Sisteria (31 page)

A few minutes later, she was climbing the wooden spiral staircase which led to the Whispering Gallery. She thanked the Lord she was only five months pregnant and that it was an easy, gentle climb. She couldn't help noticing how few tourists there were. From time to time, a pair of blubbery American rears would overtake her, but that was about it. Maybe the others had decided to stay on their coaches until the rain stopped.

By now she was beginning to shiver - partly because she was cold and wet and partly because her anxiety about Tom rejecting her was now verging on full-scale panic.

After a couple of minutes she could feel herself starting to feel sick. She stopped, gripped the handrail and took several slow, deep breaths.

‘You all right, my dear?'

Beverley turned round to see a concerned looking sixty-something woman in sensible shoes and a long plastic mac. Behind her were a dozen or so more macs, with leather shoulder bags and Sureshots. Beverley decided they were on an outing from some Women's Institute in the Home Counties.

‘Oh, yes, fine,' she said. ‘I'm pregnant, that's all. Felt a bit faint.'

‘Look, maybe you should sit down and put your head between your knees,' the woman said. ‘Or perhaps you need some fresh air. I'll come back down with you if you like.'

“That's really sweet of you,' Beverley smiled, ‘but I'll be fine in a minute. Honest.'

‘All right. If you're sure,' the woman said reluctantly.

Beverley nodded and the Women's Institute party carried on climbing. Each of the women smiled at her as they passed.

Finally Beverley reached the doorway to the Whispering Gallery. She hovered outside for the best part of a minute. Then she stepped on to the narrow stone walkway which formed the huge circular gallery. The WI ladies were already there, giggling like schoolgirls as they tried to speak to one another from one side to the other. When they saw Beverley, they waved.

Because the place was virtually empty, she spotted Tom immediately. He was on the opposite side, leaning on the wrought-iron railing and staring down into the well of the cathedral. She started to walk towards him. His mind was clearly miles away and he didn't see her coming.

‘Hi,' she said softly, tapping him on the shoulder.

His head spun round towards her. There were black shadows under his eyes. He clearly hadn't shaved since she walked out on him.

‘Beverley?' There was a question in his voice, as if he doubted his eyes.

‘I was when I last looked,' she said, laughing nervously.

‘No, I mean, what are you doing here?' he said. ‘Are you OK? There's nothing wrong with the baby, is there?'

She shook her head, but no words would come. She leaned on the railing and began looking down.

‘How far to the bottom, do you think?' she said eventually.

‘Beverley,' he said quietly, ignoring the question, ‘please tell me. Why have you come here? What's going on?'

She bit her bottom lip and suggested they sat down. They moved back to the stone bench which ran round the gallery. Then, in a voice that never went above a soft murmur, she blurted out everything that had happened over the last few days.

‘So,' she said finally, ‘I was just wondering... well, more hoping, really... if... if you would take me back. You know, if we could be together, like you said, and bring up the baby.'

‘What?' he gasped softly.

‘Right,' she said, ‘it's OK. You don't have to say any more. I can understand you wouldn't want me back after the way I treated you. It was unforgivable. I'll go.'

She started to get up, but Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

‘Beverley,' he said, putting his hand under her chin and moving her face towards his, ‘of course I want you back. How could I not want you back? I love you, you dope.'

‘You do?' she said, looking up at him and blinking.

‘Oh yes,' he said, running his hand over her wet hair. As he took her in his arms and kissed her she could feel her relief segue into almighty, entrail-melting lust.

‘I just want you to know,' he said when they'd finally finished, ‘that I'm crazy about you, Beverley. I love you and worship you. You are the most important person in my life and I will do anything and everything to make you happy. Beverley, I want to marry you, bring up this child we made and grow old with you. Just promise me you'll never, ever leave me again.'

‘I promise,' she whispered, and he started kissing her again.

Beverley heard it first, the unmistakable sound of people clapping. It was tentative and muted, the kind of polite applause which might follow a piano recital held for a select few in a grand drawing room. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the gallery.

‘Oh my God,' she said, pulling away from Tom. She turned her head and saw the group of beaming Women's Institute ladies clapping, waving handkerchiefs and giving them the thumbs-up.

Tom looked at the women and then back at Beverley. He was completely bemused. His long blinks of myopic confusion made him look like a contestant in the International Mr Totally Bewildered Competition.

‘Sorry, Beverley,' he said, blinking again, ‘am I missing something here?'

'Tom, it's the Whispering bloody Gallery,' she said, laughing.

‘You mean those women over there... they actually... ?'

His humiliation was such that it rendered him incapable of adding the words ‘heard everything'. Instead he touched his ear.

She nodded.

He turned scarlet. Then, almost immediately, he started to grin.

‘Oh, sod it,' he chuckled. ‘Who cares? Come here, let's give 'em a real thrill.'

He threw the ladies a quick smile and a wave. Then he pulled Beverley towards him again. Very quietly, and in great detail, he began telling her about all the filthy things he was planning to do to her the moment he got her home.

Postscript

Hi-ya!
magazine, October.

RECENTLY VOTED THE NATION'S MOST POPULAR TV PRESENTER, BEVERLEY LITTLESTONE AND HER DIRECTOR PARTNER TOM JAGO OPEN THE DOORS TO THEIR UNPRETENTIOUS FINCHLEY HOME AND INVITE US TO HELP THEM CELEBRATE THE BIRTH OF THEIR BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER ROSIE...

Beverley Littlestone, currently attracting audiences of over five million to her emotion-packed daytime talk show
Beverley!
introduced the newest addition to her family last week when some hundred couples attended a buffet catered by the ebullient super-chef, Gordon Ramsay.

Little Rosie, who was born at London's Portland Hospital two months ago weighing in at a bonny eight pounds three ounces, looked almost edible in Baby Kenzo - ‘A present from her godmother, Rochelle,' Beverley was quick to point out. ‘I would never buy a baby anything so extravagant.'

Svelte and stunning in an off-the-shoulder black evening dress by Princess Diana's favourite designer, Caroline Walker, Beverley rarely left Tom's side all evening. Although both have been through difficult times in the past, the pair seemed blissfully happy as they took turns holding Rosie and mingled with an eclectic mix of celebrities from the worlds of TV and showbusiness. Chief among these were Lord Lloyd Webber and Beverley's younger sister Naomi Gold. She shocked the nation back in April by announcing her departure from television to ‘pursue other interests'.

Naomi and her partner, the world-renowned occultist Fallopia Trebetherick, now divide their time between their witchcraft supplies shop in Cornwall and their £5 million retreat in Tuscany, which once belonged to Mussolini. At the glittering star-studded launch of the Venice Beach, California, branch of their shop last week, the couple, who seem besotted, were still laughing off press reports that Naomi had been sacked by Channel 6.

Naomi and Fallopia will tie the knot at Hallowe'en with a traditional Wiccan wedding ceremony in Tintagel.

The highlight of the evening came when Tom paid fulsome and affectionate tributes to Beverley and his new daughter, whom he described as ‘the two most important people in my life'. Then, standing up amid rapturous applause, Beverley made a short speech, during which she saluted four more members of her family.

First to receive lavish praise for her determination and courage was her daughter Natalie, who recently abandoned Judaism and was baptised at a moving ceremony at All Saints, Barnet. A dazzling eighteen-year-old beauty with a list of showbusiness names queuing to romance her, she only had eyes for her long-standing boyfriend, and fellow Christian, Duncan Newbegin.

The second person to be honoured was Beverley's son, Benny, who is now studying for A levels having gained six A stars and three As in his GCSE exams. Benny attended the bash with his gorgeous and cerebral girlfriend, Lettice Allard, on his arm.

The final, and no less heartfelt, toasts went to Naomi and her bride-to-be, and to Beverley's mother Queenie, who is also about to be married. Queenie recently announced her engagement to Leonard Shupak. The couple met at the Sidney and Bessie Hamburger Jewish Day Centre which they both attend. They are planning a spring wedding and are currently flat-hunting in Cliftonville.

Queenie spent much of the evening encouraging people to buy tickets for a quiz night to be held in December in aid of the Finchley and District Mothers of Jewish Lesbians Support Group.

Sadly, Beverley's estranged husband Melvin, with whom she maintains a warm relationship, was unable to attend the bash owing to work commitments.

He is reported to be romancing New York bagel billionaire Rebecca Fludd, who recently separated from her husband Brad. Sources close to the couple, who were sweethearts when they were at university in Nottingham twenty years ago, before Melvin left to pursue his career in the pharmaceutical industry, say the pair are inseparable and plan to marry. The same sources report that Melvin has accepted a position on the board of Tower of Bagel, which would put him at around number fifty on America's list of richest people.

After dinner, Lord Lloyd Webber led guests into the marquee, enchantingly lit with thousands of fairy lights, where he took up his position at the piano to accompany Mr Shupak as he sang ‘Always'.

Tom and Beverley then opened the dancing.

Copyright

PUBLISHED BY APOSTROPHE BOOKS LTD

www.apostrophebooks.com

ISBN: 978-1-908556-03-5

First published in Great Britain in 1999 by Headline Publishing

Digital edition 2011 by Apostrophe Books Ltd

Copyright © Sue Margolis 1999 & 2011

The author has asserted her ownership of the electronic rights and her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Apostrophe Book Ltd Reg. No. 7612239

Cover design and eBook development by Downhams

About the author

Sue Margolis was a radio reporter for fifteen years mostly for BBC Radio 4's
Woman's Hour
. She studied politics at Nottingham University, where she met and married Jonathan Margolis, also a journalist and author.

Sue is the author of ten romantic comedy novels. Her first,
Neurotica
, came out in 1998 and was a bestseller in the UK, the US and Germany. Her third novel,
Apocalipstick
, was bought by NBC television in the US in 2011 as a potential TV series. Sue's audiobooks are consistently in the fiction top 20 on iTunes.

Sue lives with Jonathan and their family in London. For more information, see
www.suemargolis.com
and
www.facebook.com/suemargolis.books