you think my ego needs some place like this.’

  They both grinned.

  ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Emma. ‘As incumbent tenant I thought you deserved first refusal. You always said you wanted to buy it.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he winced. ‘Is that what I’ve been reduced to: “incumbent tenant”?’

  ‘You know I think a lot more of you than that,’ she said quietly. Emma had drunk three glasses of champagne and she instantly regretted coming out with something so soppy and romantic. So far she had kept her dignity where Rob was concerned and had no intention of getting hurt again. Rob had been good to her after the accident but that’s how their relationship should stay, supportive but platonic.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he replied. He moved closer towards her; their cold breath was making white puffs in front of them and merging into one big cloud.

  He
took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  ‘Can’t have you freezing to death on your birthday, can we?’

  She could feel that tension building up between them just like the night in Somerset and took a small deliberate step away from him to defuse it.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Are you interested in Winterfold? I thought you’d bite my hand off. I know you Americans love all that lord of the manor stuff – well, here’s your opportunity.’

  He didn’t smile back, in fact his blue eyes looked sad.

  ‘You know how much I love Winterfold,’ he said, ‘but I’m not sure I’m going to be needing an English stately home for much longer. I’m leaving London.’

  ‘You’ve leaving the London office?’ she asked masking her disappointment. ‘Are you being posted somewhere else?’

  His eyes didn’t leave her face.

  He nodded. ‘Back to New York.’

  She felt a thickness in her throat, suddenly thinking about Cassandra’s smug news that Rob had been seen looking cosy with Madeline at Sant Ambroeus. She remembered how he had started to tell her something at the Christmas party before she had been disturbed by her mother.

  ‘But you’ve not been in London for even eighteen months.’

  ‘Something’s come up,’ he said trying to smile.

  ‘Madeline?’

  He looked surprised. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Cassandra saw you have lunch together at Sant Ambroeus.’

  ‘She’s the mother of my child, Emma, I am going to see her occasionally,’ he said, a smile pulling at his lips.

  ‘She said you were looking cosy,’ added Emma, trying to sound teasing.

  Rob smiled and shook his head slightly.

  ‘We met up because she was telling me she’s getting married again. If I kissed her on the cheek or hugged her or whatever it was simply to congratulate her.’

  Emma felt an enormous rush of relief flood over her.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry … so why the move?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but an announcement is being made to Wall Street on Monday so …’ he paused to draw breath. ‘My father is retiring. Finally.’ He said with a small smile.

  ‘No way! I thought he was going to carry on forever!’

  She thought back to a recent profile of Larry Holland in Forbes. The power-house titan who will never retire.

  ‘He’s ill.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm.

  ‘Against all previous form, he has decided he wants me to take over. CEO. The big job.’

  Emma gasped.

  ‘Wow, president of Hollander Media? That’s a serious position.’

  ‘Yeah, well. I was born to the job; I’m not necessarily deserving of it.’

  ‘You deserve it,’ she smiled, feeling genuinely happy for him.

  ‘Not only that, I’ve persuaded him to invest in the record division. After much consideration he thought it was the right thing to do. You could have told us both in thirty seconds. Actually, as I remember it, that’s exactly what you did.’

  ‘I thought you said I knew nothing about music’

  ‘You don’t,’ he grinned. ‘But you know an awful lot about business.’

  ‘So when do you think you’re going?’ Her disappointment was crushing but she was determined to hide it.

  ‘Once the official announcement is made on Monday there’s nothing really stopping me. I’m going to start attending meetings at our head office in Manhattan in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘You’re leaving in two weeks!’

  ‘Well, yes and no,’ he laughed softly. ‘It will take me a while to make the transition. I’ll be shuttling between the two cities for a time. My father has someone in mind to replace me in London but even so, I don’t think I’ll be moving to New York permanently until April, maybe May. I’ll officially take up the position of CEO a little after that.’

  He saw Emma glance to the floor.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry. I’m good for the rent until the end of the contract.’

  She took a deep breath and stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek.

  ‘Congratulations, Rob.’

  Their cheeks brushed against one another, their touch lingering for just a split second longer than necessary. They pulled away, but Rob held on to her fingertips. She looked up into his eyes.

  ‘That night at the cider farm…’ he said softly.

  ‘Hey, that’s all forgotten, Rob. Don’t worry about it.’

  But Rob continued as if he hadn’t heard her.

  ‘You remember I went to New York the day after? Well, that’s when my father told me. I couldn’t tell you about his retirement at the time, it would have affected the share-price of the company and they were in the middle of some refinancing. When we were by the lake, when I said I couldn’t commit to anything, that’s what I meant. I knew I was returning to New York. I didn’t want to start what I couldn’t finish. Then when you said you didn’t want a relationship …’

  She felt the brief pulse of hope.

  ‘I wasn’t exactly honest that day either,’ she said and then paused, watching him and wanting him with all her heart. ‘I think I could make time in my schedule for a man,’ she smiled.

  ‘How do you feel about long-distance relationships?’

  ‘What’s changed your mind?’ she whispered.

  ‘I miss you.’

  ‘In that case, what’s 3,000 miles between friends when one of us has a private jet?’

  They laughed gently, stepping together in unison, before his mouth met hers in a kiss of such deep, sweet tenderness she wanted it to continue forever.

  ‘We’d better go back to the party,’ she whispered finally, resting her head gently on his shoulder. He pulled her hand and drew her back inside.

  ‘Come on. We’ve got plenty of stuff to celebrate.’

  In Winterfold’s ballroom, Emma was standing to one side as Rob congratulated Ste on a brilliant acoustic set, when she turned to see her mother crossing the floor. In a room full of beautiful people Virginia still stood out, striking and patrician in an elegant kingfisher blue silk sheath dress, her hair up in a chignon.

  ‘What a wonderful party, darling,’ she said, ‘and on your birthday too. Are you having fun?’

  Emma nodded, unable to stop a big grin lighting up her face as her eyes darted towards Rob.

  ‘Yes, you two seem to be getting on well,’ said Virginia icily.

  ‘Mother! I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Well, do you trust him?’ asked Virginia, examining her daughter through narrow eyes.

  ‘You mean as a tenant?’ asked Emma, surprised at her strange question.

  ‘I mean after what happened in Gstaad.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘I thought he was at the hospital very soon after your accident.’

  ‘He was in Courchevel, Mother. What are you suggesting?’ she repeated.

  Virginia paused and took a sip of her champagne.

  ‘A police officer in Gstaad told me you were convinced someone had deliberately tried to kill you.’

  ‘And you think it was Rob?’ said Emma incredulously.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ she mused after a long pregnant pause. ‘I just thought it was odd, convenient, he was around so quickly.’

  Emma shook her head. She was used to her mother’s arctic attitude towards life, but this was a new standard.

  ‘I don’t know what happened in Gstaad, Mum,’ said Emma. ‘What I do know is that it wasn’t odd for Rob to be at the hospital at all. He’s my friend and I trust him.’

  ‘You sound like you’re in love with him,’ said Virginia with a note of disapproval.

  ‘I like him a lot,’ replied Emma, stony-faced.

  ‘I’m your mother, darling. I only want to protect you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Emma sharply. It had been a day of e
motional peaks and troughs; elation, worry, surprise, and Emma felt about ready to snap.

  ‘When have you ever really cared about me or my life?’ she hissed. ‘You’ve never particularly supported me, or tried to understand me – do you even know me? Yes, I’m your daughter, but I’m hardly a priority, am I? I have always come such a poor second to your life with Jonathon that I barely even register. It might suit you now to suddenly start caring, but don’t bother. For once, I’m really, really happy. Don’t go trying to spoil it.’

  Virginia’s face had drained of all colour. Gently touching her daughter’s arm, she drew her away from the crowd into a quieter alcove.

  ‘Is that how you really feel?’ she asked.

  Dizzy with relief at having finally aired feelings which had been bottled up for so many years, Emma nodded. Virginia bowed her head. As she looked up her face looked softer, more vulnerable.

  ‘Emma, whatever you think, you’re my daughter and I love you.’

  ‘So why have you spent the last twenty years behaving like you don’t care?’

  ‘Because you’re so much like him,’ she whispered.

  ‘Dad?’

  Virginia nodded, her eyes glistening with moisture.

  ‘He had an affair with my sister, Emma. Can you imagine how painful that feels, how worthless it makes you feel? And then he died,’ she said her voice racked with sorrow. ‘I loved him so much and he died not loving me.’ A tear trickled down her face, leaving a thin silver line of foundation.

  Emma touched her mother’s arm. ‘But he did love you. You told me yourself that it was a mistake, just a summer fling.’

  Virginia shook her head.

  ‘That’s why I’ve thrown myself 100 per cent into my marriage with Jonathon,’ she said through sobs. ‘I won’t take my eye off the ball. I won’t let it happen again.’

  Emma put her arms around her, feeling her eyes fill with tears as she did so and leaned on her mother’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s OK, Mum, I understand,’ she whispered. ‘I understand.’