‘Bother. My watch must be running fast.’ I was past the age of rising to baits like that one. ‘You’re looking very sober. Been to see the bank manager?’ I asked as I took my coat off and slung it over the back of my chair and sat down.
He made a face. ‘Got it in one.’ It didn’t look as if it had been any more of a pleasant meeting than an appointment with mine would be. Though I deliberately have my account at a branch a hundred miles away so there is no chance I might ever accidentally be seen and called in. James reached out towards an open bottle on the table. Either he was intending to console himself with a whole bottle or he’d just assumed he knew what I wanted to drink. Daniel does that. He’s usually wrong.
James’s eyes followed mine as they glowered at the bottle. ‘I hope you still like white wine? I thought I’d better order while I had the chance, otherwise with this crowd we’d have to wait ages to be served.’
My guns thoroughly spiked, I could hardly now insist on having one of Bruce’s exotic and not very nice cocktails. James poured me a glass and pushed it over, saying, ‘I haven’t seen you in your working gear before. Very smart.’ He sniffed the air. ‘But smelly. Darling fond of perfume, is he?’
‘The bottle slipped,’ I muttered. I had been applying some to my pulse points, as recommended in all women’s magazines, when I shook a bit too hard. I’d tried to wipe it off but the result was still a saturated bra and the most perfumed cleavage in West London. It was another reason why I was extremely relieved that Emma was safely over on the other side of the room. It was her precious bottle of XS which she keeps secreted at the back of her desk drawer I had filched.
‘It may wear off,’ James said in an encouraging voice, but didn’t sound too convinced. My fingers clenched around my glass but before I threw it at him I ought at least to have the benefit of one mouthful. It was excellent, much better than the vinegar that purports to be wine which is all we usually allow ourselves. I took a second swig, and decided even I couldn’t fantasise about throwing this, it was much too good.
It was also having a beneficial effect on my temper. I could feel myself becoming mellower with each sip. I smiled at him. ‘Thank you for taking me to the private view. I enjoyed it. Did you get any feedback about how they did with selling their pictures?’
James gave me a completely unreadable look. ‘I got plenty of feedback, but not about the pictures.’
Probably about meeting Cressida, I thought, wondering if I’d touched on a sore subject. ‘I see,’ I muttered vaguely and thought I’d better try to change the subject. ‘How’s Serena?’
James put his glass on the table with a slight but distinctly terse clink. ‘I wouldn’t know. When I last saw her - on Sunday evening - she was in a stinking temper. She’s given me the push,’ he added when I didn’t respond.
My immediate reaction was ‘Whoopee!’ The next, remembering the way she’d virtually devoured him with her eyes in front of me, was astonishment. ‘Why?’
He picked up the bottle and started to examine the label with minute attention. ‘Because of you,’ he said without looking at me.
‘Me?’ I squeaked. ‘I don’t believe it! You’re having me on?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I’m not.’ He continued to examine the label as if his life depended on it. ‘We had a... bit... of a row when I got back after taking you home. She thought I’d been paying you too much attention,’ he said tonelessly.
‘Too much attention? Perhaps you could have sent me to sit on the steps and wait for Hugo to come back, but otherwise you couldn’t have made it clearer you wanted me out of there as soon as possible.’ With extreme generosity I added, ‘Although I suppose in the circumstances I can’t really blame you for that.’
A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re too kind. And I was a bit... er... annoyed about her attitude to you. I told her so. She didn’t like it,’ he added in what must have been a masterpiece of understatement. I would love to have been a fly on the wall for that particular row. ‘But no sooner had I managed to convince her that your turning up out of the blue at midnight was entirely innocent than you had to go and announce to a roomful of people that you’re my girlfriend.’
‘I didn’t. Orlando got the wrong end of the stick. It wasn’t my fault.’
James’s face bore an expression of infuriatingly polite disbelief. ‘Needless to say, half the party was straight on the phone afterwards to inform Serena of my despicable two-timing behaviour. And now she assumes that when I said I knew you, I meant it in the biblical sense.’
‘She believed we were having an affair?’
His eyes were mocking. ‘Well, you assured her yourself that we knew each other very well.’ My hand flew up to my mouth in horror. ‘I swore to her I wouldn’t dream of having an affair with you, but I’m afraid she didn’t believe me.’
Bruce, the owner of the place, swept by, distributing ashtrays. ‘Only a whingeing pom’d turn down a chance to have a go at Laura,’ he said over his shoulder as he passed.
I hid my burning face in my hands as James laughed. ‘So the upshot was Serena flounced out saying she wasn’t going to waste her time on a man she couldn’t trust.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I’d never have imagined someone so cool could have such a jealous streak. Did you ever see anything of it when you were at school?’
He must have it badly if he was cross-questioning me for insights into her character.
‘I didn’t know her that well, we weren’t in the same crowd.’ I’d done enough damage already without revealing her reputation as a champion sulker. ‘She didn’t like me much.’
He grinned, ‘That was obvious. But her storming out like that has put me in a bind, and I need you to help me out.’
Help him out? How?
James concentrated on refilling our glasses until they were exactly equal then looked up at me. ‘Have you heard about this hotel Cressy’s husband is opening?’
I nodded.
‘She was telling me all about it at the private view. It’s going to be quite something. Loads of chintz, a genuine antique in every room, a Labrador in reception, and still only five minutes from Harrods. It’s going to need a lot of furnishing.’
Slowly I began to twig. ‘I see. You’re hoping they’re going to buy things from the shop,’ I said brightly, though I was mystified as to how this could possibly concern me.
James looked pained. He’s very proud of the shop and I don’t think he appreciated hearing his prize stock described as ‘things’. He fiddled with his glass, seeming to choose his next words with care. ‘Frankly, Laura, the business isn’t doing too well. Before he finally hung up his spy glass Pa bought some fiendishly expensive cabinets for the Far Eastern market which have been near impossible to shift. We’ve got a fantastic amount of capital locked up in them - they’ll go eventually but I can’t afford to sell at too much of a loss.’
I was leaning forward, intent on every word. It was rare - no, unknown for me - to hear James dropping the casually laidback spin he normally puts on even the worst of events. ‘I’ve just had to pay a fortune for a new lease. Then there’s a pension for Pa which is paid out of the business, and as you know he doesn’t care for life on the cheap. Maintenance for your mother. She’s not cheap either.’ That was true. ‘If the hotel isn’t to make do with reproduction furniture, Stefano’s going to need several people searching for good pieces or it’ll take years. It’s quite common for people buying large houses to give a shopping list to dealers - I make a tidy sum out of doing that sort of thing for clients already.’ He paused, his eyes distant. ‘But this is a really big job. If I got even part of it I wouldn’t have to worry about the business for the next two years or so.’
‘James, I’m sorry. I had no idea things were that bad.’ I hesitated, afraid of giving offence. ‘But why should Stefano even think of you?’
Mercifully he didn’t look in the least miffed. ‘Basically because Cressy has asked him to and
he likes to indulge his wife whenever possible. And so far as my expertise is concerned, that won’t be difficult for him. He knew of me before he met Cressy. He’s been in the shop several times and bought a lovely little escritoire, so he knows I don’t deal in tat - or fakes. I value my skin too highly to try and pass off a ringer on someone like Stefano.’
He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘The problem is Cressy.’ I nodded sympathetically. It would be a terrible strain for James to have to work in proximity to the woman he’d loved but lost. ‘Stefano has what you might call a typically Latin temperament. Boys are allowed to be boys but his wife is for him alone. He’s convinced any man has only to set eyes on her to be carried away by desire.’
It didn’t say much for Stefano’s opinion of her morals. After all, it takes two to tango. Then I thought of how Cressida had been hurling herself at all the males in the room at the viewing and realised that even less pathologically jealous men might find that a little difficult to cope with.
‘He’s wary of any man being around Cressy and,’ he raised his eyes to meet mine, ‘he’s especially suspicious of me as the last man in her life.’ James didn’t look terribly grieved at the idea of disturbing Stefano. ‘After all he swiped her off me and I expect he thinks I might try to swipe her back.’
I nodded again. I was nodding so much I was beginning to resemble one of those toy dogs in the back windows of cars.
‘Being the sort of man he is, his suspicions will already have been aroused by Cressy asking him to give me some business. And by asking me to come and stay in their house for this hunt ball they’re about to hold. There’s no good my assuring him she now leaves me cold since he wouldn’t believe that’s possible.’
Well, I couldn’t blame Stefano there. I too had my doubts about James’s professed reluctance to sweep Cressida into a clinch.
‘I reckon just about the only way I can convince him I won’t be whisking her off to country house sales to have my wicked way with her in the back of the viewing tent is to arrive at the hunt ball with a girlfriend who’s taken Cressy’s place and one who’s halfway credible. That’s why Serena’s pushing off is such a disaster. I’ve already said I’m bringing a girl, so you can imagine what’ll be going through Stefano’s mind if I turn up alone. If I’m not thrown straight out, he’ll be patrolling up and down outside my room all night with a loaded shotgun in case I feel like a bit of corridor creeping.’
He looked at me expectantly. I gaped at him, forgetting to nod. I almost forgot to breathe in my astonishment. ‘James, you know I’d help you if I could but I’m the last person who could get Serena back for you. She wouldn’t believe anything I had to say on principle.’
I took a much-needed gulp of wine.
‘Oh, God, I don’t want Serena back,’ he said impatiently. ‘That scene the other night only hastened the end. It’s you who’ll have to come with me now.’
‘Me?’ I spluttered through a noseful of wine. ‘Me?’ I repeated when I’d finished coughing. I wiped my eyes and turned around to give my dirtiest glare to the couple at the next table who were killing themselves over my doing the nose trick. ‘I couldn’t possibly.’
‘Why?’
‘Well... well...’ I couldn’t think exactly why, but I was sure there must be loads of reasons. At last I came up with one. ‘I’ve already got a boyfriend,’ I said triumphantly.
‘So what?’ he asked. ‘I’m not asking you to commit adultery. I only want you to play a part for a couple of days.’
The part of devoted girlfriend? ‘But, James, look at me.’ Obligingly he did so. With the sort of glazed unseeing expression people reserve for things that are useful and quite decorative - like a teapot. ‘You might have got away with it with Serena, but me ... Stefano’s going to smell a rat the moment he sees me. He’s never going to believe you’d prefer to make eyes at me than play footsie under the table with his wife.’
James looked at me with rather more attention, then slowly started to smile. ‘You underrate yourself, Laura.’ This is turning out to be an evening of surprises, I thought. He’s actually about to pay me a compliment. ‘He’ll have no difficulty in believing it at all. Cressy’s very slim and you’re quite different—’
‘Are you saying I’m fat?’ I asked crossly.
He put up his hands, ‘I wouldn’t dare! But Stefano, being Italian, is certainly going to understand perfectly well why I’d want to make eyes at that magnificent cleavage,’ he finished with a grin.
I felt myself beginning to blush. Even without the miasma of XS wafting around it was undeniably impressive tonight, but that was mainly due to the Wonderbra I kept in my desk drawer for those unexpected calls from Daniel. ‘Even so, you must know loads of other girls who’d be only too delighted to play your girlfriend.’
‘I do. The problem would be convincing them to stop playacting after one weekend.’ Never one for false modesty, my stepbrother. ‘Anyway that’d really give Stefano the idea I’m not to be trusted with women. You forget, he’s already seen you in your self-appointed role as my latest love.’
‘Oh, was he the man who got Orlando to let me go?’ I should have realised earlier, but I’d been too busy thinking about Cressida and James to wonder about her husband.
He looked at me expectantly. ‘So what do you say?’
I thought about it for a moment. It’d be fun to go somewhere glamorous for the weekend. And I suppose I did owe James one for inadvertently getting rid of his girlfriend... but if I mucked it up Stefano would be really angry at being tricked and he’d never do business with James again. ‘I don’t know...’
James fixed me with a beseeching gaze. ‘Please, Laura.’ Lots of men have ‘come to bed’ eyes, which in my experience they don’t only use for the obvious but to get other things they want, like the washing up done or an afternoon watching cricket rather than going round the sales. Most have a toss on a double bed or a roll in the hay eyes; the more proficient a long slow squeeze on a king size with snowy cotton sheets. James’s eyes promised a seduction on a four-poster with satin sheets, a silken tent in the desert heaped with Persian carpets, a thoroughly five-star service in every sense of the word. I’ve seen him use that look on elderly ladies who have been reduced to a palpitating heap of adoration for this nice young man who understands them so well, and on four year olds who conceive an instant passion for ‘Uncle James’ and obey his, to them incomprehensible, wish that they should go and play quietly elsewhere. I know that look and I’m proof against it. Am I hell! My resolve was melting under expert manipulation.
‘All right,’ I said weakly, but my voice was drowned as two young City types loudly discussing the bull market lurched against our table and rocked it violently. James caught the bottle as it toppled sideways but I was too slow to stop what was left in my glass from splashing over my black jersey shirt. So now instead of smelling like a tart’s boudoir I was going to smell like a tart after a heavy night, I thought as I tried to dry myself with paper napkins. There were lots of apologies and offers to buy a new bottle of wine or for us to join them in a drink, both firmly refused.
An alcoholic cold bath did wonders for clearing my head and making me consider one or two vital questions. Such as, to convince Stefano that he didn’t have the hots for Cressida any longer was James planning on doing anything more than leering at my cleavage? And if so, exactly what? Were we to be found in a passionate clinch in a corner? Or something more perhaps?
James finally got rid of the two embarrassed young men and turned his attention back to me. ‘So you’ll do it?’
‘I’m sorry. I’d like to help you but I can’t,’ I said with as much firmness as I could muster.
He sighed slightly. ‘Oh, well, I tried.’ There was a pause then he added reflectively, ‘I had to ring your father to get your number at work. I spoke to Imogen and she was so pleased we were back in contact again. She was most intrigued by how we happened to meet up this time.’ There was another, longer paus
e while I waited for what was coming next. ‘I’d hate for it to slip out accidentally, but you know how persuasive she can be...’
‘You wouldn’t,’ I breathed.
‘Only if I have to,’ he said ultra casually as if he’d just made me an offer I was at perfect liberty to refuse. If I had no interest in living a peaceful life from now on, that is.
Imogen is my father’s third wife and my stepmother. She takes both roles very seriously. She exerts herself ceaselessly for the benefit of others: packs her sons’ trunks personally when they’re going back to boarding school; never uses frozen food or things from the chiller cabinet; and if you come and stay there’s always a vase of flowers, picked by her, in your room so you realise what a valued guest you are. Naturally she’s also active in charitable works and is the head of several committees as she’s so good at organising people. Since she stretches herself so thin she can’t actually do much of the work, but she is an inspiration and a figurehead. Photographs of her accepting flowers from some terrified child frequently appear in the local papers. In other words Imogen is a thoroughly Good Woman. No one is more aware of this than she herself.
But to be able to continue to do all her many good works it is essential that Imogen has peace of mind. She never reproaches you directly if you’ve upset or worried her in some way; instead she sweetly confides in my father and then he gets upset on her behalf, and so the ripples spread, wider and wider, until most of your acquaintances know you’ve been both unkind and ungrateful enough to wound Imogen’s feelings. My life wouldn’t be worth living after it became generally known I’d caused her to have sleepless nights by my thoughtless habit of accepting lifts from passing sex maniacs. Since, by one of those weird coincidences that my family delights in, Imogen is James’s aunt’s oldest friend he knows her modus operandi only too well. He’s suffered from it too, which only made his threat an even lower trick.
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