Delphine faltered slightly, gripping her cane. Was she doing the right thing? What would Xavier’s reaction be? He wasn’t the sort of man to take kindly to interference.
Delphine straightened her shoulders. It was too late to change anything now. She just had to hope she hadn’t made a monumental mistake.
She nodded at the daughter of a former president and her American singer boyfriend. She’d given the boyfriend a slot after the string quartet had finished. It was a special favour to the former president, who was a personal friend, but Delphine did hope the singer wasn’t too shouty or loud; that wouldn’t fit well with the elegant evening she had planned.
Noticing Guy staring out of the window, deep in thought, she wondered what was on his mind. She wasn’t sure if he was preoccupied or simply bored and the thought aggravated her. She joined him. ‘Why aren’t you talking to anyone?’ she hissed at him disapprovingly.
Guy looked affronted. ‘I’m not five years old, Mother,’ he snapped crossly. ‘I’m well aware you expect me to circulate. I just can’t help thinking it all seems so . . . so false.’
‘False?’ Delphine rolled her eyes. She had put all her time and energy into organising this party – at Guy’s insistence!
‘Who are all these people?’ he said tetchily. ‘I hardly know anyone. They’re all just here for the free goodie bags.’ Guy did a double take as a famous model to his right burst into peals of laughter. Petal, as she was known, had the most exquisite face, but Guy couldn’t help thinking she had painfully thin arms, and was a collar bone really supposed to stand out like a metal coat hanger? He shuddered. Why on earth did Seraphina want to be a model? He would rather die than allow her to look like that. ‘Where are the kids, by the way? It makes me nervous when I can’t see them.’
Delphine sighed. ‘I have no idea, Guy. I’d rather not think about the twins. Who knows what they might be up to.’ She preened as she surveyed the room. ‘Have you ever seen a more wonderful turnout? Not only have all of my most important friends made the effort, but so have the celebrity contingent.’ She inclined her head in the direction of one of Hollywood’s most well-paid actors. ‘So pleased to make your acquaintance,’ she gushed. ‘He owns a vineyard in Bordeaux and he adores France,’ she confided to Guy in an awed whisper. ‘He came today because I promised his beautiful wife some free perfume – she’s a scriptwriter. She might be around somewhere, in fact.’ Guy didn’t look impressed. ‘She loves Xavier’s trio of fragrances so I promised her a boxful. Isn’t it lovely that people want to join us for this momentous event, Guy?’
‘What, for the anniversary of Rose-Nymphea that only Cat noticed?’ Guy snapped, losing patience. ‘This family is so caught up in its own drama, Mother, that none of us are actually paying attention to anything that’s going on right under our noses. Cat seems to be the only one around here that notices anything, and that speaks volumes.’
Delphine recoiled. ‘Guy, what rubbish! Cat Hayes is of no consequence to any of us.’ She straightened her dress and headed in the direction of a glossy celebrity with teeth as white as her own hair.
Guy gripped his glass of wine. Quite frankly, he couldn’t give a shit about any of these celebrities and their vineyards. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that the twins might be up to no good and until he’d tracked them down, he wasn’t going to relax. Dumping his glass on to a tray as a waiter whirled past, Guy went in search of his youngest children.
Seraphina took another sneaky swig of champagne as she checked out her appearance in a full-length mirror in her bedroom. She was wearing a midnight-blue silk gown with spaghetti straps that made the most of her loose, platinum-blond hair and her alabaster skin. The previous day’s tanning session with Cat hadn’t changed her skin tone one bit but Seraphina wasn’t bothered, her pale skin was something her boyfriend raved about. The sound of chatter and music drifted up from the party downstairs. The string quartet had finished and a solo, male voice could be heard singing something raspy and soulful. Seraphina approved but she was also surprised; this was hardly the sort of music her grandmother would normally lay on.
‘I’ll be out in a minute!’ Cat called from the bathroom. ‘Just . . . struggling with this zip . . .’
‘Come on out and I’ll do it,’ Seraphina called back distractedly. She and Cat were getting ready together and they’d been ages. Cat had done her make-up for her, using lots of youthful pinks with a touch of grey and navy around the eyes. Seraphina felt really pretty for once.
Tonight’s the night, she told herself, butterflies racing around her stomach. Finally, she was going to do it. She was going to drink as much champagne as she could for courage and then she was going to sleep with her boyfriend. After weeks – no, make that months – of holding him at arm’s length, Seraphina had convinced herself that she was ready.
Did he care that she was a virgin? she wondered, stroking her hair into place with a shaky hand. Men like him were so worldly-wise, so confident. Seraphina felt like an inexperienced, gauche schoolgirl when she was with him. Tonight, though, she would shake off her childishness and immaturity and she would become the sophisticated, grown-up woman he wanted her to be. Seraphina felt both excited and scared at the same time . . . actually, very sick, now she came to think about it. She reached for her champagne flute again and drained it. Immediately, she topped it up and started again, enjoying the feeling of the champagne seeping through her system. She felt more confident already; she was sure of it.
‘Are you sure this looks all right?’ Cat said, emerging from the bathroom. She was wearing one of Seraphina’s glamorous gowns, a black satin figure-hugging number that left her golden shoulders and arms bare and fell to the floor in an inky pool. Cat wasn’t convinced it was a good fit, however. It was a simple design that clung to her figure flatteringly but it was a fraction too tight. Cat was worried she might burst out of it at any moment.
None of Seraphina’s other gowns fitted her so she really didn’t have any other option; Bella had sent on a pair of dowdy black trousers and an unsuitable basque, as well as a purple dress Cat hadn’t worn in two years. Cat could only imagine Bella was distracted by Ben because if she’d been thinking straight, she would have known the clothes weren’t suitable for a party Hollywood actors would be attending.
Seraphina stood back and viewed Cat critically, glad to take her mind off what she had planned for the night. Cat had taken care with her make-up, outlining her aquamarine eyes with smudged eyeliner and three coats of sooty black mascara, and her cheeks were brushed with peachy blusher.
‘It’s too tight, isn’t it?’ Cat asked, about to back into the bathroom. ‘I’ll just wear my black trousers and a top . . .’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Seraphina spun her round and positioned her in front of the mirror. ‘The dress looks gorgeous . . . it’s your hair.’ She scooped it up in her hands and twisted it until it was all piled on top of Cat’s head like a beautiful, butterscotch whirl. ‘You should wear it up. Otherwise it spoils the line of the dress. You have the shoulders to pull it off, so let’s do it. I’m good with hair. Watch.’
Cat sat stiffly on the edge of the dressing-table chair while Seraphina deftly took locks of her hair and pinned it up in pretty loops and waves. She noticed Seraphina’s flushed cheeks and the agitated movements of her fingers as she reached for clips.
‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked, worriedly.
Seraphina coloured. ‘Only one glass,’ she protested, avoiding Cat’s eyes in the mirror.
‘Just one? You look very flushed.’
Saying nothing, Seraphina finished pinning Cat’s hair. She sat on the bed, looking apprehensive. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything,’ Cat responded, standing up quickly for fear of splitting the dress. She checked her hair, not sure she could carry it off, but Seraphina had done a beautiful job and had added a simple diamond necklace to Cat’s throat as a finishing touch.
‘Your first time . . . what was it
like?’ Seraphina went even pinker and not bothering to hide her champagne glass any longer, she reached for it and almost downed the contents in one out of sheer nerves. ‘Were you nervous?’
Cat watched the champagne disappearing. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Oh, I’m just asking.’
Cat wasn’t convinced. In fact, she was fairly sure she knew exactly why Seraphina was asking her such a question. She perched gingerly on the end of the bed and thought carefully about what she was going to say. She wanted to be as honest as possible, without glorifying the idea of sex. Seraphina probably really needed her mum right now and Cat felt the responsibility of saying the right thing weighing down heavily on her shoulders.
Seraphina pleated the bottom of her dress with trembling fingers. ‘I just want to know . . . well, what it feels like . . . when you were ready . . . who you did it with . . .’
Sighing, Cat thought back to her first boyfriend. ‘My first proper boyfriend was called John and we were both about seventeen or eighteen, I think. He was this beach-bum type with blond, surfer-dude hair and those baggy shorts they all wear.’ She paused, lost in memories for a moment. ‘We’d been going out for, oh, about six months or more and we ended up staying out all night at the beach.’
‘Was it romantic?’
‘It was . . . messy.’ Cat smiled. ‘It’s true what they say; sand gets everywhere. But if you want details, I suppose it was nice, rather than earth-shattering. I wasn’t nervous because we were such good friends but it felt like a big moment in some ways.’
Seraphina nodded, her hair falling into her eyes. ‘That’s it . . . it feels like a big moment. So big and so scary, I don’t know if I can go through with it.’
‘So don’t,’ Cat asserted, concerned. ‘What’s the rush? I was one of the last out of my friends and I still felt unprepared for all the emotions I went through.’
‘But . . . I have to do it sometime, don’t I?’
‘It doesn’t have to be tonight.’ Cat witnessed relief flooding through Seraphina’s eyes but it was fleeting. She could tell the young girl had made up her mind, even though she was clearly terrified. Cat took Seraphina’s hand. ‘I really wouldn’t recommend sleeping with your boyfriend just because you feel you should or . . . or because he’s older than you and he tells you all sophisticated girls do it.’
Seraphina blinked and topped her champagne flute up clumsily. ‘He’s not . . . he hasn’t . . .’
‘Really?’ Cat didn’t believe her. ‘Look, you should only do this if you want to . . . if it feels right.’ She regarded Seraphina, admiring her luminous beauty. She was so beautiful and quirky, Cat couldn’t bear the thought of her losing her virginity to someone who didn’t appreciate it, especially some older man who was clearly pressing Seraphina to take their relationship a step further.
‘If you’re not ready, say no, Seraphina, please,’ she urged. ‘If you’re worried he’ll leave you because of it, you still say no, because that means he isn’t worth it. Actually, it means he’s a total shit.’
‘But I love him!’ Seraphina jumped to her feet, tears in her eyes. ‘I don’t want to lose him . . . I can’t. He’s all I’ve got.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Cat stood up. ‘You have an entire family around you. You have Max and your father . . . and Xavier.’ She felt strange saying his name out loud; she had been doing a good job of not thinking about him for the past ten minutes. ‘All of these people care about you and, believe me, that counts for a lot. I didn’t have any family around me so I really was on my own, but you’re not, Seraphina. You must know that.’
Seraphina tossed back her champagne recklessly and when she turned back to Cat, her eyes sparkled with defiance. ‘My boyfriend is the only one who doesn’t treat me like a stupid child around here, Cat. He’s the only one who takes my modelling career seriously too – even Max told me he doesn’t want me to model. He’s always trying to discourage me . . . he never wants me to do anything . . . he’s just as bad as my father.’ She was slurring her words now.
Cat grabbed Seraphina’s hand. ‘He doesn’t think that, he’s just trying to protect you.’
‘I don’t need protecting!’ Seraphina yelled, pulling herself away from Cat. ‘I’m sixteen, I’m not a child. And I wish everyone would stop treating me like one!’ Spinning round, she headed unsteadily out of the door.
Cat felt terrible. She hadn’t done a very good job of dissuading Seraphina with her honest tale about John the surfer; if anything, she had fuelled Seraphina’s already reckless mind. She seemed to think sex would solve all her problems and insecurities and she couldn’t be more wrong.
‘There you are.’ Max poked his head round the door. He was wearing a suit for once, albeit it with a white T-shirt and red baseball boots. ‘Wow. You look really hot.’
Cat raised her eyebrows. ‘Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.’
Seeing that she was alone, Max frowned. ‘Where’s Seraphina?’
‘Gone to meet her boyfriend, I think. Didn’t you just bump into her?’ Cat swished to the door in her gown, wondering what to do.
Max looked upset. ‘No. Has she really gone to meet him?’
Cat dithered for a moment. She didn’t want to betray Seraphina’s confidence but she couldn’t help thinking the young girl was about to do something she might bitterly regret, especially since she was drunk. ‘I need to talk to you,’ she told Max, making a decision. ‘Seraphina will probably hate me forever but I just can’t let her do something she’s been pressured into doing. . .’
Cat filled Max in, hoping to God she was doing the right thing.
Xavier burst into the main salon clutching a box, hardly aware that the party was in full flow. The male singer was taking a break so most people had drifted outside to the pool area. His father was missing, as were the twins; in fact, the only family member he could see was Leoni, who was standing outside with a man with brown hair. Xavier recognised him as Jerard Monville, the businessman Leoni had been seeing for a while. They certainly looked cosy enough together, if not deliriously happy.
Xavier had been in the lab until around ten minutes before. He had hastily thrown on a dinner suit with a black tie undone around his shirt collar. Delphine, making sure everything was ready for the speeches, smiled at Xavier’s impromptu arrival. His dark hair was sticking up all over the place and his eyes were slightly bloodshot but he looked elated.
He had finally figured out the missing ingredient to his fragrance. It would mean a trip to Morocco but at least the elusive element that had been evading him had finally made itself known. Xavier’s eyes darted around the room, searching for Cat. Still fuming about their altercation the other day, he had thought about it – and about her – constantly ever since. Xavier had finally acknowledged something he’d been in denial about since Grasse.
‘Xavier. Is that what I think it is?’ Delphine nodded at the box in his hands, wondering why his eyes were sparkling so vividly.
Xavier grinned. ‘Not quite. I’m still working on the fragrance but I think I now know what the missing ingredient is. Hey, since when has he been one of our friends?’ Amused, he stabbed his finger in the direction of the Hollywood movie star who was holding court out by the sun loungers.
Delphine smirked. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? We’ve been so lucky with our attendees this evening.’ She gestured to the box again. ‘So, if that’s not the fragrance, what is it?’
Xavier rubbed his slightly stubbly chin, thinking he should probably have had a shave. ‘It’s the prototype bottle for the new fragrance.’ He unfolded the crisp, white tissue paper from the box and drew the bottle out carefully. ‘What do you think?’
Delphine cradled the bottle in her hands, turning it this way and that, watching as shafts of light splintered through it. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she commented. ‘I thought it might be modern and angular but . . . it’s stunning. It almost has a vintage feel.’
‘That’s right,’ Xavier agreed,
pleased she liked it. The bottle, shaped like a ripe but elegant teardrop, begged to be handled. It fitted into the palm of the hand and it was made of thick, shimmering glass that would look sensational once the scent was inside it. The thinner end yielded an antique-style silver stopper with filigree detail around the neck and the overall effect was both stylish and eye-catching.
Xavier slipped it back into the box. He had a really good feeling about it. It felt right for the new fragrance and it was going to be the perfect way to really lift it into a more modern consumer band.
‘Where’s Cat?’ he asked, thinking she’d probably like to see the prototype.
Delphine looked vexed. ‘I do wish everyone would stop talking about that girl! I have no idea where she is, Xavier. I haven’t seen her and I’m not in the least bit interested in what she’s doing.’ She stared at her favourite grandson, her hazel eyes watching him keenly. ‘Why are you so desperate to see her?’
‘I’m not desperate,’ he said defensively. ‘She had a hand in designing this bottle, that’s all.’
‘Really?’ Delphine raised thin eyebrows. ‘Is there no end to that girl’s talents?’ Quite frankly, she was sick and tired of hearing people gush about Cat Hayes. ‘The sooner that girl goes back to England, the better,’ she added, annoyed. ‘And from what she tells me, it will be very soon.’
‘What?’ Xavier’s head snapped up.
Delphine caught sight of an influential French politician and raised her glass at him politely. ‘She told me the other day that she needs to get home after the party. I think her patience has run out and her new passport should arrive any day.’
Xavier experienced a moment of panic. Cat couldn’t be leaving . . . not yet. Even though he had known she wouldn’t be hanging around forever – at least, not without a good reason – he hadn’t realised her departure was quite so imminent. There were things to say, feelings to confront . . . Xavier realised he’d better speak to Cat again – as soon as possible.
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