Authors: Jill Mansell

Kiss (38 page)

BOOK: Kiss

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Izzy was talking to Simon in a corner of the sitting room. Her eyes lit up when she saw Katerina coming towards them. ‘Darling, we were beginning to think you’d gone home! Where on earth have you been?’

‘Making polite conversation,’ replied Katerina briskly. ‘It’s what you’re supposed to do at parties, isn’t it? And it’s been great fun, but now we are going home.’ She patted Simon’s back pocket, locating his car keys. ‘Ready?’

‘Do we have to?’ He looked dismayed. The party would go on for hours yet. It seemed almost sacrilegious to leave so soon.

But Katerina was determined. ‘Yes, we do.’

‘You’ve enjoyed yourself, though,’ Izzy put in eagerly. Despite Kat’s abrupt tone, she looked cheerful, almost elated. ‘Who were you talking to, someone nice?’

Katerina only just managed to keep a straight face. ‘Tash.’

‘Oh, I’m so pleased!’ Izzy knew she mustn’t gush, but it was such encouraging news. She’d always known that Kat and Tash would get on well, once they got to know each other properly. ‘Sweetheart, it makes such a difference, knowing that you really like him.’

Katerina savoured the moment. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Tash, now evidently recovered, sliding his arm around the plump brown shoulders of a girl in a blue rubber dress. For a fraction of a second she debated telling Izzy exactly what had gone on in the candle-lit games room, less than fifteen minutes earlier. But then, why should she? Izzy deserved to find out the hard way and it damn well would serve her right for siding against her own daughter when she should have been supporting her.

Katerina, who had endured so much misery in the past weeks, now revelled in the sensation of her own power.

‘Did I say I liked him?’ she enquired with exaggerated politeness. ‘And is my opinion of Tash Janssen really relevant anyway? I tell you what, Mum. You don’t lecture me on my choice in men and I won’t lecture you on yours. OK?’

Chapter 40

By four-thirty Izzy was seriously beginning to wilt. Although most of the guests had left, those that remained showed no signs of giving in. Music blared from amplifiers around the pool, people were still dancing and joints were being passed around between unsteady fingers. A well-known actress, currently starring as a nun in a top-rated TV series, was swaying in time with the music and slowly removing her dress to raucous acclaim. Behind her, Tash lay on a white sunlounger, and smiled his deceptively sleepy smile as a slender redhead began to massage his shoulders.

Izzy wished it could all be over. Tired and sober, her head was pounding and her eyes ached. Joel and Benny had long since disappeared, there was no one left she particularly wanted to talk to, and she was having a hard time shaking off the whisky-sodden attentions of a red-faced man who insisted that in real life he was a concert organiser.

‘You name it, I’ve organised ’em,’ he declared expansively, reaching for his drink. ‘Yeah, all the greats . . . all the biggest venues . . . an’ it could be you next, up there on that great big stage. Cute li’l thing like you could have a real future an’ I’d be there to look after you, sweetheart . . .’

No longer listening to his drunken ramblings, Izzy wondered where Vivienne was and hoped her friend had at least enjoyed the party more than she had. Everyone was yelling and applauding the actress as she discarded her camisole top and began to undo her bra. All they needed now was for a member of the paparazzi to leap out of the bushes with a camera.

Idly she watched as Mirabelle, not to be outdone, staggered to her feet and made her way over to Donny.

‘Dance with me, baby,’ she wheedled, crouching beside him in her high heels. ‘Come on, just one little dance with me?’

Donny wasn’t interested. ‘Nah, dance on your own.’

‘But that’s no fun,’ wailed Mirabelle, clutching his arm as he attempted to open a can of Newcastle Brown. ‘Donn
eee
, that’s no fun at all. I want to dance with
you
.’

Shaking off her hand, he grabbed the hem of her dress and twanged it. Then he started to laugh. ‘Whiney bitch, always moaning. Haven’t you seen that film,
Flashdance?
’

‘Yes, but . . .’

Reaching for another rubbery handful of the electric-blue dress, he said loudly, ‘Well, this is Splashdance,’ and twanged again. The next moment, with a shriek, Mirabelle had toppled into the pool.

‘Can she swim?’ asked Izzy some moments later, when all that had surfaced were bubbles.

Everyone else seemed to find it highly amusing. Amid much laughter, Tash drawled, ‘She’ll be safe, she’s wearing a big enough condom.’

Izzy wasn’t so sure. Mirabelle still hadn’t risen to the surface and she was far too stoned to be fooling around. Shaking Donny’s shoulder, she repeated urgently, ‘
Can
she swim?’

But Donny scarcely seemed to be aware of his surroundings. With a vague gesture, he said, ‘Hey man, how should I know? How d’you get the lid off this sodding can, anyway?’

The night was warm but cold sweat prickled beneath Izzy’s arms as she was gripped by a premonition of doom. All around her, people were still laughing. Nobody was going to make a move to help. The horrible party was turning into a nightmare . . .

Izzy wasn’t a strong swimmer but she knew there was no time to waste. Kicking off her shoes, she held her breath and dived in.

The heavily chlorinated water stung her eyes and when she touched the bottom of the pool a jab of pain shot through the sole of her foot, but by some miracle she found Mirabelle almost at once.

Sequins grazed her inner arms as she struggled to grab hold of the inert body, slippery in its rubber casing. Feeling as if her lungs were about to explode, Izzy slid her arms securely around the girl’s ribcage and hauled with all her strength. Bizarrely, the water around them was turning cloudy pink like something out of a
Jaws
movie. Kicking her feet, blinking as Mirabelle’s candyfloss hair plastered itself against her face, Izzy strained towards the surface of the pool. Strangely, in the dim distance, she could hear people cheering . . .

Only the concert organiser deigned to help. Between the two of them they eventually managed to haul Mirabelle - like a large, ungainly seal - out of the pool. Gasping for breath, wiping her streaming eyes, Izzy searched for and eventually found a weak pulse, but the girl’s chest was ominously still.

‘Get an ambulance,’ she croaked, tilting the slack head back and pinching Mirabelle’s nose. Kneeling over her, she bent her own head and breathed into the cold, rubbery mouth.

‘Hey, this is more like it,’ yelled an indistinguishable male voice. ‘Better than a porno film. Watch out, Tash, you’ve got competition there.’

Shovelling Mirabelle on to her front, Izzy pressed down on her lungs in a desperate attempt to clear them. This was worse than any nightmare. And although she couldn’t see where it was coming from, there seemed to be blood everywhere, mingling with the water from the pool and staining the beige concrete upon which Mirabelle lay.

But finally, just as she was about to give up all hope, Mirabelle’s chest heaved and water gushed out of her mouth. With a moan - as the water was followed by vomit - she flailed her arms and struggled to raise her head. Izzy rolled her on to her side so she wouldn’t choke and sent up a prayer of thanks as the girl’s ribcage rose and fell in something approaching a regular pattern.

‘I say,’ observed the actress in conversational tones, swaying as she bent to take a closer look. ‘That’s an awfully good trick.’

Izzy spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Did they say how long it would take before the ambulance got here?’

Behind her, Tash said, ‘She’s OK. Just let her sleep it off. Ambulances screaming up the drive would only give the neighbours something else to complain about, and drowning drug addicts aren’t exactly the kind of publicity we need.’

Coughing and spluttering, Mirabelle wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and moaned, ‘Where’s Donny? I’m c-cold.’

‘Get some blankets and call an ambulance,’ snapped Izzy, fixing the concert organiser with a steely glare. ‘
Now
.’ Then, still kneeling with Mirabelle’s head in her lap, she turned to face Tash and his guests.

‘You selfish, stupid . . . bastards - all of you. Is anything more important to you than getting stoned? You’re lucky she isn’t
dead
, and all you care about is bad publicity. Any one of you could have fallen into that pool . . . and not
one
of you is capable of doing a damn thing to help.’

‘Christ, this is all we need,’ said Tash lazily. Glancing up at the redhead still massaging his shoulders, he winked and added, ‘Don’t you just hate moralizing do-gooders? Aren’t they
the
most boring people to have at a party?’

Trembling with rage, repulsed by the knowledge that this was her lover speaking - and that she didn’t know him at all - Izzy said icily, ‘You are the most despicable man I’ve ever met in my life. You are
pathetic
. . .’

Tash’s dark eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Ah, but at least I’m not boring.’

At that moment a tall figure stepped out of the shadows and moved swiftly towards Izzy. For a fraction of a second she thought she was hallucinating.

But Sam, who had been listening to the heated exchange for the last thirty seconds - long enough to figure out what was going on - didn’t waste any more time. Scooping Mirabelle up into his arms, he said briefly, ‘Come on, we’ll take her to the hospital in my car.’

‘
Oh, when the saints go marching out
,’ sang Tash, as they passed him. Izzy, who was limping behind Sam, paused. Beyond words, she turned and slapped his thin face as hard as she could. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing at all. If she’d had a gun she would have used it, without so much as a second thought.

It wasn’t until she emerged from the casualty cubicle and found Sam waiting outside that she finally managed a weak smile.

‘I’ve just seen myself in a mirror. No wonder they thought I was the patient.’

Sam’s expression softened. With her white, mascara-streaked face, dripping wet hair and blood-streaked legs, Izzy had presented a far more convincing picture of an accident victim than half the patients in the waiting room, and she didn’t look that much better now. With a glance at her bandaged foot, he held out his arm in order to support her back to the car. ‘Does it hurt?’

She pulled a face. ‘A bit. There was broken glass in the bottom of the pool and I managed to land on it. Oh Sam, should we be leaving? What about Mirabelle?’

He led her firmly through the double doors. ‘They’ve admitted her for observation just to be on the safe side, but they’re pretty certain she’ll be OK. And there’s no need to look at me like that,’ he added with a grin. ‘I’m in charge. You’re absolutely wiped out and I’m taking you home.’

‘Home,’ murmured Izzy, her expression doubtful.

They had reached the car. Opening the passenger door and helping her inside, Sam said briskly, ‘My home.’

When they reached the flat, he deposited her on the sofa, threw a large towelling dressing gown down beside her and headed towards the kitchen.

‘Change into that while I make the coffee.’

Exhausted though she was, Izzy nevertheless summoned up the energy to make her lie sound convincing. ‘I thought Vivienne would be here. She left the party ages ago, saying she was going to have an early night.’

Pausing in the doorway, Sam merely looked amused. ‘But not in her bed, it seems. Never mind, Izzy. Nice try.’

By the time he returned with the coffee and a packet of chocolate digestives, however, the shock had begun to set in. Izzy, enveloped in the white towelling robe, was shivering so much the sofa practically vibrated beneath her. She looked so uncharacteristically frail and unhappy that Sam’s heart went out to her.

‘I suppose you’ve been looking forward to this,’ she said, clasping the mug he offered her between both hands in order not to spill the contents.

‘To what?’

‘Saying, “I told you so.” ’

‘I
was
looking forward to it,’ he said truthfully, ‘but it doesn’t seem all that relevant now. I’m more concerned with how you’re feeling.’

BOOK: Kiss

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