‘See what I mean?’ asked Tessa. ‘Shall I go and challenge her to a duel? But look at his face, he loves it.’
Rachel could see she was right. Tom – dear old lovable junkyard Tom – was almost strutting as he continued over towards them. He looked quite … well, smug. There was no other word for it.
‘It won’t last forever, Tess,’ she said quietly, ‘and then he’ll have to come back to reality. Meanwhile, milk it for all you can for your wonderful business.’
‘I will,’ said Tessa, marvelling at what she’d just witnessed. It had been a while since she’d seen Tom out and about in London and she was appalled at his almost preening behaviour. It was far worse than she’d realised.
‘Sorry I’m late, girls,’ he said, leaning over to kiss them both. ‘Got here as soon as I could.’
‘Had a few fans to service, I see,’ said Rachel.
Tom laughed, turning on his TV smile as the waiter came over.
‘I see you’ve already had a cheeky coupe,’ he said, pointing at Rachel’s empty champagne glass. ‘Let’s have a bottle of Veuve. I’m in the mood to celebrate.’
‘Great,’ said Rachel.
Coupe? thought Tessa. Coupe? Chicken bloody coop.
‘What are we celebrating?’ she asked Tom, hoping her distress at his cringe-making behaviour wasn’t too obvious.
‘Having lunch with my beautiful wife and my lovely sister-in-law in London for a change, rather than some boring country pub in Kent. Taking Hunter Gatherer onto the next stage. And just finishing a few days’ great shooting for the show.’
‘I’ve already ordered two more glasses,’ said Rachel, as another waiter arrived with them on a tray, ‘so we’ll drink those while we wait for the bottle. Here you are, Tom.’
She poured half the champagne from her flute into the empty wine glass at his place setting, then she raised hers in a toast.
‘To the show,’ she said, kicking Tessa gently under the table with her foot, while raising her glass and smiling at Tom.
‘To Hunter Gatherer,’ said Tessa.
‘To my beautiful wife,’ said Tom.
They were all sipping their champagne, when Simon walked into the restaurant. Rachel felt her eyebrows fly up. He was wearing a fabulous suit, with Gucci loafers and no socks, his hair was combed back, and he looked even smoother than usual. She could see one of his big cigars peeping out behind the polka-dot silk square in his breast pocket, the dickhead.
As he crossed the room towards them, people were checking him out too, as they had Tom, but not because they recognised him. He looked like a film star they couldn’t quite put a name to.
‘Simbo,’ she called out, unable to resist, ‘we’re over here.’
‘I see you, Raquel,’ he said, lobbing it right back at her. God, she was cheeky.
But before he could think anything more about Rachel, there was Tessa. Looking up at him like a startled fawn. A startled fawn in a flowery dress very similar to the one she’d been wearing the night he first met her all those years ago. Had she done it on purpose?
For a moment Simon faltered, almost tripping over his own feet, then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and strode towards them, smiling his oiliest professional smile. However he felt on the inside, no one was going to know.
Simon Rathbone, love-struck fool, was stuffed firmly back into his box and Simon Rathbone, businessman, PR legend, GQ best-dressed list regular, Range Rover SDV8 driver, Chester Terrace apartment owner, alpha male, sat down at the table.
After greeting everyone, apologising for his lateness, shaking Tom’s and Tessa’s hands and nodding at Rachel, he picked up the glass of champagne she pushed towards him and drained it in one.
By the time they’d finished the second bottle of champagne Tom had committed to funding a fully fledged PR campaign for Hunter Gatherer. Rachel high-fived Tessa and whispered into her ear.
‘Bonuses ’r’ us!’ she said and Tessa grinned at her, happy she’d been able to contribute to her younger sister getting the financial boost she so needed.
Not able to hear what she’d said, but sensing she was getting a bit above herself, Simon looked at his watch ostentatiously. Rachel didn’t miss the hint and glanced down at her phone. It was ten past three. Late enough for any client lunch, even if the client was your own sister.
‘Well, this has been great,’ she said, snapping into professional mode, or as near to it as she could get after all the fizz, ‘but if we’re all clear what the plan is, I better get back to the office.’
She was hoping Simon would tell her to relax and stay. No such luck.
‘I’ll see you back there later,’ he said.
He had to keep her in her place. He’d already let his guard down too much. For someone who didn’t normally drink at lunchtime, he’d embraced it with enthusiasm and, far from being as awkward as he’d expected, the lunch had gone very smoothly, feeling more like a catch-up with friends than a business meeting.
And sitting diagonally across from Tessa, he’d been able to avoid looking at her directly too often, addressing most of his remarks to Tom, who was sitting next to him, or to Rachel when it was a pure work topic.
It had all gone as well as it could have in the circumstances and the really great thing was that Rathbone & Associates now had a very nice new prestige client, with a strong brand story he could really work with, committed to a twelve-month full-service contract. With the perfect account manager already in place to look after it. Top result.
After hugging her sister, Rachel left and immediately the atmosphere shifted. The pleasant buzz Simon had enjoyed from the champagne was starting to turn into a dull headache and with Rachel gone, the fun seemed to have evaporated. Simon wished he’d left with her. Especially when Tom announced he was off to the loo.
Suddenly Simon and Tessa were left sitting alone at the table together. He wondered if he should check the emails on his phone, any distraction, but before he could help himself, he found his eyes were seeking hers. She was already looking at him and their gazes locked.
‘Hi,’ he said quietly.
‘Hi,’ said Tessa, swallowing awkwardly.
What the hell do I say? thought Simon, then realised he didn’t need to say anything. They were saying it to each other already with their eyes. Before he knew what he was doing his hand reached across the table and took hers.
She smiled weakly at him, squeezing his hand back, before pulling hers away quickly and putting it in her lap. What if someone saw? They all knew who Tom was in there and they might even recognise her. Tears filled her eyes, she couldn’t help it. They were trapped from every angle.
‘I can’t quite believe I just got through that lunch,’ said Simon.
‘Me neither,’ said Tessa. ‘I tried to get out of coming today.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Simon.
Tessa shook her head.
‘Don’t be,’ she said. ‘I wanted to see you. That’s what I was really running away from.’
Her words hung in the air. She couldn’t believe she’d said them. Without the champagne she never would have.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ said Simon.
Well, you, or your sister. One or the other.
‘Same,’ said Tessa.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t still love my husband, even though I couldn’t make love to him the other night because all I could think about was your face.
‘It’s very confusing,’ she said, ‘I suppose it just took us off guard, being unexpectedly reminded of our youth, like that.’
Simon nodded, so relieved she’d thrown them both a lifeline. Talking about it in those mundane terms would take the mystery and magic out of it. Clever Tessa.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘recherché du temps perdu and all that jazz. Yesterday when I was young …’
When Tom came back to the table, shortly after, they were laughing like any two people who didn’t know each other very well, but had things in common and
had just enjoyed a fun and boozy lunch together, and Simon was able to get through the last little bit of it relatively normally.
He even brought up the idea of him agenting Tessa for mural work, which he could see went down very well with Tom. It wasn’t until it came to making their farewells that the past tripped him up again. Literally.
Standing just outside the restaurant, Simon shook Tom’s hand and was just leaning in to quickly peck Tessa on each cheek and back off right away, when two women passing spotted Tom and, in their excitement, grabbed him hard by the arms, squealing that they wanted their picture taken with him.
Their sudden lunge at Tom pushed him back into Simon, who lurched heavily towards Tessa. It all happened so fast, he had to grab her tightly to stop them both falling to the ground.
In that moment, her warm body tight against his, her breasts pressing against him, Simon found his head resting against her neck and, feeling the warmth of her skin, felt almost giddy. He heard himself let out a very quiet groan of animal desire.
Her mouth was next to his ear.
‘Call me,’ he heard her say.
‘I will,’ he said.
Wednesday, 11 June
Tunbridge Wells, 4.22 a.m.
Joy was lying on the floor of her kitchen waiting for the ambulance. It was very cold on the tiles and she was in a lot of pain, so she was grateful for the warmth of Muffin’s little body curled up next to her.
‘Here we go, Muffin my boy,’ she said, reaching her hand down to stroke his back. The movement was a very bad idea and she cried out in pain. The injury seemed to be somewhere in her right hip, but moving any part of her body seemed to set it off.
She was just so grateful that she’d fallen close enough to the phone cord to be able to pull it down off the kitchen cabinet so she could call for help. Rachel was always telling her that she should have one of those personal alarm buttons hanging round her neck, but she’d always laughed it off, saying that her crystals were all the protection she needed. But of course, as it was the middle of the night when she’d come down to the kitchen to make a cup of camomile tea, she hadn’t been wearing them.
She heard a vehicle pull up outside the house. At that time of the night – she looked over at the kitchen clock, taking care to move only her eyes, and saw it was nearly four-thirty – it was probably the ambulance. Thank goddess.
‘Don’t be alarmed, Muffy,’ she said. ‘Some noisy people are about to come in here and then they’ll take me away, but don’t worry, Tessa will come and get you very soon. You’ll enjoy it at her house, there’s a big garden with an orchard where you’ll be able to hunt all day. It’s just the change I told you was coming. Everything will be fine. For the good of all. So mote it be.’
She wondered again if she should ring Tessa now and tell her what had happened, but decided she had been right in her earlier decision that there was nothing to be gained by disturbing her at such an ungodly hour. Her oldest daughter was about to have a lot of stress dumped on her, she needed her sleep. The hospital would let her know. All in good time.
Let it unfold, she said to herself, closing her eyes and trying to relax, although it was difficult with the pain, on the cold, hard floor. Let it unfold.
‘Mrs Younger,’ she heard a voice call from upstairs on the street, ‘can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, surprised how weak her voice sounded. It was a frail old lady’s voice. ‘I’m downstairs in the kitchen …’
‘Can you answer the door?’ asked the voice.
‘No,’ said Joy, ‘I’m afraid I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’
She’d told the man on the 999 call that; she was surprised they were asking her such silly questions. If she could answer the door, she wouldn’t have rung for a bloody ambulance. Calm, Joy, she told herself. It would help no one to be fractious. Breathe. But it hurt to breathe.
‘My neighbour has a key,’ she called out, ‘the house to the left … number 37.’
‘OK, Mrs Younger, we’ll try to wake your neighbour, but tell me first, can you breathe normally? Do you have any chest pains?’
‘I can breathe, no chest pains, just my hip,’ replied Joy, finding it quite exhausting to shout like that.
‘Hold tight, we’ll be as quick as we can,’ said the voice, and Joy realised how much she wanted them to come and help her. She had started to shiver uncontrollably.
‘It’s just the shock, Muffin,’ she said, more to comfort herself. ‘If only I could get my Rescue Remedy down from the shelf there, I’d be fine.’
She pulled her arms up to hug herself for warmth and cried out in pain. A tear rolled down her cheek. She’d known change was coming, but this was a little harder than she’d bargained for.
Queen’s Park, 5.46 a.m.
Rachel kept looking at her bedside clock to see if it was still too early to wake up the girls, who were both in bed with her. She’d been lying there sleepless for so long and desperately wanted a cuddle.
Ariadne had arrived first, waking Rachel just after two in the morning. Then Daisy had come in rubbing her eyes, saying that Rachel’s light had woken her up and she’d got in too.
After that, with two girls splayed out in the starfish position, four little legs kicking like dreaming dogs, sleep had been impossible and she’d been lying there ever since, worrying how the hell she was going to balance out all the bills she had to pay that month.
Her salary and the child support Michael paid for the girls had both been banked when they were supposed to, doing no more than clearing the overdraft which had built up since her previous pay day. And she’d incurred extra bank charges for allowing her account to go well over her agreed limit the month before.
She didn’t know how the bank worked that one out – you’ve got no money to pay us back, so we’re going to fine you, so you’ll owe us even more money you can’t pay us back.
She’d already had to resort to buying food on her credit cards, but now she didn’t know how she was going to stump up even the minimum required on them this month. Then they would hit her with penalty charges, too. It was like being pulled into quicksand of debt.
Rachel hated even saying the word in her head, but that was the truth of it. Debt. She had a mortgage, four maxed-out credit cards and a permanent overdraft. She was hopelessly in debt. All those weekends in Copenhagen and Bruges might have been great for her emotional wellbeing and work ideas, but they had been ruinous for her finances.
What had Simon said about the new bonus system? That he would pay bonuses in the next pay packet after the first money had been banked from the new client. It would be at least three months before they would even present a bill to Tom. She just hoped he’d pay it promptly.
Ariadne flailed around suddenly, raking her sharp little toenails down Rachel’s shin and she couldn’t stand it another moment. She got out of bed and headed downstairs.
At least she didn’t need to worry about waking up Branko as well, she thought as she passed the door of his bedroom. He’d asked her for some time off and had left the day before, to visit friends in Paris. He’d said he wasn’t sure how long he’d be away, a week or possibly two, which was a bit of a worry, but she could hardly refuse him, considering the very casual arrangement they had. And she was happy for him to have a holiday. Paris, how divine. Rachel wondered when she would ever be able to go anywhere gorgeous like that again.
She fired up her laptop on the kitchen table and, armed with a mug of tea, gathered together all the papers she’d let build up on one end of it – the Pile of Doom, as she thought of it – forced herself to open all the letters, and started filling out a spreadsheet of her debts.
When she’d finished Rachel sat and stared at it in disbelief. It was far worse than she’d realised. Catastrophic. How had she let herself get into this mess? And what the hell was she going to do about it?
After a few moments frozen by shock, Rachel laid her head on her folded arms and sobbed.
Who can I tur
n to for advice? she asked herself. That was almost the worst part of it, to feel so alone in this crisis. Tessa had already lent her some money, it had its own column on the spreadsheet. £3000. Not an inconsiderable amount.
What was she going to do next? Ask Natasha and get into even more debt with her family, which she had no prospect of paying back?
Joy wouldn’t be able to help. She knew nothing about such worldly matters as interest rates – she’d never had a mortgage or a credit card, and she didn’t have any savings, as far as Rachel knew – but what she did know, was how to get by on next to nothing.
She wasn’t mean, she just knew how to be frugal. She said it was her upbringing, which had made her aware of the value of every penny, and after Rachel’s dad had died so unexpectedly, it had been a very useful skill.
Joy still bought all her clothes in charity shops and her vegetarian diet, with rice, pulses, cooking oil etc. bought in bulk, cost very little. She used every herbal teabag twice and very rarely turned on her heating or even the hot water. And she moved around the house in the dark, never having more than one light on at a time. It drove Rachel potty when she went there. Joy’s only indulgences were essential oils, crystals and joss sticks. And food for Muffin.
Why hadn’t some of this super thrift rubbed off on Rachel? It wasn’t like they’d been brought up to expect luxury. Tessa was more like Joy. She did allow herself lights and hot water, but even now Tom was raking it in from the TV show, she still wore the vintage dresses she’d had for years.
Rachel wondered how she’d allowed herself to become such a self-indulgent bourgeois urbanite who had to have prestige homewares and stay in boutique hotels? Was it because it just seemed normal in the professional world she inhabited, where everything was about the superficial?
Natasha certainly had to have all the trappings in her business too, far more so than Rachel actually, but she had the income for it, and all the freebies and discounts. Rachel’s best Lanvin handbag had been passed on to her by Natasha.
Secret Keeping for Beginners Page 17