Transplanting Holly Oakwood (25 page)

Tessa giggled, relieving the tension. “How were things left between the two of you? Were they uncomfortable?”

“Fortunately not, because she didn’t realise how serious I was.”

“She wouldn’t have because you’ve never shown your feelings. But I guess your proposal would have been a huge shock to her.”

“Do you know how hung up she is on that guy in her office, the arrogant dickhead who runs the place?”

“Hope you didn’t describe him like that,” she said and her smirk told him she agreed with his assessment. “Yes, I’ve noticed he features in her conversations.”

“I knew she had feelings for him, but I thought it was lust, and she’d see it made sense for us to be together. We care for each other, we’re great friends and have loads in common.”

“I know, but sometimes that’s not enough.”

“But don’t you think it could work?” he pressed. If he could persuade Tessa it could, maybe he could still persuade Holly.

“I wonder if she’d change her mind if she knew you loved her. Maybe you should let her know.”

“No.” His cup rattled in the saucer as he banged it down on the table. “It wouldn’t make any difference.” He narrowed his eyes. “That guy doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

“He doesn’t, but it won’t come to anything anyway, with Holly leaving. What a mess.”

“Mess is an understatement.”

“You okay, Charlie?”

“The thing is, I’m not used to rejection, and I’m hurt. But I’ll be fine,” he said without conviction. The lump in his throat grew so big it threatened to choke him, and his head hurt with the effort of holding his emotions in. “Nothing more to be done. Holly’s leaving, and things will never be the same.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Holly

Holly lay in bed, hanging in that delicate balance between sleep and wakefulness. Her mind wandered back to the pain of leaving England after finding Tom with Sonia, then to the struggle of acclimatising to LA. She’d come a long way in the intervening months: finding an apartment, making friends, and coming to grips with a new job. She was happy, or had been, before the car accident; before Mr Cornelius sued the Consulate; and before her co-workers began speculating as to whether she was a liar.

She’d thought Brittany firing her was the rock-bottom-low-point, until she learned she’d have to leave America. Drenched in the shame and embarrassment of her situation, for the first time in her life she knew what white-collar criminals felt like. She turned on her side and curled into the foetal position. Unable to tackle the day and unwilling to think over Charlie’s proposal, she pulled the covers over her head and tried to go back to sleep.

Tessa’s quiet movements in the kitchen were enough to stop her from slipping back into slumber. “Morning,” she called out from her bed.

“I was wondering whether to wake you,” said Tessa, from the other side of the door. “Going into the office today?”

“Yes. What time is it?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes, hoping the action of moving would invigorate her.

“After nine.”

“Oh God, is it that late? I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.”

“Are you sick?”

“Depressed.” She slumped back into the pillows. Moving hadn’t worked; she wanted to pull the covers back over her head again.

“Not surprising with everything that’s been going on,” said Tessa, coming into the room. “I had coffee with Charlie yesterday.”

“How was he?” she asked, wondering if Charlie had told Tessa he’d proposed to her. Sharing his secrets was the last thing she wanted to do, despite him and Tessa being close friends.

“Like you, pretty low. He’s devastated you’re leaving. I’m making breakfast,” said Tessa, changing the subject. “French toast?”

“Please,” she said. “Brittany’s in late today, and I’m not in a rush. Anyway, what’ll they do if I’m late, fire me?”

She clambered out of bed, threw on a light robe and followed Tessa to the kitchen, where thick slices of white bread, beaten egg, orange juice and maple syrup were at the ready. She slid into a chair to watch Tessa cook.

“Charlie proposed to you,” said Tessa without preamble. “Tell me if you don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to pry.”

“Actually, I’d like to talk,” she said, relieved it was out in the open. “It was a shock, totally the last thing I expected.”

“Charlie’s a master of the unexpected. He really cares for you, Holly.”

“I know. At first I thought he was doing it because of the visa situation, and to be honest, I was thinking of saying yes.” She scrunched up the belt of her robe.

“Why didn’t you? You would have made him an extremely happy man,” said Tessa with a baffled expression. She dropped a thick slice of coated bread into the hot pan and a wonderful aroma permeated the kitchen.

“Because then he told me he loved me, and I knew it wasn’t fair to marry him.” Her eyes begged for understanding. “I don’t love him. No, that’s not right. I do, but only as a friend.”

“You don’t think there’s any chance that you could grow to feel the same way he does?” With a deft hand Tessa flipped the bread, and it sizzled as it landed in the hot pan, making Holly’s mouth water.

She took a moment to answer. “No, I wouldn’t. I’ve got such strong feelings for someone else,” she said, rolling the belt of her dressing gown into a round shape resembling a liquorice wheel, “that I know my feelings for Charlie won’t grow. He deserves someone who’s crazily in love with him.”

“Hmm, Guy. You need to forget him.” Tessa waggled the spatula at her.

“Yes, I know.” The edges of despair folded around her as she contemplated the life she’d imagined with him. “I can’t believe the way things have turned out.”

“I know, it sucks. But you’ll be fine once you get home,” said Tessa. “Believe me, you’ll put LA behind you.”

She shook her head in denial. Tessa was wrong; she’d never put this behind her. “I won’t,” she said, placing her left hand above her breast. “You know what they say, home’s where the heart is, and my heart’s here now.”

Holly got out of the elevator hesitantly, before remembering Brittany was out of the office. No one else would notice she was two hours late, and if they did, who cared? She pushed open the double doors of the Consulate and breezed towards her office with her head high.

“Is there a reason you’re so late?” Brittany’s strident voice stopped her in her tracks and as she turned her boss tapped her watch in an exaggerated fashion. “You didn’t phone in,” she said imperiously. “We were worried.”

“I, um, ah, slept in.”

“Slept in? You may be leaving soon, but until you go I expect a hundred percent from you, if you can manage it of course.”

Black spots danced in front of her eyes. “I’ve always given a hundred percent and you know it.”

“Your work may have been passable at times, but it takes more than that to work at the Consulate,” said Brittany. “We expect a high standard of conduct and integrity at all times, and on that front, you’ve failed miserably. But I have to say it’s hardly a surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s no secret you came here because you mismanaged your life in England.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, clenching her fists instinctively.

“And you have to admit coming here has been a disaster too.”

Holly took a step back, because if she didn’t she’d biff Brittany with her handbag. “How dare you? You don’t know anything about my life, and coming here hasn’t been a disaster. I’ve got a great apartment, wonderful friends, and despite your best efforts…” She paused, grappling for an impressive ending to her sentence, “I’m staying in LA.”

“You can’t stay in LA,” Brittany sneered. “You’ll be deported if you try to work here without a visa.”

“I don’t need a visa. My boyfriend’s proposed.”

“You’re getting married?” Brittany asked in a sceptical voice.

“Yes, I’m getting married,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. The fib slipped out as easily as water sloshing out of a bucket but it wasn’t a total lie. Charlie had proposed to her. Anyway, what if she had lied? She’d already been branded a liar by nearly everyone in the Consulate. Why not live up to her reputation?

THIRTY-NINE

Brittany

Brittany gazed at herself in the mirror, checking for imperfections. Hair smoothed into a neat chignon, a tendril trailing loose. Skin smooth and dewy, lips glossy but natural looking. Eyes accentuated with eyeliner and mascara. Perfect.

Time to leave, she was already five minutes late. Not late enough to annoy Guy, but late enough to make an entrance. They were meeting downstairs for a working lunch, in an upmarket sushi restaurant favoured by the smart set. It was packed, but as she sashayed through the restaurant she spotted Guy at a small table near the back. When he rose to greet her, the other diners stared, probably wondering if they were famous. She knew they made a striking couple, with her radiant blondness and his classic dark good looks.

“You’re looking lovely today, Brittany,” he said, and her heart skipped a beat. He’d been cool towards her lately, and she hoped he was trying to make amends.

She squeezed his arm, and kissed him on both cheeks. “Thanks, I’m feeling great. You?” He looked peaky but it wasn’t surprising after the extensive travelling he’d been doing.

“To be honest, I’m glad to be back. I’m fed up with sitting on planes and spending my evenings in hotel rooms. I want to stay put awhile. Speaking of which, how’s everything in the office?”

“Hectic. We’ve been working on a couple of trade deals in the past week.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“Yes, we’ve got a contract lined up to do promotional work with the Australians. We’re teaming their red wines and our whites with New Zealand and Australian foods, through one of the big supermarket chains. There’s media interest in our part of the world, on the back of the new James Cameron movie.”

“Good stuff. By the way, how’s–”

“Oh good, let’s eat.” She pushed her chair back as the waiter arrived with their plates, and Guy followed her to the buffet, where she carefully selected sashimi, California rolls and mussels, all low in carbohydrates.

“Good to see a woman with an appetite,” he said.

She ignored the comment but it rankled. Little did he know how hard she worked and how little she usually ate to keep her figure looking this good.

“How’s Holly?” he asked casually when they were seated again.

Her stomach clenched like the fist of a three year old around a Tootsie Roll. “Difficult,” she said, hoping her tone was as light as his.

“What’s happening?”

“She’s still protesting her innocence to anyone who’ll listen.”

He frowned, and his eyes creased at the corners, like an old but loved notebook. “I don’t like any of this. I can’t help but feel we’re not giving her a fair hearing.”

She took a deep breath, then said as evenly as she could manage, “I don’t know what else I could’ve done.”

“I wonder if we should let this go to court, see this Cornelius guy in action. I’ve got a feeling he’s lying.” He picked up a sushi roll deftly with his chopsticks and dunked it into a mixture of wasabi and soy.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t the police corroborate Holly’s story?” she challenged.

“I don’t know, but my gut tells me she’s being honest.”

“We can’t go to court without police corroboration, Guy. You know we’d never win.”

“I guess you’re right. I always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

She pushed her sashimi around her plate. “Anyway, I also wanted to tell you–”

“But my conscience is still troubling me,” he said, “and will for a long time to come. What if we’re making a huge mistake?”

She took a deep breath to stop her anger boiling over. “The only one who’s made a huge mistake is Holly. Look, only a practised liar would weave such a dramatic and complex story. Real life doesn’t work that way.”

“You don’t have a shadow of doubt, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Does she think we’re complete idiots to believe her story?”

“Are you saying I’m an idiot?” Guy asked, scowling.

“No, sorry,” she said, “of course I’m not.”