Gold Diggers (47 page)

That evening’s party was quieter than the previous night’s main event. There was a hog-roast in the garden, low tables and cushions by the pool, tea-lights everywhere, and guests were dressed more casually – long sparkly kaftans and jewelled flip-flops rather than the couture gowns of the day before, giving the whole evening a sultry Moroccan vibe. Karin found Marcus sitting alone on a leather pouf by the pool, picking at some baklava and watching the guests mill around. Seeing that Adam was within eyeshot on the other side of the pool, she positioned herself next to Marcus and
turned on the charm. She knew she was looking hot. Her long chocolate-brown chiffon dress was almost sheer, revealing a tiny bronze bikini and an incredible suntanned body underneath. She had accessorized with a pair of metallic Grecian sandals, a copper bangle pushed up her arm, and a slim gold lariat hung around her neck, making her look every inch a modern day Talitha Getty. Rather appropriate, she thought, smiling. Except without the drug habit of course.

‘Where’s Molly?’

‘Around, around,’ laughed Marcus, trying not to notice the curve of Karin’s breast peeping through the low neckline of her dress. ‘Phoning Summer, I think. She took off early this morning to Milan, so I think Molly just wants to check everything is okay.’

‘She just adores Summer, doesn’t she?’ smiled Karin, knowing the irony was lost on Marcus. ‘I know she’d do anything for her. I’m quite envious of their relationship. In fact, I’m quite envious of Molly full stop. Wonderful daughter, fabulous boyfriend.’

Adam stared at Karin from the other side of the pool with undisguised fury. What was she doing? He excused himself from Claudia Falcon and stalked over.

Marcus looked up. ‘Just going to get a drink,’ he said. ‘Fancy one?’

Adam grunted and sat down on his vacant pouf.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked Karin immediately Marcus was out of earshot.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Karin innocently, playing with her lariat.

‘Hanging off fucking Marcus with your tits out, that’s what I mean.’

‘Hardly,’ sniffed Karin, delighted that she had provoked such an immediate reaction. ‘Anyway, I didn’t have you down as the jealous sort.’

‘I’m not,’ said Adam coldly, snuffing out a dying tea-light with his finger-tip.

‘Well, don’t behave like it, then. It’s only Marcus, what’s your problem?’

‘My problem,’ growled Adam, watching Marcus coming back towards them balancing three cocktails, ‘is that you are flirting with him and Molly is just over there making a phone call.’

‘Of course,’ replied Karin. ‘It’s all about Molly.’

Her eyes locked with Adam, and for a second she thought she saw a fleeting moment of panic in his expression.
That would do for now
, she thought.

‘I think there’s more mint than rum in these things,’ said Marcus putting the glasses on the low table. ‘Probably just as well with the amount I’ve drunk this weekend.’

‘A bad workman blames his mojitos,’ laughed Karin, standing to leave the table.

‘Going somewhere?’ asked Adam tartly.

‘Looks like Molly is off the phone,’ she smiled sweetly, pointing over to the gazebo, where Molly was snapping shut a mobile phone and putting it in her clutch bag.

‘I’m going to leave you gentlemen and go and have a girly gossip.’

She looked at Adam, who was nervously running a finger around the sugary rim of the glass, and smiled broadly at Marcus. ‘I’ll see you later.’

The gazebo was away from the main throng of the party and much quieter. Karin could just hear the strains of a clarinet floating on the air, and the low murmur of background chatter. Molly was walking back to the pool and having trouble with her kitten heels in the grass. ‘You should have used the phone in the house,’ said Karin, looking her up and down. She did look good, she thought begrudgingly. Molly’s blousy leopard-print dress was so short it barely
covered her thighs; her tawny hair hung loose on her shoulders, and even her low heels gave her a statuesque appearance.

‘It’s fine,’ smiled Molly. ‘I can get reception out here.’

‘So, how’s Summer? I’m surprised she took off so early this morning.’

‘She’s okay,’ said Molly, trying to dodge around Karin to continue back to the pool.

‘What did she have to say?’

‘How did you know that was Summer?’

Karin shrugged and took a sip of drink. She made the silence hang in the air to unnerve Molly. For a second they could hear the crickets in the trees and the quiet splash of waves lapping on the shore.

‘She really did miss all the action this afternoon, didn’t she?’ said Karin casually. ‘I think she’d have found it quite interesting if she’d hung around.’

Molly flicked her hair behind her shoulder and pushed her clutch bag under her arm, gripping it with white fingertips. ‘Well, we’ve both been to Bellagio before, and you can only do so much lounging around a swimming pool,’ smiled Molly lightly, even though the expression looked troubled.

‘That’s right, isn’t it?’ Karin pressed on. ‘I saw you getting a bit bored of sunbathing earlier, although frankly I didn’t think that was in your nature.’

They were only thirty or so feet away from the main action. Marcus lifted a hand in the air to wave. Molly’s face looked frozen, as if she’d had a Botox overload.

‘Look, Karin, I’ve got to get back. Do you want anything from the bar?’

Karin shook her head politely and adopted a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression.

‘No, I just wanted to know what you thought of the grounds when you went exploring. Did you know they were
designed by Luigi Belmondo, Italy’s answer to Capability Brown?’

‘They were gorgeous,’ smiled Molly thinly. ‘Although I didn’t really have much of a look.’

‘What did you think of the temple?’

Despite the darkness, Karin could see Molly’s face redden and her long fingers grip her clutch bag even harder.

‘I don’t think I saw that,’ she said.

‘That’s odd, because I could have sworn I heard you in there. Either that or it was a wounded pig squealing.’

‘Oh fuck,’ mumbled Molly.

‘Exactly,’ said Karin coolly. She paused for a long moment, her head cocked to one side, examining Molly’s face carefully.

‘So what was it like having sex with my fiancé? Or should I say, your daughter’s lover?’

Molly was now so red in the face she looked sunburnt. Karin took a breather, surprised after everything that had happened that she was enjoying it.

‘I think that maybe the hostess was drunk this afternoon,’ said Molly, finally lifting up her chin arrogantly.

Karin snapped. ‘The final insult!’ she laughed harshly.

‘Well, what do they say about it taking two to tango?’ said Molly, realizing that there was no point pretending. ‘I can’t even begin to think how bad your sex life is when your fiancé has to come looking to me. No, to
us
.’

‘Well, you should know all about a bad sex life, isn’t that right, Molly? It must be hard trying to orgasm when you’re too busy thinking about bank balances.’

‘Fine, have your fun. I’m not going to listen to this,’ said Molly, trying to push her way past Karin.

‘Oh yes you will,’ said Karin, grabbing a handful of leopard-print chiffon. ‘What do you think is going to happen, Molly? That Adam will break off his engagement with me
and propose to your little daughter? To you?’ she mocked. ‘Don’t you understand? Nobody marries a nobody.’

Molly tried to pull herself free. ‘I’m really not listening to this.’

‘Not only will you listen to me, I’m going to make sure Summer does too,’ hissed Karin. ‘I wonder what she’ll make of all this. She’s a terribly sensitive young girl.’

Molly went white. She knew she was cornered and desperately tried to think of a way out. ‘Karin, don’t,’ she said gently, trying to appeal to a better nature that Molly wasn’t even sure Karin had.

Karin pulled back, for one moment surprised by the pleading expression on Molly face. She had never before seen even a hint of her vulnerability. She let her speak.

‘Slag me off all you like,’ said Molly. ‘Hate me for what I did this afternoon, but please don’t tell Summer. Please.’

‘If you’re so desperate for me not to tell Summer, why
did
you screw Adam?’ she asked coldly. ‘You weren’t being quite the caring mother then, were you?’

Molly looked down at the ground, examining every blade of grass, hoping that, when she looked up, Karin would be gone and the whole conversation would have been just like a nasty acid trip. After all, she could hardly tell Karin the truth, that she wanted Summer to be engaged to Adam. For the money, for the status, for the reflected glory. But that, as the weeks of Adam and Summer’s illicit afternoon sex had yielded nothing except Adam’s engagement to Karin, Molly had decided to wade in and have a go herself. No, she could hardly tell her that.

‘It was just a fuck,’ whispered Molly. ‘He was drunk, so was I. It was over in five minutes, it meant
nothing
,’ she said, her voice getting louder, stronger, more desperate. ‘Summer doesn’t need to know. Please. She loves Adam. It will crush her.’

Karin fell silent, her face expressionless. They could hear the crickets again and the tension that moments earlier had swelled between them like a giant wave just ebbed away. For just one second, Molly thought that Karin was going to let the matter rest. But then she opened her mouth and her top lip twisted into a snarl.

‘I’m going to tell Summer as soon as she gets back to London,’ she said. ‘And I’m going to tell her
everything
.’

The plane ride home on Monday morning had been quiet, the atmosphere on the 737 subdued and bloated. Champagne and croissants were available, but most people chose to sleep. Erin, however, had spent the entire flight staring out of the cabin window, her eyes searching the swirls of clouds beneath her, wondering whether she should listen to Julia Gold, whether she should say goodbye to her life with Adam. Much as she loved the excitement, importance and – on occasion – sheer luxury of her job, a life with Adam Gold meant a life with Karin. And, at that moment, Karin’s very existence seemed too painful a reminder of what had happened to her father. She thought about her pep talk with Julia, wondering if the old lady was right, that she should try and make a career writing books. But if only she knew it was going to work out – after all, having an agent was one thing, actually selling her book was quite another – it might make a decision to leave the Midas Corporation easier. A Mercedes was waiting at Heathrow for Erin to take her back to the office; she was hoping that it was going to be a relaxed day ahead. Adam hadn’t joined the rest of the guests on board the
party plane; his Learjet had been waiting for him at Milano Linate to take him on to Paris for a meeting, and he hadn’t needed Erin to accompany him.

She was back at her desk by noon, when her mobile rang. She hesitated before picking it up. Even though she had officially been ‘off-duty’ at the weekend, she had still been pestered with a hundred and one requests from party guests, who expected Erin to fix the plumbing, press their clothes or order them a helicopter. She looked at her phone, hoping it wasn’t some disgruntled party guest complaining that their Louis Vuitton boîte flacon had been left at the palazzo, or that they had lost a pair of holistic flight slippers on the plane. She took a deep breath and pressed ‘connect’.

‘Ah Erin! Finally. I’ve left you a message on your home phone, but I suspect you’ve been out gallivanting?’

Ed Davies, her agent. Erin hadn’t spoken to him since she’d sent the first fifteen thousand words of her new novella over to him and had been discouraged by his silence.

‘Sort of,’ said Erin warily, ‘I’ve been in Italy for the weekend.’

Ed chuckled indulgently. ‘Well, I should have told you this news before you went away so you could celebrate.’

Erin pulled a face. She doubted anything could have lifted her spirits from the mood she’d been in in Como.

‘So what’s happened?’ She hoped he wasn’t going to ask for a rewrite. Any more setbacks from Ed Davies would knock her confidence even further.

‘Well, I got those fifteen thousand words from you. Sorry I haven’t been in touch, but I’ve been in Tuscany for the last couple of weeks. You know how the publishing industry gets very quiet over summer? Anyway. It starts picking up now. Editors want to snap things up before the Frankfurt Book Fair.’

Get on with it
, thought Erin with irritation.

‘So I sent your manuscript to an editor over at Millennium Publishing who I thought might like it.’

‘You sent it out?’ said Erin, her heart pounding. ‘But I, I didn’t think, I mean I …’

‘Yes, yes, I know you didn’t mean for me to show it anyone,’ said Ed. ‘But I rather liked what you’d delivered. Not a great deal of it, but what was there was super.’

Erin’s mouth had gone dry with anticipation. ‘So … what did they think?’

Ed paused for dramatic effect. ‘They loved it! Charles, the editorial director over there, said it reminded him of
Bonjour Tristesse
.’

A smile spread across Erin’s face. Françoise Sagan, the sixties French novelist, was one of her favourites, and
Bonjour Tristesse
, the story of a troubled little rich girl, was her masterpiece.

‘Anyway, the best news is that he’s made a pre-emptive offer of forty thousand pounds for a one-book deal, which I think is super considering it’s only a part manuscript.’

‘Oh gosh,’ said Erin, her heart flip-flopping at this totally unexpected development. ‘What do we do?’

Ed chuckled again. ‘Ball’s in your court, my dear. But what I would say is that Charles won’t hang around with something like this. He definitely wants to get it out by summer next year. So that means he wants the book delivered by Christmas.’

‘Christmas?’ said Erin, panicking. She’d written just a few chapters and, while it was only ever going to be a short novel, Erin knew that it would mean leaving work immediately to get it done.

‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t normally encourage an author to stop work,’ said Ed, ‘not until they were very established anyway, but there does seem to be an issue of time here.’

‘I … well, I need to think about it,’ said Erin.

‘Okay, but Charles has given us 48 hours to accept his offer.’

Erin’s heart felt as if it had been turned up to maximum volume. ‘Then what?’

‘Then the offer lapses. Of course there may be other publishing companies interested but, to be honest, it’s a gamble. Why don’t you sleep on it and get back to me in the morning?’

By 8 p.m., Karin was exhausted. After the flight home she had popped into the office, answered some emails, called her PR, who had been inundated with calls from journalists wanting details about the party, and then had returned home for a long soak with Jo Malone bath oils. As she wallowed in the silky water, she let her mind drift back to the party. She couldn’t remember a more eventful forty-eight hours, and it had filled her with a rush of different emotions. Guilt and discomfort at Erin’s outburst, rage and heartache at the revelation that Summer was Adam’s secret lover. And, as for Adam and Molly … In the quiet of her bathroom she could still hear the raw, frantic moans of them having sex in that marble temple. She felt sick.

Karin picked up a sponge and squeezed it over her face. She had to get some perspective, she thought: focus on the positive. Because if she played this right, the positive could be very good indeed. Her knowledge about Summer and Molly gave her leverage, and the conversation she’d overheard between Adam and Jonathan Parsons trading company secrets – well! Everything had changed with that one twist of fate. Yes, she thought, on balance this weekend had strengthened her position. And that could only be a good thing in the long run.

Smiling to herself, she got out of the bath, rubbed herself down with a fluffy white towel and slipped on a thin Sabbia Rose dressing gown.

She padded downstairs and noticed that the big vases of Verbena roses in the hallway were dying. She tutted; her housekeeper Reya had the week off to go and see relatives in Estonia, so she supposed she would have to deal with it herself. Not in the mood for supper, she opened a packet of organic rice cakes and began to nibble at one as the phone rang. She perched on a kitchen bar stool to answer it and smiled as she heard the voice. ‘Ah, Molly. What a surprise to hear from you.’

He couldn’t help himself. The papers were full of pictures of her because of the party. He couldn’t believe she was getting engaged. The pain at the thought of her being lost for ever was searing. He just had to come, to see her. To look at her. Pretend she was his. One last time.

It was a balmy evening. Warm for September. The sky had darkened to a deep purple, but in Karin Cavendish’s back garden it was almost pitch-black. There were a few lights on in the house. Two upstairs, three downstairs. It looked like a face laughing at him.

One of the kitchen windows was slightly open, the blind only half down. From a distance he could only see her torso, a hint of breast hidden behind coffee-coloured silk. He had to get closer so he could see her face and a tumble of hair. She was on the phone. He heard her voice floating on the breeze like the smell of honeysuckle, sweet and heady. He closed his eyes, feeling drunk, taking in every sensation for one final time. He loved her. He wanted to be with her. He knew she could never be his.