by Victoria Fox
Tess was getting the impression that Sarah Quentin was quite loose-tongued.
‘And then I messed up big style,’ said Sarah. ‘Well, you’ll know about that. Michelle went ape. Simone demanded I got the sack. Over a fucking letter! Sorry, abysmal language, I’m working on it. But you can tell I’m over it, right? I guess you never get over being fired, and let me tell you it was hard enough convincing—’
Tess cut her off. ‘Letter?’ she asked, frowning. ‘What letter?’
‘Oh,’ Sarah waved a hand, ‘I can’t remember. They were always really strict about stuff that got redirected from the office. Simone came in to check every day.’
Tess’s mind was working. She wasn’t sure towards what.
‘Who was the letter from?’
Sarah squinted—then her expression changed, pulled back, as if realising she had disclosed too much, or that Tess knew too little, or a combination of the two.
‘It wasn’t important,’ she clarified quickly.
‘Who was it from?’
Sarah took a moment. Tess saw that she was deciding whether or not to lie.
‘Your sister,’ she said eventually. ‘That was why it was weird, you know, that you weren’t allowed to see it. That’s why I sent it on, because obviously I thought it was fine, and then the next thing I know Michelle’s telling me Simone’s thrown a shit fit and I’m packing up my desk. There were others, too, for Simone, for Michelle, but mostly for you. Michelle even got the phones re-routed to her personal line.’
There was a nagging feeling in Tess’s throat. Her voice became small.
‘My sister wrote to me? She wrote to Simone?’
Sarah seemed to know she had gone too far. ‘I’m sorry, Tess. I really think you should talk this through with Simone. It’s not any of my business.’
Down the hall, a man called her name.
‘I’ve got to shoot,’ she said. ‘But let’s catch up soon, yes? I’d like that.’ Before she left, she hugged Tess warmly. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘You deserve it.’
They arrived back shortly after twelve. Simone stood at the counter, making tea, her back turned, and when Tess told her she had run into Sarah Quentin, all the muscles there tensed. Simone stirred the tea carefully then put the spoon to one side.
‘What did you talk about?’ she asked.
‘Sarah mentioned working for Michelle. All the letters and calls she had to field at the office. A substantial number, apparently.’
‘Oh?’ Still, the back was turned. ‘What letters were those?’
‘The ones from Calida.’ It was strange and magical to say her twin’s name out loud after all this time. It felt amazing in Tess’s mouth; it was more than words: a song.
Simone’s posture changed. Hours before, she had been strutting around Paul Gerhardt’s SoHo mansion like a peahen; now, she drooped like a wilting tulip.
Slowly, she turned.
‘I did it for you, Tess,’ she said quietly. ‘I did what was best for you, to protect you. The last thing we needed was your sister wading in and complicating things.’
Tess held her breath. Every question she had kept in check on the drive home surfaced like floats, one after another after another. Was Calida looking for me? Was she trying to find me? Did she regret what she did? The possibility was too wonderful and tragic to trust, even for a second. It cracked her already broken heart, reminding her that it was still there, still beating, still whole, and that part of it had and would always belong to her twin alone, whom she loved with all that made her who she was.
Did Calida want me back?
‘Darling,’ Simone’s eyes lifted to her daughter’s, brimming with fear and regret, ‘ask yourself: what would your life have been without me? You were born a peasant and you’d have died a peasant. I gave you the world. I saw it in that good-for-nothing mother of yours—she coveted what I had. So did you. Julia told me as much. And I said to Julia: I can give your daughter all this, I can take her for you. You said yourself how grateful you are. That you’d have been lost if I hadn’t come along …’
‘The adoption was your idea?’
‘It was Julia’s and mine. Together.’
‘But not Calida’s.’ Tess reached for the table behind her, gripping a solid surface, needing to plant herself firm, where the force and implications of Simone’s words could not blow her over. Keep going. Don’t stop. Tell me more.
Simone’s skin went blotchy, a rash of red creeping down her neck and into the silk balcony of her gown. ‘Not Calida’s,’ she admitted, her hands splayed in a gesture to be calm. ‘Your sister never knew about the arrangement, Tess. I don’t know what Julia told her after you’d left but as far as she was concerned it was just a vacation.’
Tess made no sound. Cogs ground to motion in her mind, dust-caked wheels that had been left unused for years. Calida never knew about the arrangement …
Simone lifted her chin. ‘But then I read in your diary what a terrible fight you’d both had and how in her heart Calida had wanted you gone … So I did you both a favour, didn’t I? I made her wish come true—and I did the same for you!’
‘You read my diary?’ Tess asked in wonder.
‘I had to.’
‘Why?’
She had a horrifying feeling she already knew.
Simone’s patience snapped. ‘Because of Calida’s fucking fuck-it-all-up letter, that’s why!’ she exploded. ‘She’s a tenacious madam, I’ll concede her that. I had to throw her off the trail somehow. Look, Tess, I admit, it wasn’t right. But I did it for you, for both of you, to put an end to this pointless contact once and for all.’
‘You wrote to my sister?’
‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’
‘It matters to me.’
Simone was steely. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I did. I wrote on your behalf.’
Tess didn’t need to hear what the letter had said. She thought she would faint. If Simone had found that diary entry, the one about their fight, she’d have had an arsenal of weapons at her fingertips.
‘Poor Mama never wrote you, though, did she?’ Simone went on. ‘She never called. Admit it—I was a better mother to you than that woman! I’ve been a great mother—I’ve loved you, cared for you, all the things you thanked me for.’
‘Calida didn’t let me go.’ Tess spoke the words she had experimented with so many times but had been too afraid and upset to sort them into this magical, game-changing sequence. ‘She didn’t give up. She tried to bring me home.’
‘No, sweetheart,’ said Simone. ‘Your home was in London. You had a new life, with me … a new future … I knew any reminders would only upset you.’
‘Calida wanted me. You told me she hated me. But she didn’t.’
Even after Daniel. I wish you’d just disappear.
Calida hadn’t meant it. She had forgiven her. They were blood: unbreakable.
What had Calida read in those letters? What had she believed Tess had said? Now, Tess would never have the chance to unpick it … because she was dead.
‘She was my sister,’ Tess choked. ‘My sister.’
Simone held her arms out. ‘Darling, come to me, let me make it better …’
‘NO!’ The force of it made Simone stop in her tracks.
‘Don’t you dare come near me,’ Tess seethed. ‘Don’t you dare touch me. I swear to God, if you touch me I will kill you. You made me believe Calida sold me. That she never loved me. You took away what we had. What we had was special.’
‘I know—’
‘No, you don’t. You can’t. You never will. You don’t have a sister. You don’t know what it’s like. She’s in me. She’s part of me. That will never change.’
‘Sweetheart—’
‘Calida died believing I had forgotten about her. That I hated her.’
Simone did stop, then. She stood for a while, observing her daughter’s anger, as if she was waiting for it to change into something else, something bigger.
&nb
sp; ‘Tess …’ she began.
But Tess shook her head. She could hear no more.
‘Get out of my house,’ she said.
‘You don’t understand—’
‘I understand perfectly.’
‘It’s not what you think. What I told you—’
‘I don’t trust a single word you say. I thought I could, I thought you were the only one, but I was wrong. You’re nothing but a cheating, cruel, sad old woman.’
Simone started to cry. ‘Tess, you must let me explain—’
‘Get out of my house.’
‘You’re not listening. There’s something very important that I have to—’
‘GET OUT!’
Seconds passed. Then faintly, Simone nodded. She went to the door, opened it, closed it. Tess sank to the floor and waited for tears, but they didn’t come.
Try as she might, she couldn’t cry.
46
For somebody so famous, Tess Geddes was a surprisingly easy target.
Too easy, really—it almost took the fun out of it.
Almost.
Outside her New York building, a figure crouched, obscured by shadows. Eyes watched her—cruel, unfeeling eyes, eyes that would show her no mercy.
Like none was shown to me.
A sudden, tantalising glimpse of Simone Geddes before the blind went down. A flash—but it was enough. The figure tensed, clenched fists and cold heart.
Be patient. It will be soon … and it will be sweet.
Tess Geddes thought she was clever, making a run for another city. But she wasn’t clever enough. Not to outwit him. As if running would allow the trail to go cold. This trail was hot with anger, an anger that would never cease and never die.
And now the end was close.
All it had taken was research—gratifying how simple it could be with a little ingenuity. The hardest part was the waiting … but that was nothing new. Waiting had been the name of the game for so long; since time began, it seemed. He had always been waiting, since the day he’d been born. Waiting for something that never came.
It had been a long game. He had followed her carefully, watching, discovering, until he knew her inside and out, everything about her life, every last piece. It was essential: to know his prey like he knew himself.
Soon, it would come. Retribution.
A few months longer made no difference. If anything, it made it better.
Every second had to be savoured, every instant cradled like a longed-for child.
What better time to do it than the anniversary of that day?
Destiny was approaching … and so was he.
47
It took weeks for Calida to move past the shock. She couldn’t get the encounter with her mother out of her head. Seeing Julia again, alive, after so long, had been one thing. Seeing how she hadn’t changed a bit, and was still the same selfish, uncaring woman she’d always been, had been another. But Teresita … Learning that her sister hadn’t said those things. That she hadn’t asked to be taken away. That her mother had lied to her face and made her believe that Teresita was wicked. That was different.
She tried to understand it. Couldn’t. She spoke to Lucy.
‘So Tess didn’t want to go,’ her friend repeated. ‘Does it change anything? She still stayed in London. She still didn’t get in touch in all this time.’
‘But she did,’ said Calida. ‘That letter.’
‘There you go, then.’
‘Only, it doesn’t add up. I wish I could show you the note, Lucy. It was … evil. The things she said … I thought at the time that it didn’t sound like her, but I was so hurt and it kind of made sense, but now I’m thinking … God, I don’t know what to think.’
‘What are you getting at? That Tess didn’t write the letter?’
‘What if someone else did?’ It was a long shot, a stitching together of possibly unrelated pieces, but once the idea had settled it was hard to shake. ‘What if someone found out that we’d fought and wrote all that stuff to make me back off? It worked, didn’t it? I decided it was over between us. I decided she’d torn it. And I never looked back … Until now.’
‘You’re getting ahead of yourself.’
‘Am I? Suppose Simone Geddes wrote to me, Lucy. Suppose it was her.’
‘That would make her a monster.’
‘She’d have justified it. Got over her conscience. Then Teresita never heard from me again and figured I’d forgotten about her. Who knows what she was told?’
Lucy wasn’t convinced. ‘It’s been fourteen years, Calida. Nothing’s stopped Tess from coming to you in all that time, has it? At any point she could have returned to where she’d grown up. She could have come looking for you.’
Lucy was right. There was no explanation for her twin having failed to make contact. But she no longer knew which way was up. Her exchange with Julia changed everything. She wasn’t sure what to believe.
‘Tess must know your name,’ said Lucy. ‘Cal Santiago is everywhere.’
‘And she’d know it was me …’
‘Of course she’d know it was you. Why wouldn’t she?’
Calida shook her head. She didn’t have an answer for that.
The season changed, and with it the hate storm against Tess Geddes, rather than lightening, only grew worse. Her sister had vanished off grid, but that did nothing to stop the assault. Calida hoped her twin had refrained from reading what was written about her. Skipped the documentary titled Tess: The Spectacular Fall from Grace. Stopped listening to the vicious remarks thrown at her by the very people she had once called her friends.
Calida’s heart went out to her. Not just because it was a cruel way for any person to be treated, but also because Calida herself deserved the backlash as much as her sister. She could stand by, the silent observer, no longer. She had to do something.
She had to help.
In the autumn, she made a decision. There was someone who could change Tess’s fate … someone who could encourage Scarlet to back off.
‘You said Tess was a vixen,’ said Lucy, watching her pack. ‘Why are you so set on protecting her? I thought you’d quit being an older sister?’
‘Two minutes older.’
‘You know as well as I do it doesn’t matter if it’s two minutes or two years.’
‘This isn’t about protection,’ said Calida.
‘What’s it about, then?’
‘It wasn’t just her with Vittorio. It was me.’
‘I think it’s about that locket.’ Lucy smiled. ‘And how even if Tess did all those things you’ve accused her of, even if you’d never met Julia again and nothing had changed and Tess was still that girl who cast you off and ran away, you’d still go after her. You’ve always told me how different you are, but I don’t think you’re so different. How can you be? Life couldn’t keep you apart. Vittorio’s the proof.’
Calida caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Not so different …
Where once she had met a plain, unexceptional girl, she now saw a woman whose hard-won poise scratched out the lingering contrasts with her twin. Not so alike as to raise suspicions, not identical, never identical, but somewhere close.
Calida’s swathe of dark hair and flashing dark eyes were Teresita all over—but equally were her own. She had spent so long trying to prove that she was as good as her twin, and for what? To arrive at the conclusion that, contrary to what she had always assumed, she wasn’t fifty per cent of something. She wasn’t the cold one, the less attractive one, or the one who never took risks. She was Calida Santiago—a hundred per cent, absolutely, totally and unapologetically, Calida Santiago.
She zipped up her bags, left the apartment, and caught a cab to the airport.
The whole way to Europe she dreamed of her sister, the scent of lavender back on the estancia, and the wild, warm wind; the horses in the stable, the dusty rides across the prairie, and the candle in their bedroom that they had blown out before sleep.
Fears for Tess plagued her. She worried every day when she woke that she would be faced with that final print: TESS GEDDES ATTACKED.
Calida couldn’t explain her feeling, but it was bad; a twin’s intuition that something disastrous was coming their way. She had to stop it before it was too late.
Having landed in Stockholm, she hailed a taxi to her assignation. She had been relieved and thankful when Astrid Engberg agreed to meet. If Astrid could convince Scarlet that Tess wasn’t the villain, then maybe Scarlet would quit stoking the fire. Maybe she would call her minions off their prey, her people away from the trail, whoever was working for her, terrorising Tess and forcing her from her home.
‘Scarlet’s hurt,’ Astrid told her over their table at the Grand Hôtel. ‘And what do you expect? Tess was sleeping with her husband. This is payback.’
‘I know.’ Calida swallowed her own shame. ‘But she made a mistake. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough? It’s been going on too long.’
Astrid sat back. ‘What all this to you anyway?’
‘Tess is my friend.’
The princess smiled. ‘You photographed her, like I arranged?’
‘Actually, no,’ Calida said. ‘She declined.’
Astrid, who wasn’t in the habit of badmouthing people, said bitchily, ‘Then she really is as stupid as she looks.’
‘I want Scarlet to know that Tess is sorry.’
‘She told you that?’
‘I just know.’
Astrid sipped her tea. ‘I’d fall apart if Gustav betrayed me.’
‘That’s just it, isn’t it?’ Calida tried. ‘Vittorio’s all but got away with it. Why isn’t he being punished? What about him? Why should the woman get the blame?’
‘What Tess did was worse.’
‘How?’
‘She seduced him.’
‘Vitto broke his promise to Scarlet, no one else.’
Astrid made a face, but didn’t have a quick response.
‘Where will it end?’ said Calida. ‘What does Scarlet want?’
Astrid shot her a curious look. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded. ‘Why are you so interested in Tess Geddes? You were when we met before.’