‘
How much do you need?’
he said to Natalie, and as he
reached inside his jacket for his wallet
the look of wonder and relief in her eyes melted his battered, emotionally
scarred heart. His own life might be a God-awful mess at the moment, he
realized, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still
help to make
someone else’s happier when the right opportunity arose.
Chapter 56
For three days Roz had been like a cat on scalding hot
bricks,
twitching each time the phone rang
and snapping at anyone
who tried to
speak to her. Refusing to contact Sebastian and
quite unaccustomed to being on the wrong end of a waiting game, her
temper grew steadily shorter and she made heavy
inroads into Camilla’s
drinks cabinet.
Sebastian, reflected Camilla as she
made a pot of coffee, bundled a load of washing into the machine and cleared
the
kitchen table of
breakfast debris, must mean a hell of a lot more
to Roz than she was prepared to admit. And whilst she herself
was quite unable to comprehend the allure of a man
who
obviously disliked children so
much that Roz had been forced to keep the news of his own from him for eighteen
long years,
she sympathized with Roz’s agitation now.
She was also deeply thankful that she didn’t have to work
with her.
From what Roz told her about the screaming rows she
was having with her producer, with her researchers and even
with the director himself, the TV studios were not
a happy
place to be at the present
time. At this rate, she decided, Natalie’s
antics were in danger of bringing an entire networked show to
an
expensive, grinding halt.
Damn the little bitch, thought Roz
that evening as she speared
a buttered courgette and realized that her fork was trembling.
Why couldn’t she at least phone and let her know what was
going on? This interminable waiting was playing
havoc with
her nerves.
Broodingly she glanced across at
Camilla, looking so calm
and
unruffled it wasn’t true. At least Loulou, who was only pretending to eat, was
as rattled as she herself was; it comforted
her
to know that she wasn’t the only one going through hell at the moment, even if
Loulou did only have herself to blame for
her current ridiculous
predicament. Roz hadn’t met Martin
Stacey-Thompson,
but he sounded exactly the slimy sort of
toad who could only ever cause
trouble.
When the phone rang, everyone jumped as if the four-minute
warning had sounded. Roz felt her heart thumping unpleasantly against her
rib-cage, but it was only Christo ringing for Loulou.
Glad of an excuse to abandon her dinner Loulou disappeared
into the sitting-room with Roz’s cigarettes,
obviously settling
in for a long cheering-up chat.
‘
Who
was
that who
phoned for you the other afternoon?’
asked
Roz idly, just to make conversation. "The man with the
sexy voice
who wouldn’t give Natalie his name.’
Camilla looked uncomfortable for a moment.
‘
Nico,’ she admitted
finally, trying and failing to sound
casual, and sensed rather than saw
Roz’s raised eyebrows.
‘Really,’ drawled Roz, curious to know more. Despite
everything, she still felt that Nico was hers, and had never fully come
to terms with the way he had rejected her. As far
as she had
been able to work out, Nico
had dropped her simply because
she had been an innocent pawn in the
break-up of Camilla’s marriage to Jack.
‘I thought he’d gone to Barbados,’ she went on with
deceptive
languor as she toyed with a piece
of chicken on her plate.
‘Didn’t I see something in the papers recently?’
‘
He left the day after
he phoned,’ said Camilla hesitantly.
‘We were supposed to have lunch,
but I got involved in that accident and didn’t make it to the restaurant.’
Right now, Roz observed, Camilla was trying hard to appear
unconcerned . . . and failing abysmally. In a flash it became apparent that she
was still crazy about Nico, and Roz suppressed a small triumphant smile. Maybe
if her own situation had been
different she
would have let the matter rest in deference to
Camilla’s hopelessly
unhidden feelings, but after three days of
torture
and chain-smoking, her own emotions were jangling
like prisoners’
chains. All the old jealousy rose up within her,
along with anger as she recalled Nico’s summary dismissal.
And she
would never forget that terrible afternoon when he had destroyed her with his
taunt that Camilla had been better in bed
than
she had. Whether or not it was true didn’t matter, but the fact that he had
said it shot a great hole in her pride. Nobody,
not even Nico, was allowed to say something as derogatory as
that
and get away with it.
‘
Oh dear,’ she said
sympathetically. ‘Poor you, you have got
it bad, haven’t you?’
‘
Wha . .?’ began
Camilla, her eyes horrified as she prepared
to leap in with a denial.
But Roz was too fast for her.
‘And don’t think I don’t understand,’ she continued
smoothly.
‘God, I should know what it feels
like, after all. But it really
isn’t fair of him to involve you, Cami.
You of all people don’t deserve that kind of treatment.’
‘But I’m n-not . . . it’s not . . .’ stammered Camilla,
flushing pink.
‘Naughty, naughty Nico. Up to his old tricks again,’ said
Roz with a sorrowful shake of her dark head. ‘I’m just glad I finally outgrew
him. Do you know, he started chasing me again lastyear? We even ended up in bed
together one night – it was at the
end of his
last concert tour and I’d had a little too much
champagne – anyway, I
was pissed and he was persistent.’ She smiled to herself and twirled her
wineglass between her fingers,
observing
Camilla’s aghast expression. Poor thing, this was
really crucifying her.
I’m a bitch, thought Roz without even the slightest pang
of remorse. But I can’t help it; and Camilla has no right to Nico, anyway. He
was mine first. And for what it’s worth – which is nothing – he’s married to
Caroline now.
‘
I don’t know how his
wife puts up with him, screwing around
all over the place the way he has
almost ever since the wedding.
As far as I
can make out, Nico was faithful to her for almost
three weeks. And now
he’s come back to you.’ Roz paused and
smiled
sadly at Camilla. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, she
said, ‘Well, of
course he is the most marvellous lover, but I just
hope you don’t get hurt. I had to tell Nico that it was over
between us – I simply don’t need the hassle any
more – but I
can understand why you’re hooked on him. He can be
irresistible when he sets his mind to it . .
‘
I’m not having an
affair with him!’ blurted out Camilla,
breaking the spell of Roz’s low,
mesmerizing voice. "There’s nothing like that between us, really there isn’t.’
She was telling the truth, Roz realized with satisfaction,
but from her distraught expression the words had hit home nevertheless. She had
achieved what she had set out to do . . . and it made her feel just great.
‘
Well, thank God for
that,’ she said, changing tack and raising
her glass in salute. ‘Good
for you, Cami! Men like Nico need to be rejected now and again . . . it brings
them back down to earth and makes them realize they can’t always have
everything they
want. Nico’s been an
absolute bastard where Caroline’s con
cerned. Maybe now
he’ll sort himself out and make a real go of
it with her. Cheers,
Cami. I only wish I’d had your strength of character years ago. Well done!’
Until this moment, reflected Natalie
with a shiver, it had all
been a marvellous adventure. Her happy but uneventful life
back in the North of England seemed insignificant now,
having
been tumbled out of the way by the
sheer thrill of finding Roz
and coming
down to London, where everyone her mother
knew seemed to live in vast,
glittering houses, drink champagne
and speak
beautifully. Even Loulou, who had no money, was
still inherently glamorous, bearing no relation whatsoever to
the downtrodden single parents who lived sometimes
in appall
ing squalor in the least
attractive parts of Natalie’s own home
town.
And meeting Nico, of course, had been
one of her all-time
great
moments. Probably the greatest moment, she decided,
with only a slight sense of shame
that it should rank above
meeting
Roz. But then there were an awful lot of mothers in the
world; they were everywhere and almost everyone had one,
whereas
real-live rock stars of Nico’s calibre were a different
matter altogether, a far rarer commodity. There was only one
Nico
... how could meeting him not be the greatest thrill of her life?
But now, as she sat in the Bergstrasse café stirring her
frothy
hot chocolate and gazing through the
steamy windows at the
bank opposite,
she was preparing to fit the last piece to the
puzzle. And remembering
Roz’s overheard conversation with Camilla, she wasn’t expecting the afternoon
to be particularly pleasant. Certainly not
thrilling.
The force which had brought her here
was an inherent
compulsion
and she had to go through with it. But she was
prepared this time for rejection.
Coming to Zurich had been
exciting,
as well as an act of defiance. Bumping into Nico at Heathrow had been
brilliant. Checking into one of the city’s
smartest
hotels had been a new experience too and she had
revelled in it,
deliberately shrouding herself in dark glasses and
mystery for the benefit of the superior receptionist at the front
desk. And settling down on her bed with a bottle of
wine, a packet of foreign cigarettes and a copy of the Zurich phone
directory had seemed a wonderfully adult thing to
do. Natalie
had felt like some glamorous spy in a Bond movie, calling
each bank listed and asking – in French! – whether M’sieur Sebastian Adams
worked there.
When, at the seventh attempt the
telephonist had replied,
‘Oui,
madame,’ she had felt dizzy with triumph, dropping her
cigarette into her lap and slamming down the receiver before
the
telephonist could hear her shriek, ‘Oh shit.’
It had all been good fun, tracking him down. Now, thought
Natalie with a touch of panic quelled only by her utter deter
mination to go through with it, she had to brace
herself to
accept the worst. She knew
Roz well enough to be pretty sure
that
she wouldn’t have contacted Sebastian in order to warn
him. He would
still be quite unaware of her existence.
This, she thought grimly, as she
cleared the misted-up
window beside her and peered once more at the bank’s rather
grand entrance and the clerks and secretaries who were now
beginning to trickle out into the rainy street, was the ultimate cold-call.
Sebastian
Adams, this is your daughter.
* * *
Having endured a
particularly gritty meeting with an important
but
nonetheless difficult client, Sebastian Adams was not in
the sunniest of moods. When he emerged from the
bank at
five thirty with his sports bag and briefcase he was even less
amused to find that it was still raining. The wet
streets
glistened, a sea of multi-coloured umbrellas bobbed erratically
along the pavements and the rush hour traffic was
crawling
along at less than walking
pace. It would be six o’clock at least before he reached the Sheraton, where he
went three
times a week to swim, take a sauna and work-out. Eight thirty
before he returned home. At nine o’clock he
was supposed to
be picking up Danielle, the sleek tri-lingual secretary
he was
currently seeing, and taking her out
to dinner at a much
recommended new
restaurant in the Bahnhofstrasse. The
thought
left him cold; a far more inviting idea was that of
calling Danielle and explaining apologetically that
he was
caught up in a business
meeting which was likely to drag on
until midnight.