by Karen Swan
‘Oh, look, Finn! There’s Daddy,’ Florence said, pointing to his father.
They watched Ted fasten the box door behind him, his hat under one arm, his head bent to the ground as he checked his phone.
Was he reading her text again? Did he hate her? Ro didn’t realize she was holding her breath as she watched him put his phone to his ear.
Julianne. He was calling Julianne.
Her phone rang in her bag, making her jump, and Florence look over at her – and then back to Ted again. He began pacing, his riding hat still tucked under one arm, as the phone rang like a buzzing wasp determined to make her move.
But Ro couldn’t move. How could she possibly pick up in front of Florence? The conversation they would have . . .
‘Daddy!’ Ella yelled again, and this time he heard, looking up and spotting them. He fell still as he saw all of them together – Ro standing with Florence and the children, Ella on her hip – his arm holding the phone dropping away from his ear.
Ro felt her mouth dry up and her heart take on an ad-lib rhythm as he pocketed the phone and slowly walked towards them, looking so good it was wrong in cream jodhpurs, black boots and navy hacking jacket. She couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe. She certainly didn’t notice that Florence was watching her.
‘Ted came over this morning actually. You just missed him.’
Ro looked back at her, feeling every sinew in her body tighten. ‘Really?’ It was supposed to be a deflection, a polite social move during the course of a casual conversation, but instead the word was like an arrow, pointing out her heartache as her voice trembled, barely able to carry the lie she had to carry, for Florence’s sake.
‘Yes, he looked dreadful.’
‘Oh.’ Oh God. Oh God.
‘As you do now, in fact,’ Florence said, taking a step closer to her and gently placing a hand on Ro’s arm. ‘He told me everything, Ro. I know you know about Marina –’
Ro’s eyes filled instantly with tears as she heard the break in the mother’s voice on speaking her daughter’s name. She nodded.
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t share it with you myself. It’s just that the words are . . . they’re too . . .’ Florence cleared her throat, shaking her head as her grey eyes clouded with tears that wouldn’t fall – not in front of the children. ‘I just can’t say them, you see. Not yet. Even after three years.’
Ro nodded, desperation in her eyes, wanting to say that she understood, but knowing that there could be no further elaboration than that here. Ella was watching.
‘The day-to-day, that’s what I focus on – issues that are bigger than me. And my grandchildren, of course – always them,’ Florence said, a smile growing in her desolate eyes as she reached over and took Ella from Ro’s arms. ‘But I do know one thing, Ro. Marina would never have wanted Ted to be unhappy.’ Ro looked at her and she saw tears in the mother’s eyes. ‘And I know she would have just adored you. As we all do.’
‘M-me?’ Ro blinked.
‘She couldn’t lie either,’ Florence nodded, smiling even as a single teardrop fell, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Come on, Ella, let’s go find our seats.’
Ro watched them go, unaware of the wind’s mischief with her skirt or the way Ted caught his breath as he approached.
He stopped as she turned, and her eyes met his. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came, and he just nodded instead. They were quiet for a long time, neither one knowing where to start, after her text.
‘So, that was him earlier?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was tiny. ‘I’m so sorry about that. He didn’t know it was . . . y’know, Florence’s house.’ She coughed, trying to clear her throat, make herself heard. ‘Your house. He was being nosy and got carried away.’
‘I didn’t care about that.’
That? Meaning the breach of privacy? She swallowed. ‘He didn’t know about . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Us?’
Us. Collective pronoun. An embrace in a word. A family in a sound. An entire world encapsulated in just two letters: him and her. Them and the children. Them all and Florence.
‘No.’
They stared at each other. Had it really been just seven days ago that they’d been sailing over the Sound, running towards each other at warp speed? Only seven days ago that she was lying in his arms as the simple truth that had been in his eyes at every awkward, confused, kind and hostile encounter between them finally tackled her to the ground?
‘But he knows now.’
She blinked and nodded. Matt had known it before she’d put voice to the words in the kitchen, his eyes reading her like scans as she tried to hide her feelings behind blood and bone. But he knew her too well, he had loved her too long, and the secret in her heart was a black mass that he could read. He hadn’t even been angry; his blue eyes had shone as despair mingled with the will to fight. He understood how it could happen – she’d set up a life here, made friends, good ones; he could see that himself.
‘He knows, but he thinks it isn’t real.’
The tannoy boomed suddenly and they heard Ted’s named called up. He was on.
‘Well . . . maybe it wasn’t,’ he said quietly, even as he stared at her with hungry eyes, soaking her up as if for the last time. He turned, his head down as he unclasped the chinstrap of his riding hat and put it on.
Ro watched him go, her heart drumming like horse’s hooves, her body bruising already from the words that what was between them was imagined, ephemeral, an illusion.
She watched as he ducked under the bars of the exercise ring and took the reins with a nod from the groom who’d been walking the horse. He put a foot in one stirrup and swiftly, easily, swung his other leg over the horse’s back. He sat up straight, looking so strong and magnificent, everyone’s eyes on him, and she didn’t understand, didn’t believe he could ever have been serious about her. Maybe he was right. Maybe Matt was right. It had been a dream.
He pulled back on the reins and the horse whinnied, taking three steps backwards. Ted turned, looking over at her still standing where he’d left her – unable to move, to turn her back on them – his eyes almost shaded from her by the peak of the hat. Almost, but not quite – and the desolation she saw there . . . One dream had already died today.
‘You’re wrong!’ she blurted out, running over to the bars of the ring. ‘It is real. I told him that.’ He looked back at her in astonishment, the horse pulling him forward a little as it tugged on the reins, dipping its head. ‘Can . . . can I . . . ?’ she asked everyone and no one, ducking under anyway and running up to him before the steward could catch her.
‘I said “no”! It was he and I who were dreaming thinking that the solution to being together lay in being apart. There’s no rewind in real life! There’s no pause in real love! It either grows or dies. And we died the day he left, though neither of us knew it at the time,’ she said, almost panting from the effort of articulating the burden she’d been living under. ‘I feel like I’ve spent these six months grieving for him, trying to hold myself back in one life all the while a new one built up around me.’ She swallowed. ‘But you’re what’s real for me. You and Ella and Finn and Florence. You’re my family.’ The last word came out as a sob and she couldn’t see him as the tears blinded her eyes, leaving her wretched and shaking in the exercise ring. She didn’t see him jump down, just felt the grip of his hands on her arms as he pulled her in to him, his kiss the only answer she needed.
Somewhere, far away, she was aware of cheers and some applause. Maybe it was for the other rider? Maybe not. She didn’t care, for once, if people were staring.
He pulled away, eyes dancing. ‘Just stay there – don’t move,’ he murmured, grinning. ‘I’ll be right back.’
She nodded and laughed as he jumped on the horse and cantered into the show ring, her hands flying to her mouth in delight as he punched the air victoriously before the judges and the crowd, as though he’d already won. But then, they b
oth had.
As she watched him steady the horse for the bell, she remembered how six months ago, all she’d wanted was a happy ending, but she’d come out here and found, instead, a bright new beginning. She could never have known they were one and the same thing.
Her eyes shone as she watched him set off – hers at last. It had been a complicated love story to get here, a long story. And it was only going to get longer.
Acknowledgements
I travelled to the Hamptons to research this book, and most of Ro’s teething troubles were my own – driving badly from JFK airport, coming to terms with flagels and complicated coffees . . . Much of what you read about the setting is technically accurate – the square in Amagansett, for example, where Ro and Hump’s studio is, Mary’s Marvellous, their local coffee shop, the Maidstone Club and, of course, East Hampton itself with its three Ralph Lauren stores (still gobsmacked by that), the hardware store, bookstore . . . But it should be said that plot-wise, what you read is completely fictitious. There is indeed a Coastal Erosion Committee, there is indeed a LWRP and Strategic Retreat is a real policy, but I have manipulated reports/recommendations entirely for the purposes of the story and to my knowledge there has never been a murder at the Maidstone Club!
This book owes a huge debt to my editor, Caroline Hogg, who was endlessly patient as I wrote, then re-wrote, and then re-wrote it again. Also, my copy-editor, Laura Collins, who unpicked and realigned the all-important timeline for the story, thus giving it its emotional power. If this book succeeds at all, it is because of the transformative powers of editing, and I thank everyone who has collaborated on it with me.
Amanda Preston, you are now up there with my husband and children as I say to you: Never leave me!
To my parents and my parents-in-law, thank you for enabling me to have it all – the career and the kids. I couldn’t meet my deadlines without you, knowing that the children are adored, safe . . . and being plied with sweets. And to Anders and our babes, you are my hub, my heart, my home.
Prima Donna
by
KAREN SWAN
Breaking the rules was what she liked best. That was her sport. Renegade, rebel, bad girl.
Getting away with it.
Pia Soto is the sexy and glamorous prima ballerina, the Brazilian bombshell, who’s shaking up the ballet world with her outrageous behaviour. She’s wild and precocious, and she’s a survivor. She’s determined that no man will ever control her destiny. But ruthless financier Will Silk has Pia in his sights, and has other ideas . . .
Sophie O’Farrell is Pia’s hapless, gawky assistant, the girl-next-door to Pia’s prima donna, always either falling in love with the wrong man or just falling over. Sophie sets her own dreams aside to pick up the debris in Pia’s wake, but she’s no angel, and when a devastating accident threatens to cut short Pia’s illustrious career, Sophie has to step out of the shadows and face up to the demons in her own life.
Players
by
KAREN SWAN
Friendships are strong. Lust is stronger . . .
Harry Hunter was everywhere you looked – bearing down from bus billboards, beaming out from the society pages, falling out of nightclubs in the gossip columns, and flirting up a storm on the telly chat show circuit.
Harry Hunter is the new golden boy of the literary scene. With his books selling by the millions, the paparazzi on his tail, and a supermodel on each arm, he seems to have the world at his feet. Women all over the globe adore him but few suspect that his angelic looks hide a darker side, a side that conceals a lifetime of lies and deceit.
Tor, Cress and Kate have been best friends for as long as they can remember. Through all the challenges of marriage, raising children and maintaining their high-flying careers, they have stuck together as a powerful and loyal force to be reckoned with – living proof that twenty-first-century women can have it all, and do. It is only when the captivating Harry comes into their lives that things begin to get complicated, as Tor, Cress and Kate are drawn into Harry’s dangerous games.
Christmas at Tiffany’s
by
KAREN SWAN
Three cities, three seasons, one chance to find the life that fits
Cassie settled down too young, marrying her first serious boyfriend. Now, ten years later, she is betrayed and broken. With her marriage in tatters and no career or home of her own, she needs to work out where she belongs in the world and who she really is.
So begins a year-long trial as Cassie leaves her sheltered life in rural Scotland to stay with each of her best friends in the most glamorous cities in the world: New York, Paris and London. Exchanging the grouse moor and mousy hair for low-carb diets and high-end highlights, Cassie tries on each city for size as she attempts to track down the life she was supposed to have been leading, and with it, the man who was supposed to love her all along.
The Perfect Present
by
KAREN SWAN
Memories are a gift . . .
Haunted by a past she can’t escape, Laura Cunningham desires nothing more than to keep her world small and precise – her quiet relationship and growing jewellery business are all she needs to get by. Until the day when Rob Blake walks into her studio and commissions a necklace that will tell his enigmatic wife Cat’s life in charms.
As Laura interviews Cat’s family, friends and former lovers, she steps out of her world and into theirs – a charmed world where weekends are spent in Verbier and the air is lavender-scented, where friends are wild, extravagant and jealous, and a big love has to compete with grand passions.
Hearts are opened, secrets revealed and as the necklace begins to fill up with trinkets, Cat’s intoxicating life envelops Laura’s own. By the time she has to identify the final charm, Laura’s metamorphosis is almost complete. But the last story left to tell has the power to change all of their lives forever, and Laura is forced to choose between who she really is and who it is she wants to be.
Christmas at Claridge’s
by
KAREN SWAN
The best presents can’t be wrapped
Portobello – home to the world-famous street market, Notting Hill Carnival . . . and Clem Alderton. She’s the queen of the scene, the girl everyone wants to be or be with. But beneath the morning-after make-up, Clem is keeping a secret, and when she goes too far one reckless night she endangers everything – her home, her job and even her adored brother’s love.
Portofino – a place of wild beauty and old-school glamour. Clem has been here once before and vowed never to return. But when a handsome stranger asks Clem to restore a neglected villa, it seems like the answer to her problems – if she can just face up to her past.
Claridge’s – at Christmas, Clem is back in London working on a special commission for London’s grandest hotel. But is this where her heart really lies?
About the Author
Karen Swan was previously a fashion editor and lives in East Sussex with her husband and three children.
Visit Karen’s website at www.karenswan.com or you can find Karen Swan’s author page on Facebook or follow her on Twitter @KarenSwan1.
Also by Karen Swan
Players
Prima Donna
Christmas at Tiffany’s
The Perfect Present
Christmas at Claridge’s
First published 2014 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2014 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
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ISBN 978-1-4472-6218-3
Copyright © Karen Swan, 2014
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