by Jill Mansell
'Excuse me?'
'He played away. He got caught. I could kill him for what he's done.' Tandy took a deep breath then exhaled noisily. 'But he doesn't want us to break up. It's not like he's in love with this other girl. She threw herself at him, that's all.'
Tilly shook her head. 'You're going to forgive him?'
'Oh, don't look at me like that! Don't you see? I have to forgive him! Because what happens to me if I don't?'
'But—'
'Without Jamie I'll be just another ex-WAG.' Tandy's eyes glit tered with tears. 'I'd have to go back and live with my mum. And she'd make me get a job. And everyone would be sniggering at me behind my back, and what if I couldn't get myself another footballer? What if I had to settle for some boring bloke who works in Comet and drives a… a clapped-out Ford Fiesta?'
Tilly was stunned. 'But if you stay with Jamie, wouldn't you always be wondering if he's going to do it again?'
'I don't know.' Tandy shrugged. 'I suppose. But that's the price you have to pay.'
'And Jamie would know he could do anything, sleep with anyone he wants, and you'd put up with it.'
'It's not just me though. It's what all the girls do.'
Tilly's voice rose. 'I wouldn't!'
'I don't mean girls like you,' Tandy retaliated. 'I mean girls like me, who go out with Premiership footballers. It's just the way it goes. We kick up a fuss when they do it, but then we forgive them. Because if we don't, there's plenty more queuing up to take our place.'
'And you honestly think it's worth it?' said Tilly.
Tandy shook her head at her as if she were five. 'Look at this house. Look at my shoe collection. I live with Jamie Michaels and millions of girls wish they were me. I'm living the dream, aren't I?'
Having opened her mouth to protest, Tilly promptly closed it again. Jack had come back downstairs and was shooting her a warning look from the doorway.
'Yes.' She gave up. Tandy knew the bargain she'd made with herself and, deep down, she knew it was wrong. 'Anyway, I'd better get to work.'
Jack carried the rest of the sculptures upstairs and they started organizing them on the walls. After working together for ten minutes, he said, 'I heard a saying once: if you marry for money, you end up earning every penny.'
'Hmm.' Tilly was still inwardly seething at the injustice of it all, at Jamie's inability to keep it in his pants, and Tandy's reasoning in letting him get away with it, almost as if it were expected…
'Are you cross with her?'
'I wouldn't call it cross.' She reached up and held one of the large intricate sculptures firmly in place while Jack, behind her, drilled one of the fastening screws into the wall. 'I'd call it furious.'
He laughed and she felt his warm breath on her neck. 'Thought so.'
'Jamie's going to break her heart.' Super-aware of his proxim ity, Tilly supported the second section of the sculpture. 'I mean, he's broken it already and he'll just keep on breaking it, over and over again.'
'For what it's worth, I agree with you.' Jack's hand brushed against her arm as he prepared to drill in the next screw. 'I'm on your side.'
'Tuh.'
'I was always faithful to Rose.'
'Well, you would say that,' said Tilly, possibly unfairly.
Zzzzzzzrrrrrggghhh went the electric drill, twisting the screw into the wall.
'Because it's true.' Jack's mouth was now perilously close to her ear.
'Fine. I believe you.' Taking extreme care to avoid any physical contact, Tilly released her hold on the sculpture and slid away from her position between Jack's body and the wall. 'There, can we get on with the rest of the jobs now? There's loads to do and I have to pick Lou up from school at four.'
Chapter 47
THE END WAS NEAR. The curtains were now kept permanently drawn around the bed and Stella was drifting in and out of sleep. For the last forty-eight hours, she'd been like a clock whose batteries were wearing out. For Erin, sitting by the bed stroking her hand, the periods of silence were lasting longer and longer. All around them the chatter of nurses and visitors and the clanking of trolleys carried on regardless, but inside their curtained-off cubicle, there was just the slow rasping of Stella's breath and the intermittent clunk-hiss of the electronic pump dispensing morphine through the line into her arm.
When she stirred and mumbled something unintelligible, Erin leaned closer and said, 'Sorry?'
Stella opened her eyes, the whites yellow and the eyelids heavy. 'I'm not scared.'
'Good.' A lump expanded in Erin's throat. Yesterday, for the first time, Stella had admitted, 'I know this is it. I just don't want to say it.'
Now Stella murmured, 'Nothing hurts. That's good, isn't it? I feel kind of floaty.'
'It's OK. You're doing fine.' Erin gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
'Shame I'll have to miss the funeral.' Stella managed a ghost of a smile and her voice grew stronger. 'Hearing people say nice things about me. Even if they don't mean it.'
Since there was really no answer to that, Erin just carried on stroking her hand.
'No black,' said Stella after a while.
'Sorry?'
'I don't want anyone wearing black at my funeral. Make sure you tell them that. Bright colors only.'
'OK.' Erin nodded. 'Bright cheerful colors.'
'Ha, my so-called friends won't be cheerful. The only reason they go to funerals is to look thin and beautiful in black. Serve those bitches right.'
Hiss-clunk went the electronic drip.
'And make sure Bing's all right.' Stella's eyes began to close.
'I will.'
'Promise.' Her voice had weakened.
'Absolutely promise.'
'…Good… home.'
Good home? What did that mean? Was Stella saying she wanted her, Erin, to give Bing a good home? Or that she understood how difficult it would be for Erin to keep him, so would she please make sure Bing went to a good home with someone else?
'What was that?'
No reply.
Erin leaned closer, gave Stella's hand a little shake. 'Stella? Do you want me to find someone to give Bing a good home?'
Nothing. Stella's breathing was slow and even. She wasn't going to get an answer out of her just now. She'd have to wait until Stella woke up, then raise the subject again and keep her fingers crossed that it was the latter answer.
After an hour, Stella opened her eyes, gazed blankly at the ceiling, then closed them again before Erin could ask the all-important question. One of the nurses, popping in to check on her shortly af terwards, rested a hand on Erin's shoulder and said discreetly, 'You might want to give Fergus a call. It won't be long now.'
Erin's heart gave a leap of panic. 'What? But there's something I need to ask Stella!'
'I think you should get him in.'
'Yes, but what about my question? It's really important.'
The nurse nodded sympathetically but didn't give in. 'Don't worry about that. Now, do you want to phone him or shall I?'
Fergus arrived forty minutes later, his grey suit smelling of the outside world where life carried on regardless. Stella's breathing was very slow now. During thunderstorms Erin always counted the number of seconds between each flash of lightning and the subsequent rumble of thunder to calculate how far away the storm was. Now she found herself doing the same between each delayed, rasping breath. There was a terrible sense of inevitability about it… nine… ten… eleven…
Stella's chest rose and fell.
'Is it going to happen?' whispered Fergus.
Erin nodded sadly.
'Oh God.' He pulled up a chair, sat down. 'She's not in any pain, is she?'
Erin shook her head, then jumped as someone on the other side of the curtain yelled, 'I hate you, I hate you so much, just GET OUT OF MY LIFE!'
The woman in the next bed said through the curtain, 'Whoops, sorry,' and hastily turned down the volume on her TV.
Ten… eleven… twelve… Erin held her own breath as she counte
d, determined not to be put off by the two EastEnders actresses arguing furiously less than six feet from where Stella lay.
'Oh God…' Fergus was staring at Stella's motionless chest.
Fourteen… fifteen… sixteen…
Erin carried on stroking Stella's hand. She stopped counting at thirty and tidied a strand of hair away from Stella's marble-smooth forehead. It had happened. It was done. Stella was no longer here with them.
Where had she gone?
It was strange, not knowing the answer.
Hiss-clunk went the electronic pump, dispatching its hit of mor phine into a body that no longer needed it.
Answering the phone, Tilly said cheerfully, 'Hello, you, how's it going?'
Erin picked at the flakes of peeling green paint on the corridor wall in front of her. 'Stella's gone.'
'Oh.' Tilly's voice dropped at once. 'Oh, Erin. I'm sorry.'
Erin felt the aching lump in her throat. For a moment neither of them spoke, but she knew they were both acknowledging the irony of those last two words. But Tilly had meant them and she, Erin, was grateful for the condolence. Swallowing the lump, she said, 'It was peaceful at the end. She wasn't in any pain.'
'Well, that's good. Is Fergus with you?'
'Yes. He's upset too.'
'Oh, sweetheart. She was lucky to have you with her. I'll tell Max, shall I? And let other people know.'
'Thanks. That'd be good.' Tears began to slide down Erin's face as she leaned against the wall. 'Is it strange to say I'm going to miss her?'
'Sshh. Of course not.' At the other end of the phone, Tilly said soothingly, 'It's not strange at all.'
Chapter 48
'REMEMBER BEFORE THE AUCTION last week when I thought I was scared?'
'Because you were worried no one would bid for you,' said Tilly.
'And now that they have, I'm more scared. This is fifty times worse.' Kaye's eyes darted around the hotel, her fingers agitatedly twiddling the fringed ends of her silk scarf. 'I feel like I'm about to do the world's highest bungee jump.'
'Look, it's going to be fine. We're all here, aren't we? Nothing can happen.'
'I feel sick. And I need a wee.'
'You're completely safe.' Tilly gave Max a meaningful look; it was all thanks to his Anthony-Perkins-inPsycho impressions that Kaye was such a gibbering wreck.
'Off to the loo? Check he isn't hiding behind the door.'
'Dad, shut up,' said Lou. 'You're not helping.'
It was ten to eight and the four of them were in the bar of the White Angel, a busy restaurant in Tetbury with a good reputation for food. Max had arranged everything, chosen the venue, and decided the time. Parker Price was due to arrive at eight o'clock. While he and Kaye were eating dinner, the rest of them would be seated at a nearby table keeping a discreet eye on them, ready to intervene at a moment's notice if Kaye's biggest fan did or said anything that might give them cause for concern.
At that moment, Max's mobile rang. He checked caller ID and said, 'It's him.'
Kaye's eyes widened. They all listened to Max's side of the ensuing conversation, which comprised a series of Rights, OKs, Fine, no problems, and If you're sures. Finally he said, 'Bye then,' and hung up.
'Is he going to be late?' Lou was indignant.
'He's not coming.'
'What?' Tilly sat up. 'Why not?'
'Just doesn't feel it's right.' Max shrugged. 'So he's decided not to turn up. Fine by me.'
'Are you serious?' Kaye's voice rose. 'It's not fine at all! I've been… oh my God, I've just been stood up by a stalker!'
'I thought you'd be thrilled,' said Max.
'Well I'm not. Here, give me that phone.' Snatching it from him, Kaye jabbed at the buttons. 'Hello? Hello? Is that you? Yes of course it's me! Oh, well spotted, Einstein, I am upset, how dare you do this?'
Lou wondered if Kaye had gone mad. She watched as Kaye lis tened to Parker Price's explanation.
'No, I don't appreciate it. I've never been so insulted in my life! Where are you now?' Pause. 'Well, get yourself over here this minute. You paid to have this dinner with me and that's what you're damn well going to do.'
They all thought she was off her rocker but Kaye didn't care. After hyping herself up to meet the man and enduring all that stomach-churning anxiety, not going through with it would have been a complete waste.
Parker Price didn't look like a fanatic. He looked perfectly normal. His hair was dark with a few silvery threads around the temples. He was in his early forties, lightly tanned, with warm grey eyes and the beginnings of a double chin. His teeth were good, he had nice hands, and he was wearing a well-tailored charcoal-grey suit.
The moment she'd clapped eyes on him, Kaye's nerves had melted away. Calmness descended. There was nothing to be worried about. Across the room, Max and Tilly and Lou were watching like hawks, but here at her table, she was in control.
'So tell me why you tried to cancel.'
Parker Price grimaced. 'God, I'm sorry. I can't believe you were so cross on the phone.'
'I can't believe you came all this way over from the States and suddenly decided to pull out at the last minute. I mean, why would you do that? It's just bizarre.'
'OK, I'm going to level with you. I was in the hotel this evening getting ready to come here and really, really looking forward to meeting you. Then all of a sudden it hit me.' Parker shook his head and said wryly, 'I wondered how you'd be feeling about meeting me, and real ized you'd probably be scared witless.' He paused. 'Was I right?'
'Well, maybe. Maybe not scared witless,' said Kaye. 'Call it… wary.'
'Now you're just being polite. As you would have been tonight, on the surface. But let's face it, I could have been a complete psycho path. I still might be, for all you know.'
'You're not.' Kaye's confidence was absolute.
'I know I'm not.' He smiled. 'But you don't. And the fact that I bid five thousand pounds to have dinner with you has to be a worry. Anyhow, that's why I suddenly decided I couldn't see you. I couldn't bear the thought of you sitting opposite me, wishing you could be anywhere else, and hating every minute. The money didn't matter. I just wanted to let you off the hook, because anything would be better than knowing you were fright ened of me.'
'I'm not frightened anymore,' said Kaye. 'I promise.'
'Glad to hear it. And thanks for not letting me cancel.' He relaxed visibly in his chair. 'It's really good to meet you.'
'Very nice to meet you too.' Kaye couldn't begin to describe the
way she was feeling about this gentle, sensitive man; all she knew was that he was someone she would trust with her life.
'We're being watched,' said Parker.
'I know. Sorry about that.'
'Your security team. We could invite them to join us if you want. The waiters would rearrange the tables if we ask nicely, so we're all sitting together.'
'No thanks, they're fine where they are.' Kaye didn't want Max and Lou constantly interrupting, asking questions, spoiling the evening. 'I can't tell you how much I love that painting you sent, by the way. It's hanging up in my living room. So kind of you to think of me.'
'My pleasure. You'd been through a rotten time. Trial by tabloid. I just wanted to cheer you up,' said Parker.
'You shouldn't have spent that much.'
He shrugged. 'Money isn't too much of an issue. As you may have gathered. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying the painting.'
He had the nicest eyes, warm and sparkly and crinkling at the corners each time he smiled. Kaye, who didn't make a habit of asking impertinent questions, said, 'How'd you get so rich?' Well, she wanted to know. Googling Parker's name hadn't come up with anything helpful. She really hoped he'd earned his money rather than inherited it.
'I'm an architect. Not very exciting, but we have a successful prac tice. P. K. Price, over on Hudson Street.' Taking out his wallet, he removed a business card. 'Residential, corporate, big buildings, small buildings, anything you like. Just say the word and we'
ll design it.'
'And nobody minded you taking time off work to come over here?'
'Mind? They were delighted to be rid of me. No, it was fine. I've just finished a big project so I was due a break.'
He seemed so normal, yet what he'd done definitely came under the heading of unusual. Kaye said bluntly, 'How much would you have bid up to, at the auction?' God, she couldn't believe she was coming out with these questions.