Her hair shone with hints of fiery copper in the setting sun, and her cheeks were now tan and freckled from the long days in the Mediterranean. She looked fresh faced and healthy. I let the scene wash over me until I sharply remembered: the tabloid.
I reached for it and held the paper to my chest for a moment to prepare myself to look upon the upsetting picture again. “So, um, I found something and—”
“Lemme see!” Mina snatched the paper from me impatiently and pushed her sunglasses atop her head. “That’s Aston,” she said, unimpressed. “I’ve seen him in the paper before. He’s like a gazillionaire.”
“Yeah, but—” I began to explain, but she interrupted me.
“Hey wait, that’s Peaches’ sister. Look here,” she said, pointing to the caption below. “Chantelle Benson-Westwood,” she confirmed.
I nodded bleakly, and she kept examining the paper.
“Gosh, she looks awesome. Like Kate Middleton,” she said, which was wildly unhelpful.
I seized back the paper with a snort and folded it so that only the caption was visible. I didn’t need to see them holding hands for a moment longer than I absolutely had to.
“Can you read what this says?” I stuck my finger to the caption, and she read it aloud, slowly.
“It’s something about Aston and Chantelle,” she reported with a definitive head nod.
“Thanks Captain Obvious of the good ship Duh—”
“A Londra: That means ‘in London.’”
I puffed with anticipation. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What else can you figure out?”
“Um, the only other word I know is fidanzata. It means ‘girlfriend’ . . . or is it ‘fiancée’? Not sure . . .” she said, dropping the paper back into my lap. It slid off my thighs and onto the polished deck of the yacht. I didn’t try to stop it.
55
“KIKA?” MINA ASKED. “Are you okay?”
A salty coastal gust whipped across the boat. I sat in stillness listening to the frothy water slurping against the ship’s bow.
“I should get you and Gwendy some sweaters . . .” I said in distraction. I picked myself up and headed for the cabins, but Mina followed behind me.
“Mina, has Peaches said anything about her sister and Aston?” I asked. This makes no sense—I haven’t been gone that long.
Our rooms were below deck, and we carefully navigated the steep steps.
“Nope,” said Mina towing behind me. “Why? Are you upset? Do you like Aston or something?”
I stopped so abruptly that Mina rebounded off my back. “No! Do you like Benito or something?”
“No!” she said quickly.
We had the world’s shortest staring contest until both of our faces went pink.
“I guess I kind of do like Benito,” said Mina quietly. “How about you?” she asked hopefully.
I knew her confession meant I had to pony one up myself. I nodded meaningfully. “I guess I kind of do like Aston.” I broke away and pulled out the sweaters from our bags.
“But what about Lochlon? He’s not your boyfriend anymore?”
I shook my head in confirmation. “He wasn’t for a long time. I just was holding on to this fantasy of how it used to be,” I added, feeling like I owed her a bit of an explanation (and so she didn’t think I was some boyfriend-dumping hussy—I was a role model, after all).
“But what are you going to do? Aston already has a fiancée.”
“Oh, please. They couldn’t have gotten engaged in, like, seven days,” I snapped. “Sorry.” I softened and petted down her windswept curls. I tossed her a sweater, and she threaded her arms into it. “I just don’t think they could really be a couple. I know what it looks like, but I just have to talk to Aston first.”
“Do you think he likes you back?”
“He did.” I pulled on a sweater as well. “I don’t know if he still does, though.”
Before I really had a chance to process this, I linked arms with Mina. “Come on. Let’s head back up. Gwendy must be cold.”
As we reached the deck, we ran straight into Benito. “Benito,” I said, grabbing hold of his arm to make sure he didn’t get away.
“Mina,” I called, and she timidly poked out from behind me. “Ask him which island is Capri.”
“But I know which island—”
Benito’s eye lit up at the word “Capri,” and he motioned to follow him to the bow of the boat, on the opposite end of the deck.
“Go on,” I whispered to Mina. “I’ll keep watch. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She shook her head and followed Benito giddily. “You are so lucky that this guy doesn’t speak English, Kika.”
I gave her a sweet wave. From my safe distance away, I watched them talk in broken Italian while looking out onto the rocky seascape. Mina giggled ultra-girlishly, and I could tell that this would be the highlight of the trip for her.
I pulled my eyes away, giving them a moment of privacy. I went over to check on Gwen, who was with the adults on the other end of the deck.
“Gwendy!” I quarterbacked her a sweater, and she caught it with karate-honed reflexes.
“Thank goodness.” She wriggled into the sweater. “I was freezing my—”
Before she could utter another word (most likely a bad one), I snagged her shoulders and trapped her in the fabric before she could weasel her head through. “Don’t get lost in there, hobgoblin!”
She cried out in a muffled voiced and flailed her arms. Childlike silliness swished over me and lessened the dreadful feeling that I might have missed my chance with Aston. I banished the thought as Elsbeth strolled over to us with a full glass of sloshing wine.
I snatched a glance at Mina and Benito, but they were acting perfectly innocent and were out of Elsbeth’s line of sight.
But her time was up for now. Mina caught my eye and knew that my finger-swipe across the throat meant: Wrap it up, and get your butt back over here.
“Are you girls having fun?” Elsbeth asked just as Mina wandered over with a huge smile on her face.
I flung her a sly wink that she sent back with lightning speed.
Elsbeth bent down. She picked up the tabloid that I’d stupidly abandoned on the deck, flapping in the wind.
“Oh my, is that Aston Hyde Bettencourt?” she asked aloud, scrutinizing the photo.
“Yeah,” answered Mina gravely. “And Peaches’ sister, Chantelle Benson-Westwood. His fianc—girlfriend.”
“You know, I thought those two were a couple. Lately, she’s been over at his house constantly,” Elsbeth said in a cheerful voice, her words walloping my gut.
“That is just what poor Aston needs, a society girl like Chantelle who will get him back out on the scene and make him live again. The Benson-Westwoods know everyone in London; they’re in publishing, and they own all the lifestyle magazines and newspapers, so they know everything that’s going on.” She flipped over the tabloid to the front cover. “Why, they even own this paper.”
She turned back to the photo. “They’re just the type of people Aston should be cavorting with. Really quite wonderful, I think, don’t you?”
She didn’t specify who she was addressing, so both Mina and I grumbled inaudibly.
“She has the most lovely skin tone—like porcelain,” she added.
I leaned into Mina. “You say porcelain; I say cadaver.”
She stifled a laugh.
Elsbeth continued unaware. “He deserves to be happy after all that he’s been through, poor lamb.” Her eyes scanned the rest of the pictures as she took a healthy swig of her wine.
“And just look at Chantelle, dressed to the nines in Burberry Prorsum—mature but fashionable. She’s the perfect fit for him, because he’s always photographed, and he can’t be with someone who’d be a liability to him—socially or
otherwise, do you see what I mean?”
Mentally, I couldn’t help but to inspect myself. With my wild hair and scuzzy bohemian clothes, Elsbeth basically meant that Aston should be with someone opposite of me. I never wear stupid Blueberry Possum, I thought.
Mina mangled her face at me. In response, I gagged my finger in my mouth and dropped my tongue in the universal gesture for vomit. Gwendy laughed at the both of us, though she didn’t know what we were griping about.
“Well, lambs. I’m off to play with the adults. Kika will tuck you girls in tonight.” She gave both girls kisses on the crowns of their heads before disappearing inside for more postdinner cocktails.
I took the liberty of crumpling the tabloid into a ball lest someone else come over and pronounce outright how amazing Chantelle Benson-Westwood was.
• • •
THE GIRLS AND I remained on deck awhile longer, now swaddled in sweaters and fleecy blankets. The wind relayed scraps of the adults’ chatter and the pacifying tinkling sound of ice cubes in short glasses.
We watched the stars get brighter, each one happier and more twinkly than the last. When our eyelids went droopy, I ferried the girls inside to their cabin rooms. I folded them into their white beds before giving them good-night kisses of my own.
“Thanks for today,” said Mina before closing her eyes. I stroked her hair off her forehead.
I automatically thought about Aston as the boat lulled the girls to sleep. It was a dangerous habit. If he really was with Chantelle, then I had no right to pine for him. But I would hold out until I saw it with my own eyes: I knew the tabloid could be wrong, and there was a chance Aston and Chantelle weren’t a couple. But it was undeniable that they were out on the town together, which meant something.
If only I had been able to get to a phone sooner to explain why I was in the café with Lochlon, then maybe he would have never gone out with Chantelle.
With both girls asleep on the lower deck, I stole away for a moment to join the adults. I didn’t want to be alone with my churning, repetitive thoughts anymore. They were clustered in the upstairs bar called the Sky Lounge, all steel and glass and fabulousness.
“But Switzerland seems so far,” I heard Elsbeth say to Primrose, who now looked like a middle-school English teacher drunk on cooking sherry. “Is that really the best option? Mina is learning French, I suppose.”
“Well, you can always go with English schools, but after doing my research, Switzerland is really the best option—especially for girls. They’ll find it delightful. Don’t worry for one moment longer.”
I held back for a minute, hovering in the doorway.
“I know you’re right, Prim,” Elsbeth said. “Boarding school is the absolute right choice.”
“Elsbeth!”
When everyone swiveled toward the door, I realized that it was me who had just blurted out Elsbeth’s name in that reprimanding way.
“Kika, how long have you been standing there?” she asked, setting down her wineglass. She looked tipsy as well, and I hoped whatever she had just said was a product of the alcohol.
“Sorry. Hi, everyone,” I said timidly. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated, “it’s just that for a minute there, I thought I heard you say that you were sending Mina to boarding school in Switzerland. It’s been a long day. Obviously that’s ridiculous.” I started laughing feebly.
“Not just Willamina,” said Mr. Darling. “Gwendolyn, too.” He rose from his chair, posturing like an alpha gorilla.
“What?” I blinked rapidly.
He slowed his words. “Boarding school. In Switzerland. In September.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t send them away.” I rushed the table. “You’re kidding, right? It’s a joke, isn’t it?” I pleaded, looking only at Elsbeth.
Mr. Darling made a condescending chuckle for the benefit of his guests, and Elsbeth joined her hands together. Amjad and Primrose Nazari sat by awkwardly.
“Now, now, Kika, you’re not to worry about your job,” Mr. Darling fussed in a patronizing way. “We’ve already arranged—”
“Screw my job!”
Primrose wheezed as if we still lived in a world where saying the word “screw” aloud was unseemly. Bitch, please.
“You can’t send the girls away,” I said to Elsbeth, still not fully believing it.
“And why not, Kika?” Mr. Darling challenged.
I looked at Elsbeth, wordlessly beseeching her to say something. But she appeared to be captivated by the lipstick stain on the rim of her wineglass.
“This can’t be your idea,” I told her. “You’d never make them live alone in Switzerland, not when they’re so young.”
Primrose let out a scale of titters that got higher and higher. “American au pairs are certainly outspoken. Never you mind her, Elsbeth—”
“This is ludicrous,” I interjected, still speaking only to Elsbeth.
Suddenly, she bolted upright like an exclamation point, and I let out a grateful sigh. Finally, I thought, she’ll set these maniacs straight.
Elsbeth squared off: “You are quite right, Kika!”
But before I could let out a noise of relief, she barreled on.
“Your outburst is ludicrous. I’m very sorry you had to hear it this way, but you are not a part of this conversation or, to be quite frank, this family. Decisions regarding the education of the girls are mine to make with Mr. Darling. And your hostility is spoiling the night.”
“Well put,” said Prim.
I bombarded her with mute daggers. Elsbeth had never spoken to me like that before. I sucked my teeth. “Please, Elsbeth,” I whispered. “You can’t.”
She glanced at Mr. Darling like she was looking for his approval. He nodded shortly at her, and she resumed talking.
“As Mr. Darling was just saying, we’ve made other arrangements for you work-wise, so please, not a word of this to the girls. I would hate for us to part on a sour note and have to give you a poor recommendation after all your wonderful work.”
“There’s a position open in Ronald Richmond’s office. His PA needs an assistant. It’s all sorted for you, Kika,” Mr. Darling piped in like he just did me the world’s greatest favor.
I grimaced openly.
“We will speak about it when we return to London, and that’s final.” Elsbeth sat back down looking shaky. She stared out at the sea with dead-fish eyes.
Primrose tapped her forearm in clumsy consolation. “Well done, darling. You must put these sort of girls in their places before—”
I turned around and barged out so I didn’t have to hear another word out of Primrose, but I didn’t move fast enough to escape hearing her call me a “right little bitch.”
56
THE NEXT WEEK of vacation went by in a narcotic-like stupor, and before I knew it, we were on a private plane back to London. It was a lot less fun this time around.
Things were frigid and distant with Elsbeth, and she actively avoided me. I tried to talk to her about boarding school every chance I got, but it was no use.
The only information she gave me was that the girls were to finish out the school year in London, but by September—a mere few months away—the poor kids would be shipping out, me included, as there would be no need for an au pair once the girls were in Switzerland.
Once upon a time, I thought that the minute I got back to the Darlings’ house in London, I’d run directly next door to Aston’s. But now, more than ever, I worried that it may be too late.
I held my breath as I turned on my cell phone. Maybe, just maybe, there will be something from—nope. There was nothing from Aston.
Instead, a vile little message from Lochlon blinked onto the screen:
Figured out a way to live your dreams yet? I didn’t mean to be cruel. Only wanted to make you more realistic. Truly sorry for being so dreadful to y
ou. Part of me wishes we never left India. Please think well of me. I will always think well of you.
It took everything in me not to text him back something nasty. Not being able to discuss things with Elsbeth had me gunning for confrontation. But I knew it was a bad idea, and so I said nothing and deleted his phone number. I felt an immediate, sweeping relief. How wonderful for that to be so anticlimactic, I thought, feeling myself brighten ever so slightly.
Instead of sitting in my room and feeling sorry for myself, I holed up in Mina’s to unpack her bags while she was at school. But as I hung up her clothing, my feelings against her going to boarding school grew stronger and stronger.
They were still so young. Both girls hadn’t adjusted well to a new country while living with their parents, so who knew what would happen to them in a dorm room in Switzerland with strangers! I thought it was great for girls to start traveling so young, but this felt all too Hansel-and-Gretel-left-in-the-woods for my taste.
Maybe Elsbeth was right, and this was the best thing for them down the line when things like networking and contacts mattered, but I would never, ever want to choose it for them without asking if it was what they wanted.
And of course I’d be out of a job. I couldn’t act like that wouldn’t royally suck. Mr. Darling pulled me aside to tell me more about the job with Richie Rich. In an unconcerned, psychotic way, he couldn’t grasp that being back in New York and having that bridge troll, Bae Yoon, as my direct boss was anything but a delightful solution. Why did a personal assistant need a personal assistant, anyway?
I could barely muster a smothered “thanks.” I prayed that job wouldn’t be my only option once I was “made redundant.” (What a bullshit phrase.)
But regardless, without the au pair gig, I didn’t have a work visa for the UK, so I would most definitely be leaving.
I had some money saved up—enough for me to get an apartment in New York City or for a few months of travel. Never had travel been so alluring, so irresistible. Like an old friend, travel was reaching out for me with glittery, shiny promises of great adventures. Never had I needed travel more than now. Come away and forget about it all, it cooed in my ear.
Girls Who Travel Page 20