by Carnegie, Jo
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Vanessa asked Dylan for the umpteenth time.
‘She’ll be fine,’ he reassured her. ‘Look, her and Eddie are best mates already.’
They looked over to where a delighted Sukie was rolling in the long grass with Eddie. She’d hared round like a mad thing when they’d first got here, excitedly seeking out all the new sights and smells. Her pristine white coat was already strewn with leaves.
It was one less thing to worry about. The little dog had been getting so anxious with the strained atmosphere in the house, but Vanessa hadn’t been able to put her precious Sukie into kennels, no matter how luxurious. She knew her dog would be happy and well cared for with Dylan.
She put her arms round his waist. ‘I wish I could stay here as well.’
‘Stay. Let me take care of you.’
‘I just have to get through this week.’ She pressed her face against his T-shirt and breathed his familiar fresh-air scent in.
‘The next time I see you we’ll be together properly,’ Vanessa murmured.
He held her so tight she thought she would break. ‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted,’ he told her.
Catherine was driving back into Beeversham when she saw a familiar Smart Car by the side of the road. The wheezing sounds coming from the engine did not sound healthy.
She pulled up beside the window to see a hysterical Vanessa Powell behind the wheel. She shot Catherine a murderous look.
Two paparazzi motorbikes were zooming down the track out of Foxglove Woods.
‘OH, FUCKING START!’ Vanessa screamed.
Catherine had no idea why she was so desperate to get away, but the woman was in a complete state. ‘Get in,’ she shouted.
Vanessa looked across at her. ‘What?’
‘I said, get in! Unless you want those paps to catch you!’
She could see Vanessa wrestling inwardly, before she grabbed her Birkin handbag and jumped out. She threw herself in the passenger door, almost sliding off Kitty’s bead seat-covering. ‘Drive, drive, drive!’
Sensing a kill, the bikes weren’t giving up easily. The Volvo roared down Beeversham High Street at twice the normal speed limit. Several people did a double-take but decided it simply couldn’t be the Conservative candidate Catherine Connor at the steering wheel because, at this stage in the campaign, such flagrant law-breaking would be suicidal.
Vanessa had her head jammed in the footwell.
‘Where do you want me to go?’ Catherine asked.
‘Just get rid of them!’ came the muffled cry.
The W reg Volvo was no match for the powerful Yamahas, but Catherine had always driven on the fast side, and she knew the lanes around Beeversham. Zooming through the outskirts, she took a sharp right and floored the car down a little turn-off. Moments later the powerful engines of the bikes roared past.
The car came to a stop under an ancient oak. ‘You can come out now,’ Catherine said.
Vanessa stayed where she was.
‘I said, you can—’
‘I heard you!’ Vanessa said crossly. As she sat up, Catherine was shocked at the state of her. Vanessa’s eyes were red, and her hair was everywhere. Her Chanel sunglasses hung comically off the end of her nose. She glared at Catherine.
Don’t mention it, Catherine thought. It’s not like I’ve got other things to do.
The two women sat there in silence for a while.
‘I’m having an affair,’ Vanessa suddenly announced. ‘With a man called Dylan Goldhawk.’
Catherine tried not to show her surprise. ‘Dylan, the guy who lives behind Foxglove Woods?’
Vanessa nodded. ‘The bikes were waiting nearby when I got back to the car. I was scared they’d put two and two together and go and find him.’
Catherine didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet. She noticed how slight Vanessa’s wrists were. They looked too fragile to hold the weight of her Cartier watch.
‘I suppose this is your big exclusive,’ Vanessa said bitterly. ‘“VANESSA POWELL’S SHOCK AFFAIR.” You’ll probably have me jumping naked out of a cake somewhere.’
Catherine sighed. ‘Vanessa, what you do in your personal life is no concern of mine.’
‘You’ve changed your tune.’
‘Are you ever going to get over this? I apologized at the time. It was a bad call and you ended up being well compensated.’ And building your career off it, Catherine wanted to add.
‘That makes it all right, does it? It was a horrible experience to have to go through. It’s not just the celebrity who gets hurt when you print these things, you know.’
Catherine felt deeply chastised. ‘I’m sorry I made you feel like that.’
‘Yes, well. Maybe you should think next time,’ Vanessa retorted. ‘Just because someone’s in the public eye doesn’t stop them being human.’
Catherine glanced across at her adversary with newfound respect. ‘So what now?’ she asked. ‘Do you want me to drop you home?’
‘I hate my husband!’ Vanessa burst out passionately. ‘He’s a total bastard!’
Catherine was about to add that she agreed but she could see it was no time for jokey remarks. ‘I’m leaving him,’ Vanessa said. ‘Right after the Silver Box Awards.’
‘Oh,’ Catherine said inadequately.
Vanessa gripped on to the Birkin in her lap. ‘Catherine, I’m scared.’
It touched Catherine that Vanessa had used her name. ‘What are you scared about?’ she asked gently.
‘Breaking up Brand Powell. The repercussions. All the bad press. I’ve worked so hard to get here, and now I’m about to throw it all away.’ Vanessa’s eyes welled up. ‘The dreadful headlines my mother will have to read. Conrad will try and portray me as a home-wrecker, I know it.’
‘A few bad headlines aren’t the end of the world,’ Catherine told her. ‘And I should know. You just have to be true to yourself.’
Vanessa turned to fix Catherine with her famous caramel gaze. ‘You really think so?’
‘I do. Vanessa, you’ve built yourself back up before. You can do it again. The public will side with you once they find out what an arsehole Conrad is.’ Catherine looked at the celebrity closely. ‘Is Dylan worth it?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said fervently. ‘He’s a wonderful, kind man who loves me for me. Not what I’ve got. I feel like he’s the only person in the world who’s ever understood me. When we’re apart it’s like a piece of me is missing.’
Tears pricked the back of Catherine’s throat. ‘Then do it. Take it from me, life is nothing without the person you love.’
Chapter 76
It was fast becoming a two-horse race between Tristan and Catherine. She was second in the latest poll on 31 per cent compared to Tristan’s 40 per cent. As the hours ticked by, the dirty tricks intensified. A pro-Tory street had woken up that morning to find the ‘Vote Connor’ placards in their front gardens had been mysteriously replaced overnight with Tristan’s placards. Meanwhile, Esme Santura was going round pulling the Lib Dem leaflets out of people’s letterboxes (the party was notorious for never posting their leaflets through properly), and replacing them with horoscope sheets promising great things if she got voted in.
That lunchtime Catherine found herself at a local primary school. It was the long-serving local dinner lady’s retirement party, and in campaigning terms, electoral gold dust. Catherine had done herself no favours by turning up late and interrupting an emotional speech by the headmistress.
She was standing on the sidelines, trying desperately to keep down a piece of shortbread when Tristan sprang up, jaunty in red skinny jeans and a paisley shirt. ‘You’re looking rather peaky,’ he remarked. ‘Pressure getting to you?’
‘Piss off, Tristan,’ she replied bleakly.
A local reporter sidled up between them. ‘Catherine’s catching you up in the polls,’ he said to Tristan. ‘You must be getting a bit worried?’
Tristan adopted a pompous expression. ‘The only per
son who should be worried is Catherine, when I claim that seat on Thursday. It’s about time someone with principles and a sense of honour represented the decent, hard-working people of this constituency.’
Catherine dragged herself away from a horrible daydream about being a single mum. ‘So you’re that decent, principled person?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am.’
‘So there’re no skeletons in your closet? No nighttime canvassing we should know about?’
Tristan’s mega-watt smile dimmed slightly. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Catherine went in for the kill. ‘Is Lavender Close on your hit list?’
She had him. Tristan went as white as a sheet. If Catherine exposed him for being a home-wrecker it would almost certainly scupper his chances of winning.
‘Catherine?’ the reporter pushed. ‘Can you elaborate?’
For a brief moment Catherine imagined the glory on election day as she surged past Labour to win. Perhaps it would make her dreadful sacrifice the tiniest bit bearable.
‘It was just a joke.’ She watched the relief seep into Tristan’s face.
‘I did that for Mel, not you,’ she hissed afterwards. ‘Now get out of my way, I need the loo.’
It seemed the pressure was getting to everyone. Later on in the day Catherine and Felix had their first ever argument.
‘I’ve scheduled another visit to the old people’s home,’ he told her.
‘Is that a good idea? They didn’t even know I was there last time; even the head nurse said so.’
He walked off across the office. ‘No, you need to do it.’
Tired, distraught, unable to confide in anyone, Catherine lost the plot. ‘I’m not doing it!’ she yelled. ‘Anyone with half a brain can see it’s a waste of time!’
Felix whirled round, his blue eyes icy. ‘You’ll do what I bloody tell you to do!’ He jabbed his finger at her. ‘I’m in charge of this campaign, not you!’
She watched in shock as he stormed out.
Chapter 77
It was twenty-four hours until the council meeting. When Fleur went into Mr Patel’s she found him behind the counter staring into space.
‘Hello, Fleur,’ he said gloomily. ‘I’m just trying to imagine what it will be like when my family are destitute and homeless.’
‘I’m sure it will be OK, Mr Patel.’
‘Maybe,’ he sighed. ‘And how about you? How is your father?’
The stock response. ‘We’re great, thanks.’
‘What can I get you?’ Mr Patel asked.
‘Just the bread, please.’ Fleur gazed at the pile of OK! magazines on the counter. The Powells were on the front cover, Vanessa curled up in Conrad’s arms in a loving embrace. ‘The only award I care about is being best husband,’ was the cover line.
‘You want a copy, my dear?’ Mr Patel asked. ‘How people can waffle on about themselves for fourteen pages is beyond me.’
The invitation to go into Vanessa and Conrad’s glamorous world was a brief respite from her own life. Fleur went back to the farm and spent an indulgent hour poring over the interview and photographs. They looked totally in love with each other, and Vanessa was so beautiful. Some people really did have it all.
The magazine only provided a brief distraction. Beau had been off the radar for twenty-four hours. He hadn’t responded to any of Fleur’s texts. Her bad feeling was growing by the hour. By 9 p.m., when she still hadn’t heard anything, Fleur could stand it no longer. She was going to drive over and see if he was there.
Ridings was lit up like a lighthouse, Beau’s Mustang parked out the front. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or gutted.
Instead of knocking on the front door, Fleur went round the side instead. Am I trying to catch him out? she thought. She found him in the kitchen, alone, taking the head off a bottle of beer.
‘Angel.’ He looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know you were coming over.’
‘You didn’t get my texts?’ She smiled quizzically.
‘Yes, sorry. I just haven’t had a chance to answer them.’
How long did it take to reply to a text? For the first time she noticed that his flawless beauty had been knocked around the edges. There was stubble on his chin, violet circles under the dazzling blue eyes.
It only made her want him even more.
‘Do you want to go to bed?’ She slid her arms round his neck. Just the smell of him made her glow between the legs.
She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back. ‘I’ve got a ton of work to get through. I’ve got a couple of big meetings in London in the next two days.’
She felt like she’d been sucker-punched. ‘OK,’ she said, trying not to show her upset.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No,’ she lied. ‘So you’re not going to the county council meeting?’
‘I’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ Beau glanced at the clock, distracted, already in another place. ‘I’ll see you out.’
Oh God. He was trying to get rid of her. ‘D-don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Beau draped his arm round her, steering her towards the front door. She couldn’t believe it was happening. He was bored of her already.
At the front door, he gave her a perfunctory kiss. ‘I’ll be in touch, angel.’
His eyes strayed over her shoulder. Was he expecting someone? Fleur gazed into his perfect, fathomless face and realized that she’d never really had him at all.
Chapter 78
Barely awake, in the half-light, for a blissful moment Catherine thought John was lying next to her in bed. She opened her eyes and was confronted by the empty right-hand side.
Utterly wretched, she hugged her gently rounded stomach. She knew John would love and protect any child she brought into the world. It was the thought of him not loving her anymore that Catherine was terrified of. She’d been calling him non-stop without any success. Each time Catherine heard the automated voicemail, she had panicked and hung up. She’d heard it in his voice. He’d given up on her.
Catherine reached out and touched the cool pillow. She felt desolate at the thought of never going to sleep at night again with his arms around her. She’d thrown away everything. She’d thrown away their future.
She started to sob gently into the pillow.
Vanessa stood on the bedroom terrace in her dressing gown, watching two rabbits scamper round the back lawn. The garden was swathed in an early morning mist. It was an oddly peaceful scene, considering the drama that lay ahead.
‘Who’s opened the window?’ Conrad moaned.
‘Go back to sleep,’ Vanessa said. ‘It’s still early.’
There was a moment of silence then: ‘It’s five fucking a.m.! Do you want me to have under-eye bags that show up in all their HD glory?’
Vanessa looked at the bed. Conrad was stretched out like a corpse, his eye-mask still on. What a despicable human being. How could she ever have loved him?
The rabbits were still gambolling round, the bigger one springing joyfully after the smaller. It made Vanessa think of Sukie and Eddie. The animals stopped their capers, noses twitching. Vanessa looked for whatever predator they’d heard, then gasped. Dylan was standing in the far corner of the garden, looking up at her with his gorgeous lopsided smile.
‘What are you doing here?’ she mouthed ecstatically.
Dylan put his finger to his lips. He bent down and picked something up. Vanessa’s heart swelled when she saw Sukie in his arms. The dog had a new spotty green neckerchief.
Sukie spotted her mistress and her tail started beating frantically. It was all Vanessa could do to stop herself climbing down the balcony and running over to join them.
They grinned idiotically at each other. There was no need for words. Dylan had known to come when she needed him the most.
Fleur was woken by the sound of pigeons cooing outside her bedroom window. She turned over in the narrow bed and immediately checked her phone. Her heart
sank; she’d been hoping Beau had texted her in the night.
Fleur looked round the room, at the cracked washbasin and oppressive dark furniture. Had it always been this scruffy and tired-looking? Her depression intensified. Now she’d tasted real luxury it all seemed so much worse.
Getting up, she went over to the window. Ridings was just visible in the morning mist, a white castle on the dewy landscape. Already it felt like a gilded tower she had no way of getting back into. She imagined Beau stretched out in bed, naked body against the white sheets. Was he even alone? Was Lynette Tudor with him, or some other leggy beauty who’d been waiting on the sidelines?
Her stomach clenched with misery. You knew this was coming, she told herself. Beau’s too beautiful for you to have all to yourself.
Close to tears, she gripped the flaking windowsill. The lights had been turned out in her life once again.
Chapter 79
A coach had been put on to take people from the High Street to County Hall. When Catherine got down there that morning she had to fight her way through hordes of press.
‘Quick word, Catherine,’ Sky News asked. ‘You’re nearly neck and neck with Tristan Jago in the latest YouGov poll. Do you think you can overtake him?’
She stared at the man. ‘What?’
‘You’re only three per cent behind! You’re in with a serious chance of winning.’
Catherine shook her head. She was incapable of speech right now.
Everyone was there: the Belchers, Lynette and Talia Tudor, the Patel family, the Cooper-Stanleys, even TV presenter Gideon Armstrong. Vincent had taken the morning off from Bar 47 and was looking very Italian in a silk black shirt as he smoked furiously by the war memorial. Even the Taunton-Browns had deigned to honour everyone with their presence. Aubrey and Viola stood apart from the crowd, clearly miffed at having to stand with hoi polloi.
The Blue Rosettes were swarming about; campaigning had been put on hold for the morning. Catherine saw Felix coming out of the mini market and went over.