He's the One (35 page)

As they all chatted Liberty had an idea. She had promised Brooke to book a hairdresser for her eighteenth birthday party but hadn’t yet got round to it. Jez would be perfect.

‘Ooh, how adorable to work with some teenagers!’ he exclaimed when she suggested it. ‘Nowadays I’m all about the older woman. It’ll be good for me to break out of my comfort zone.’

‘Careful, you make it sound as though you work with OAPs rather than thirty-somethings!’ Liberty teased. But she guessed that Jez was prone to exaggeration.

‘I love the thirty-something lady. It’s when they’re most confident about who they are. Exactly like you, Liberty. You’re a woman in your absolute prime. So, anyone here who catches your fancy?’

She shook her head.‘Nope.’

‘Seriously? We should do a circuit of the room, like they did in the olden days. That dress is made to be shown off. And wouldn’t you like to bag a footballer? Take one home and shag them, to prove that you’ve still got it?’

Rufus looked across at Liberty, and raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve met him before, so I guess you know what he’s like.’

‘Who’s that then?’ Angel joined them.

‘Jez – you know how he speaks before he thinks,’ Rufus said dryly.

‘Yeah, he told me earlier that I was looking very mature. Bastard.’ Angel glared at Jez.

‘I meant sophisticated! It was only because, when I saw you the other day, you were wearing a hot pink towelling playsuit and looked a bit, well, how shall I put this? Like a slag.’

‘I was only wearing it because I’d just had a spray tan! I wasn’t on a fashion parade.’

Jez was about to come back with something else – Liberty could tell that he always had to have the last word – when Angel held up her hand and waved at someone to come over. ‘There he is at last. I must introduce you two to each other.’

Liberty steeled herself. It was probably one of the unattractive but wealthy footballers. She didn’t like to tell Angel that she found football completely over-rated. That was one thing she hadn’t missed in LA, where soccer didn’t have the same hold on the nation’s heart. She plastered as sincere a smile as possible on her lip, which faded the instant the tall blond man joined the group. Oh God! She almost gasped as she stared into a familiar pair of bluer than blue eyes.

‘Liberty, this is Cory Richardson. A very talented artist. I’ll have to show you the amazing painting he did of me. Cory, this is Liberty Evans, a very talented actress – you’ve probably seen her on television.’ Angel beamed at the pair of them, clearly pleased with her hostess routine. If only she knew …

Liberty waited for him to say that they knew each other; instead Cory, held out his hand to shake hers and said simply, ‘Pleased to meet you.’

So he was going to play it like this. She had no choice but to shake his hand. And before Liberty got the chance to reply, he continued, ‘I’m sorry, Angel, I’ve just had a call from my nanny. My son isn’t very well, I’m going to have to leave.’

‘It’s nothing serious, is it?’ she asked, concern showing on her beautiful face.

No, just an excuse, Liberty thought, staring down at her glass. She couldn’t bear to see the look of indifference on Cory’s face.

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, but it’s best I go. Thanks for a lovely party. Send my apologies to Cal, will you?’

And with that he was gone.

‘That’s such a pity,’ Angel said regretfully, watching Cory weave his way through the party-goers. ‘I really wanted to get you two together, I was sure you’d get on. I’ll have to invite you both round for dinner. Don’t worry, I promise Cal will do the cooking. Over ten years of marriage and I’m still rubbish in the kitchen. I can do a tomato sauce pasta and make an omelette.’ She glanced at Liberty and seemed to realise that something was the matter. ‘Are you okay? You look really pale?’

I feel as if my heart has been ripped out and trampled on
. ‘I’m fine. But why would you think that Cory and I would get on? He’s married, isn’t he?’

Liberty tried to sound blasé but was certain her voice was shaking.

‘Oh, he’s divorced. Over a year ago now. I think he’s dated a couple of women since, but nothing serious. He’s really gorgeous, don’t you think?’

What did Liberty say to that?

Fortunately Jez piped up, ‘He is a dreamboat! I mean, I don’t usually go for blonds, being a natural blond myself—’

‘In your dreams, Jez,’ Angel interrupted. ‘You can’t even remember what your natural colour is, can you?’

‘A bit like you then, madam. He’s got a look of Ryan Gosling, a dash of Brad Pitt. Generally delish. And in black tie as well. I could just eat him up!
Sorry, Rufus. And he’s a brilliant artist. And not at all a pale, sickly one, who looks as if he spends all his time inside breathing in paint fumes, but a healthy, prime specimen. Apparently he’s a good footballer too and takes part in triathlons. Got to love a man with stamina.’

Liberty had hardly taken in a word of Jez’s chatter because whether Cory was married or divorced made no difference to her. She had hoped that if he saw her again his reaction would be different, but his distant politeness felt even worse than his previous contempt. She just couldn’t leave things like this. She gave Em her champagne glass and raced out of the marquee. She caught up with Cory as he was about to get into his car.

‘Wait! Please, I have to talk to you.’

He turned to face her, surprised to see that she had followed him. ‘Liberty, I thought I made myself clear, let’s not go over it again.’

She was standing so close to him that it would have been easy to reach out and touch him. She
longed
to reach out and touch him.

‘I wanted to say that I’m sorry Brooke came to see you. She’s very young and got an idea in her head that we—’

‘There is no we,’ Cory cut across her. ‘Look, this is all fucked up and weird. I hope I didn’t upset your daughter, she’s a beauty, looks just like you.’ He made to get in the car.

And now Liberty did reach for his arm and grabbed it. He seemed to wince at the contact.

‘Please, Liberty, I’m sure you had your reasons for what you did, but I can’t go through this again. You need to stay away from me. What happened was a long time ago, my life’s moved on.’ And then he was sitting
in the car, slamming the door, and she was watching as he drove away. Out of her life.

She was crying so hard that she was hardly aware that Em had joined her. Her friend put an arm round her.

‘Come on, Libs. I’ll take you home.’

‘But what about the champagne and everything? It’s your big night out.’

‘I’m taking you home,’ Em repeated.

Chapter 38

Brooke

Mila parked her car on the country lane and she and Brooke stared up at the manor house at the end of the driveway. It was an impressively large building built of beautiful honey-coloured stone and at any other time Brooke would have thought it was very stylish, straight out of a costume drama. But it was Cory’s house, and all she could think was that the man living there had broken her mom’s heart in the cruellest possible way.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Mila asked. ‘We could just drive off and you could maybe find out his email address and send him an email instead.’

Brooke’s heart was thumping and she actually felt sick at the prospect of confronting Cory, but her voice was resolute when she spoke. ‘Nope. I have to see him. My mom was in such a terrible state when she came back from that party. She finally told me the whole story about how
he
didn’t turn up at the airport and left her standing there. Bastard!’ Every time she thought of this it made her even angrier. And how dare Cory
have acted like the injured party when she saw him at the gallery? He was a manipulative bastard! There was no other word for him.

Mila had already heard her say this at least ten times already in the last two days, and it was a sign of true friendship that she replied, ‘Total bastard,’ with as much conviction as she had the first time.

Brooke took a deep breath. ‘So, wish me luck because I’m going to do this thing.’

‘D’you want me to come in with you?’ Mila asked. ‘A bit of moral support?’

‘No, I have to do this on my own.’

Brooke walked up to the house, her legs wobbly with nerves. She had never done anything like this before, but she felt she had to stand up for her mom. Cory should realise what he had put her through and at least take some responsibility. But when she rang the doorbell there was no reply. Typical! The one thing she hadn’t thought could happen. She had got herself so psyched up for the confrontation. She rang it again, but there was still no sign that anyone was in. Okay, she wasn’t ready to give up yet. It was a beautiful afternoon; perhaps he was out in the back garden. Tentatively she walked round the house. He was obviously successful and had done very well for himself as the house was huge and set in beautiful grounds.

She breathed in the scent of honeysuckle and roses as she reached a back garden that was a riot of colour with summer flowers and a vivid green lawn. There was a trampoline, a swing and a slide. Hmm, she hoped she wouldn’t run into his son, she’d forgotten about him. There was no sign of anyone there but at the very back of the garden she noticed a wooden summer house, which was bound to be a studio. Brooke stuck her shoulders back and marched over.

As she drew nearer she could hear music pouring out of the studio – the Black Eyed Peas,’ ‘Where Is the Love?’ Good question, Cory. Here goes, she thought to herself as she walked through the open door. It was a large, airy room, painted white and flooded with light from the French windows to one side and the glass skylights above, canvases stacked against every available wall. And there in the middle of the room, standing at an easel, was Cory. He was completely absorbed in what he was doing and she almost lost her nerve and slipped away before he saw her. But no, she had got this far …

Brooke coughed quietly. ‘Hi there.’

Cory spun round and nearly dropped his paintbrush. ‘Jesus! You made me jump! I didn’t hear you come in.’ For a second he seemed almost friendly, but then he registered who it was and his expression hardened. ‘You again. What are you doing here?’

His unfriendly tone made it easier for her to let rip. ‘Well, I wanted you to know that you had no right to be so horrible to my mom at Angel’s party. D’you have any idea how much you hurt her? You should really man up and face what you did.’

‘Please, Brooke, you’re meddling in things that really don’t concern you. I’m sure your mum wouldn’t have wanted you to come here.’

Brooke ignored him and carried on, ‘Why didn’t you meet her at the airport? You left her there and didn’t even have the decency to call and tell her. You just let her assume you had changed your mind. She spent two hours phoning all the hospitals because she was terrified that you’d had an accident … until it finally dawned on her that you simply weren’t coming. Imagine how that felt.’

Cory seemed shocked by what she’d said. ‘That’s
not what happened. She sent me an email saying she didn’t want to see me any more.’

But before he could continue, a small boy suddenly came hurtling into the studio, calling out, ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Can I have an ice cream?’ He rushed over to his father who scooped him up in his arms, from where the child looked shyly over at Brooke. He had his father’s blond hair and blue eyes, and at any other time she would have thought him adorable. But shit! Talk about bad timing. She could hardly say anything in front of his son, even if she did think that Cory was completely and utterly in the wrong.

‘This is Brooke,’ he said to the child. ‘She came over to see some of my pictures. She’s going now.’

Brooke held up her hand in a wave and managed a smile for the little boy, not wanting to traumatise him by seeming like a scary stranger. But she couldn’t resist a parting shot to Cory as she left. ‘You really are wrong about what happened. I don’t know why you can’t admit it.’

On her way out she passed a pretty young woman wearing shorts and a vest top and carrying a child’s scooter. Cory’s wife, she assumed. God! She was ridiculously young. She only looked a few years older than Brooke, if that. It confirmed her opinion that Cory was a cold-hearted bastard. Probably only a much younger woman would put up with him. Well, she was going to do all she could to encourage her mom to find someone else. She was far too good for Cory Richardson, and clearly always had been.

Later that day, Flynn, Harry and Mila came over and they sat on the beach drinking rosé wine and eating strawberries. It was a glorious afternoon, the sky a bold blue and the sea glittering in the sunshine. Brooke had
wanted her mom to join them, but she claimed she had a headache and had gone to bed. And meanwhile Cory was living his perfect life, with his perfect family … it made Brooke so mad and made her feel so helpless. She hated seeing her mom suffer like this. She had ranted all the way back in the car, to a very patient Mila, and had then repeated it all to Harry and Flynn.

They listened sympathetically and then Flynn said, ‘Don’t you think it’s odd that Cory says your mum sent him an email? I mean, why wouldn’t she have texted him? She must have had her phone with her at the airport and it would have been the quickest thing to do.’

‘She didn’t send any email!’ Brooke exclaimed. ‘For some fucked up reason, he’s lying.’

‘But why would he lie about that?’ Flynn persisted. ‘I don’t get it.’

There was a pause and then Harry burst out excitedly, ‘Maybe she
didn’t
send the email. Someone else did, pretending to be her. Maybe they hacked into her email account.’

He looked at them, seemingly proud of his interpretation, and when they didn’t respond, added, ‘I know you’re probably thinking that I’ve watched way too many movies, and I have a habit of confusing fiction with fact, but remember the phone-hacking story?’

He had a point.

‘But why would anyone do that?’ Brooke mused.

‘Someone who didn’t want Liberty and Cory to get together. Her husband, for instance?’ Flynn replied. ‘From what you’ve told us, it sounds as if he was really controlling of your mom. You said he hated her walking out on him and that he was going to stop her working in LA again – that is pretty extreme behaviour. Maybe
he had found out that she was going to leave him at that time and decided to do something to stop it. It wouldn’t be such a stretch for him to hack into her email account, would it? And he would have made sure that he covered his tracks by deleting the email he sent.’