B004D4Y20I EBOK

by Taylor, Lulu

  ‘Thank you,’ he said as the applause faded. ‘You are all very welcome. Thank you so much for coming. It’s an honour to have you here to celebrate a very special moment. We at FFB are so happy that Erin de Cristo has decided to join us. Together we have amazing plans to take her signature style, glamour and unmatchable elegance to even greater heights of success. We want you all to be a part of that story.’

  There was another ripple of applause from the appreciative crowd.

  Erin de Cristo spoke in her high voice. ‘I’m so thrilled to be Richard’s partner. I know he shares my vision and my values. Above all, I know he appreciates creativity and artistry and would move mountains to promote and protect that. That’s why FFB is the perfect home for my company. Thank you all so much – I love you.’

  Ferrera continued quickly, ‘Now, please continue to enjoy the party. But first – a little moment of celebration. Please indulge us.’ He made a signal and all the lights on the terrace went out, those in the rooms looking over the gardens were dimmed, and the candles round the dais were snuffed.

  An instant later, a firework display began, first with quiet showers of golden rain and ripples of incandescent stars exploding gently upwards from the garden. Then the colours and sounds gathered pace, as stunning firework flowers appeared, blossoming in the sky in reds, blues, oranges, greens and golds. Their beauty made even the jaded crowd sigh and aah. Finally, great golden starbursts flared magnificently into the darkness and in the grand finale, the intertwined initials of FFB and Erin de Cristo appeared, glittering against the night sky. It was the signal for wild applause from the guests and then, as the lights came on again, a movement back inside, to the limitless champagne and delicious food.

  ‘Money literally up in smoke,’ Jemima murmured, coming up to Poppy.

  ‘Yes, but so pretty!’ replied Poppy. ‘I loved it. I haven’t seen fireworks in ages.’

  ‘We’re having a photo call in twenty minutes in the Music Room. It’s got lovely blue chalky walls and our dresses will look wonderful against it.’

  ‘All right, I’m going to fix my make-up, then.’

  ‘OK. Don’t be late. I’ve put a lot of work in and I think we’re going to get some good press tomorrow.’

  Poppy went off to find the ladies’ cloakroom. It was almost deserted, just one pretty girl fixing her lipstick. She and Poppy smiled at one another and the next moment, Poppy had the place to herself. She took her compact and lipstick out of her silk evening purse. Donna had made sure they all had a stick of their new shade for repairs, but really the make-up had stood up very well. Those artists knew their job: her face looked almost as perfect as it had the moment they had finished. She leaned forward to the mirror to inspect it a little more closely. Then she heard a sob come from the stall behind her.

  ‘Oh God,’ said a small, lilting, tear-soaked voice, ‘what the hell am I gonna do?’

  Another sob could be heard.

  ‘Are you all right in there?’ Poppy asked, going over to the cubicle door.

  ‘No, I’m bloody not!’ declared the voice. The door was kicked open from the inside to reveal a gorgeous dark-haired girl sitting on the loo seat. She was wearing half a long black taffeta gown – the bottom half. The top was hanging off her at the waist, leaving her clad in only a strapless bra. ‘Look, my dress! It’s ruined!’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I caught it on something on my way in here. The whole thing split down the side. So much for haute bloody couture. Now look at it! I can’t wear it out there. What’ll I do?’ The girl blinked her green eyes at Poppy.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ Poppy said brightly. ‘I’ve got a needle and thread. I’ll sew you back up.’

  ‘You have?’ The girl looked disbelieving. ‘No one carries a sewing kit with them.’

  ‘I do,’ Poppy said. ‘I’m a notorious buyer of second-hand clothes and they have a habit of falling to pieces or losing buttons at the worst possible moment. So I started carrying a needle and thread with me. You wouldn’t believe how many times it’s come to my rescue.’

  ‘And now it’s come to mine,’ said the girl, sniffing. ‘This is so kind. Thank you so much.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Now, if you turn round a bit, I’ll be able to locate the seam. I don’t think you should take that dress off – it looks very complicated – so I’ll just do a basic running stitch that will hold the seam together until you get home. Luckily I have a dark thread that shouldn’t be too conspicuous.’

  ‘You’re an angel,’ smiled the girl, turning round so that Poppy could start repairing the damage. ‘I really owe you one.’

  Tara walked through the sumptuous rooms, moving as though with a purpose but actually just drifting, watching the knots of people in conversation, the men in their black tie and the women at the peak of their beauty, as polished and preened as they could possibly be. The free booze was already beginning to tell on some of the faces which were growing increasingly flushed and animated. She passed a room that had been turned into a discotheque, the floor glittering with tiny stars and coloured lights flashing on the ceiling. A fashionable pop song was booming round the little room but only one couple was dancing, a girl in a long white dress waving her hands in the air while her partner shuffled round her, shifting his shoulders and bobbing his head. They probably had a few drinks before they got here, Tara thought, amused. It will take everyone else a while before the dancing urge kicks in.

  She lifted another flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and sipped it. She was nervous tonight, uncharacteristically so. After all, she went to these things all the time, on her own behalf and as Gerald’s wife. Only a few months before they’d been to a State Banquet at Buckingham Palace and she couldn’t have been less worried. She giggled to herself. I have a feeling that invitations to the palace are going to be rather thin on the ground for Gerald these days.

  She shrugged mentally. I suppose I’m anxious because so much rides on this evening. I’ve never had to go out and sell myself quite so blatantly. I’ve never had so much invested in it. Passing a great gilt-framed mirror, she saw her reflection and was startled. Was that beauty really her? Her eyes were smoky and feline, her brows elegant arches on creamy skin. The newly darkened hair was sultry, falling over her shoulders in glossy waves, and her perfectly painted mouth was nothing short of seductive. And it had to be admitted, her dress was stunning.

  I suppose I’m a single woman now, as well, she thought. How strange.

  Feeling suddenly vulnerable despite her knock-out appearance, she took a gulp of champagne and turned on her heel, determined to make her way back to the main reception room and find Poppy or Jemima for a bit of support.

  ‘Tara, is that you? Blimey!’ It was a friendly voice, one she recognised at once. She blinked and realised that she had almost walked into Vince Fowler, a banking wizard she’d known in the early days of her career. She’d always liked Vince – he was a decent man with his feet on the ground, an East End boy who’d made good but never let it change him. He was still happily married to his childhood sweetheart and still lived in the same Essex house he’d bought ten years before, when he’d made his first ten million. Vince grinned at her, balder and fatter than he used to be, but still Vince. ‘You look fantastic, love. I hardly recognised you.’

  ‘Hi, Vince.’ She leaned in to kiss his cheek. ‘How lovely to see you. Thanks for the compliment. I’m out to impress tonight. How’s Cheryl?’

  ‘She’s good, thanks. Not here tonight, though; our youngest is a bit poorly. So who are you trying to impress?’ Vince frowned. ‘Not this Richard Ferrera bloke, I hope.’

  ‘Not specifically him. Just everyone really. Why?’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. You don’t want to be having anything to do with him.’

  ‘Oh? Why not?’

  Vince eyed her glass. ‘Still on the bubbly, are you? Listen, come with me. There’s a rather fancy little chilling-out area where they’re serving some terrific
vodka cocktails. Let’s go and get one, and I’ll tell you all about it. It’ll be nice to catch up a bit.’

  When they were settled in the calm, candlelit room, soothed by soft classical music and armed with their cocktails, Vince told Tara what he knew about Ferrera. ‘This is second-hand, you understand,’ he explained. ‘It’s through my dealings with one of his subsidiary companies in the States. I took the MD and his wife out for dinner with me and Cheryl and after a bottle or two, the gossip started to flow. They told us a lot about the big boss off the record and I’m telling you, he doesn’t sound like a nice guy at all. His divorce was pretty dirty, apparently. He’s got a lot of power and he uses it to crush any opposition. His wife got nothing; he left her as good as destitute just because he could.’

  ‘He’s been flirting with my sister,’ Tara said, worried. ‘According to her.’

  ‘You want her out of that one, as quick as poss,’ advised Vince. ‘He’s terrible to women. And he’s got some girlfriend anyway.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll tell Jemima.’

  ‘But the way he treats his women is nothing to what he does to the businesses he takes over …’

  ‘Yes?’ Tara said, leaning forward so she wouldn’t miss a word. As Vince went on, she listened intently, her eyes widening with interest.

  Jemima walked elegantly into the Palm Room, chatting happily to a friend. Then she spotted Ferrera, deep in conversation with a short, dark, rich-looking businessman.

  ‘Excuse me, Sara, I’ve seen someone I must speak to. I’ll see you later, OK?’ Parting from her friend, she approached Ferrera. He glanced upwards and when he saw her smiling at him, he quickly excused himself from the businessman and came towards her.

  ‘Jemima.’ He kissed each of her cheeks. ‘You look dazzling tonight. Dazzling.’

  ‘Thank you. This is a wonderful party.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to contact you,’ he said softly. ‘I enjoyed our time in Paris together.’

  ‘So did I,’ purred Jemima. His nearness reminded her of how badly she’d wanted to sleep with him that night. He was wearing his cologne, that woody spicy citrus scent, and she had a flashback to their dancing together. She remembered how lust had swept through her. It was weird but she didn’t feel that now. Nevertheless, she felt it was important to pretend that she did. ‘It was quite an evening.’

  ‘It certainly was. I’ve been told you and your sisters have been making a stir here this evening. I would love to meet them.’

  ‘I can arrange that,’ Jemima said. ‘We’re all going to be in the Music Room very shortly at eleven o’clock. You can meet them there. But look, here’s my sister Tara. Tara!’ Jemima beckoned her over. ‘This is Richard Ferrera, the head of FFB.’

  Tara held out her hand but her eyes were cold. ‘So you’re the man who wants to buy our company,’ she said.

  ‘Well …’ Ferrera looked momentarily discomforted but quickly regained his suave self-possession. He shook her hand. ‘I don’t think this is quite the place to discuss business, do you?’

  Tara’s voice sounded precise and clipped after Ferrera’s smooth American accent. ‘Surely this is an excellent place. We’re here to celebrate your business success, aren’t we? So I ought to let you know that Trevellyan is most definitely not for sale.’

  Ferrera raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve already got that impression from your sister,’ he said calmly, a small smile playing about his lips. ‘But it’s good to know for sure. Well, I wish you as much success with your venture as I’ve had with mine.’

  Tara looked a little disconcerted by the businessman’s politeness. Then she frowned and said pointedly, ‘I suppose it all depends whether we’re keen to use the same methods to get the results you achieve. Not everyone is as ruthless as you are, you know.’

  ‘Tara,’ said Jemima quickly. What was wrong with her sister? Did she have any idea of how rude she sounded? For God’s sake, this man might end up being their only hope, after all. Jemima laughed. ‘Oh, Richard won’t know you’re teasing him!’

  ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the British sense of humour,’ Richard said. He stared straight into Tara’s eyes. ‘You’re very like your sister, though. She’s always disarming me with her approach to life.’

  ‘Is she now? Let’s just hope that’s all she disarms!’ exclaimed Tara, and then stopped, looking confused. She swayed slightly. ‘I mean … she is a married woman, you know!’

  Oh Christ, she’s drunk, thought Jemima. Smiling at Ferrera, she said swiftly, ‘You must excuse Tara, she’s been through a very stressful time lately. I’ll just take her to have a quick sit down.’ She grabbed Tara by the arm and started to steer her away. ‘And we have an appointment elsewhere, so we have to go, don’t we, Tara? This is a gorgeous party, Richard, thank you so much for asking us …’

  Jemima, wait, I have something I must tell you,’ began Ferrera, frowning. ‘I need to have a private word with you –’

  ‘Sorry, Richard, we have to go to the Music Room. I’ll find you afterwards.’ She continued out of the room, pulling Tara with her. ‘Why the hell were you so rude?’ she hissed as they went. ‘Do you know how bad that looked?’

  Tara hiccupped slightly. ‘I’ve just had it up to here with fucking businessmen who spend their lives lying and cheating and helping themselves and destroying what others have created. They’re all fucking crooks!’

  ‘You’re drunk, aren’t you? How much have you had?’ demanded Jemima.

  ‘I’m not drunk. I’ve had champagne and then I met Vince Fowler and we had cocktails together. Two or three, I think.’

  ‘Tara, you get pissed after one glass of wine. What are you doing drinking cocktails on top of champagne?’

  Tara leaned in to her sister and said confidentially, her voice slurring slightly, ‘Vince gave me the low-down on Ferrera. He’s got inside knowledge. Mimi, Ferrera’s going to destroy Erin de Cristo! She’s going to be voted off the board, lose creative control, everything! It’ll be a disaster for her. It’s the way he works.’

  ‘How does Vince know this?’ Jemima frowned.

  ‘He heard it from a man who works for one of the FFB subsidiaries.’

  ‘So it’s rumour.’ Jemima looked round swiftly to make sure no one had heard Tara. ‘Look, just because Gerald turned out to be a crook it doesn’t mean Ferrera is too …’ she caught a glimpse of her sister’s face. ‘That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?’

  Tara looked stricken. ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Look, you must pull yourself together. We’re going to have our photo taken. We have to look radiantly happy, without a care in the world. Please, Tara, please try …’

  Tara sighed. ‘All right. I’ll do my best.’ ‘Good. Now let’s go and get you some iced water and coffee.’

  ‘You have skin just like mine,’ said the girl as Poppy sewed up the seam of her dress. ‘It’s hell, isn’t it, being so fair? Everyone else can go out in the sun and get a lovely tan. Not us. It’s factor seventy for me, baggy T-shirts, hats and sarongs all the way.’

  She was really ravishing, Poppy thought, and that soft Irish voice was gorgeous. ‘Yes. But it has its compensations, I suppose. Sometimes I like being pale and interesting beside everyone else with their bronzed skin.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. Is it nearly finished?’

  ‘Almost. Just a stitch or two more and you’ll be done.’

  A woman came bursting into the cloakroom. ‘Neave? Neave? Are you in here?’

  ‘Here I am,’ said the girl calmly. ‘I had a dress emergency.’

  ‘What happened?’ demanded the woman anxiously, pressing into the cubicle and ignoring Poppy completely.

  ‘The damn thing tore. This kind angel of mercy is helping me.’

  ‘Oh. Look, Neave, we have to get out and mingle. I’ve got this huge producer lined up to talk to you. He can’t wait.’

  Oh! thought Poppy, realising who the girl was. This is the model Jemima was so keen on. No wonder, she’s
stunningly beautiful.

  ‘This is my agent, Caroline,’ explained Neave with a smile, refusing to be rushed by the other woman. ‘Caroline, this is Poppy.’

  ‘Great to meet you, Poppy, and thanks for your help but we’ve really got to get a move on …’

  ‘You’re finished,’ Poppy said, biting off the thread. ‘That should hold.’

  ‘Listen, thanks so much. I really owe you one.’ Neave smiled at her. ‘Caroline, do you have any of my cards on you?’

  ‘Sure, sure.’ The agent scrabbled in her purse for a card and held one out to Poppy.

  ‘No,’ said Neave. ‘One of my personal cards.’ She turned to Poppy. ‘Those are my business ones, with Caro’s details on them.’

  Caroline handed Poppy a pale grape-coloured card engraved with the word ‘Neave’ in curling letters. Underneath were various telephone numbers and email addresses.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Neave said, as her agent fussed around her. ‘I’ve got to charm all these very important people, apparently. Lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you too,’ said Poppy. ‘Bye.’

  She watched as the model and her agent left the cloakroom, staring after them thoughtfully for a while. Then she suddenly remembered her own appointment and hurried out to join the others in the Music Room.

  Photographers and journalists, alerted by Jemima, were waiting in the Music Room. Jemima and Tara were already there, looking anxiously for Poppy. Jemima’s relief when she saw her sister come into the room was evident.