Don't Let Me Go (18 page)

‘Perfect,’ Anna declared, planting her hands on her hips and inhaling the pungent sea air as though taking in an energy shot. ‘We need the damson quilt, white linen sheets and four round cushions to start,’ she reminded Charlotte. ‘The cushions should be black or mink, we’ll try both, and the white voile should be in that hamper there.’

Turning back to the cart, Charlotte immediately began unpacking the voile, while her mother headed over to the bed to start organising its morph into a lady of tantalising elegance and style. At least a dozen people were milling around the area, photographer’s assistants, models, dressers, make-up artists and numerous executives from Owens Lifestyle, the client. Anna’s regular team of two was already at work inside a nearby guest cottage, pressing, folding, stitching and pinning; while Hemi Bennet with his muscles of rock and heart of marshmallow was limbering up ready to move the heavy stuff. Charlotte wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that he’d carried the bed into position on his own, since he worked most of the time as a house-removal man (literally, because in NZ people often moved their entire property, not just the contents), and his Herculean strength was legendary.

‘Hi, I’m Lucianne,’ announced an attractive middle-aged woman with a rumpus of curly blonde hair and arresting blue eyes. ‘And you must be Charlotte, Anna’s daughter.’

‘That’s right,’ Charlotte smiled, managing to tuck the voile under one arm as she took the hand being offered. Lucianne was the owner and founder of Owens Lifestyle and ex-wife of a world-champion American golfer. ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ she told her, meaning it. ‘You’ve chosen the most incredible setting. The colours are so rich it’s like they’ve been freshly painted on the landscape.’

Lucianne’s eyes twinkled. ‘In the case of the golfing greens they have, but you didn’t hear it from me.’ She turned to drink in the spectacular vista and gave a luxurious sigh. Up here at the top of the cliffs they could see for miles, with nothing interrupting the tranquil perfection of the sea but a handful of rocky islands and the occasional break of the surf. ‘I think it’s ideal for the new collection, don’t you?’ she said. ‘And your mother is full of such good ideas. I mean, who’d have thought of putting the bed next to the pool?’

‘Anna’s middle name is quirky,’ a willowy brunette declared, wandering up to join them. ‘It’s what sets her apart.’

Guessing she was one of the models, Charlotte quickly introduced herself, and was just reaching back into the cart for her clipboard when her mother shouted for her.

‘Thankfully there’s hardly any wind,’ Anna stated, as Charlotte hurriedly joined her at the bed, ‘so we can drape the voile round the posts without fear of it taking off. Actually, we might try a shot with a swathe of it airborne, it could be fun. I’ll mention it to Wolf.’

‘Are you using any models for this sequence?’ a make-up artist wanted to know.

Anna shook her head. ‘Not until we get to the sea-green linens,’ she replied. ‘Do you have an order of shoot? I’m sure Lucianne’s office emailed them . . .’

‘It’s OK, I’ve got duplicates,’ Charlotte assured her, fishing one from the back of her clipboard. ‘You should have the model ready for eleven, we should get to her by then.’

‘I’ve brought a bag of jewellery,’ Anna added, ‘which is probably all she should wear for the sea greens. We’ll cover the vital bits with sparklers and a carefully draped sheet.’

‘Are we using the bedside lamps for these first shots?’ Wolf demanded.

Anna considered it.

‘It could be one of your trademark quirky touches,’ Charlotte whispered, ‘especially if a model’s holding one.’

Anna looked amused. ‘Yes, let’s do it,’ she declared.

Happy to oblige, Wolf trundled back to where his assistants were sorting out gels and screens and lenses, while Lucianne barked instructions into a phone to only she knew who.

It wasn’t long before they were ready to take the first shots, with the bed now fully dressed in artfully rumpled velvets and cottons, and cascades of voiles tumbling around the posts like bridal veils. Charlotte and Anna were constantly checking the viewfinder and jumping in to adjust a pillow or a fold or the carefully spilled crystal bowl of marbles that were glinting like jewels, or even raindrops, in the sunlight. This last had been Charlotte’s idea, for which she’d received much praise from Lucianne.

By lunchtime they’d completed the pool shots and were ready to move on to the ocean-view loggia, where Charlotte and the Owens Lifestyle designers were already sorting through the required throws and quilts. As the crew started to arrive trays of sandwiches and cold drinks were brought through from the kitchens, so Charlotte seized the brief break for lunch to call Aroha. Chloe had been close to tears when Charlotte had left her at the start of the day, so she was anxious to find out how she was now.

‘She seems fine,’ Celia insisted when Charlotte got through. ‘She was a little quiet after you’d gone, but as we speak she’s outside in the shady areas playing Farmer in the Dell. Would you like me to go and get her?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Charlotte replied, and wandering out to the front of the hotel as she waited, she called Hemi over to ask him to fetch the rotary washing line from the golf cart and take it down to the eighteenth green. This was the location for the next set-up and it was her job to be thinking ahead.

‘Hello?’ Chloe said softly into the phone.

‘Hello sweetheart,’ Charlotte replied, her heart tripping with love. ‘I hope I haven’t spoiled your game.’

‘No,’ came the breathy reply, ‘because we finished anyway. We’re doing some baking this afternoon for Melody’s birthday, and soon we’re doing some for mine.’

Feeling her throat knot with pride, Charlotte said, ‘We still haven’t finished making a list of who you’d like to invite to your party, so we’d better do that tonight.’

‘Yes. Please can I invite everyone?’

Loving her kind heart, Charlotte said, ‘Well, if the weather’s good and we can hold it on the beach, I don’t see why not.’ And if the weather wasn’t good she knew her mother and Bob would happily host it at the lodge.

Taking breaths in all the wrong places, Chloe said, ‘I think we should do it on the beach and then everyone can do the pipi dance and go for a row in our boat and a swing on our swing.’

‘I’m sure they’ll love every minute of it.’

‘And we can eat the cakes that we make.’

‘Absolutely, and lots of jelly and ice cream. I’ve got a nice little surprise for you now, Auntie Shelley sent me a text earlier to say that Danni’s coming with her to pick you up today.’

Chloe fell silent.

‘I thought you’d be happy about that,’ Charlotte pressed, feeling bad now for even bringing it up.

‘I want you to come,’ Chloe whispered.

‘I know, darling, but it’s just this once and I’ll be home right after you’ve had your tea. Knowing you, you’ll be up in the pasture with Danni and Diesel by then. Think how happy Diesel’s going to be to see you, because he really loves you and Danni, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, and we love him.’

‘There you are then. You’ll have a lovely time, just don’t forget to put on a hat if you ride him, OK?’

‘I’ve got my own hat now.’

‘I know you have, so remember to take it with you. Or is it already at the stables?’

‘It’s in the tack room next to Danni’s.’

Touched by how proud she sounded of that, Charlotte told her, ‘I have to go now, sweetheart. So you have a happy bake this afternoon and if there’s anything left I’ll look forward to a cupcake with my tea.’

‘I’m going to make one for you with chocolate buttons on.’

‘Oh, lovely, that’s my favourite. My mouth is watering already.’

There was a small silence before Chloe said, ‘I want you to come.’

Almost wishing she hadn’t rung now, Charlotte said, ‘Tell you what, if you go home nicely with Auntie Shelley and Danni today, we’ll go to town for a fluffy on Saturday, and a look round the dollar store. How does that sound?’ Chloe loved the dollar store with all its little bits and pieces at her eye level.

Realising she was going to repeat, ‘I want you to come,’ Charlotte went on quickly. ‘I’m going to ring off now, OK? So you be a good girl. I love you.’

‘Love you,’ Chloe whispered.

After ringing off and reassuring herself again that Chloe would be fine as soon as she saw Danni and Shelley, Charlotte went in search of her mother, grabbing a sandwich and glass of lemonade on the way.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Anna smiled, as Charlotte joined her and Lucianne at a quiet end of the loggia. They were viewing the morning’s shots on Lucianne’s laptop, discussing why some worked while others didn’t. ‘We were just saying what a good start we’re off to,’ Anna commented, as Charlotte leaned against the balustrade next to her.

‘I especially loved what you did with the marbles,’ Lucianne told her. ‘Wolf’s picked up the sunlight perfectly, and we’ll probably add more in the edit. I wouldn’t mind having them as a kind of theme running through this catalogue. No colours to them, just plain glass marbles; we can always use Photoshop to tint them if we feel the need to.’

‘I was thinking they’d work well mingled with red or pink rose petals when we come to do the vintage lace collection,’ Charlotte suggested.

Lucianne’s eyes widened with interest. ‘Where, when are we doing that?’ she asked.

‘It’s scheduled for tomorrow in one of the guest cottages,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I’ll try to set something up this afternoon if there’s time, so we can get an idea of how it might look.’

Clearly thrilled by her creative input, Anna said to Lucianne, ‘I’m hoping she’ll come into a full partnership with me eventually.’

‘Well, she’s certainly showing signs of having inherited her mother’s talent,’ Lucianne commented. ‘What were you doing before you came here, Charlotte?’

Feeling her cheeks starting to burn, Charlotte avoided her mother’s eyes as she said, ‘I just worked in local government, nothing particularly interesting, and definitely not arty.’

‘But she has a passion for theatre,’ Anna chipped in, ‘which I believe can be termed arty.’

‘Amateur theatre,’ Charlotte was quick to add, ‘and it was really only a hobby, not a
passion
.’ She needn’t have emphasised that last word, making it sound condescending, especially when her mother had only been trying to show support, and pride. Now she was clearly embarrassed and hurt.

Sensing Lucianne’s surprise at her attitude, Charlotte said, ‘I should go and make sure there are no problems for the next set-up,’ and grabbing her empty glass and clipboard she took herself back into the fray.

An hour later the loggia sequence was complete and they were ready to move down to the eighteenth green, where Charlotte had already organised the dressing of the rotary washing line. Hemi was carrying in a wind machine, taking care not to tangle up with the cables Wolf’s assistants were running from the hotel, while in the shade of a frangipani tree a make-up artist was applying finishing touches to a male model wrapped in an Owens Lifestyle bathrobe.

Spotting Anna assessing the rotary line, Charlotte went to join her, hoping to apologise for earlier, but before she could speak Anna was saying, ‘I can’t make up my mind whether the damson sheet should be tangled with the white cotton bedspread or remain as it is, hanging separately. Of course it’ll all look much livelier when the wind’s blowing through it . . .’

‘Is it difficult to shoot it both ways?’ Charlotte asked.

Anna glanced at her and realising she’d sounded critical and snappy, rather than helpful, Charlotte said, ‘I’m sorry, I was just saying . . .’

‘Yes, I heard you,’ Anna cut in, ‘and you’re right, we could do it both ways.’ Moving past her, she went to clip arum lilies to the clothes pegs and turned to Wolf to discuss the direction of the wind. Her back made it clear that she had no more time to talk to Charlotte.

Deciding she’d have to try apologising again later, preferably when she was feeling less annoyed with herself for never seeming to get it right with her mother, Charlotte set off for the nearest guest cottage. The vintage lace collection should have been delivered by now, so she could start arranging it over the bed and go to find some petals and marbles when she got a chance later.

‘Charlotte, where are you going?’ Anna called after her.

Coming to a stop, Charlotte was about to turn round when she noticed a police car pulling up outside the hotel. Since there was no good reason for her to experience a bolt of unease, or even to pay the arrival any further attention, she should have turned back to her mother. However, a sixth sense – or maybe a rogue streak of paranoia – was making it impossible for her to stop watching it. Then Grant and another officer got out and she felt herself relaxing. They must have decided to take a drive up the coast for a look at what was going on here, and they’d chosen a good time because refreshments were still being served.

As they came towards her she wanted to go and greet them, but found she couldn’t. Her heartbeat was slowing and her mouth was suddenly dry. Something wasn’t right; she could feel it even before Grant was close enough for her to see that there was no hint of the usual playful gleam in his eye.

Realising her mother was standing next to her, she felt herself turning dizzy. Why was her mother here? She hadn’t been a moment ago. What was unnerving Anna? Nothing had happened, nothing was wrong, so why were they both behaving as though it was?

‘Grant,’ Anna said, going to greet him in her usual friendly manner. ‘What a lovely surprise. You too, Wex. You’ve chosen a great day to visit.’

As Charlotte watched them she could feel fear closing in on her like ravens starting to swoop.

Grant was close enough now for her to see how haggard he looked.

Anna turned around and Charlotte noticed her colour had gone.

It was like a dream, a nightmare, everything was happening in slow motion and she could neither move nor scream.

Wex was speaking, and as the crowding fear suddenly rushed at her it was turning to panic.

‘No,’ Charlotte begged, ‘please, please no.’

‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ Anna cried, putting her arm round Charlotte. ‘Grant, stop this, you have to . . .’