by Taylor, Lulu
‘Oh, Neave, that’s amazing. Congratulations, I’m so pleased for you.’ Poppy leaned forward and gave her a hug. They’d only known each other a short time but somehow they’d really bonded. Perhaps it’s because our hearts aren’t really in this world of money and material success, Poppy thought. We’ll never forget what’s truly important.
‘I wanted to tell you,’ Neave said, ‘because I knew you’d be happy for me. Your first thought wasn’t “hmm, what can I get out of it?”. That’s what I see in the faces of most of the people I know, even my oldest friends. Even some of my family. You wouldn’t believe who comes crawling out of the woodwork to sell stories about you when you get a bit famous. It’s so depressing. My agent is over the moon, of course. She thinks that this is just the beginning. She’s picturing me collecting an Oscar!’ Neave laughed. ‘I told her, “Caroline, there isn’t an Oscar for wearing the most revealing swimsuit.” She said that she didn’t mean for this film, but maybe further down the line one day.’
‘You’re going to be a movie star!’ Poppy grinned.
‘So they say. And listen, I owe it to you.’
‘You do? How?’ said Poppy, bemused.
‘Your handy little needle and thread. After you came to my rescue in the toilets, I went out, met the big-guy producer, and he liked me and started the whole ball rolling.’ Neave sipped at her champagne.
‘I think you’re giving me a bit too much credit. I’m sure it would have happened anyway –’
‘Maybe, maybe not, but I know I couldn’t have gone out there that night without your help, and that’s the night that counted.’ Neave fixed her with a deep, emerald-green gaze. ‘So I want to do something for you. I want to be the face of your perfume.’
Poppy stared at her, stunned, as the reality of what Neave had just said sank in. ‘What?’ she whispered, hardly able to believe it.
‘I want to do your campaign. Not for top-dollar either. For whatever you’ve budgeted. I mean it, Poppy, I owe you, darlin’. I love the fragrance, I think it could be a hit, and how would that hurt me? So I want to do it.’
‘But what about your agent?’
‘When I can peel Caro off the ceiling I’ll tell her that I’m doin’ the campaign and if she doesn’t like it’ – Neave snapped her fingers – ‘she can lump it! But she’s so excited about the Bond movie, I don’t think she’ll care. She might have one or two things to say once we’ve got a contract but we’ll deal with that when we have to.’
‘This is so exciting!’ Poppy cried joyfully, throwing her arms round her friend and hugging her, much to the envy of the rockers in the corner. ‘Thank you so much, Neave, it’s just the nicest, nicest thing you could possibly have done. I’m so grateful. It means so much to us all.’
‘You know why else I decided to do it? ’Cos you didn’t press me. You accepted my decision when I said I couldn’t do it, and you took me at my word. You respected me. I liked that.’ Neave grinned. ‘So you see, it really does pay to be a good person. That’s why I did something else for you.’ She looked suddenly solemn.
‘What’s that?’
‘Your story bothered me. It doesn’t sound right. And I can see how much it’s upset you. You’ve lost your sparkle, darlin’, anyone can see that. So I phoned somebody I know – someone who helped me out when I was being hassled by a strange man last year. I gave him the details you told me about your boyfriend.’ Neave took a paper file out of her bag. ‘He’s done a bit of investigation and this is what he’s turned up. I haven’t looked at it, so it’s up to you what you do with it. Good luck, sweetheart. I hope it tells you what you want to know.’
49
JEMIMA’S CAR CRUNCHED along the driveway towards the grand Edwardian mansion at the bottom. Then, halfway down, she made a left turn, pulled round the corner of a hedge and came to a stop in front of a modest red-brick, two-storey cottage.
She clambered out of the car with the large bouquet of flowers she’d picked up on the way, and looked appraisingly at the cosy little house. The front door opened and a middle-aged woman in an apron came out, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
Jemima broke into a broad smile and waved. ‘Hi, Alice. I made it.’ She walked towards the cottage. ‘It was a quick journey too, not bad at all.’ She handed the flowers over with a kiss on the other woman’s cheek. ‘These are for you. A house-warming pressie.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have, miss. It’s present enough just having you visit us. Come along in and I’ll make you some tea. I’ve just baked one of my lemon sponges.’
‘You are wicked, Alice. You know how much I love those sponges but they’re so full of butter and sugar, I really shouldn’t.’
‘Once in a while won’t hurt,’ Alice said mildly, just as she always had when they were children, before spoiling them rotten.
She led Jemima inside and showed her round the cottage, pointing out with pleasure the good-sized rooms and the clean, modern decor.
‘It’s a lovely place, you must be so pleased,’ Jemima said as they went back to the kitchen for their tea and cake. ‘Are the family nice?’
‘They seem very decent people,’ Alice replied. ‘They’ve got four children but none of them babies any more, so there’s lots of coming and going. And they have a couple of other places where they spend time. That’s where they all are at the moment, at their villa in France. When they are here, I have the usual duties: managing the house, doing some light cooking – they get chefs in for their dinner parties – and so on. Tony does the maintenance. It’s working nicely and we’ve got a couple more weeks to settle in before the family gets back.’
‘I’m so happy for you. I hoped that you and Tony would find somewhere else you liked.’
‘It’s true I was worried. We’d spent most of our lives at Loxton and we were very happy there, even up to the end when everything changed so much. Your mother was on her own a great deal at the last,’ Alice said sadly. ‘I was glad we were there for her.’
Jemima stared down at her cup. ‘I know we weren’t always the best of daughters. We could have been more attentive to Mother. I don’t think any of us knew how close to the end she was.’
‘Don’t be blaming yourself,’ Alice chided, patting her hand. ‘Don’t forget, I was there for the early days too. I know what happened and how she treated you when you were girls. She wasn’t the best mother in the world by any stretch – in fact, she could be downright cruel. If her daughters didn’t love her in the way she wanted, she had only herself to blame. I didn’t think badly of any of you, if that’s what you’re worried about. You all had your own lives to lead.’
‘I know. But still.’ Jemima looked up. ‘I wish she hadn’t been alone quite so much. She didn’t see anyone in those last days.’
Alice looked away and fiddled with the cake knife, then brushed some stray crumbs carefully into the palm of her hand.
‘Did she, Alice?’
Alice frowned and made a non-committal noise.
‘I have to ask you something very important,’ Jemima said, her voice grave. ‘I think you know what it is and I can see already that you’re reluctant to tell me. Is that because someone has made you promise to keep your silence?’
Alice couldn’t meet her gaze and her expression was troubled.
‘I don’t want you to break your word, not unless you think it’s the right thing to do. But please, Alice, think carefully before you answer my next question.’ Jemima paused and then said slowly, ‘Was it Jecca who asked you to keep this secret?’
‘Oh no,’ Alice said quickly, and then stopped short, as though she’d already said too much.
‘What I want to ask you is whether Jecca came to see my mother immediately before she died … Can you answer that question?’
‘Yes, yes, I can,’ Alice said. ‘She did come. Only a few days before. She asked me not to say anything about her coming to see Madam and gave me fifty pounds.’ Alice snorted. ‘She thought she could buy my silence, but I didn’t sa
y I would keep the secret. I just let her assume it and then I gave the money to the church fund, so I don’t consider myself under any obligation to her. But what she didn’t know was that I heard every word she said to your poor mother.’ Alice looked suddenly grieved. ‘Madam got me to hide in the bathroom, she asked me to listen. She said she needed a witness, just in case. I don’t know what she was expecting but I don’t think it was anything like what she heard. Your mother didn’t deserve what she got from that woman. Always a nasty piece of work, that girl was. And as for what she did to you when you were growing up …’ Alice shook her head. ‘Wicked, that’s what it was. Nasty, spiteful and deceitful she was. Your father should have stopped it but he never did.’
‘What did Jecca say to Mother?’ Jemima said, urgently.
‘Terrible things.’ Alice shook her head.
‘What were they?’
Alice looked at her sadly. ‘I can’t say. It was your mother who made me promise, you see. She told me I couldn’t tell any of you girls, that I had to take the secret to my grave.’
‘You must tell me, Alice, you really must. Mother would want you to – the whole future of the company could depend on it. You know how she loved Trevellyan. Jecca wants to get her hands on it and take it away from Tara and Poppy and me. She’s taking us to court. You know what Mother would ask you to do in these circumstances. She would release you from your promise.’ Jemima clasped the older woman’s hand. ‘Please, Alice, I beg you.’
Alice looked agonised. ‘It’s so dreadful, Miss Jemima, I don’t know if I could bring myself to say the words. Your mother didn’t want you to know. She said it would break your hearts. It almost broke mine to hear it.’
‘What did she say?’ Jemima said, trying to keep the strain out of her voice. She was tense all over, waiting to hear what Alice had heard.
‘It’s filthy, miss, and I’m sorry you have to hear it from my lips. But if it’s as you say, I can see that your mother would have wanted you to know.’ Alice took a deep breath. Jemima leaned forward to make sure she would catch every word. ‘That Jecca told your mother that she was your father’s natural daughter, that he … forced … the Italian lady, Isabella, to have relations with him and that she, Jecca, was the result. She said that Mr Farnese killed himself with shame when he found out that his wife had been had by another man and was expecting his child.’
Jemima bit her lip. She’d been expecting something like this but it was horrible to hear it out loud, especially from Alice, who was so comforting and so familiar. ‘Poor Mummy,’ she whispered. ‘What an awful thing to discover about your husband, when he’s not even there to defend himself, to tell her whether it was true or not. But I can’t believe Daddy raped anyone, if that’s what Jecca was trying to say.’
‘Oh, he didn’t,’ Alice said. ‘Your mother knew that. We both did. There was no rape involved.’
Jemima was bewildered. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That silly little girl forgot that we’d been there at the time, when her parents had arrived out of nowhere on our doorstep and persuaded your poor father to let them in. We saw exactly what happened.’ She looked sorrowfully at Jemima. ‘Your father fell in love with the Italian woman the moment he saw her, there was no denying that. We could all see it, plain as day. But she did nothing to discourage him – in fact, she led him on, flirting and laughing and sneaking off with him. That’s what killed her husband. It was obvious to me that she’d had enough of him and all his problems, and fancied getting her hands on a rich man. She drove her husband mad, ignoring him, insulting him, being positively spiteful to him. She made it clear it was finished with him and that if your father wanted her, that was fine as far as she was concerned. When the poor man drove his car into the river, she didn’t even shed a tear. Cold as ice, she was. Like her daughter.’
‘Do you mean that, as far as you know, Jecca really was Daddy’s daughter?’ Jemima said wonderingly. It was so hard to believe, so difficult to imagine.
‘She very likely was,’ Alice agreed. ‘Leastways, he fell in love with Isabella, she made her mind up to see what she could get out of it and the baby arrived nine months later.’
‘And Mother never knew. Not for sure, anyway, not till Jecca told her.’
‘She had a good idea it might be the case, right from the start. It was what made her so powerless over the girl. But she never spoke about it with Mr Trevellyan, I’m sure of that. I’m certain they never discussed it.’
‘Why not?’
‘They didn’t have to.’ Alice’s face became grave again. ‘You see, the following year Isabella died from complications with a pregnancy. The baby grew in the wrong place, in a tube instead of in the womb. Something ruptured and she died almost on the spot. There was no chance of saving her. Terrible, it was. But there was no question whose baby that was as Mr Farnese was long buried and by that time we all knew how crazy your father was for Isabella. He just doted on her. The only thing he wouldn’t do for her was cast away your mother. Anything else though … It was terrible to watch him let her stay on after her husband’s death, humiliating your poor mother for her sake. And he went mad with grief when she died. After that, he poured out all that love on to her daughter instead, on to Jecca. She couldn’t put a foot wrong as far as he was concerned, and she knew it.’ Alice shook her head. ‘Surest way to spoil a child in my opinion. But there we are.’
‘But …’ Jemima was baffled. ‘I don’t understand. If Mother already had an idea that Jecca could be Daddy’s daughter, why was she so shocked when Jecca confronted her with it?’
Alice’s face turned grey. ‘Yes – when the girl said she was a natural Trevellyan it was no great surprise, even if it was harsh to hear, ’specially the way she said it. Your mother was composed. She said that if Jecca was Cecil’s daughter, she had to be prepared to prove it in a court of law. Jecca said she’d be happy to, that she intended to get her share of everything. But …’ Alice faltered. ‘What she said next was that your father … she and your father …’ Alice closed her eyes and grimaced. Then she opened them, stared straight at Jemima and said quickly, ‘I’m sorry, miss, but she said she and your father were lovers for years, from the time she turned twelve years old until she ran away. And that’s what killed your mother.’
50
FERRERA HAD BEEN as good as his word. He took Tara to a quiet, quirky little restaurant in the Village and they ate lobster, fries and salad. To her surprise, they didn’t talk about business at all. Ferrera was relaxed and open with her, charming but without any hint that he was flirting with her. He told her how New York had changed since he had grown up there.
‘There was always money in New York,’ he said, dipping a French fry in some ketchup. ‘But there were many more people who had almost nothing. These days there seems to be money everywhere. Some of the poorest places are now the most exclusive.’ He grinned. ‘It makes me laugh sometimes, all these rich kids desperate to live in the kind of warehouses once reserved exclusively for pan-handlers, addicts and rats.’
‘You sound like you know the rough side pretty well,’ said Tara, interested despite her resolution to stay on her guard.
His face darkened. ‘Yes. My background was very tough. Very poor. My parents were immigrants from Mexico, working hard to raise five kids in a rough part of New York. Even though they worked all hours to support us, we had almost nothing. The hardest day of my life was when I was thirteen years old. I saw my father crossing the road to join us and get knocked down and killed by a car. That day changed everything. We had no compensation, no help. My mother had to raise us all on her own, and I had to become a man, just like that. The man of the family. So that’s what I did.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s amazing what you can do when you’ve got no choice. I went out to work from the age of fourteen, fitting in odd jobs whenever I could. My mother insisted I study hard in school, there was no debate about that, but I also wanted to help her, so that she didn’t have to slave all the time.’ Ferrera lo
oked thoughtful, an almost wistful expression on his face. ‘You know what I remember? Once a year, she bought herself a present. It was just a cheap, stupid thing – a bottle of drugstore perfume that couldn’t have cost more than just a few dollars. But she treasured it and loved it, and used it incredibly sparingly, to make it last the whole year. I knew that when she wore it, it made her feel special. For a moment, it lifted her out of her trouble-filled day-today existence, and gave her a sense of there being something better beyond the hardships she endured. It made her feel like a woman, not just like a worker or a mother or a cook or a housekeeper. It was her very own luxury and it meant everything to her. I was fascinated by that. I still am.’
‘It must have been hard,’ Tara said, unable to hide her admiration for what Ferrera had achieved, and touched by his story. She’d always been proud of her own accomplishments but she could see that they had been made a lot easier to achieve with a first-class education and the safety net of wealth and privilege. ‘I understand now why the world of luxury lured you in. Where is your mother now?’
His eyes brightened and he grinned at her. ‘My mother is enjoying a very pampered life, in her New York duplex which I bought her last year. She can have as many bottles of perfume as she wants.’
Tara picked up her wine glass, smiling back. ‘So it had a happy ending. Her story, I mean. She worked hard, she brought you up well and now she has the reward of a successful son who’ll look after her.’
‘Yes – that’s true. But there are plenty of other moms out there, doing what mine did and not getting the happy ending because their kids stay in the same kind of life – maybe get into drugs, flunk school, can’t get a job. Rich kids do that too, but their money buys them out of trouble. Poor kids sink to the bottom of the heap and are never seen again, except maybe in prison or in welfare lines.’