Original Sin

by Tasmina Perry

  ‘Alessandro’s countdown,’ he said smiling. ‘Have you got one of these?’

  She nodded, rolling her eyes. David dramatically cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

  ‘Meet pastor three p.m. Return to hotel to change four twenty p.m. Final debrief five thirty–five p.m. Rehearsal dinner seven thirty p.m.’

  ‘Well, he’s nothing if not organized,’ said Brooke. ‘He was having pink kittens you weren’t here yesterday.’

  ‘Well, there’s something he missed out from the list.’

  Brooke looked puzzled. ‘I don’t think we’re going to squeeze much else into today,’ she said.

  ‘One last date,’ said David, looking more serious.

  ‘A last date?’ said Brooke, her heart beating too fast. Last date as in he is going to finish with me?

  ‘I was hoping we could slip off after the dinner,’ said David. ‘Just me and you. I want one last date with my girlfriend before she becomes my wife.’

  She started laughing, taking in big gulps of air.

  ‘One last date,’ she said. ‘Yes, that sounds lovely.’ And she threw back the sheet and pulled him into the bed.

  *

  In an emperor–sized bed in an executive suite at the Pelicano hotel, Sean Asgill rolled over, panting. Finally, he turned back towards Tess and grinned.

  ‘Come back with me,’ he said.

  Tess laughed and propped her arm behind her head. ‘Can we talk about it after the wedding?’ she asked, avoiding his eyes.

  ‘So you mean you want to take things slow?’ said Sean, resting his head up on his elbow.

  ‘Maybe.’

  He bent over and took her nipple between his lips, gently pulling on it, then running his tongue around it in lazy swirls.

  ‘You mean slow like this?’

  Tess gasped.

  On her bedside cabinet, her mobile suddenly began to buzz.

  ‘Leave it,’ came Sean’s muffled voice.

  ‘Can’t,’ she said, pulling away and planting a kiss on the top of his head. ‘We’ve got guests arriving from three continents, and hundreds of media outlets baying.’

  She swung her legs out of bed and snatched up the phone.

  ‘Ouch,’ said Sean with mock hurt. ‘I never had you pegged as the love ’em and leave ’em sort.’

  ‘Only when I’ve got important things to do,’ she laughed, sliding out of bed. She ran into the bathroom and jumped under the shower, still smiling as she enjoyed the cool water running all over her sticky body.

  ‘Only when I’ve got important things to do … ’ she repeated softly to herself. There was something about that phrase that was ringing a bell in the back of her mind, something she had heard in the last few days that had been nagging at her, something which didn’t quite …

  ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. Suddenly she knew why. The last piece of the puzzle slipped into place with a flash of such clarity that Tess cursed herself for not seeing it before. Shutting off the water, she jumped out of the cubicle, and rubbed a towel across her body vigorously.

  Scrambling into a white T–shirt dress and flip–flops, she grabbed her mobile.

  ‘Hey sexy,’ called Sean from the bed, ‘see you here for lunch?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ she said distractedly, hurrying out of the room as she called Jemma. She glanced at the time on the phone’s screen, hoping that Jemma had arrived in Florida from Toronto.

  ‘Are you here yet?’ she asked anxiously as soon as her friend picked up.

  ‘I’m at the hotel. I called you ten minutes ago, didn’t you get my message?’ said Jemma. ‘I got in really late last night but didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘What room are you in?’

  ‘One of the cottages by the pool. The blue one at the end of the row.’

  Tess ran down the stairwell, her flip–flops clattering against the marble floor. The door to the cottage was open and inside she could see Jemma sitting on the patio having breakfast under a gently fluttering palm tree.

  ‘Hey there you,’ said Jemma, clearly enjoying herself, ‘come and try these croissants, they’re amazing.’

  Putting her finger to her lips, Tess glanced up and down the beach, then beckoned to Jemma to come back inside the cottage.

  Frowning, Jemma pulled the patio door closed and followed Tess over to a white sofa under the ceiling fan.

  ‘You’ve found something out, haven’t you?’ said Jemma quietly, and Tess nodded.

  ‘What I’ve found out is that Meredith was having an affair with Olivia Martin.’

  Jemma looked wide–eyed. ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘It seems Olivia was trying to blackmail Meredith to keep quiet about their affair, which is why Mary–Ann Henner saw them arguing before the fireworks display.’

  Jemma mulled it over. ‘How much was she blackmailing her for?’

  ‘Five thousand dollars a month,’ replied Tess. ‘That was a lot of money in the Sixties.’

  ‘So much for the broke, depressed Olivia theory, then. That certainly doesn’t sound like the mind–set of someone who was going to commit suicide a couple of hours later.’

  Tess nodded. ‘Exactly what I thought, especially as Meredith didn’t cough up immediately. She says she asked her to wait and discuss it after she got back from her honeymoon, so all the more reason for Olivia to hang around.’

  ‘It could still have been an accident,’ said Jemma, distractedly brushing flakes of almond croissant from her shirt. ‘She was a boozer and a pill–popper, wasn’t she?’

  Tess stared down at her fingers, deep in thought.

  ‘Have you got Mary–Ann Henner’s phone number?’ asked Tess.

  ‘Sure.’

  Jemma was already scrolling through her BlackBerry. ‘What do you want me to ask her?’

  ‘Ask her who she had sex with in the rose garden on the night of Meredith and Howard’s wedding.’

  Jemma winced in disbelief. ‘Come on, Tess. That’s a bit hardcore, even for someone as shameless as me.’

  Tess had a firm look on her face.

  ‘You said Mary–Ann told you that she had sex with someone in the rose garden some time around eleven fifteen, right? Well that’s just around the time Olivia tried to blackmail Meredith, also in the rose garden,’ said Tess. She thought back to her visit to Riverview, how she and Lori, the assistant manager, had walked past the secluded garden around that time of night; how still and clear it had been; how she could hear every noise, from the crickets in the trees to a couple walking across the lawns to their room.

  ‘It was all go in the rose bushes that night,’ said Jemma, raising a shaped brow.

  Tess didn’t smile. ‘Mary–Ann also said the guy she was with didn’t show up for the fireworks, which is when Lori Adams thought something might have happened to Olivia.’

  Jemma was hesitating, her thumb over the ‘call’ button of her BlackBerry.

  ‘Just make the call, Jem,’ said Tess. ‘And put it on loudspeaker so I can hear.’

  ‘But what do you think she’s going to tell us?’

  ‘I think I know who was with Mary–Ann that evening,’ said Tess with conviction. ‘I think he heard Olivia’s threats and decided to shut her up.’

  Jemma pulled a face, then made the call. ‘Wish me luck,’ she said.

  Tess walked onto the balcony, leaving Jemma to speak to Mary–Ann, although she could hear both sides of the conversation.

  ‘Mary–Ann?’ said Jemma.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Er. Hi. Happy Christmas. It’s Jemma Davies, I came round a few days ago.’

  ‘Of course. How are you?’

  She sounded buoyant, full of festive spirit.

  ‘Uh, Mary–Ann, I have to ask you a very personal question,’ said Jemma quickly.

  ‘Shoot,’ chuckled Mary–Ann, ‘you know me.’

  ‘It’s about the night of Howard Asgill’s wedding.’

  ‘Found out anything interesting?’

  Jemma lo
oked up at Tess.

  ‘I think we’re getting there.’

  She paused and took a breath. ‘I need to know who it was you had sex with that night in the rose garden at Riverview.’

  Mary–Ann chuckled again. ‘My, my. That is personal.’

  ‘Please, Mary–Ann.’

  Mary–Ann paused and both Tess and Jemma could hear the sound of ice cubes clinking in a glass.

  ‘If you must know, it was Leonard Asgill. Meredith’s brother.’

  Tess and Jemma exchanged a look.

  ‘Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,’ continued Mary–Ann. ‘Should have lost my cherry to my high–school sweetheart rather than a one–night stand at a wedding? But hormones don’t work like that, do they, darling? I’d been at Riverview for a couple of days before the wedding. Sorting things out for Howard, you know how it is. We’d gotten pretty friendly, me and Leonard, and gosh, he was so good looking. A real charmer.’

  ‘And did you leave the rose garden together?’ said Jemma, looking over to an anxious Tess.

  ‘No. I ran off when I heard someone coming into the garden,’ she laughed bitterly. ‘I didn’t want to get caught with the bride’s brother, for crying out loud. I was supposed to be working, not fucking.’

  ‘Thanks Mary–Ann,’ said Jemma awkwardly. ‘I didn’t mean to drag up old memories.’

  Mary–Ann laughed again. ‘Memories are all I got left, sweetheart. You take care now.’

  Jemma put down the receiver and looked at Tess, her mouth open.

  ‘Leonard,’ she whispered. ‘It was Leonard.’

  Tess nodded. ‘I knew.’

  *

  The rehearsal dinner at the Pelicano hotel was beautiful. Alessandro had worked his magic, transforming the hotel’s orangery into a sophisticated yet intimate space. The eight round tables were simply covered with French brocade linens, and each had a centrepieces of pale yellow and white blooms cascading from a large cream vase. It was as understated as you could get considering the occasion. The seventy–five guests – family and close friends plus a smattering of celebrities and political dignitaries – had been served the finest wines from cut–glass crystal, and the menu offered the state’s finest produce: braised artichokes with fennel and lemon, fresh lobster and miniature key lime pies from Joe Stone Crab. When the coffee had been served, Wendell Billington stood to give a surprisingly heartfelt speech welcoming Brooke to the family, then Sean brought the house down with a story about the time Brooke, aged seven, had written a letter to Prince Charles proposing marriage. Ignoring his sister’s blushes, Sean revealed that the palace had been good enough to write back to politely decline on the grounds that HRH was already married to Princess Diana.

  After the speeches, the French windows were opened and the party spilled out onto the hotel’s terrace and down into the tropical gardens. Excusing herself from Rose Billington, Brooke quietly slipped down the stairs and into the tropical gardens, finding a hidden nook surrounded by mango trees. She sat down on a cold stone bench and breathed in the warm evening air, enjoying a little time out, and pretending for just one minute she was plain old Brooke Asgill again. All evening she had enjoyed having people tell her she looked beautiful, fielding the wide–eyed enquiries about Nicholas’s long biscuit silk dress, but right now she needed a moment to sit and be still, to listen to the sea, smell the blossoms, to think for herself. Her heart sank a little as she heard footsteps on the path. She looked up, expecting to see David; he had been so wonderful all day, so solicitous, so kind, as if he understood that the wedding, however perfect, would be difficult for her, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come to check she was okay. But it wasn’t David, it was Tess.

  ‘Oh hi Tess,’ she said, forcing a smile as Tess came to sit beside her.

  ‘Was everything okay in there?’ she asked.

  Brooke sighed, knowing she couldn’t lie to her friend. Besides, she was the only one who knew the whole story about her and Matt. Well, most of it, anyway.

  ‘I’m just trying to convince myself certain things didn’t happen,’ said Brooke quietly. ‘So far it’s working.’

  ‘So the thing with Matt–’

  ‘It’s definitely all over,’ said Brooke quietly.

  Tess nodded. ‘You made the right decision.’

  Brooke looked down at her hands. She hadn’t told Tess why she had no plans to see Matt Palmer ever again. Why not let her assume it had been a decision based on her love of David? Hell, it might even be true.

  ‘The right decision … yes,’ said Brooke. ‘In fact, I’m off on a date with my fiancé right now. David should be here any minute to take me for a last romantic interlude as a single person.’

  ‘Ah, well in that case I’d better go.’

  ‘Back to Sean?’ said Brooke, looking up with a smile.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Tess wryly.

  ‘I saw that kiss by the rest rooms after Sean’s speech.’

  ‘You did?’ Tess shook her head laughing. ‘I suppose I should have told you earlier – not that there was anything to tell. We had a little thing in Hawaii but I thought he was trouble.’

  Brooke raised her brow.

  Tess shrugged. ‘But, even if he is, I like him a lot. One thing this year has taught me is that you can be with someone for the longest time, the person who you think is right for you, but it can still be wrong. And that person that you think is wrong for you can be so, so right.’ Tess giggled. ‘If any of that gibberish made any sense?’

  Brooke nodded. ‘Perfect sense.’

  Just then, David appeared from the darkness. In a midnight blue suit, his hair cropped close to his head, Tess thought he looked like James Bond.

  ‘Well, I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,’ said Tess, heading back towards the hotel as David took Brooke’s hand. He led her down into the gardens, down a torchlit path, until they reached a dock, where a small boat was waiting for them.

  ‘Oh honey,’ said Brooke, her eyes sparkling, ‘it’s perfect.’

  David climbed on board, helping Brooke in her long dress across the rickety gangplank.

  He started the engine and the boat carved through the water, which was still and black with ribbons of silver dancing across its surface. In just a few minutes they had arrived at another small island, just a circle of sand and scrub barely two hundred metres wide. David pulled a torch and a small backpack from behind the wheel and threw them onto the beach then, with an ‘allez–oop!’, he hoisted a laughing Brooke over his shoulder and splashed to the shore. It was deliciously deserted and romantic on the beach, the sand cold beneath their bare feet, the full moon and stars providing a shimmering light. David spread a blanket on the sand, popped a bottle of fizzing champagne and poured out two paper cups.

  ‘To tomorrow,’ he said, tapping his cup against hers. In the distance they could hear music and laughter drifting from the hotel, and Brooke laughed, hiking up her dress and crossing her legs, thinking that – despite the million–dollars’ worth of jewels she was wearing: long chandelier Harry Winston earrings and a rope of diamonds borrowed from Rose Billington – she still felt like Robinson Crusoe.

  ‘Oh, why don’t we do this more often, honey?’ she asked happily.

  ‘Trespass on a deserted key with a backpack full of alcohol?’ he smiled.

  She leant across and kissed him and thought how much she liked this David. Relaxed, playful. It was how he had been the first time she met him all those months ago in Biarritz: that was the man she fell in love with. It was never about the money, the position in New York society, or the guaranteed lifetime of luxury and privilege. It was about a man who cared for her deeply and who she cared for back. But they didn’t live on a deserted island where they could pretend they were castaways – they lived in New York, where their lives were public property and where they could never truly relax, always knowing that someone was watching or snapping or even simply gossiping about them. She was sure this
life wouldn’t get any easier when they moved to Washington, and when David embarked on his political career, the chances were it would only get worse.

  Sitting in the silence, surrounded by just sky and sea, a note of sadness invaded her happy mood. Brooke knew of course it was this situation, the feeling of being funnelled into a restricted, narrow life, which had led her to Matt. Yes, he was handsome, yes they had been friends, and yes there was the lure and nostalgia of a less complicated past. But above all, Matt was a liferaft. She hadn’t really wanted to run away to Africa with him, but part of her did want to run away. Lying here, away from the circus, she could see that clearly now.

  ‘I’ve got you a present,’ said David.

  She looked up at him with surprise and alarm. ‘I thought we weren’t bothering.’

  David smiled. ‘Well, this present will make me happy if it makes you happy.’

  He pulled out a small suede pouch and handed it to her. She tipped the contents into the palm of her hand and looked down to see a set of keys.

  ‘What are these for?’ she asked, thinking back to a few weeks earlier when she had seen a cherry–red vintage Mercedes parked on a street in SoHo and had drooled over it.

  ‘Look David, it’s a Hart to Hart car,’ she had laughed, reminded of the cheesy Eighties detective series she loved watching on cable. It would be typical of David’s thoughtful extravagance to track down the owner and buy it.

  ‘Is it a car?’ she asked.

  David chuckled. ‘No, it’s for the apartment on Riverside Drive, that triplex you loved.’

  Brooke gasped out loud. ‘But how can we … ?’ she began, but he put up a hand to silence her.

  ‘Honey, I know you’ve never been keen on a permanent move to Washington, so I’ve been thinking over and over how we can work this out,’ he said. ‘I’ve spoken to Edward at Yellow Door and he says you can work three days a week. I could fly back from Washington to New York on Fridays and stay until Tuesday. My meeting yesterday was about taping the show one day a week from the studio in Manhattan, and the producer isn’t totally against the idea, so splitting our time between DC and New York shouldn’t be that difficult.’