by Taylor, Lulu
‘We can probably reach her now. It’s morning in New York,’ Poppy said.
‘Does she know about Neave?’
‘We emailed her first thing.’
‘Good. At least there’s something to brighten her day. Shame we have to spoil it with this.’
‘Yes.’ Poppy wondered whether to tell Jemima about her own, private scheme and then decided not to. If it didn’t come off, it would be just another disappointment that they didn’t need.
Tara was glad to escape the midday heat for the air-conditioned cool of the FFB offices, but it didn’t raise her mood.
Just hours ago she had been perfectly happy. One of the meetings the previous day had shown promise. She’d had fun catching up with her girlfriends last night. Then the wonderful news about Neave had come through and she’d danced about her hotel room with joy. After that, she had spent a blissful morning browsing through the gorgeous shops and boutiques on Fifth Avenue, looking for presents for the children and some little pieces to take home for herself and Jemima and Poppy. She had also been looking forward to lunch with Ferrera. To her surprise, she had enjoyed their dinner together immensely. He had been so easy to talk to, full of charm and dry wit, and there was no denying he was very attractive. He had almost made her forget that he was linked to her adopted sister. She resolved to stay on her guard for their lunch, and do her best to find out what she could.
Then the call from England had changed all that. Now she had been cast into depression. Instead of feeling light and happy, as she had earlier, she felt weighted down with sorrow. Everything had become black and miserable.
She was shown into Ferrera’s office, a huge room with walls of glass, each one displaying an incredible vista of Manhattan with a view that stretched north towards Harlem and south to Wall Street and the Village, with Central Park far below, a rich oasis of greenery among the hot streets and high-rises of the city.
Richard Ferrera got up from behind his desk and came over to meet her. He smiled openly, holding out his hand in greeting. She took it but returned only a faint smile. His face darkened as he realised that their previous accord was gone.
‘Tara, is there a problem?’
‘Yes, yes there is.’ She faced him square on, her shoulders tense. ‘We can’t have lunch together. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.’
He looked puzzled and surprised. ‘Why on earth not? What’s changed? I thought we had plenty to say the other night, and we didn’t even begin to discuss our mutual business interests.’
‘I’m sure you were looking forward to getting on to that. God knows what you had in mind. Whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t nice. Probably unethical. Maybe even illegal.’
Ferrera pulled back, his face grave. ‘That’s a very serious thing to suggest.’
‘It’s a serious thing to do,’ retorted Tara.
‘Where has all this come from?’
Tara stared at him, her eyes glittering with fury. Then she said quietly, ‘Sometimes you have to judge a man from the company he keeps.’
‘Oh.’ Ferrera nodded slowly. ‘I see. You’re talking about Jecca.’
‘Yes, I’m talking about bloody Jecca!’ Tara threw down her handbag and put her hands on her hips. She was angry and here was someone she could direct all that anger towards. ‘You were very clever at dinner – you almost made me forget that you’re in cahoots with her. But I’ve just had a very, very rude reminder of what she’s capable of, and if she is, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be too. You’re in a relationship with her, for Christ’s sake! I’m a fool if I forget that even for a second.’
‘Actually, Jecca was part of what I was wanting to talk to you about today. It seems that we’ll have to deal with that a little sooner than I was expecting. Please, will you stay and let me explain? We don’t have to go out for lunch if you’d rather not.’
‘You can’t charm me again,’ Tara said rebelliously.
‘That’s not my intention. But I can see that you’ve got the wrong idea about Jecca and me. You think we’re a team and that we’re up to our necks in some joint scheme to cheat you out of your inheritance. You’re wrong about that.’
She stared at him. That was exactly what she thought. How could she be wrong? Everything pointed to that conclusion.
Ferrera pressed on. ‘Please. What harm can it do to listen to what I’ve got to say?’
She thought for a moment. She wanted to turn on her heel and march right out. Just being near someone who was involved with Jecca made her feel sick. And yet … could she be wrong? ‘All right,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll hear you out. I’ll give you twenty minutes. Then I’m leaving.’ She sat down on the chair opposite his desk.
‘My relationship with Jecca is a strange one. It may not be quite what you think –’ Ferrera began.
‘You’re sleeping together, aren’t you?’ Tara snapped.
He held up his hand. ‘Please. Just let me say what I’ve got to say. Yes, it’s true that our relationship has been sexual on occasion. But we’re not partners. We aren’t together.’
‘She said you were.’
‘Jecca says a lot of things that aren’t strictly true. And people see what they want to see. They jump to conclusions. Jecca came into my life a few years ago. She targeted me very carefully and bided her time before she made her move. By then, I have to admit, I was fascinated by her. She crossed my path in all sorts of ways, each occasion taking care to spark my interest but not to fulfil it. Eventually, she came up to me at a very exclusive event at the Met, the kind where everyone is influential. She explained to me that she was one of the Trevellyan sisters, that she had broken away from the family firm and wanted to make herself successful in her own right and perhaps take control of the family business, revitalise it. She had big plans, she said, but she needed a mentor and partner. She wanted me to be that person.’ Ferrera straightened his cuffs and coughed. ‘I can’t pretend I wasn’t flattered on several levels. I also knew of Trevellyan and was well aware of its potential. It was on my own private list of targets ripe for taking over. And I had no reason to doubt her story – she had the identification, the cut-glass accent, an answer for every question I had. I saw a good opportunity and took it.’
‘She has a habit of convincing people to trust her. They always regret it,’ Tara said.
‘I think you’re right.’
Tara looked puzzled, wrong-footed by his honesty. ‘So you’re not a couple?’
‘At first we were. I fell for her, I’ll admit it. But it wasn’t long before that feeling died. I told her at once that no matter what happened, we would never be together. She didn’t seem to mind much. And by then, we were working together, which seemed to be much more important to her.’ Ferrera smiled thinly. ‘I think she had bigger ambitions and decided she’d come back and snare me at some future date.’
Tara frowned, trying to make sense of this complicated relationship. ‘So she works for you?’
‘She did. In fact, she still thinks she does. But I am not a fool, you know. It soon became apparent to me that Jecca was not normal – that’s why I fell out of love with her as rapidly as I fell in. I’ve taken care to make sure that her role within my company is almost in name only. She thinks she has great influence over me but that is something she chooses to believe, and I have allowed her to continue to do so because it has suited my purpose. I saw that she had talent and charisma but I learned early on that she had no links with Trevellyan that were any real use to me, until she told me that she would inherit the company exactly one year after her mother died.’
‘Then you saw your chance.’
‘We both saw it. Jecca said that she would sell me the company as soon as it was legally hers. That was our understanding. She would profit and I would get what I wanted. But I began to catch Jecca out in her deceptions. She lied to me. Not just once or twice but continually. I don’t think she even knew she was doing it sometimes, it was second
nature for her. She has no distinction between truth and illusion. Whatever she tells herself, she believes. It makes her powerful and very credible because she honestly believes what she’s saying at any one moment, even if it contradicts what she’s just told you.’ Ferrera sighed. ‘I could not tolerate that kind of behaviour in someone I was in business with – it’s simply not tenable to have a proper relationship with a fantasist. But I also sensed that Jecca was dangerous – better to have her on side than make an enemy of her. I was intrigued to see what she would do next. Once she learned she was going to inherit the company if you and your sisters failed to improve it, she was jubilant. She didn’t believe any of you could achieve such a thing. But as the weeks went by, it became clear that you all intended to do your utmost to save Trevellyan. She learned of your plans for Tea Rose, that you had recruited Claudine Deroulier to redesign the scent. She realised each of you had the talents you needed to revive the company and create a hit perfume. That panicked her. She decided to start a second scheme, in case you were successful in turning the company round. She would wait and then sue for a share of the company and thus cover her back. She would win either way.’
Tara nodded. ‘That sounds like her.’
‘My default setting with Jecca is not to believe her. It’s become clear that my chances of acquiring Trevellyan through her are slim. Even if she were to inherit it, I would not be in the least surprised if she then betrayed me and sold it elsewhere, thinking she could get a higher price. She’s not to be trusted.’ Ferrera smiled darkly. ‘The moment I understood that, I took steps to begin isolating her and cutting her out.’
‘Why don’t you just sack her?’ demanded Tara.
‘That’s a fair question,’ he said, sitting back in his chair. ‘The brief answer is that the time isn’t right. She’s had access to confidential FFB information for a while – though nothing recently, of course. If she wanted to damage me, she could, and she won’t hesitate if I piss her off. But she is not as clever as she thinks she is. That’s why I’m not afraid of her, why I keep her close where I can observe what she’s up to. She hasn’t been aware of the real state of affairs for some time now. Soon, I’ll be able to get rid of her completely. That’s always been my plan.’ He shrugged. ‘Whether you believe me is up to you.’
Tara stared at him open-mouthed. Games within games, deceptions within deceptions … if Ferrera was telling her the truth, Jecca was nowhere near as strong as she appeared. In fact, she was living on borrowed time. ‘And does all this stop you sleeping with her?’ she asked quietly.
Ferrera looked shamefaced. ‘To keep me on ice, she tries her seduction routine from time to time. Sometimes it has worked, I admit it. I’m not proud of it but she’s a beautiful woman, full of fire and passion, and I’m only human – sometimes a lonely, tired, stressed human who needs to be comforted for a while.’ He stared down at his desk and then looked up again, staring her full in the face, his expression set and determined. ‘But nothing has happened between us for a while now. It never will again.’
Tara was filled with fury. Why were men so stupid, letting Jecca’s beauty turn their heads so that they couldn’t see what she was really like? First their father – poor Daddy, viciously accused of wicked acts by that vile bitch – and now Ferrera. She spat out, ‘So you were willing to sleep with her, despite thinking she’s a pathological liar and a nutcase? Just trying to help douse all that fire and passion she has to struggle with, were you?’
Ferrera’s eyes glittered dangerously for a moment and she caught a glimpse of a ruthless side of him that frightened her. Then he laughed. ‘No one speaks to me like this! I’ve been honest with you. I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry if the truth upsets you.’
‘It’s all very well to laugh!’ The emotion built up in Tara. Here they were, talking about Jecca as though she were just some interesting case study in neurosis. ‘Jecca is dangerous and destructive. You don’t know what she’s done to my family! She’s had my sister duped by a con man, she’s trying to take our company away from us … but worse than that, she’s accused my father of terrible things – rape, abuse, seducing her when she was just a child. You don’t know how this hurt us, how awful it is. I loved my father, I can’t believe he was capable of what she says!’ She drew her breath in sharply with a shudder, and realised that she was fighting tears. I can’t cry in front of this man, she thought and then suddenly knew that it wasn’t simply tears that were threatening to overwhelm her: a great tidal wave of violent emotion seemed to rear up over her and she started to shake.
‘Tara … Tara …’
Ferrera’s voice seemed to be coming from far away. She dropped her head into her hands, possessed only by confusion, grief and limitless, impotent anger. She couldn’t cope with it any more, she knew that. It was too much, too much …
52
THE SHOOT TOOK place at a warehouse in East London and was shrouded in complete secrecy. It was vital that no one found out Neave was the face of Tea Rose before the time was right to announce it.
Neave took the whole thing in her stride. She had become used to the world of modelling in the few short years it had taken her to rise to the stratosphere of fame. While the camera crew and director set up their shot on one side of the warehouse, the still set was being prepared at the other end. In the midst of the noise and chaos, Neave sat calmly as the make-up artist painted her face and the hairdresser fussed around her head, taking locks of long dark hair and pressing them round curlers. Poppy sat on a chair next to her and they chatted as she was made ready.
‘Did you ever make use of that stuff I gave you on yer man?’ Neave asked tentatively.
Poppy nodded and gave a rueful smile. They said no more about it.
When Neave was finally ready and looking utterly gorgeous, she moved through to the dressing room. There the extraordinary dress that Poppy had designed for her was waiting. It was strapless and made of sheerest pink veil, petal after petal of it layered until it achieved the soft density of a real rose. Neave put it on as Poppy fussed about her, pulling the dress about, pinning it and making last minute adjustments. The end effect was stunning, with Neave’s hair in a dark cloud of soft curls, and her breasts rising, voluptuous and inviting, from the dress of dreamy tea-rose pink, that clever, sensuous nude that managed to avoid any hint of childishness or sickly sweetness.
Neave used all the arts she was so skilled in as she posed for the photographer on the set, a background of dark grey like stormy clouds that faded to pink. She lay on a bed of soft cushions and looked as dreamy and sensuous as a woman waiting for her lover. The photographer murmured praise and encouragement as she took pictures from every angle, sometimes calling for more light, sometimes for less. At her direction, Neave turned, moving her arms, letting her hair fall over a bare shoulder or across her face. Her eyes closed, her mouth opened as her hands twisted together delicately, like a butterfly closing its wings.
What is she thinking of? Poppy wondered. It looked as though Neave was lost in a dream of eroticism.
‘Gorgeous, oh yes, beautiful,’ coaxed the photographer. ‘Yes, more of that, lovely, stunning, superb …’
I would never be able to be so unselfconscious. She’s so fluid, so graceful.
It was hard to tell how the pictures would turn out: obviously Neave looked incredible, but would these photographs stand out from the millions of others used to advertise perfumes, handbags, sunglasses and other luxuries?
We’ve got the most exclusive supermodel in the world, Poppy told herself. And one of the best fashion photographers in the business. It’s got to succeed.
When the stills were finished, they stopped for a light lunch and then Neave was retouched before going to the film set to record the television segment. It would be short and to the point: a shot of nude pink, then the camera pulling back to reveal that the pink was Neave’s skin, as a rush of music – a deep dark chord with a throbbing drum and a high beautiful voice sailing above it in an exo
tic, eastern wail – rose upwards. Neave’s face was revealed and she turned her extraordinary eyes to the camera, showing their strange feline quality and intense emerald green. Then, moving with extraordinarily raw sexuality, she breathed, ‘The essence of everything I love …’
The closing shot would reveal the bottle of Tea Rose, elegant and desirable against its signature nude pink.
‘It’s going to look amazing,’ Jemima said to Poppy. ‘I can’t believe we pulled it off. Thanks to you.’
Poppy smiled. ‘We’ve all played our part. I’m just glad I had something to contribute.’
‘Something? Only the thing that’s going to save the day – our face. As soon as we reveal the campaign, Trevellyan will be everywhere, I’m sure of it.’
‘I just wish Tara was here to share it,’ Poppy said, a little wistfully.
‘She said she’s staying a little longer in New York. I’m not sure why – perhaps it’s something to do with Gerald’s house. She’ll be back soon, anyway.’ Jemima smiled. ‘And then we’ll unveil our plans for Tea Rose to the world.’
Tara opened the door of the bedroom and emerged into the bright white opulence of the Park Avenue penthouse. Sunshine poured through the glass walls, illuminating the simple modern Swedish furniture, huge abstract rugs and glass tables. The room was expansive and airy, the kitchen area a glossy white at the far end, then a large eating space that grew into the entertaining area, where the windows looked out to the same aspect as could be seen from Ferrera’s office twenty floors below.
Above the kitchen space was a mezzanine floor, a kind of library and office area. As Tara stood, lost and bewildered, looking into the empty apartment, she heard footsteps and then Richard Ferrera emerged from the bottom of a spiral staircase. For the first time since she had met him, he was not wearing a suit; instead, he was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, a simple outfit that made him look absurdly young and very American.