Deep Blue Sea

by Tasmina Perry

  She took a pen and a scrap of paper from her bag and scribbled her number on the back of it.

  ‘Out of business cards, I’m afraid. If you come up with anything that might help my sister make sense of this, you will give me a call?’

  He gave her a sideways look as he handed her his card.

  ‘Why do I get the sense you’re doing a bit of detective work on your own?’

  ‘Me?’ she said innocently. ‘I’m just a diving instructor these days, Inspector.’

  ‘Then a piece of advice. Look after your sister, wait for the inquest and then go back to your Thailand room with a view. It’s a better place for you there, I promise you.’

  She met Liam outside Covent Garden tube station. Long Acre was packed with tourists and the night air hummed with music and conversation.

  ‘I can’t move in this thing,’ said Rachel, wriggling in the blue dress as they moved away from the main thoroughfare. It was Liam’s cue to say that it looked hot, sensational; instead he muttered something about Mark Graham thinking it must have been his lucky day.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me inviting a friend along. I just thought she might be useful,’ he said as they approached Casper’s on a quiet corner of Covent Garden.

  Rachel’s heart sank. She had been thrilled when Diana had suggested they should have a night on the tiles. Could have kissed her, in fact. Lately she had been wondering if life experience beat the optimism out of you, but still she harboured a faint hope that Liam might see the error of his ways and proclaim his undying love for her, and dinner à deux in a glamorous, exciting place seemed the perfect opportunity to do that.

  Her thoughts had been full of Julian’s suicide from the moment she had heard about it. Madison, Diana, Rheladrex, Ross McKiney; sometimes it was impossible to think of anything but those things, but still Liam crept into her consciousness unbidden. What she couldn’t believe was that she had spent three years in his almost constant company, and although she had acknowledged how handsome he was, realised that she was a little bit in love with him, she hadn’t done anything about it. And now it was possibly, probably too late.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she lied, pasting a broad smile on her face. ‘I know you want to see as many of your friends as possible whilst you are in London.’

  Modelled on a belle époque French bistro, Casper’s was exactly the kind of restaurant Rachel had enjoyed coming to on expense account when she worked in London. The sort of place where ‘French peasant food’ set you back fifty pounds for moules frites and a tarte aux pommes. It was hot and exclusive and impossible to get into unless you were press or connected.

  ‘Your guest has already arrived,’ smiled the pretty waitress as she showed them to their table.

  Sitting in a plum booth in the corner was a beautiful, fragile blonde in an impeccably tailored suit that screamed investment bank.

  ‘Rachel Miller, may I introduce Alicia Dyer?’ said Liam.

  Ooh, get you with your fancy ways, thought Rachel, but she held her tongue and smiled.

  ‘Hello,’ she said simply.

  Alicia was beautiful – that was if you liked the willowy blonde type with big tits and flawless milky skin, of course. Rachel immediately felt dowdy and invisible next to her.

  ‘So you two work together?’ Alicia smiled, glancing at the menu.

  ‘We run the diving business in Ko Tao. And you?’

  ‘We were at Cambridge together.’

  One of those, thought Rachel. Keen to get their Oxbridge credentials in from the get-go.

  ‘And then we were together together, which all seems a bit of a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?’ she said, flashing an orthodontically perfect smile Liam’s way.

  ‘You went out?’ Rachel said, laughing nervously, trawling through her mind for his previous references to girlfriends. It was a topic they had never particularly lingered on, another good sign, she had often thought. There had been a Helen and an Emma, and an Ally who had obviously broken his heart, not that Liam had ever expressed it in so many words.

  Ally. Alicia.

  Rachel felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. A bottle of champagne arrived and the waiter started to pour. She raised her hand to refuse a glass and then gestured for him to top her up.

  ‘So Liam called me and said his friend wanted the skinny on the Denver Group,’ said Alicia, flipping back her hair.

  Rachel’s mouth felt dry. She longed for something smart and witty to say, but the words had deserted her. She felt as if she had suddenly been dropped into the middle of a gladiatorial ring, without sword or shield, and she was clearly going to come off worst.

  ‘My sister is – was – Julian Denver’s wife, you see, and, well . . .’

  Alicia gave a sympathetic nod. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘I thought it might be useful to talk,’ Liam said. ‘Al works in mergers and acquisitions at Goldman Sachs. You must know all about the Denver Group.’

  ‘Not really,’ laughed Alicia. She ordered a steak and salad.

  ‘You’re an analyst.’

  ‘For my sins,’ she smiled. ‘Listen, I’m no expert on Denver, but I might have picked something up along the way. What’s your interest? Getting a handle on the company for your sister? I assume she’ll have inherited some of her husband’s shareholding.’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Rachel, taking a sip of champagne. She felt nervous. She had always worn her smarts on her sleeve and had never been ashamed of her cleverness or tried to hide it, but it was impossible not to feel intimidated by Alicia, who had almost certainly had numerous Superwoman profiles written about her. ‘What do you know about the pharmaceuticals division?’

  Alicia pouted and shook her head. ‘Not much, I’m afraid. Not my sector, but Liam mentioned you were interested, so I asked around discreetly.’ She leant in slightly. ‘I’ve heard there are problems in the division. They deal mainly in generic drugs, have few medications still under patent, and an unimpressive R and D department, although their new weight-loss drug has got people talking.’

  ‘So Rheladrex has made the company more attractive, more valuable.’

  ‘Without question. If it’s as successful as they are hoping, you’re talking about a twenty, thirty billion valuation all of a sudden.’

  ‘And without it?’

  Alicia shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. They might even have trouble finding a buyer. Acquiring companies want to see value and potential for growth in a target buy. Not one that brings little to the table.’

  Rachel had stopped drinking and begun listening to what the other woman had to say.

  ‘And what about the Denver Group as a whole?’

  ‘No big news there. The value dipped after Julian’s death, though the markets rallied when Ralph was installed as interim CEO. But there won’t be any stability until an official appointment is made.’

  ‘Who is favourite for the job?’

  ‘Elizabeth, the daughter, of course.’

  Rachel tried hard not to curl her lip. ‘She’s highly regarded, isn’t she?’

  ‘Difficult, but brilliant,’ replied Alicia. ‘To be honest, no one really knows why she wasn’t made CEO in the first place. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead and all that, but I never got the sense that Julian Denver’s heart was in it. A huge company like Denver needs a very strong figurehead, a Warren Buffett, a Branson, a Ratan Tata. And quite honestly, the City never felt Julian was quite of that calibre.’

  ‘Come on, Ally, there’s no need to talk like that,’ said Liam diplomatically.

  ‘Rachel wants the truth, doesn’t she? And as a woman, she will know, as I do, that in this world tradition and pig-headed stupidity go hand in hand. Elizabeth was the eldest child but Julian was the eldest son, and Ralph Denver pushed for him to be head
of the board. Tradition, you see, that’s the way it is for these men.’

  ‘But didn’t the scandal undermine his position?’

  Rachel wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, given her involvement.

  ‘Yes, but by the time Ralph announced his retirement, the brouhaha surrounding Julian’s indiscretions had died down and he got the job.’

  Even with Diana’s connections, they had only been allotted a two-hour time slot for dinner. The rest of their supper was more convivial. Rachel found out what a lot of Liam’s old Cambridge friends she had never met or even heard about were now up to. Alicia in turn asked a few perfunctory questions about their life in Ko Tao.

  When it was almost time to leave, Liam excused himself to go to the gents’. While he was gone, Alicia laid a hand on Rachel’s arm and told her to take care of him. Rachel didn’t like to correct her. Liam didn’t want or need her protection, but it was interesting that she too thought they were together.

  ‘He’s one of the good ones,’ said Alicia with a note of regret. ‘Sometimes I can’t even remember why we decided to break up. Here, let me give you my card, and I’ll take your details in case I hear any more about Rheladrex.’

  Liam helped them both on with their coats, a minor tussle for who should have his attention first, and they began to leave the restaurant.

  ‘Rachel. Rachel Miller. Is that you?’

  For a minute she couldn’t place the loud shriek above the clattering plates and the conversation of the diners. Then she froze. The face was familiar. ‘Becky Moore? Crikey, I didn’t recognise you.’

  ‘Rebecca Mitchell now,’ she said, holding up a glittering wedding ring. Becky had been an intern on the showbiz desk when Rachel had first joined the Post and had been her wing man on all those nights hanging around in clubs trying to catch a story they could sell. She had spent some time on the entertainment pages at the paper, then moved sideways into celebrity magazines, where, if Rachel was up to date, she was now editor of one of the more popular titles.

  ‘Should I see you outside?’ asked Liam.

  Rachel was loath to leave him alone with Alicia, but there was no way she could ignore Becky, so she nodded.

  ‘So how the hell are you?’ said Becky, looking Rachel up and down. ‘Looking very tanned and yummy.’

  ‘Well, I’m living in Thailand now,’ smiled Rachel. ‘I have a diving school. That’s my partner over there,’ she added, pointing out Liam. Becky’s jaw almost hit the floor.

  ‘Gorgeous!’ She slapped Rachel’s arm. ‘Where did you find him? I want one too!’

  ‘Business partner,’ she smiled, correcting her. ‘We’re opening a hotel, too.’ Rachel had never been boastful – in fact she hated the sort of people who exaggerated everything – but she wanted to impress Becky, wanted her to see that she hadn’t crashed and burned after the hacking debacle.

  ‘Well, it’s good to see that you’ve made a go of things. You’re better off out of newspapers,’ said Becky, waving her hand. ‘It’s changing; the media as we knew it has gone. There’s no advertising, circulations are dropping and everyone’s reading everything they want to on the internet or their phones. Newspapers are a dying breed, magazines aren’t that much better. I think I might just go and open a chocolate shop.’

  It was good seeing her old colleague; it brought back so many fun memories of a time when they were both hungry and driven. They’d had some brilliant times together.

  ‘Come on then,’ urged Rachel. ‘Tell me some news. I’ve been on the other side of the world for the last three years. Who’s doing what?’

  Becky rattled off a few names, a few snippets of gossip that meant very little to her. ‘And do you remember Lydia on the picture desk? Big girl with bad eyebrows? She’s moved to France.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Rachel. ‘To open a chocolate shop?’

  ‘Nope. To get away from that shit of a husband.’

  Rachel frowned and shook her head. ‘Mild-mannered Stuart? He was the blandest man I ever met.’

  ‘Yes, well bland, old mild-mannered Stuart was a bigamist.’

  Rachel almost choked. ‘A bigamist?’

  ‘Well, almost. For the last three years he’s had a girlfriend tucked away in Reading. Bought her a flat, went down on one knee, got her in the family way, the whole nine yards.’

  ‘Incredible.’

  A waitress tapped Becky on the shoulder to indicate that her table was ready. ‘I should go,’ she said quickly. ‘How long are you in town for? How about a nice long boozy lunch?’

  ‘Not sure yet. But that would be lovely.’

  ‘I’ll Facebook you,’ she said, already moving away from her.

  Liam was standing on the pavement under a street lamp.

  ‘Where’s Alicia?’

  ‘She had to go,’ he said as they started walking off in the direction of the tube.

  ‘She’s pretty,’ said Rachel after a minute.

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘And clever.’

  ‘That too.’

  ‘Why did it finish between you two?’

  ‘Just because she’s pretty and clever doesn’t mean that we were right for each other,’ he said without looking at her.

  ‘Is she why you came to Thailand?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Not really?’ said Rachel with a jolt. ‘That’s a change from “I wanted out of the rat race”, as you’ve always insisted.’

  Liam glanced up and frowned. ‘No one thing made me change course. It was a few things. I hated my job, I looked at the partners above me and I knew I didn’t want to be that person, sitting it out till sixty-five, waiting for retirement before I could actually start living. Yes – Alicia and I ended our relationship, but it was just another excuse to leave, not the whole reason.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About Alicia.’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  She folded her arms across her chest and fell silent.

  ‘So what did your friend have to say?’

  ‘She was telling me about a friend whose husband turned out to be a bigamist.’

  ‘Double life, eh?’

  She nodded, and as she did, it was as if a penny dropped. Suddenly she could hear Julian’s voice in her head. It was that hot night in Italy. His lips were on her neck, and he was whispering in her ear. She had tried so hard to block that evening out of her memory, but fragments of it were crystal clear

  ‘I want you, Rachel.’ That was what he had said. ‘I know you want me too. No one needs to know.’ He had whispered it urgently, his hands on her, his breath coming quickly. ‘We can do this all the time,’ he’d said. ‘I have a place we can go.’

  ‘I have a place we can go,’ she repeated softly.

  Liam turned to face her. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I have a place we can go,’ she said again. It didn’t even occur to her that Liam might misinterpret her words.

  She didn’t want to confess Julian’s attempted seduction to him. Not yet. ‘Yesterday, Diana was wondering why Julian didn’t have any printouts, details, information about Rheladrex,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Because he wasn’t arsed about Rheladrex and he was just after a shag?’ said Liam cynically.

  ‘Perhaps he was collecting information about it – he just didn’t keep it at work or in the house.’

  ‘So if it existed, where would he keep it? You’ve checked his office, both houses.’

  ‘Julian had mistresses,’ she said quickly. ‘When you’re a billionaire adulterer, how do you keep them under the radar? You’re not going to want to check into hotels. You probably have a little pied-à-terre somewhere for your extracurricular activity.’

 
‘Not being a billionaire adulterer, I wouldn’t know the form, but it’s possible. But how do you track down his mistresses to find out? We’re only aware of one of them, and she’s dead.’

  ‘I certainly know of one other. Susie McCormack. The lover who was exposed by my paper. Perhaps it’s about time we revisited old news.’

  39

  Olga Shapiro seemed concerned that it was only Diana’s second visit in three weeks. This was not apparently the sign of a committed patient and she could not be helped, really helped, unless she devoted more time and energy to therapy.

  Diana squirmed on the soft grey felt sofa as she spoke, feeling compelled to make her excuses. She did not enjoy being a bad pupil. At school, she was never anywhere near the top of the class, but she always tried hard enough not to get into trouble, getting Rachel or clever friends to help her with homework, never disrupting any lessons, never breaking the rules.

  ‘I live in Oxfordshire. Sometimes it’s not easy to get into town,’ she explained, stroking a thick strand of brown hair between her fingers.

  ‘If it’s a problem, I could recommend somebody closer,’ said Olga, folding her slim hands on to her lap.

  Diana shook her head. She liked Olga. In another life she could have been a third Miller sister, someone more sensible and serious than Rachel, someone smarter than herself. She wondered what had gone wrong with her life that she had no one with whom she could share her innermost secrets. The secret she was keeping about Adam Denver.

  ‘So how are you feeling?’

  ‘Well some days I can’t even get up in the morning. But other days have been much better. I’ve even had fun,’ she said, feeling a spark of guilt.

  Olga nodded, as if she was pleased with her progress. ‘Tell me about them.’

  Her question took Diana by surprise. She had always thought that she would be in control of her sessions with a therapist, that she could drip-feed someone only the information that she wanted to reveal. But the intensity of Olga’s gaze had backed her into a corner.

  ‘I’ve been spending time with my brother-in-law. I’ve enjoyed his company.’

  A flashback. Adam’s warm naked body, his mouth on her nipple, his tongue inside her, their sweat on the sheets. She felt her cheeks betray her, burning hot, glowing pink.