Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1)

by Roberts, Julia

  He persisted. ‘Well, at least, let me order for you, that way it will feel like I’m buying you a drink.’

  A slow smile spread across her face. ‘I’ll have a piña colada please,’ she said, ‘and if you’re getting me a drink we should at least be on first-name terms. I’m Tiffany,’ she said, holding her hand out to shake his.

  ‘Pierre,’ he replied, raising her outstretched hand to his lips and lingering slightly before letting it drop.

  Holly was starting to feel vaguely uncomfortable. There was something familiar about this, a kind of déjà vu, but surely Veronica Phillips wouldn’t copy anyone else’s work? Then she realised. This was not something she had read before, it was something she had been part of. A Frenchman kissing her hand on their first meeting. It was not so unusual, in fact a typically French thing to do, but how odd that she should be reading about it in a book just weeks after she herself had experienced it. But it was the next line that really resonated with Holly.

  ‘So what brings you to Mauritius, business or pleasure?’

  This was beyond coincidence, Holly thought, her heart starting to thump in her chest, what on earth was going on?

  ‘Difficult question,’ she replied, avoiding an answer. The two of them watched in silence as the barman shook pineapple juice, rum and coconut milk in a cocktail shaker with crushed ice then poured the thick white liquid into a glass before pushing it across the bar to Tiffany.

  Pierre tried again. ‘So are you here with your family or maybe work colleagues?’

  ‘Neither,’ she replied taking a sip of the sweet liquid. ‘I’m here alone.’

  Pierre was intrigued. The journalist in him couldn’t let it drop. ‘Do you often holiday alone?’ he ventured, knowing his persistence may cause her to finish her drink and leave.

  Tiffany lowered her drink. She was looking at him intently with her beautiful green eyes which he now noticed held a deep sadness.

  ‘The last time I came to Mauritius was with my husband on our honeymoon but now he’s dead. I’ve come here for closure.’

  Holly gasped. What the hell? That was her cover story. How could that be? She felt her skin begin to prickle and then the heat of a flush that started on her neck and spread to her face. Unless? The pieces of a very complicated jigsaw started to fall into place. She remembered the quizzical look Rosemary had given Philippe when he had said he was writing a travelogue the first evening they all had dinner together. Philippe had told her he had been struggling with his book for months but suddenly he’d become inspired and finished it within weeks. Even Rosemary’s email about Philippe’s first book made sense now. Veronica Phillips was not just the pen name of a famous author wanting to remain incognito. Veronica Phillips was not even a woman. Holly was absolutely certain that Veronica Phillips was in fact Philippe and, judging by what she had just read, she was Tiffany.

  Holly didn’t know how to feel. Part of her was flattered that she had made such an impression on him that she had become the title character of his latest book, but another part of her was upset and angry that he hadn’t told her the truth about who he was. You hypocrite, she thought. Philippe has written about a woman with a tragic story that he thinks is you and that tragic story is the biggest lie of all.

  Holly leant her elbows on the desk either side of her laptop and rested her forehead in her hands unsure what to do. Should she email DD and tell her that she knew the author? It was unethical to work on the book of someone you know without telling them. No, she couldn’t do that because DD would tell Philippe and he didn’t know that she was a copy-editor, he thought she worked for a charity. She could work on the book but ask for her name to be left off any acknowledgements but DD would want to know why she didn’t want a credit. She thought about emailing Philippe to try and explain why she had lied to him, but instantly changed her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of him not understanding her reasons and finishing with her.

  ‘Damn it,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Why do things have to be so complicated?’

  Eventually she decided that she didn’t want to let anyone down. DD thought she was the best copy editor for this book and she was going to do a professional job on it, regardless of who had written it. Decision made, she continued reading.

  Chapter 49

  For the third day running Rosemary had refused a wheelchair to transport her down in the hospital lift to the waiting cab for their journey home. She leaned against her husband as they waited for the lift to arrive, fighting back nausea and tears.

  Robert held her close, lightly squeezing the top of her shoulder.

  ‘You’ll be all right when we get some fresh air,’ he said unconvincingly. They both knew that wasn’t true and that she would be feeling sick for most of the journey back.

  ‘There’s nothing fresh about London air, Bobby. I can taste the exhaust fumes.’

  ‘We’ll be home soon, Rosie,’ he said soothingly. ‘If you feel up to it I’ll push the sofa over to the patio doors, open them up and wrap you in a blanket with a nice cup of tea. At least the air in Woldingham is cleaner than here.’

  ‘True,’ she said, ‘but not exactly Mauritius. Is Holly coming over this afternoon?’

  ‘I’ll call her when we’re in the car. I’m so pleased she knows. It makes such a difference for you to have someone other than me to talk to. Although you were tired last night she really seemed to have raised your spirits.’

  ‘She gave me hope.’

  Robert said nothing, his face an impassive mask, but his heart was aching. His conversation with the Rosemary’s consultant that morning had not been a pleasant one.

  ‘She should have started this treatment earlier,’ he had lectured, ‘instead of running away and sticking your heads in the sand. I fear the positive effects she is currently experiencing won’t last long.’

  ‘So what will we do then?’

  The consultant had shaken his head. ‘We’ll just try and keep her pain free.’

  Once they were settled into the back of the car Robert dialled Holly’s mobile number. She picked up on the third ring.

  ‘Hi Robert, how did it go at the hospital?’

  ‘Pretty much the same. Rosemary is glad to be out. We wondered if you might be able to come over again this afternoon?’

  Holly had been expecting this and hated making excuses but, to keep on the right side of DD, she had to get Philippe’s book finished by the end of the week.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Robert, but I don’t think I can make it today. Something has cropped up at work that I can’t get out of.’

  Although Robert and Rosemary both now knew about her travel blog-writing job she hadn’t told them she also worked as a freelance copy-editor. The coincidence of Philippe being published by Ripped, the main company she worked for, was strange enough, but to be selected to edit his book was a little surreal. She knew she would have to broach the subject next time she saw them and also ask why they had gone along with Philippe’s little deception. Holly had been wondering why he didn’t want her to know he was the author of Maman. Maybe he thought she would leak his identity to the press, or maybe he didn’t want her to like him just because he was a best-selling author. Either way she felt almost relieved that he too would have to own up to keeping secrets when he arrived back from Mauritius.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Robert was saying. ‘It was so lovely to spend time with you yesterday.’ He had worded his response carefully, not wanting to put pressure on Holly.

  ‘I know, I feel the same.’ She paused, still unsure if what she was about to suggest was the right thing to do. ‘Listen, Robert, I’ve had an idea. Do you think Rosemary might be up for a little trip to raise her spirits?’

  Robert looked at his wife’s ashen face doubtfully. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Well,’ Holly swallowed hard, even though she had become an adept liar over the past few months she wasn’t sure she could carry this off. ‘Do you remember the Italian family in Mauritius w
ith their gorgeous little girl Giulietta?’

  ‘Of course she was an adorable little thing.’

  ‘They live in Switzerland at the moment because of Umberto’s new job and Mathilda gets very lonely on her own. She’s invited me to go and visit. Perhaps we could all go? The mountain air might do Rosemary some good.’

  Holly held her breath.

  ‘I don’t think Rosie is up to flying, Holly.’

  Rosemary, who had been dozing, was suddenly fully awake.

  ‘No, I realise that. I thought we could drive and take the ferry and then we could stop on the way if we need to.’

  ‘I don’t know, Holly. It’s a long way.’

  ‘What’s a long way, Bobby?’ Rosemary asked.

  He put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘Holly is suggesting a trip to Switzerland. She thinks the mountain air will do you good but—’

  ‘I’d really like that, Bobby.’

  Robert had always found it difficult to deny his wife anything but he wasn’t convinced that this was a good idea. He spoke into the phone. ‘I’ll ask at the hospital when we’re there tomorrow. When were you thinking of going?’

  ‘Maybe next week?’

  ‘Well I’ll ask. She will have finished this course of chemo by then but I don’t think they will be keen for her to go travelling again. Are you sure you can’t make it today? It gave Rosie such a lift to spend time with you yesterday.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Robert, I’m up to my neck in it but I’ll come tomorrow afternoon I promise. Please give Rosemary my apologies.’

  Rosemary was looking at him expectantly.

  ‘Holly’s a bit busy this afternoon but she’s promised to come over tomorrow.’

  Instead of the disappointment Robert was expecting, Rosemary smiled.

  ‘That’s alright Bobby, if she’s promised to come tomorrow then she will. Holly keeps her promises, and besides we’ll have plenty of time to chat on the way to Switzerland.’

  Typical Rosie, thought Robert, she’s made her mind up about Switzerland regardless of what the doctors say. He looked down at her face which now seemed to have a bit more colour. Who am I to try and change her mind? he thought.

  Chapter 50

  Once the initial shock of realising that Philippe’s character Tiffany was based on her had subsided, Holly set about doing her job. Considering she knew how quickly the book had been written there were surprisingly few typos and grammatical errors she noticed as she continued with the read through. The first couple of chapters were about Pierre and Tiffany getting to know each other. It was a little odd to be reading about the two characters who were so clearly herself and Philippe. He had even made Pierre a struggling writer although she now knew that was not exactly based on himself following the success of his first book. She had to admit she liked the empathetic way he wrote. No wonder people, including myself, she thought, had believed that the writer of Maman was a woman. He was descriptive and caring, helping the reader to understand Tiffany’s great sadness at her loss, while suggesting that maybe Pierre could help her get past this tragedy in her life.

  From Holly’s point of view it was fascinating to read about Pierre’s first impression of Tiffany and the instant attraction he felt for her. Was that really how Philippe felt the first time he saw me, she thought, blushing slightly but unable suppress the smile forming on her lips. Holly’s confidence had taken such a battering after Gareth had deserted her that she found it hard to accept that anyone could be so smitten with her.

  In Philippe’s book the couple moved from the hotel bar to the restaurant and enjoyed dinner together, but at the end of the evening Pierre was disappointed when Tiffany made the excuse that she was tired after her journey and went back to her hotel room alone.

  Holly was also disappointed. Was that how Philippe had felt? Had she misread their blossoming relationship? Had he just been after sex from the start? Get a grip, Holly, she thought, the characters are based on you and Philippe but it is not your story, you have to be able to separate fact from fiction. Again Holly wondered if she should have come clean with DD and refused the manuscript.

  Holly was relieved that the next chapter didn’t feature Pierre and Tiffany. It was set at the home of the French Ambassador to Mauritius, Gerard Lecomte, and introduced him, his wife, Madeleine, and their two young daughters, Nicole and Mimi, to the reader. She was keen to find out how they were going to fit into the story, wondering if perhaps Tiffany was going to become the girls’ nanny, but her reading had been interrupted by Robert’s phone call.

  After finishing the call, which had set in motion Rosemary’s dubious plan, Holly couldn’t concentrate. She really needed to talk to someone about her doubts that helping Rosemary dupe Robert into taking her to Switzerland was the right thing to do. The problem was that the only person should would have felt close enough to talk to was Rosemary herself. Holly rubbed her temples. Maybe I should go across to Woldingham again today, she thought, if only to try and talk Rosemary out of her plan. If I go now I could be back by 7 p.m. and have a late-night session editing. Decision made, she reached for the phone to ring Robert back but as she was dialling his number her phone beeped to tell her she had a message. It was from DD and simply said:

  Have you got to chapter 8 yet?!!!!

  Knowing how much most editors disliked the use of exclamation marks, herself included, Holly thought that this must be something dramatic, so, instead of connecting her call to Robert, she switched her phone to silent to avoid further interruptions. Abandoning her normal methodical working practice, she scrolled down the pages of the manuscript to chapter 8.

  Tiffany stood in front of the full-length windows of the hotel room illuminated only by the moonlight streaming towards her. She was wearing a shift dress with narrow shoulder straps in the palest green silk, which clung to her in all the right places, showing the promise of the curves beneath. The door opened behind her but she didn’t turn. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her pulse racing, despite taking deep breaths to calm herself. It was a mixture of anticipation and trepidation – it always was the first time.

  She heard him move across the room towards the bed. Before he could reach for the light switch she whispered in a provocatively sexy voice, ‘It’s a beautiful moon, it would be a shame not to enjoy it.’

  The words sounded familiar but Holly knew she had not spoken them. As she continued to read she knew with a growing sense of panic that Philippe was writing about their last night together in Mauritius in intimate detail... kissing, touching, hearing her own naked body described inch by inch... but he had turned the tables, making it sound as though she was the experienced lover instead of him.

  Holly could feel herself colouring up with a mix of embarrassment and anger. This was something beautiful that had happened between the two of them and now it was being shared with potentially millions of readers. She felt sick at the thought that her friend DD had already read it and found it so titillating that she had drawn Holly’s attention specifically to this chapter. Holly was mortified. Was that all it had been for Philippe? Was she merely research for the new book that he had been struggling to write? They say you should write about what you know but surely some things were off limits? Apparently not in Philippe’s world. Holly was trembling and her throat felt tight, but the biggest shock was still to come.

  ‘You came highly recommended and you did not disappoint,’ Gerard said, emerging from the bathroom, having showered away the evidence of the sex he had recently enjoyed with Tiffany.

  It felt like Holly had been physically struck. She had assumed she was reading about a developing romance and a first night of passion between Pierre and Tiffany. Even in those circumstances she found Philippe’s betrayal of their intimacy devastating but this was unforgivable. For one moment Holly wondered if Philippe had discovered her cover story was fake and believed she was a high-class call-girl? Who am I kidding, she thought, to say I am a little rusty in the art of seduction would be
an understatement. Then, like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, everything fell into place, she understood where his newly found inspiration for his book had come from.

  On their last evening together she had confided in him about her mother’s view of Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She had poured her heart out to him as she had done to no other, not even Gareth, and he had seemed to understand, comforting her and reassuring her, even questioning her mother’s opinion of Holly Golightly’s profession. But seemingly all the tenderness was a facade.

  Whatever he really thought of Holly was inconsequential. In his book he had made her a high-class hooker and for that she could never forgive him.

  She could no longer focus on the words in front of her, not that she wanted to read any more anyway, as tears filled her eyes and poured down her hot cheeks. How could she have been so stupid to trust this man so completely when she had only known him a few days? She was angry with herself for being so gullible but mostly she was furious with Philippe for using her. She felt violated and ashamed and she had a burning desire to go and scrub herself clean as the ambassador had done in Philippe’s book, but there were two things she needed to do first.

  After sending an email to Philippe, she dialled DD’s number not sure what she was going to say.

  DD answered almost immediately: ‘Did you read chapter 8? It gets even better later in the book. I tell you this could be hotter than Fifty Shades!’

  ‘DD, I... I don’t think...’

  ‘Are you okay, Hols? Are you crying? What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s my friend, Rosemary, she’s dying. She hasn’t got long and I want to be able to spend time with her.’

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. When did you find out?’