Up Close and Personal (31 page)

The next moment, her lips were on his and her tongue was insinuating its way into his mouth. For a fraction of a second, Dante felt himself responding. It was the only
encouragement Orla needed. The next moment, her hand was reaching between his legs. As she fumbled with his zipper, a plaintive howl rang out in the distance. It was unmistakeably Jess, who was still standing guard at the foot of the stairs. The sound brought Dante back to his senses. His hand fell from her breast.

‘Stop,’ he said, pulling away from her.

She drew in her breath, as if she were cross with him, but when she spoke her tone was mellifluous. ‘Don’t worry, we’ve got the house to ourselves.’ She ran her hand over his crotch. ‘No one’s going to know.’

He grabbed her wrist. ‘I said
stop
.’

She looked at him. There was something in her expression he didn’t know how to read. Then she gave an insolent little shrug.

‘I thought you liked me,’ she said, rolling off the bed and reaching for her dress.

‘I do like you, Orla, but not in that way.’

‘Whatever,’ she said, pulling the dress over her head. She picked up her underwear and began walking towards the door. ‘I’ll see myself out,’ she said. She didn’t look back.

For a few moments, Dante sat on the edge of the bed in a daze, scarcely able to believe what had just occurred. It would’ve been easy to sleep with Orla … very easy. But he couldn’t do that to Juliet. He loved his wife; he’d given up everything to be with her. He hoped she felt the same way about him – but even if she
was
still sleeping with Nathan, he told himself, two wrongs didn’t make a right. Below him, the front door slammed shut, causing the windowpanes to rattle in their frames. Dante winced. From the sound of it,
Orla was really pissed at him. He shouldn’t have let her leave. Not without smoothing things over –
or
without making sure she wasn’t going to go shooting her mouth off to Juliet. He put his head in his hands. There were so many thoughts whirling round his brain it was no wonder his headache had returned with a vengeance. Ignoring the pain, he stood up and looked around for his trainers. Sometimes it was better not to think. Sometimes it was better to act instinctively, like an animal.

He took the stairs two at a time. Orla was probably making her way to the bus stop at the end of the lane. If he was quick, he could still catch her. As he hurtled across the entrance hall, past a startled Jess, Dante caught sight of his prey through the window. She was nearly at the entrance gates already. Yanking open the front door, he set off across the lawn. Up ahead, Orla was walking briskly, marching almost. In another few seconds she would be out of sight. He was just about to call out to her when she did something unexpected. Instead of carrying on through the gates to the lane beyond, she turned right, towards the lodge. Dante stopped in his tracks. He suddenly felt sick, saliva flowing into his mouth as if he were about to vomit. This was nothing short of a disaster. He took cover behind the nearest tree and watched with his heart in his mouth as the door of the lodge opened and the chambermaid stepped inside. Dante cursed under his breath. If Orla was about to tell Nathan about their sexual encounter, he needed to know. Thankfully, the afternoon was warm and all the windows of the lodge were flung wide open.

Dodging from tree to tree to minimize the risk of being spotted, Dante skirted the edge of the lawn. Only when he
was facing the lodge’s windowless gable end did he start running towards it. Then, bending low like a fugitive, he inched his way round the building until he heard the low rumble of Nathan’s voice. He dropped down beneath the nearest window and turned his head upwards, ears straining to hear what was being said. The general manager was angry, that much was obvious.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he was saying. ‘I don’t fucking believe it.’

When Orla responded, her voice sounded tight and defensive. ‘I tried my best,’ she said. ‘I almost had him, Nathan, I swear.’

‘You obviously didn’t try hard enough,’ Nathan snapped back. ‘We’ve waited ages for an opportunity like this and then you go and blow it.’

A cold sweat bloomed over Dante’s body as he struggled to make sense of what they were saying. He craned his head, not wanting to miss a word.

‘It wasn’t me, it was that bloody dog,’ Orla was protesting. ‘The minute she started howling like a wolf, it ruined the mood.’

‘Stop making excuses,’ Nathan said icily. ‘There’s only one person to blame and that’s you. You’re supposed to be an actress, for Christ’s sake.’

Orla sniffed. ‘I’m not an actress; I’m a drama graduate. They’re not the same thing. And, actually, I think I did pretty well, considering the short notice.
You
try getting your kit off and running a bubble bath in three minutes flat.’

‘You fucked up, sister dearest, that’s the bottom line.’

A sharp intake of breath from Orla. ‘What are you talking about? I did everything you asked me to – I took this
shitty cleaning job; I flirted with Dante at every opportunity; I offered him sex on a plate. It’s not my fault he’s a flaming eunuch.’ She paused. ‘Either that, or he really
is
in love with Juliet.’

There was a long silence. Outside, Dante felt overwhelmed by panic, cornered like he was in a big black box and gradually all the oxygen was being sucked out of it. Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps walking towards the window. The next moment, a hand holding a cigarette appeared at the window, directly above his head. He flattened himself against the wall of the lodge as a shower of ash descended on his right shoulder.

‘This should all have been so straightforward,’ he heard Nathan say. ‘You get Dante into bed; I call Juliet with some excuse and tell her to get back to Ashwicke pronto; she catches the two of you at it and sends that prick back to Aspen with his tail between his legs. And I have Juliet all to myself. Job done.’

‘So
did
you call her?’ Orla interposed.

‘No, I was just about to when you turned up.’ Nathan sucked on his cigarette. ‘You’ve ruined everything, you silly bitch.’

‘Who are you calling a bitch?’ Orla said angrily. ‘I’m your sister, remember?’

‘
Half
-sister,’ Nathan corrected her. ‘And you needn’t think I’m paying you after this. I’ll give you fifty per cent of what we agreed, take it or leave it.’

‘You fucking shit,’ Orla hissed. ‘Mum warned me not to trust you.’

Nathan laughed softly. ‘Maybe you should’ve listened to her.’

‘You know what you can do, bro? You can take your fifty per cent and shove it right up your arse,’ Orla said. ‘I’ve had enough of being your skivvy. From now on, you can do your own dirty work.’

Dante heard the sound of a door slamming. Then Nathan’s voice called out: ‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to Liverpool,’ Orla screamed.

Dante scuttled to the rear of the building, out of sight. A few moments later he heard the sound of the front door opening. He waited a few minutes to make sure the coast was clear before emerging into the open.

Walking back to the house, Dante felt as if his legs were encased in armour. There seemed to be something round his chest too, a ligature that stopped him from breathing freely. As soon as he stepped into Ashwicke’s deserted entrance hall, he sank gratefully into a seventeenth-century church pew. His mind, up until then a shocked, blank canvas, was suddenly ambushed by questions, which jostled feverishly for position. As he attempted to prioritize them, the phone started ringing, forcing him to his feet. He thought it might be Juliet, but it was only an excited-sounding Yasmin.

‘Hi, Dante,’ she said. ‘Is Juliet there? Only I’ve got some big news.’

‘No, sorry, she’s at the bank,’ he replied in a monotone, his mind a million miles away.

‘That’s a shame. In that case, I’ll tell
you
instead.’ A brief pause. ‘I’m pregnant!’

The announcement was met by silence.

‘Dante, are you still there?’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ he said. ‘That’s great news … congratulations.’

Yasmin heard the catch in his voice. He sounded close to tears. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. When he didn’t reply, she added: ‘You and Juliet haven’t had a row, have you?’

‘No,’ Dante said. ‘Not exactly. But …’ He swallowed hard. ‘I think she’s cheating on me.’

At the other end of the phone, Yasmin took a sharp intake of breath. ‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,’ she said firmly. ‘Juliet would never cheat on you – never.’

‘Hmm, well, maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do,’ Dante countered bitterly.

Yasmin made a huffing noise. ‘When’s she due back?’

‘Um, I’m not sure. She said she might do some shopping after her meeting.’

‘So you’re on your own?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Right, then. You know that pub in Newman Street – the King’s Head?’

Dante hesitated. ‘No, but I’m sure I can find it.’

‘Meet me there in ten minutes.’

‘But –’ Dante began.

‘No buts, just be there.’ Then the phone went dead.

When Dante arrived at the King’s Head, Yasmin was already waiting for him in the pub’s well-kept beer garden. There was a glass of orange juice on the table in front of her, and beside it a second, shorter glass filled with amber liquid. As Dante sat down, she pushed the drink towards him. ‘I got you a double whisky,’ she said. ‘I thought you probably could use a stiff one.’

‘Thanks,’ Dante muttered. He never drank whisky but, not wanting to appear rude, he took a sip, grimacing as it burned the back of his throat. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ he added.

Yasmin rubbed her stomach. ‘I was feeling a bit queasy earlier … one of the joys of being pregnant, so I decided to work from home today.’

Dante forced a smile. ‘Sorry if I didn’t sound very enthusiastic about your good news earlier, only I have a lot on my mind.’

‘I could tell. It sounded as if you could use someone to talk to.’ Yasmin tilted her head back so the sun caught her face. ‘And I must admit I was desperate to get out of the house. It’s such a gorgeous day.’

Dante took another sip of whisky. This one tasted better than the last. ‘Look, Yasmin, I really appreciate your concern, but I’m not sure I want to talk about it.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ she said, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a pair of sunglasses. ‘After all, we hardly know each other. So …’ She put the sunglasses on. ‘Either we can sit here and talk about the weather for half an hour – or you can tell me what makes you think Juliet’s having an affair and I’ll do my level best to prove you wrong. Oh, and whatever happens I won’t repeat a word of this conversation to her. I promise.’

Dante frowned. ‘But she’s your friend.’

‘I know she is,’ Yasmin replied. ‘But so are you.’

Dante picked up his glass and drained the rest of his whisky in a single gulp.

As Dante related the afternoon’s events, Yasmin listened in silence – except for a shocked gasp when he described
Orla’s attempt to seduce him. Recounting the conversation he’d overheard between Nathan and Orla, Dante felt his chest tighten again. ‘Nathan couldn’t have made things any clearer,’ he said. ‘He’s sleeping with Juliet and now he wants me off the scene so he can have her all to himself.’

Yasmin shook her head. ‘No way. Juliet’s one of my best friends. If she was having an affair, I’d know about it.’

‘Then why is Nathan so desperate to get rid of me?’

Yasmin shrugged. ‘If you ask me, the man’s deranged. Only a sicko would pay his own sister to sleep with another man.’

‘What if Juliet’s having an affair and she just hasn’t told you?’

Yasmin laid her hand over Dante’s. ‘I honestly think you’re barking up the wrong tree. Think about it … Nathan didn’t actually say he was sleeping with Juliet, did he?’

‘No,’ Dante conceded. ‘But he did say that if I went back to Aspen he’d have her all to himself.’

‘Perhaps he’s a fantasist,’ Yasmin offered. ‘Perhaps he’s deluding himself that, with you out of the picture, he’d be in with a shot at Juliet.’

‘Maybe,’ Dante said, sounding unconvinced. He turned towards the far corner of the garden where two little girls were running between the trees, picking up handfuls of fallen rose petals and scattering them like confetti. ‘So what do you think I should do?’

‘There’s only one thing
to
do,’ Yasmin said. ‘Talk to Juliet. Tell her exactly what’s happened and see what she says.’

Dante frowned. ‘Even the bit about me and Orla?’

‘
Especially
the bit about you and Orla,’ Yasmin replied. ‘It’s far better that she hears it from you than Nathan.’

‘I guess …’ Dante watched as the little girls went running towards their father, who was carrying a tray of lemonade and crisps. ‘When’s the baby due, by the way?’

‘Not until the end of February. I’m only four weeks gone.’

‘You must be pretty excited.’

Yasmin smiled. ‘I am. It’s going to mean a big change of lifestyle, though – and I’m under no illusions about how tough life as a single mum’s going to be.’ Seeing Dante’s curious look, she added: ‘I’m not in a relationship with the father; it was just a one-off.’

‘He’ll have to pay you child support, though – right?’

Yasmin shook her head. ‘I don’t need supporting. In any case, he doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.’

‘But you
are
going to tell him, aren’t you?’

Yasmin stared at the dregs of her orange juice. ‘I don’t know. It’s complicated …’ She sighed. ‘Rob – that’s the father – he’s got a girlfriend, you see.’

‘I can see how that might make things complicated, but don’t you think he has a right to know you’re having his baby?’ Dante said.

Yasmin sighed. ‘I just think it might be easier for everyone concerned if I don’t tell him. Being a dad’s a big responsibility. It seems a bit unfair to dump that on Rob when he didn’t ask to have a child with me.’

‘What’s the matter – doesn’t he like kids?’

‘Oh no, it’s not that. He’s already got two with his ex-wife.’

‘So what is it, then?’

Yasmin didn’t answer.

‘Look, I’m not trying to give you a hard time,’ Dante said, ‘but if it were me I’d want to know. It wouldn’t matter what the circumstances were.’