Guilty Pleasures. Tasmina Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ the school gates and made the twenty-minute journey into Rye. Andrew dropped them outside the Mermaid Inn, the best restaurant in Rye. It had a slightly run-down rickety feel, with uneven floors and low beams, the sort of place you could imagine well-heeled smugglers frequenting. Sitting by the window, Cassandra could see up towards the medieval church and the half-timbered houses. There was an undeniably eerie beauty to the town. Not quite Nobu, thought Cassandra, but charming nonetheless.

      ‘Isn’t it great?’ said Ruby, bouncing in her window seat, ‘Johnny Depp stayed here once.’

      ‘Did he?’ said Cassandra, slightly mollified. ‘I’m not at all surprised.’

      ‘So how was the funeral?’ asked Ruby, her young mind already on other things. ‘I still don’t understand why I couldn’t have gone. I saw Uncle Saul more than you did and I really wanted to go and say my goodbyes.’

      ‘Roger thought it best if there were no children and for once I agreed with him.’

      ‘Mother, I’m not a child,’ said Ruby, affronted. ‘I’m thirteen years of age.’

      ‘By the way,’ said Cassandra crisply, ‘Saul left you £10,000 in his will.’

      ‘Wow! Brilliant!’ squealed Ruby slurping her drink. ‘Can I have it now?’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Cassandra fiercely.

      ‘And did you get the company?’ she replied playfully.

      Cassandra almost smiled at her daughter. Straight to the point, just like her mother.

      ‘No. Saul, in his infinite wisdom, gave it to my cousin Emma.’

      ‘Ah, so that’s why you’re in a really shitty mood,’ she smiled cheekily.

      ‘Ruby!’ said Cassandra. ‘I don’t pay £25,000 a year for your education to hear you swear.’

      Ruby leant forward and held her mother’s hand.

      ‘What did you want that boring company for anyway?’

      ‘I wanted it for us, darling,’ said Cassandra, squeezing her daughter’s fingers with a warmth that surprised her.

      ‘But why?’ asked Ruby. ‘You have a cool job. We have money. If you’d got the company, we’d have had to move back to the village. Uncle Saul used to tell me that it was a perk of owning the company living in that house. Some perk! It’s so creepy! I bet it’s got ghosts.’

      Cassandra moved her hand from her daughter’s grip, smarting at her daughter’s casual dismissal of her ambitions. What did that ungrateful wretch think she did this all for? How did she think she got such an expensive education? A few ghosts was the least of it. Cassandra took a deep breath, trying to get her emotions under control. Only Ruby could make her shake like this, she thought.

      ‘So … what did you think of the March issue?’ she asked, trying to change the subject.

      ‘It was great. Although I think you do too much modern art.’

      ‘Darling, lots of our readers are collectors or fancy themselves as collectors.’

      ‘But it’s all a bit rubbish, isn’t it?’ laughed Ruby. ‘I mean the way you called that painter who does the orange circles a genius. How is he a genius compared to say Leonardo da Vinci? Did you know Da Vinci was probably one of the most all-round talented people ever? He designed helicopters, solar heating, rockets, everything.’

      Cassandra smiled.

      ‘Am I to assume you’re studying the Renaissance period at the moment?’

      ‘You got it,’ grinned Ruby, happy her mother had taken the bait. ‘… And seeing as I got an A in my paper, are you going to take me to Paris? You did promise at Christmas … ?’

      The fact that Cassandra was the mother of a 13-year-old girl was an open secret in the industry, but it was not something she flaunted. There was no shame; over the years, Anna Wintour’s child Bee Shaffer and French Vogue editor Carine Roitfeld’s daughter Julie had been seen on the front row. But Ruby looked nearer eighteen than thirteen; Cassandra was only 35, and did not want people doing the maths and getting it wrong.

      ‘Now, darling, I know I promised you could come to a couple of shows this year but Rive is throwing a big party in Paris and I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to be there. Maybe for couture in July, mmm?’

      ‘I really wanted to go to the Louvre,’ said Ruby in a low, disappointed voice.

      Cassandra so wanted to please her daughter, to give in to her demands. She’d love to show Ruby off, but she had to be strong. She couldn’t let Ruby’s disappointment interfere with her plans, not now. She was doing it for both of them – didn’t she understand that? Sometimes she felt so close to her daughter that she was almost part of her, other times it seemed as if they lived on different planets.

      ‘When am I going to see you again?’ said Ruby grumpily.

      ‘I’m away for a little while. Milan, Paris and then I have to go to Mexico. But I think your grandmother is coming next weekend.’

      Ruby looked up at Cassandra; her teenage barriers were all stripped away now and she was just a little girl who needed her mum.

      ‘I miss you,’ she said.

      ‘I miss you too,’ said Cassandra, her voice wobbling. ‘But you know why I work so hard, don’t you?’

      ‘For us?’

      Cassandra nodded, then reached under the table for a stiff paper bag.

      ‘Here,’ she said, ‘I’ve been saving this.’

      Ruby peeked inside, rifled through the tissue paper and then looked up beaming.

      ‘Groovy. A Chanel quilt!’ she said.

      ‘The Chanel 2.55,’ corrected Cassandra. ‘So named because …’

      ‘… because it was introduced by Coco Chanel in February 1955, I remember,’ said Ruby quietly.

      Cassandra felt a pang of disappointment and concern at Ruby’s interest in the works of Leonardo da Vinci above those of Coco Chanel. While her daughter’s quick-wittedness and spirit suited Cassandra’s image of herself, to be too academic might be detrimental to Ruby’s long-term prospects. Intelligence put too many men off, which was why brainy bluestockings like Emma Bailey ended up alone.

      Cassandra had such high hopes for her beautiful daughter. She wanted her to be the belle of the Crillon ball. She wanted her to have a good marriage; a spectacular marriage, perhaps the son of an oligarch or the scion of some great American family. She wanted her to have glamour and power and money. She wanted her to have everything.

      The car stopped back outside Briarton Court and they got out.

      ‘Are you coming in to say goodbye?’ asked Ruby. ‘I have to be back in the dorm by nine.’

      ‘I won’t come to the СКАЧАТЬ