by Karen Clarke
For once, there was no pretence. After dabbing beneath her eyes with the heel of her hand, she sat at the table, shoulders drooping. ‘It is much more than you know.’ She said it with credible sadness. ‘It was a bad idea.’ She shook her head. ‘I never wanted to be a waitress, I want to be an actress, but it is hard.’
‘Go on,’ I said grimly, not seeing the connection.
‘The morning that I did not come here to work,’ she said, giving Charlie an apologetic half-smile, ‘I was not going to dentist, I was being an extra on the film, Maximum Force.’ She briefly met my eyes. ‘I see when you jump on Jay Merino like ninja.’
I stared. ‘You were there?’
She nodded. ‘You talk to him for long time and then you tell Nicolas Juilliard that you know him and he will do interview for you.’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘You’d better tell us everything.’ Charlie dropped onto the bench and it was a relief to sink beside him. My legs felt like they didn’t belong to me.
Giselle’s eyes flooded with fresh tears. ‘Fleur is my tante,’ she said.
I saw my shock reflected on Charlie’s face. ‘Your aunt?’
‘My father, he is her brother.’
‘I know what an aunt is.’ I tried to make sense of this revelation and knew Charlie was trying to follow it too.
‘I don’t believe this,’ he muttered.
‘She know about you always sending the email to Nicolas Juilliard, wanting to have a job at the magazine.’
Charlie leaned across the table. ‘You mean, Fleur was jealous?’
Giselle sniffed and gave a Gallic shrug. ‘She started to know that Nicolas, he likes Natalie.’ It was odd, hearing her say my name for the first time. ‘He is…’ she wrinkled her nose, ‘Intrigué.’
‘Just because he had the hots for Natalie doesn’t mean he was going to get rid of your aunt or anything.’ Charlie sounded incredulous. ‘Fleur Dupont’s at the top of her game, why would she feel threatened by Natalie? No offence, Nat.’
‘None taken.’
‘When she hear about your call to Nicolas, that you know Jay Merino, and then you say he wants to talk to you when she has tried so long to be the exclusive, it make her go very…’ she waggled her head and boggled her eyes ‘…very mad.’ That much, I’d already guessed. ‘She know about you, she look you up on the internet. She know about your job in London and was reading les articles you sent to Nicolas.’
‘That’s not creepy at all,’ murmured Charlie.
‘It is not uncommon to check out a rival,’ said Giselle, and I was almost flattered for a moment to be considered one. ‘She think you are very trashy writer.’
‘Charming.’ It didn’t come as a surprise, but still stung.
‘She’s not trashy,’ Charlie said hotly. ‘You and your aunt should check out an article Natalie wrote about bitchy women like you. It’s been trending on Twitter,’ he added. ‘You could learn a thing or two.’
‘It’s trending?’ My heart bumped. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘It’s been retweeted loads,’ he said keenly. ‘I didn’t even know you’d put it online.’
I tucked his words to the back of my mind and turned to Giselle, trying to recall if I’d seen her that day, in Saint-Martin. There’d been quite a few extras milling about, but I hadn’t really paid them any attention. ‘So, you saw me talking to Jay.’
‘It was no big plan,’ she cut in. ‘At first, I do not think about it and say nothing because,’ she flicked a look at Charlie, ‘I was supposed to be at dentist.’ She gave a quick sigh. ‘Then, I was having my cigarette when you come out here with Charlie.’ She threw him a hangdog look. ‘I go through gate because I do not want anybody to see my smoke, then I hear you talking about…’ her eyes widened in wonder. ‘About everything,’ she said, and suddenly it all made sense. ‘All the things you talk with Jay about, for interview. I know who X is, because I saw you when you jump on him. I know you know him.’
I remembered the things I’d confided to Charlie and felt sick to my stomach at the thought of Giselle overhearing. ‘And you went straight to your aunt and told her what you’d heard?’
‘Not so simple.’ Her voice was quiet.
‘Oh?’ I caught Charlie’s eye. He made a ‘what the hell is happening?’ face. I shook my head. I haven’t a clue.
‘I tell her I know a way that will let her do the exclusive with Jay Merino and maybe she will get to be in charge of the magazine, but I want her to promise me something.’
I felt a stiffness in my spine, as if I was turning to stone. ‘What did you want?’
‘I want her to ask Jay to let me go in his next film,’ she said, a defiant tilt to her jaw. ‘If she could do that, then I will make your interview go away.’
‘But you heard me say he was retiring.’ I couldn’t hide the disgust in my tone. ‘There won’t be a next film.’
‘That was not good,’ she said, with a downward dip of her eyes. ‘But still, he could ask director for me. He knows the contacts, the right people to ask.’
‘So, Fleur promised, and you anonymously leaked the conversation, giving details no one would know unless they were close to Jay.’
Charlie was shaking his head, his mouth a curl of disgust. ‘How did you know he’d agree to talk to Fleur?’
‘I did not,’ said Giselle. ‘But I know that Jay, he is very private and my tante, she has interviewed so many men and all of them have been a little bit in love with her, so…’ another shrug. ‘Why not Jay Merino?’
Why not, indeed?
‘Well, your little plan worked,’ I said, anger rushing from every pore. ‘I didn’t get my interview, your aunt did, and no doubt you’ll soon be appearing in a Hollywood movie.’
Giselle’s expression was pained. ‘Fleur, she did not get her interview.’
‘What?’
‘He did not want to do it.’ I let that swirl around my brain while Giselle carried on talking. ‘He decided that he would talk on the news channel instead, and there would be no necessity to do the interview. He told my tante he always like to protect his private life and he will carry on doing that now more than ever, and he would not change his mind.’
Jay hadn’t given Fleur an interview. ‘Is that why you were arguing with her, earlier?’
‘I know she went to meet with him yesterday. I thought she could still talk to him, or maybe his director, and she said she had tried but it was no good, he was angry.’ I remembered Simon saying Jay was in a bad mood when he’d hit the bar with Fleur, but I hadn’t guessed he was in a bad mood with her.
Giselle had started crying again. ‘She said I had to grow up and do it the hard way.’ She did a bad impression of Fleur’s voice. ‘“There are no shortcuts to success”.’
And yet, she’d allowed her niece to leak a private conversation to undermine me; to sow a seed of doubt about me in Jay and Nicolas’s minds, uncaring of the consequences. And even if she’d got her exclusive with Jay, I doubted she’d have kept her promise to Giselle. She didn’t believe in supporting women – only using them, or putting them down.
‘What are you going to do?’ Giselle wiped her nose on the back of her hand and gave me a miserable look. ‘Will you put it in your paper, what I have done?’
My anger subsided. In spite of everything, it was impossible not to feel a little bit sorry for her. It must be hard, living in the shadow of her successful, ambitious aunt, and breaking into the acting world was almost impossible.
‘We should fire you,’ said Charlie. ‘What you did was—’
‘I’m not going to do anything.’ I placed a hand on Charlie’s arm to silence him. ‘But I want you to do something for me.’
Twenty-Four
It was relief to find the house empty when I got back. My emotions were seesawing all over the place, and I wasn’t sure I could face my parents just yet. I was wrung out by Giselle’s confession, elated that Jay had come to the café and wanted us to meet, and
warmed by the knowledge he hadn’t given Fleur an exclusive after all. No wonder she’d been fuming.
I wondered what Nicolas had made of it; whether her failure to secure an interview would really affect her chances of filling his shoes, or whether he’d been toying with her all along, as he seemed to enjoy doing.
As if I’d somehow summoned him, my phone rang. I recognised his number now.
‘Natalee,’ he said, sounding full of bonhomie. ‘I wanted to say, I ’ave taken your advice.’
‘I didn’t know I’d given you any.’ I padded into the kitchen, desperate for something to drink. I was parched after all the talking, and walking back from the café where I’d left Charlie and Giselle, slipping through the gate to avoid speaking to Dolly. I’d told Charlie it was up to him whether he told her what Giselle had done, or made up something to explain our strange behaviour.
‘I ’ave told Fleur she can take over running my magazine next year,’ Nicolas said. ‘It ees time I repaid ’er for all ’er ’ard work and I know she will do a good job.’
‘Wow,’ I said, filling a glass with water. ‘That’s quite a leap forward.’
‘I know I am stubborn as a goat, but your words, they woke me up to ’ow truly special she is.’ You’ve no idea. ‘I wanted to zank you, Natalee.’
It was tempting to tell him just how far Fleur had been willing to go in pursuit of what she wanted, but from what I knew of Nicolas, he’d probably approve; see it as proof of her dedication to her goal. And maybe I still felt a sliver of guilt that I’d ‘traded on a past connection’ to secure an interview with Jay in the first place, even if it hadn’t worked out for either of us in the end. ‘I hope you’ll both be very happy,’ I said instead.
‘Maybe you would like Fleur’s old job?’ Nicolas sounded persuasive with a hint of mischief. ‘We are a very ’appy team, ’ere, Natalee. You would fit very well.’
Which showed how little Nicolas really knew.
‘I don’t think so, but thank you,’ I said, without hesitation. ‘I appreciate the offer.’
And I did, because it clarified what I didn’t want. ‘Goodbye, Nicolas.’
I stood at the sink, sipping water, letting my feelings swirl and settle until a sweep of excitement rushed through me and I ran upstairs and flung my wardrobe doors wide. What to wear for an assignation on a yacht? No, not an assignation, a meeting. Which sounded the same, but with a more businesslike overtone. I still didn’t know the true purpose behind Jay’s invitation, and could only hope that if he’d wanted to say a final goodbye, he’d have called me, instead of coming to find me – unless he wanted a face-to-face showdown over LeakGate (as I’d started to think of it). If that was the case, I was ready, and I didn’t want to be in jeans and trainers this time. Unfortunately, the selection of outfits in my wardrobe hadn’t magically altered, and a rummage through Mum’s suitcase only confirmed we had vastly different tastes when it came to clothing. As much as I told myself appearances didn’t matter, rocking up to the yacht in camouflage jeans and a fluffy cream sweater adorned with a sequinned heart was out of the question. (Why, Mum?) I returned to my wardrobe and dithered over a key-hole top I’d gone off since buying (it was meant to showcase my cleavage, but instead, highlighted a mole) and decided it was time to throw myself at Marie’s mercy once again.
‘Of course you can borrow something, Natalie. Please come in,’ she said, after answering my knock right away. ‘The black dress?’
‘Maybe something different?’
She smiled with obvious pleasure. ‘Come with me.’
As I entered the house, familiar voices carried through from the garden. ‘Are my parents here?’ I said, following her up the narrow staircase. It was lined with a gallery of photos of ballerinas in various poses that I’d noticed on previous visits, but hadn’t ever thought to question.
‘Yes, they are here.’ She glanced at me over her shoulder. ‘They are becoming good friends with Larry and Barbara.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said, as she led me down the short landing to her room, which was tucked away down a couple of stairs at the end, affording her some privacy from her guests.
I paused on the threshold, feeling as if I was intruding. ‘Are you sure this is OK?’
‘Of course, please, do come in.’ She sounded genuinely keen, her dark eyes lit with a smile as she waved me forward. I stepped into the bedroom, which was decorated in deep reds with cream and gold accents, reminding me a little of Jay’s hotel suite, but on a smaller scale. The walls were hung with small oil paintings, and there was a photo over the double bed of a ballerina in a dying swan pose, her tutu ruffled around her like white feathers.
‘You like ballet,’ I said, stating the obvious.
She followed my gaze, a smile passing over her lips. ‘One of my passions.’
‘I had lessons when I was little, but my balance was awful,’ I said. ‘I used to fall over whenever I had to lift a leg off the ground, or spin around.’
Her laugh was somehow happy and sad at the same time. ‘Your mother, she is very lucky to have you.’ She crossed to the window and I joined her. My parents were sitting around the patio table with Barbara and Larry, deep in conversation. Mum broke off and looked up, perhaps sensing a movement, her face breaking into a smile. ‘Come down,’ she mouthed.
Marie leaned past me and pushed the window open.
‘I’m going out shortly,’ I called, waving to Dad, who looked the most content I’d seen him in ages, his forehead free of worry lines. ‘You look like you’re having fun.’
‘We are, honey,’ said Barbara, and Larry nodded his agreement. ‘Your daddy’s a hoot!’
‘Everything OK?’ Mum shielded her eyes, as if to get a better look at my face, no doubt wondering about my rush to get to the café earlier, when I’d asked them not to come in with me, despite Mum wanting to try a pastry and meet Charlie’s mum.
‘All good!’ I gave a jaunty double thumbs-up to prove it. The last thing I wanted was to spoil their evening by outlining what might lay ahead for me if things didn’t go the way I hoped. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Be careful,’ Dad called, as if I’d never been out before. ‘Make sure your phone’s with you at all times.’
‘I will.’ I rolled my eyes at Mum, who smiled and blew me a kiss, and when I turned back to the room, Marie had opened her wardrobe and laid out several outfits on the bed. ‘Are you not going to join them?’ I said. She’d answered the front door so swiftly, she couldn’t have been outside, and I wondered why.
‘I am preparing dinner.’ She didn’t look at me, and while it was true there were savoury aromas wafting through the house, I had the feeling it was more than that. Perhaps she was no longer comfortable with Dad, now that Mum was here. ‘Your father,’ she said, as if picking up my train of thought, fingering the fabric of a gorgeous pleated dress in subtle rainbow colours, ‘I think he loves your mother very much.’
I felt a squeeze of emotion in my chest. ‘I don’t think he ever stopped,’ I said gently. I wanted to capture her hand in mine because it was plain – at least to me – this wasn’t what she’d hoped for. ‘I’m so sorry, Marie.’
‘Never be sorry for love.’ She lifted her gaze and I caught a glitter of tears behind her eyes, and something else that told me this wasn’t the first time she’d been disappointed; that she’d even expected it. For a fleeting moment, I was cross with Dad for getting her hopes up, for letting her think there might be more (even I’d thought there might be) but I knew – and sensed she accepted too – that love couldn’t be manufactured, or the pieces forced into place. I’d tried too long with Matt to make us fit, and he had too for a while, but in the end, it had to come naturally to work. ‘I am truly happy for them,’ she said.
I couldn’t help but be impressed by her generous spirit. ‘You’ll find someone who deserves you,’ I said impulsively. ‘And who’ll appreciate your amazing cooking as much as we do.’
She laughed. ‘I hope to find a m
an who will cook for me.’
‘Quite right,’ I said, flushing a little at my blatant stereotyping. ‘Maybe one day a stranger will book a room here, and your eyes will meet across the doorstep and you’ll know.’
‘I think those things only happen in the movies,’ she said firmly. ‘And I am fine on my own.’ Then, with an almost girlish smile, she held the dress against herself and danced an elegant twirl that made me think that she might be the woman in the ballerina photos.
‘I think this will be perfect for you, Natalie,’ she said, before I could form a question. ‘Try it on and we will find something to cover your arms in case of a chill.’
* * *
An hour later, I barely recognised myself. True to her word, Marie had picked out a floaty cardigan that seemed to shimmer and change colour as it caught the light, and complemented the dress, which – as predicted – looked perfect in that mysterious way Marie’s clothes seemed to do. The silky-soft material swayed around my calves as I climbed in the taxi I’d booked to take me Saint-Martin, and I was glad I’d thought to bring some wedge-heeled sandals from England. It was the first time I’d worn them here and the extra couple of inches was empowering.
I’d left my hair down and fixed the curls with a styling spray I’d been meaning to try for ages, so it looked shiny and swingy and less like the result of a cartoon electrocution. As I checked my face in my compact mirror (which was really getting some use), I hoped I wasn’t overdressed for a trip on a yacht. Sailor pants and nautical stripes sprang to mind, but I felt good in my outfit, and if this was to be the last time I saw Jay, at least he’d remember me as the elegant woman in the rainbow dress with good hair, and not the idiot in torn jeans, crimson-faced and wheezy from running up a lighthouse.
As we drew nearer to Saint-Martin, I tried to focus on breathing deeply while gazing at the scenery, but was reminded of the night Simon had driven me to see Jay. I was practically sipping the air by the time we arrived at the harbour, and I massively over-tipped the driver, who was delighted, insisting on helping me out as if I was a duchess.