Naked Truths (25 page)

‘I had a good time tonight,' he told her as the cab sped along. Despite herself, Catherine smiled.

‘Me, too.'

A few minutes later, they had pulled up outside her apartment block. Catherine was determined not to repeat what had happened the last time they had been here.

‘Well, I'd better be going, then!' she said brightly.

‘Here, let me.' Before she knew it John was at her side of the cab, opening the door. He took her hand and helped her out. They stood there in silence, before Catherine broke it.

‘Well, thanks again,' she said. John didn't say anything, but looked down at her, his green eyes intense.

Catherine dropped her gaze, but his hand found her chin and gently pushed it up towards him. As she looked into his eyes, she felt an odd mix of familiarity and fear.

‘Goodnight, Catherine,' he murmured, and leant down to kiss her. His lips were soft and warm, and in that moment, nothing else existed.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Catherine made herself pull away. Her heart was pounding so much, it was almost painful in her chest. ‘Goodnight, John,' she said quickly. As she got to the front door of her apartment block, Catherine made herself turn around. John was still standing by the open door of the cab, watching her. He waved his hand briefly and dropped it again.

‘
DARLING, IT'S ME.
How did it go?'

Caro sat down on the bed. She was just about to start taking her make-up off. Milo was sound asleep in bed, while downstairs Benedict was engrossed in a documentary about a North Pole explorer.

‘Fine, Mummy,' she said, putting the phone under her chin so she could unscrew her Clarins cleanser. She'd had a prenatal appointment for blood tests that morning.

‘Are you sure?' her mother asked anxiously.

Caro smiled. ‘They were just checking for iron levels and things like that. It's all perfectly routine, just like when I was pregnant last time.'

‘I don't mean to sound like such an old worrywart. I just wish I was there with you, instead of thousands of miles away!'

‘It's not long now,' Caro reminded her. Tink and Johnnie always came back to Churchminster for Christmas. Usually they stayed a month, but this time they were visiting friends in America on the way over, and weren't due to arrive in the Cotswolds until 23 December.

Camilla was still away travelling, but to everyone's delight, Calypso had managed to get a week off work and was flying back from New York with her parents. They were all going to stay with Caro and Benedict at Mill House, and descend en masse on Clementine for Christmas dinner.

Caro and Tink were discussing the arrangements when there was a loud groan from outside. Caro looked round in alarm. Was someone trying to break in?

Another noise. This time it was more like a cat being strangled.

Her mother stopped talking. ‘What on earth was that?'

Caro heard the distinct sound of flesh being slapped.

‘Is someone fighting? One of those girl gangs? Oh, darling, I knew you shouldn't have moved to London!' exclaimed Tink.

‘Ssh, Mummy,' said Caro, edging over to the window. A nasty realization was dawning. Sure enough, as she looked out tentatively, she became certain the racket was coming from the doctor's room opposite. They might have closed the curtains this time, but not the window.

Slap! The sound pierced the air like a bullet. Another loud groan of ecstasy erupted.

Caro let out a groan of her own. She didn't even want to think about what was going on.

‘Shut your bloody window!' she half-yelled. ‘I can hear everything!'

A concerned babble erupted from the phone. ‘No, Mummy, I wasn't talking to you,' Caro said hurriedly.

Amelia's depression finally seemed to be subsiding. She had firmly rejected Benedict's offer to make an appointment with the doctor: ‘He'll just put me back on those awful tablets, and you know how they zonk me out,' she told him. ‘I'm feeling a million times better, anyway.'

Benedict hadn't been convinced, but slowly but surely, Amelia was returning to her old self. Instead of spending hours shut away in her bedroom, she would play with Milo downstairs, and delight in one of her favourite pastimes: teasing her brother. She and Caro got rather too into
Loose Women
for their own good, and Amelia even ventured out of the mews a few times to take Milo for a walk, or go for a coffee with her sister-in-law at the little Italian deli round the corner. She still wasn't completely the Amelia they all knew and loved, but the sparkle was returning to her eyes.

It was a filthy winter's evening. Wind howled through the huge trees overlooking Montague Mews, their branches bending and groaning back and forth. In the murky atmosphere high above, sinister rumbles of thunder grew ever closer.

Inside No. 2 Montague Mews, however, the house was warm and cosy. Mouth-watering smells filled the kitchen as the three adults sat at the kitchen table enjoying a convivial supper Amelia had conjured up.

‘Mmm, you can stay more often,' said Caro, as she forked up a mouthful.

Amelia laughed. ‘Oh, cooking a delicious shepherd's pie is one of my many talents.'

‘It's the only thing you can cook,' Benedict reminded her.

Amelia looked mock-hurt. ‘Excuse me. What about that Thai chicken curry I made for your birthday?'

He winced. ‘My eyes are still watering.'

She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Don't be so ungrateful.' She turned to whisper to Caro. ‘I put in a whole packet of chillies by mistake.'

Caro laughed. ‘We've all been there!'

‘Actually, not all of us have.' Benedict cast a dry look at his wife and sister. ‘Why is it that none of the women in my life can cook, and I can? I'm sure it's meant to be the other way round.'

‘Chauvinist,' said Caro, her eyes twinkling.

He twinkled back. ‘Realist.'

Amelia looked mischievous. ‘Anyway, why do either of us need to be Nigella Lawson in the kitchen, when we've got our very own Gordon Ramsay?'

‘Hear, hear!' said Caro.

Benedict rolled his eyes and poured his sister more wine, before filling his own glass.

‘How's work, darling? You haven't been working so late the last week. That must be a good sign?' Caro asked.

‘Fingers crossed,' he replied. ‘We finally seem to be making some headway. If it carries on, I can start working from home more.'

‘My brother, the star businessman,' teased Amelia.

‘I don't know about that.' Benedict looked at his sister. ‘You know, there's always a job for you there. God knows The Glass Ceiling could do with a good PA; the last temp we had nearly set fire to the whole place when she left her hair straighteners on one evening.'

Suddenly, there was a loud thunderclap. It sounded like it was right outside in the mews. Caro and Amelia jumped.

‘I hate thunder!' Amelia shuddered. ‘When I was little, I always imagined it was an army of evil goblins on their way to kidnap someone. Thunderclaps were their drums making a war cry.'

‘You always did have an overactive imagination,' Benedict stood up. ‘Well, there's no goblins or evil here, I can assure you.'

As Amelia got up to help clear the table, a shadow caught Caro's eye from the living room. She frowned.
Was that Milo?
He'd got into the rather naughty habit of appearing downstairs, tousle-haired and angelic-faced when he was supposed to have gone to sleep hours ago. Leaving the other two, she went to check.

At first glance everything seemed normal: the room didn't contain any errant small children, and the lights were still turned down low. Caro went to the foot of the staircase and listened for any telltale footsteps upstairs. Nothing. She'd obviously imagined it.

‘Pud's up!' Amelia called.

‘Coming!' answered Caro, her mouth watering. Amelia had made a delicious treacle tart; her other culinary talent, Caro could hear her reminding Benedict. A slight breeze crossed the room from the living room window, and Caro went to close the curtains.

Outside, the mews was cast in darkness. As she stood there, momentarily lost in thought about whether to have ice cream or custard, a figure materialized in the window. Caro could only stare at the horns, blood-red eyes and spike-filled mouth, before the horror hit her.

She was looking into the face of the devil.

She screamed loudly and the apparition vanished. Caro backed away from the window and fell over the arm of the sofa. Benedict rushed out, pulling her up.

‘Jesus Christ! Caro!'

‘T-t-t-he . . . Someone at the window,' Caro was shaking so much she could hardly get the words out.

‘Here? Who?' Benedict strode over to the window. ‘I can't see anyone . . .' He started to unlock the front door.

‘Benedict, no!' This time it was Amelia, her voice shrill and stretched. Benedict stared at her.

‘It could be someone casing the joint.'

There was a loud banging on the door. Amelia screamed again, making Caro's heart fly into her mouth.

‘Hello? Is everyone all right?' boomed a deep voice.

Klaus! Caro breathed a sigh of relief as Benedict finished unfastening the door and let him in. A gust of cold air blew in the room, making them all shiver.

Klaus was looking at them uncertainly. ‘Ve heard this terrible noise . . .'

‘It was me, I just had rather a fright,' Caro apologized. Now that the room was full of people, she was feeling rather foolish.

‘Caro thought she saw someone looking in,' Benedict told him.

‘Hang on, I
did
see someone!' she protested.

‘Vot did they look like?' asked Klaus.

Caro shrugged helplessly. ‘They were wearing some kind of horrible devil mask.' She paused. ‘It was probably just some kids messing around.'

Klaus frowned. ‘How did they get into the mews?'

Stephen and Saffron appeared in the doorway at the same time. They made the most incongruous pairing: she was in an indecently short baby-doll nightdress, lurid green paste all over her face, while he was wearing a mustard cravat, and what looked like a maroon smoking jacket, his initials beautifully monogrammed on the breast pocket.

‘Darlings, are you all right? I thought you were all being murdered!'

‘We're fine,' Caro told him.

‘Thank heavens! I thought my episode of
Poirot
was coming to life.' Pulling a silk paisley handkerchief out of his pocket, Stephen dabbed it against his forehead.

Saffron let out a sigh of relief. ‘Fuck, I didn't know what was going on! Aunt Velda's out, I was shitting myself.'

Stephen turned to look at her, and Caro thought he was going to reprimand Saffron for her language. Instead his eyes widened.

‘My dear! I don't want to appear rude, but you seem to have some kind of algae growing all over your face.'

Caro couldn't help but smile at his astonished expression.

Saffron gingerly touched her chin. ‘Face mask. I was in the middle of a pampering session.' She looked at Caro. ‘Anyway, if you're OK, I'm out of here. This was meant to come off ten minutes ago.'

Caro turned to Stephen. ‘Awfully sorry to interrupt your programme.'

He flapped his handkerchief. ‘It was a repeat, anyway.'

Benedict and Klaus returned from investigating the mews.

‘The gate's open, but there's no sign of forced entry, so one of us must have forgotten to shut it,' Benedict reported.

‘It may have been the Ocado man, he was here earlier at Rowena's,' mused Stephen. ‘Their drivers are normally so good, though.'

‘Do you think ve should call the police?' said Klaus.

Benedict shrugged. ‘Whoever it was is long gone. It probably was just kids. They saw the gate open, and decided to come in and scare a few residents.'

‘Well, they certainly succeeded!' said Caro. ‘Little horrors.'

The four said goodnight and retreated into the warmth of their houses.

Benedict double-locked the door and drew Caro to him. ‘If they come back, I'll give them what for,' he said grimly. ‘You could have gone into early labour!'

‘I don't really think so, darling,' she laughed. ‘It just gave me a fright.'

‘Hmmm,' said Benedict. He looked at her. ‘Where's Amelia?'

In the melee, Caro had completely forgotten about her. ‘I don't know. Amelia?' she called into the kitchen. There was no answer. ‘I'll go and see if she's OK, poor girl sounded terrified.'

‘I'll go and put the kettle on,' said Benedict. ‘I think we could all do with a warm drink.'

As Caro climbed the stairs, she became aware of a low moaning, as if the wind was still whistling through the house. She reached the top and realized it was the sound of someone crying. And it was coming from Amelia's room.

‘Amelia?' Caro knocked softly on the door. The noise stopped.

‘Sweetpea, are you OK?' she said. There was no answer.

CATHERINE TURNED THE
new Christmas issue around in her hands. She had to admit, it did look amazing. Along with a huge fifty-page fashion party supplement Alexander and his team had put together, it was packed with innovative photo shoots and exclusive interviews. Even better, she had somehow persuaded the marketing department to give away a free black clutch bag on the cover. Anya Hindmarch had designed it exclusively for them, and the little sequinned satin number was far superior to the usual tat given away with magazines. The Christmas issue always sold well and Catherine had a good feeling about this one.

With overseas sales added on,
Soirée
had put an extra 23,000 copies on their November issue in the end, taking them up to 233,000. Things seemed to be on course but it had been strangely quiet from Sir Robin Hackford's end. Catherine was sure this wasn't in his game plan: the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that he wanted to shut the magazine down so he could pursue his own money-making interests. There had been rumours about a new, multi-million-pound business brand being launched by Valour, which was far more in keeping with Sir Robin's background. Catherine felt sick at the unfairness of this.