Authors: Alison Rose
‘Mum? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m still here. Did you say Johnson Brand?’
‘I certainly did. I spent an hour with him this afternoon. I was only scheduled for twenty minutes, but we just kept on talking and before I knew it I was running late for an editorial meeting.’
‘That’s nice, dear.’ Alex wondered if she sounded as strange as she felt.
‘Mum, are you all right?’
‘Yes of course. Well, a bit shocked I suppose. I was only talking to Maggie this afternoon and she mentioned that Johnson was in the country for a tour. That’s quite unusual, isn’t it? I don’t think he’s ever been here before.’
‘Yeah, shades of Elvis. I asked him why he hadn’t been before, but he just said he’d been too busy.’
The kettle boiled and clicked off. Alex ignored it and wandered over to the kitchen table and sat down. She stared unseeing out of the window, her mind full of memories.
‘How is he?’ she asked, unable to stop herself.
Kate was silent for a moment, as though trying to pick her words. ‘He thought I was you,’ she said.
‘He remembered me?’
‘Not half!’ Kate laughed. ‘Seeing me gave him a terrible shock.’
Alex’s hand touched the wisps of newly cut hair at her nape. ‘I don’t look like that any more. He probably wouldn’t recognise me now.’
‘You haven’t changed that much, Mum. In fact you’re wearing quite well for an old lady.’
‘Cheeky madam! I’m not that old!’ said Alex, aware that she was contradicting what she’d said earlier to her friend.
Kate laughed. ‘And he’s looking pretty sharp for an old man. I liked him.’
‘That’s nice. I expect he’s a very different man to the boy I knew all those years ago.’
‘Maybe. But I think you’d like the man he’s become. Anyway, I’m still polishing off my article, so I’ll love you and leave you. He asked me to say “Hi” to you, by the way.’
After Kate had gone, Alex got up and made herself a cup of tea. She’d barely taken a sip when she noticed the time and realised she was late for a meeting of the village fête committee.
Grabbing her bag, she headed out of the house and ran along the street to the village hall, cursing herself all the way. She’d been so wrapped up in her memories and her own unhappiness for the past few hours she’d completely forgotten what real life was about. The sooner she made up her mind about what she wanted to keep or to change in her life, the better. In the meantime, it was time to show off her new hair-do.
After Kate put the phone down, she sat in her favourite armchair, thinking about her mother’s reaction to her news. Anyone else would have thought that Alexandra Blake had been quite laid-back about it, but Kate knew her better than that. The almost imperceptible hesitation, the tentative question, worried Kate. She knew that her mother wasn’t the type of woman to bear a grudge, but Kate’s father had once hinted that she had been badly hurt by her first love.
She had wanted to talk to her mother about Paul Brand, but had changed her mind at the last minute. He confused her. He was the epitome of the type of man she despised – vain, arrogant, cynical. Yet, there was something about him that drew Kate. The way he protected his father, the way he’d tried to protect
her
from that silly dog. She smiled, remembering. At least he had a sense of humour. She wasn’t naïve – the Brand name had a lot of influence, and if she’d offended him he could have made it very difficult for her to progress in her career. A few quiet words in the right ears and she’d never get a decent subject to interview again.
What worried her most was her physical reaction to him. She’d acted singularly unimpressed by his macho act, but as he’d pulled his running vest off and given her an eyeful of smooth, tanned, muscled chest, she’d have given anything to touch him.
Kate sighed and closed her eyes. This was not good. It seemed almost incestuous, being attracted to the son of her mother’s first love. Mind you, she could fully understand how a gentle soul like her mother could have ended up getting her heart broken by Brand senior. Those men were just too handsome for anyone’s good.
By the end of the week Johnson had opened his tour to rave reviews and Kate had earned some brownie points with editor Ned White for her feature. The initial responses to her piece, which had been in Thursday’s entertainment section, had been good.
‘Great job, Kate. Original angle, comparing Brand’s early music to the current stuff his son is producing. Keep up the good work,’ was the editor’s verdict. It was high praise indeed from the hard-bitten journalist who usually gave Kate a tough time.
She worried that inspiration might not come so easily for her next assignment. After all, she’d been brought up listening to Johnson Brand’s music, against the background of her father’s gentle teasing of his wife and her interest in her childhood sweetheart’s career. Meeting Johnson and his son, and listening again to his albums, she had recognised the shifting mood of the music had coincided with Paul’s association with the band. It hadn’t been difficult after that to come up with the angle for her story.
What did surprise her was that Paul Brand seemed content to stand in his father’s shadow. He shunned publicity, which of course attracted the attention of the paparazzi, so maybe that was just a clever ploy. But he was also well known for staying in the background with all of the artists he worked with, preferring to focus on the business of producing great music and refusing interviews, leaving the musicians in the limelight. This seemed to be the ideal partnership for most of the people he worked with, and not least his own father, who was the consummate showman.
Of course, what her editor didn’t know about was her own mother’s influence on Johnson Brand’s early music. She was indeed the original Dream Woman. Kate had always known that. It wasn’t something she wanted to announce to the world. Her mother had had enough to cope with in recent years.
Kate sighed. She had to forget about the Brand story now and get on with the job in hand. Her current assignment, about the forthcoming wedding between a promising young actor and an older socialite, was proving far more difficult to handle.
‘So, Lady Dorothy, just a few weeks now until your wedding,’ she tried to instil some enthusiasm in her voice. ‘I understand you’ve sold the rights to report on the actual day to
Right Now
magazine.’
‘Yes. Darling Stephen wanted a quiet ceremony on a deserted beach, but I persuaded him that our love is so special that we should share our happiness with the world!’ The socialite smiled and stroked her beloved’s thigh.
Kate’s smile was a little forced as her cynical mind took in the actor’s satisfied expression.
‘I told you, my love, I’m happy to shout my love for you to whole world, but I’d be just as happy to elope. The important thing is making you my wife,’ he purred, pressing a kiss to her temple. He spoiled the effect by looking over at Kate to make sure she was watching his performance. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
What a pair of frauds! She’s trying to recapture her youth by marrying a toy boy and he’s out for her money and whatever publicity he can get!
Lady Dorothy spent the next twenty minutes telling Kate why ‘Darling Stephen’ was just perfect for her, despite the fact that she was the same age as his mother.
‘We’re
soul mates
, my dear! When we were born is irrelevant! If I were a younger woman and he was an older man, people would simply smile indulgently and call it a May to December romance. Why are people so cruel just because I’m a teensy bit older than the man of my dreams?’
Kate was absolutely convinced that if Lady Dorothy had been poor, the man of her dreams wouldn’t have given her a passing glance. Her fiancé let her lead the conversation, sitting there looking smug and murmuring in agreement every now and then. Kate found herself comparing his pretty-boy looks and practised charm to the rugged manliness of Paul Brand. This smarmy toad was all too easy to read and made her feel slightly nauseous.
Her reaction to Paul Brand hadn’t been pleasant either. Looking into his sexy blue eyes had made her feel like she was in the eye of a storm which could engulf her at any minute …
goodness!
She’d only been in the man’s company for what amounted to less than an hour, but the impression he’d left had her confused and a little scared.
What was she doing?
Focus
,
Kate!
She was relieved when the groom-to-be’s mobile phone rang and he quickly got to his feet.
‘Please excuse me, ladies,’ he apologised. ‘It’s my agent. I’m expecting some good news from Hollywood.’
Again Kate resisted rolling her eyes. She’d seen this guy in a couple of British TV dramas and some chat shows. No way was he Hollywood material!
‘Of course. I hope it’s the news you’ve been waiting for,’ she smiled sweetly. ‘If it is, can I have the exclusive?’
‘Um, well. I’d have to check that with my people. Everything’s a bit hush-hush at the moment,’ he recovered quickly, tapping the side of his nose and winking.
‘My lips are sealed,’ she promised solemnly, trying not to laugh out loud.
Without her toy boy to fondle, Lady Dorothy seemed distracted. Kate brought the interview to an end while he was out of the room, hoping to make her getaway before he returned. She almost made it, but her luck failed as she headed for the front door of Lady Dorothy’s Georgian townhouse.
‘Going so soon, Miss Armstrong? I had hoped we’d have time for some in-depth conversation.’
Kate froze as the actor came towards her, inwardly cursing her bad luck. She obviously needed to work on improving her exit skills. This was the second time in a week she’d been ambushed. For a moment, Paul Brand’s face swam through her consciousness. Right now he’d be welcome to interrupt. ‘Darling Stephen’ might be handsome, but he was also a creep.
‘Maybe we could meet for lunch some time,’ he suggested smoothly, apparently unaware of Kate’s animosity. ‘Just the two of us. Dorothy is so busy with wedding plans, she’ll be glad to get rid of me for an afternoon.’
A whole afternoon?
‘I only get an hour for lunch,’ Kate hedged.
‘Oh I’m sure I could persuade you to … take a little longer,’ he purred.
Kate wanted to gag. ‘I have all the material I need for my feature. And
Right Now
have the exclusive on your wedding.’
‘I was thinking more along the lines of something a bit more personal.’ He moved closer. Kate backed away. ‘You did ask for an exclusive.’
Oh heck! Me and my big mouth!
‘Er …’
‘If you let me have your number I’ll call you.’
‘What will Lady Dorothy say?’
He smiled, moving in on her again, his arm snaking around her shoulder, absolutely sure of himself. ‘Let’s just say, off the record of course, that Dorothy is a very understanding woman. So long as I’m discreet, she’s happy.’
Kate stared at him, aghast. After spending the last hour watching the older woman cling to this narcissistic fool, she doubted Lady Dorothy would be happy about her beloved carrying on with other females. Nor did she doubt that he would be carrying on with anything in a skirt that stayed still long enough for him to smile at. ‘So if I went back into the drawing room and asked Lady Dorothy if I could take you home with me right now, she’d give us her blessing?’ Kate asked, narrow-eyed.
As an actor, he had little skill – he was unable to hide his dismay at her suggestion. ‘I … er …’
‘I didn’t think so. Maybe you’d better stick with one woman from now on. You never know who might want to tell tales out of school, and then where would you be?’ With a cool smile, Kate left Stephen standing open-mouthed, and headed out the door.
The trip back to the office was achieved in a state of furious indignation. She didn’t want to report this as the love story of the century that the couple had insisted it was; but neither did she have the stomach for the sort of exposé that the actor deserved. It was at times like this Kate wondered about her choice of career.
Back at the office, she complained about being propositioned by the actor. Her colleagues didn’t have much sympathy.
‘What do you expect?’ Helen, who had been with the paper for thirty years, had laughed. ‘You’re gorgeous, even if you don’t seem to realise it. Any man still capable of breathing is likely to want to do the same. I’d enjoy it if I were you, sweetie. Flutter those eyelashes and grab yourself a rich husband, then you can leave all this behind.’
Kate laughed it off, but the older woman’s remarks made her uncomfortable. She knew she was quite pretty, and she’d never had any problem getting dates. But when she did settle down she wanted it to be with someone who loved the person inside, not just her looks. After all, sooner or later the bloom of youth would wear off, and she wanted a man who’d stay around and love her regardless of her appearance, and not go off looking for a younger, prettier model. Or an older, richer one.
The trouble was, she only had her parents’ quiet devotion to each other as an example of true love. Displays of lustful glances and caresses in public didn’t equal love, or even respect in her eyes. She doubted whether the couple she’d interviewed would ever show each other the gentle affection that her parents had for each other. And the fact that the bridegroom had asked for her phone number as he’d seen her out hadn’t added to the picture of marital bliss.
What made it worse was the fact that Paul Brand had performed almost exactly the same manoeuvre on her, and she’d fallen for it. After that bizarre incident with the dog in the lift, and their exit from the hotel, getting the giggles had wiped away any tension between them. He had walked with her part of the way back to her office.
‘Thanks for coming to my rescue,’ she’d said. ‘I’ve never been snapped at by such a small dog before. I was quite surprised by how ferocious it was.’
He’d shrugged. ‘Those little dog-rats are a menace. The damned things are treated like fashion accessories these days.’
‘That woman certainly seemed to – did you see Pookie’s collar? Diamantés and pearls! I haven’t got a necklace that posh!’
‘In LA those would be real diamonds. Crazy, huh?’ He’d glanced at his watch. ‘Look, will you be OK now? I’ve got to get back.’
‘Of course. Thanks again. I don’t think it would have managed to do any lasting damage, but I appreciate your help. It’s just a shame the dog’s owner got so hysterical. Although you’ve got to admit, it did make it funnier.’ Paul had scowled at her, then surrendered and laughed with her. ‘Do you think she’ll still be there waiting to have you arrested for animal cruelty?’
‘I may need to subpoena you as a witness in my defence. Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll let you know when they haul me away? If I’m not in jail, I’ll call you anyway. Maybe we could have dinner or something.’
Kate had been taken aback by his teasing tone, even as she told him her number. She’d tried to justify it to herself by thinking it might lead to an exclusive story from the man who usually refused all interviews. But she had to be honest with herself – she’d been seduced by his charisma, and excited by the thought that he was attracted to her. No matter how much she thought her interest in him should be strictly business, she couldn’t help feeling a very personal attraction to the man. Not that it had done her much good, because he hadn’t called, and she knew from checking the news that he hadn’t been arrested. The rat.
The phone rang late on Friday afternoon, just as she was leaving the office for the day.
‘Kate, there’s a Mr Brand on the phone for you.’
Her heart skipped a beat. Perhaps he wasn’t such a rat after all! She took a deep breath, reminding herself that he’d taken nearly a week to call, that she really
didn’t
want to get involved, and in any case she was no pushover. ‘Put him on.’ The line clicked and Kate went into professional mode. ‘This is Kate Armstrong. Can I help you?’
After a moment’s pause the deep, unmistakable voice of Johnson Brand spoke.
‘Kate, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to tell you I enjoyed your article.’
Disappointment blurred her thought processes briefly. Why had she assumed it would be Paul Brand? Like the actor, he was obviously a shallow idiot, and she ought to be pleased it was his father calling instead.
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr Brand. But I got the impression that you don’t usually read what’s printed about you.’
‘I don’t usually,’ he admitted. ‘But I was curious to see what sort of impression I’d made on Sandy’s daughter.’
‘Oh.’
There was silence, as if he was waiting for her to say something else. But Kate didn’t know what to say.
‘Yeah, well. Like I said, I enjoyed it. And you made a good point about Paul’s influence on my music. I haven’t consciously changed my style, but I can see what you mean. He’s a talented writer and producer, as several other bands have discovered for themselves. It makes sense for his old dad to use his son’s skills.’
‘I’ve heard he’s an excellent guitarist too. Why doesn’t he perform?’
And why am I even asking about him?
‘He insists he has no desire to end up on stage, but always wanted to work in the background, y’know? He’s more into writing and producing than performing. Paul and I have some great jamming sessions, and he’s played on some tracks, but no one’s ever persuaded him to play to an audience.’
Kate frowned. She couldn’t imagine Paul Brand being shy. Why didn’t he like the limelight? She shrugged. If she ever got that interview with him she’d ask.
‘Well, having him produce for you has paid off. Not that there was anything wrong with your music before,’ she added quickly. ‘But there’s a new dimension to your recent songs.’
‘Thanks.’ His voice was warm with amusement. ‘And now that we’ve got the mutual appreciation out of the way, I wanted to ask you something. Well, two things actually, although I have to say the two aren’t dependent on each other.’
‘Go ahead,’ she said, intrigued.
‘First, I want to invite you to join us and report on the whole tour.’
‘All of it?’ She nearly dropped the phone.
‘Yeah. For the next three months I’m offering you exclusive access to me and the band. It will mean travelling with us, but I assume your editor will be happy with that?’