Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin. Tasmina Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ If she hadn’t been sitting in a Cotswolds manor house, you’d have said her natural habitat was in LA, draped over a Hollywood star, with her wasp-like waist, tiny hips and her large round breasts hidden by an expensive Gucci jacket. But there was definitely a hardness about her face, Cate thought, something too smooth, too polished.

      Cate turned her attention to Nick. She knew him well enough by now to see that the smile on his face did not mask the anxiety in his eyes. ‘Hi partner,’ he smiled gently, subtly removing his arm from the back of the chair in which Rebecca was sitting. ‘Did it take you hours to get here? It took us ages.’

      ‘That’s what you get for living in London,’ laughed Tom, moving towards the terrace doors, ‘too much time wasted in traffic jams. Talking of which, shall we go outside?’ he asked. ‘It’s too nice to be stuck in the kitchen and the chef needs to get some air,’ he grinned.

      They moved out onto the enormous terrace which stood above the lawns. It was hardly a balmy evening, but for April there was a surprisingly warm and fuzzy glow to the evening. The shrill, lazy sound of birds singing high in the trees filled the garden, the cherry blossom had just burst into bloom and there was a hazy early dusk light that made the whole scene feel vaguely continental. Knocking back a big gulp of gin and tonic, Cate lifted her face to the sun, letting it warm her for the first time that year.

      ‘So we finally meet the famous Cate,’ said Rebecca, sidling up to her, sipping from a kir royale. ‘Although it’s amazing we’ve never met before, isn’t it? You being in magazines, me being in PR and all that,’ she added. Rebecca’s voice had a knowing, confident undercurrent, over-friendly in that insincere PR-executive way that Cate had witnessed a thousand times over in her job.

      ‘I know,’ smiled Cate. ‘Being editor at Class meant that I was pretty much chained to my desk, so I didn’t get out half as much as I should have. I’m sure you must know everyone from the fashion department, though?’

      ‘Oh yes,’ said Rebecca, putting an over-familiar hand on Cate’s arm, ‘Lucy, Cheryl, Susie – lovely girls. Terribly sorry about what happened with you, though. Just awful. Although you must be glad that your job went to Nicole Valentine and that they didn’t bring in an outsider.’

      ‘Yes, delighted,’ smiled Cate thinly, trying not to show her annoyance. She could tell it was going to be a night of backhanded compliments and endless chat about Rebecca and what Rebecca did. Nick had always been very sparing in his descriptions of Rebecca, but in the five minutes it took for Rebecca to introduce herself properly, she found out more about her than she had heard from Nick in two months. They had met in New York where Nick was in publishing and Rebecca was working for a PR company. She had returned the summer before and set up her own fashion PR company, which had become, according to Rebecca, instantly successful. After ten months they had already secured accounts for three major fashion labels including Roman LeFey and Clerc, the international jewellers, not to mention several luxury and beauty clients. She had a staff of ten at her Bond Street offices and business was going from strength to strength. Cate was surprised she hadn’t offered her details about the size of her house and how wonderful her sex life was.

      As if reading her thoughts, Tom appeared with a bowl of crisps; when he knew Rebecca wasn’t looking, he grimaced at Cate in sympathy.

      ‘Of course, I will do whatever I can to help your little project,’ said Rebecca as Tom moved back into the house. ‘Nick and I are so close, it’s almost as if it’s my project too. What’s his is mine and all that,’ she said, looking over to where Nick was sifting through a pile of CDs. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, flicking back a strand of hair and pouring herself a glass of Dom Pérignon from the bottle on the wrought-iron garden table, ‘how was Milan?’ She moved out of Nick’s earshot and lowered her voice. ‘I couldn’t bear to come out and meet Nick there, however much he tried to insist. I spend so much time in the damn place, it would have been more torture than treat!’

      Cate’s stomach contracted. ‘Oh, I didn’t know Nick invited you to come and join him …’

      ‘Oh yes,’ smiled Rebecca, her jade eyes opening wide, her voice still low. ‘We love going on little mini-breaks, but they had stopped since you two had been knocking heads together every weekend. But you must remember I will do anything I can to get Sand off the ground. Just give me a nudge. Nick never likes to ask, he’s so sweet.’

      Cate reached for a handful of pistachio nuts and watched Rebecca as she drifted off to join Tom and Nick, who were laughing loudly at a private joke. In a funny way Cate was almost disappointed by Rebecca. She’d met a thousand girls like her before. Pretty, yes, beautiful even, but not particularly witty or clever. Just a very self-confident PR girl who could talk and smile and fill the silences with chit-chat about herself. She looked at Nick exchanging smiles with Rebecca and wondered what she had been expecting.

      Dinner was a noisy, calorie-laden and haphazard affair. Nick and Tom were both on great form. The two men had not seen each other in a while, so the gossip came thick and fast and the banter swelled between them. The food was delicious: the meat had been cooked in thick game gravy that Tom ladled over the plates. OK, so the mustard mash came ten minutes later, but Tom took it all in his stride, laughing about his lack of coordination and quaking at the thought of cooking a Christmas dinner. The champagne and red wine flowed, and Cate cringed when she saw her bottle of off-licence plonk sitting on the table next to the Château Lafite that Rebecca had brought.

      After dinner it was too cold and too dark to carry on drinking outside, so they filed into Tom’s enormous living room where he lit a fire and turned on the lamps around the room, which spilt a saffron glow up the walls and across the cream carpet. It’s a beautiful space, thought Cate, looking around the room – old, traditional, yet sophisticated and modern. When they all stopped talking, they could hear nothing but the crackling of the embers. Cate wondered how lonely it must be for Tom when the visitors had gone, the fire had died down and the birds had stopped singing. Maybe that was why he still had a sideboard full of photographs to remind him of the life that was still out there. One large black-and-white photograph in a tawny leather frame stood out from the rest of the happy smiling shots of friends and family. It was a shot of Tom and Serena laughing on a boat. Cate felt embarrassed to be looking at them, almost as if she was intruding; she turned her head away, conscious of the fact that Serena’s name had not been brought up all evening.

      ‘Is it really corny if I go and make some egg-nog?’ asked Tom, shoving a poker into the fire. ‘It’s a big house and it’s a spooky night outside,’ he said, looking at the full moon shining down through the windows. ‘But we’ve got friends and a roaring fire; it’s just crying out for some egg-nog! Hang on, what is egg-nog?’ he asked, looking at Cate, his brow furrowed. ‘Milk, whisky and cinnamon?’

      ‘Don’t ask me,’ replied Cate, laughing. ‘I’m more of a Martini girl.’

      ‘Uh-oh, prepare for an alcoholic disaster,’ smiled Nick lazily.

      ‘Well, I lived in New York for three years,’ announced Rebecca, walking towards the kitchen. ‘I know how to make a great egg-nog. I’ll come and help you.’

      Cate and Nick settled into two big red armchairs at either side of the fireplace, Cate curling her feet up into the squishy cushions contentedly. ‘What would you do for a place like this?’ said Nick softly, looking around the room and up into the high-beamed ceiling. ‘Oh sorry!’ he said, teasing a little, ‘I forgot: you do have a house like this.’

      ‘Oh stop it,’ grinned Cate, ‘it’s the family house – and anyway, you obviously haven’t been. It’s not half as cosy and delicious as this place.’

      ‘Are you staying СКАЧАТЬ