And had she been a good mother? Had she been there for her daughter at this difficult time? No, she had not.
Just then, there was a soft tap on the door. Cassandra sprang to the door, praying it wasn’t the police. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the exotic creature standing in the hallway. Ruby looked like a catwalk model, her hair long and glossy, the dress tight and black, giving her a spectacular cleavage. She looked about 21. Cassandra felt sick.
‘RUBY!’ she yelled, her fear suddenly turning to anger. But her daughter flinched like a frightened puppy and she noticed that her eyes were raw from crying.
Cassandra jumped forward and gathered her into a big hug.
‘Darling,’ she whispered, still holding onto her tightly. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
She led Ruby into the flat, feeling her shake in her arms.
‘Amaryllis has got a new boyfriend,’ stuttered Ruby, ‘some record producer guy. He got us invited to some Brits after-show party so we slipped away from school.’
‘Amaryllis is sixteen years old,’ said Cassandra, not knowing whether she wanted to throttle Ruby’s older, wayward friend or feel fiercely protective of a pretty young girl who had been taken advantage of by some man who should know better.
‘Well, he thinks she’s eighteen,’ said Ruby, wiping the corner of her eye.
‘I went to every party in London looking for you,’ said Cassandra. ‘What happened to you?’
‘It was horrible,’ said Ruby, sitting on the sofa and beginning to cry.
‘There was a guy. This guy called Danny. Mum, I think he wanted to have sex with me.’
Cassandra shut her eyes, not daring to imagine what happened next. She was not naïve: of course 14-year-old girls could be sexually active.
‘I didn’t, Mum. I promise.’
‘I believe you, sweetheart,’ she said holding her daughter’s hands. ‘But why did you run away from school to go to the party? Did you not think it would end up in trouble?’
Ruby looked at her mother for a long time before she spoke.
‘Amaryllis and Pandora are the richest, most popular girls in school and they wanted to be my friends. It made me feel special just being with them.’
‘You are special, Ruby. You don’t need those girls to make you feel it.’
‘I don’t feel special,’ Ruby said, quietly. ‘I feel lonely.’
Finally, tears started to fall from Cassandra’s eyes. She sat there on the sofa, hugging her precious daughter, sobbing into her hair, feeling more wretched and selfish than she had ever felt in her whole life.
‘Hello, Emma, what a nice surprise. What can I do for you?’
Although it was only eight o’clock in the morning when Emma called at Julia’s house, her aunt was up and ready for the day ahead. She led Emma through into the conservatory where breakfast had been set: two slices of toast, a glass of freshly-squeezed juice, a china pot of tea and a linen napkin were sitting next to the
Daily Telegraph,
and the whole homely scene was lit by the early morning sunshine flooding through the glass.
‘Sorry for not calling before,’ said Emma, ‘but I saw your car and thought you’d be in.’
‘What are you doing up and about so early?’
‘I had to collect a friend from Heathrow.’
‘Anyone I know?’
Emma shook her head and looked away.
‘Well, can I offer you some tea?’
Emma stayed silent.
‘I know, Julia,’ she said slowly. ‘I know what you did.’
Julia picked up her cup and saucer and smiled at her niece.
‘Know what, darling?’
Emma knew that saying the words would rip their family apart. She knew how much it would hurt Cassandra and Tom, but she had to get to the truth or she thought she would go mad.
‘I know that you drove me off the road in Gstaad,’ she said calmly.
She watched Julia’s mouth do a down-turn as if in slow motion.
‘What a
wicked
thing to say,’ she whispered, putting down her tea cup with a rattle.
Emma took a piece of paper out of her handbag and passed it to her aunt.
‘I think you’ll recognize that car.’
It was a grainy faxed photograph of a black Mercedes.
‘I’ve never seen this car in my life.’
‘I think you have and I think you’ve driven it,’ said Emma. ‘On Boxing Day, the day of my accident.’
‘You evil girl!’ said Julia, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘What are you suggesting?’
Emma took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, trying to keep cool.
‘The car wasn’t yours, of course,’ she continued. ‘It belonged to Suzanne Marcel. Inspector Beck said her car had been stolen. I called him up to ask where it was stolen from. Apparently Mrs Marcel had driven to Diane Solomon’s party in Gstaad and her car had got stolen from there while she was enjoying herself inside. Julia, I knew you had gone for drinks with Cassandra on Boxing Day but it turns out that you were at Diane Solomon’s party too. You knew I was going to Les Diablerets. You knew what time I would be coming home. You stole Suzanne Marcel’s car keys and tried to run me off the road.’
Julia had adopted a superior expression.
‘I hate to point out the obvious, Emma, but it is you who has recently been arrested for arson and for almost killing
my
daughter. Personally, I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. I just didn’t think it possible that you could have tried to kill your own flesh and blood. And how do you repay my support? You blame me, try and implicate me in your nasty little hit-and-run story. How could you? How
dare
you!’ Her voice was getting more raised and more angry as she spoke.
A cloud floated over the sun and the light dimmed in the conservatory.
‘I also know why you did it,’ said Emma, and although her nerve was beginning to fail her, she was desperate not to lose her momentum now.
‘You wanted me dead so that you could take possession of the Ben Palmer painting. With me out of the way, nobody knew you had the painting. You needed the money because you paid off Tom’s Ibiza debts.’
‘I had the money to pay off Tom’s debts,’ she said more coolly. ‘Not that it is anything to do with you.’
‘Yes, money you’d put aside for the Cork Street gallery you so dearly wanted. Money you felt you deserved back.’
Julia stood up.
‘Oh, this is just nonsense, Emma!’ she said, beginning to tidy away the breakfast things. ‘I wasn’t even going to sell that painting, it’s by some unknown provincial artist and basically worthless.’
‘Not when it has an important work by Francis Bacon on the back of it.’
Julia stopped in her tracks, her face draining of colour.
‘Samples of your DNA are on their way to a police lab in Switzerland. I think we both know they are going to match forensic samples taken from Suzanne Marcel’s Mercedes.’
Of course Julia had no way of knowing Emma was bluffing with that last sentence. The rest of Emma’s information was almost certainly correct, so Julia would have no reason to doubt her. But it was a gamble: Emma’s only hope of finding out the truth was to force a confession from Julia.
‘I hate to disappoint you with your conspiracy theories, Emma, but I might have borrowed Suzanne’s car to run some errands,’ said Julia.
The words were delivered confidently, but Emma instantly knew from the look on her face that Julia was lying.
‘Julia, red paint on Suzanne’s Mercedes matches the red paint on my hire car that you ran off the road.’
Julia sank into the white wicker sofa behind her.
For a few moments she didn’t speak and then her upper body seemed to collapse onto her lap.
‘It was for my son,’ she said quietly, her voice trembling. ‘Those gangsters were going to kill my son. I needed to get the money. I’ll do anything to save my children.’
‘You did it for yourself, Julia. The money you used for Tom’s debts was for the gallery. You wanted to pay for both.’
Emma paused. ‘The reason I was at Heathrow this morning was to pick up Inspector Beck.’ She walked back through the living room and opened the front door to reveal a smartly dressed 40-year-old man. She had called the detective as soon as Stella had told her about the painting and had begged him to fly out to England. She had even paid for his airline ticket herself. She looked at Inspector Beck before pulling open her coat to reveal that she had been wired up. Julia started sobbing at the knowledge that her
confession had been caught on tape and in spite of everything, Emma felt a pang of sorrow and regret.
‘I’ll take it from here,’ said Inspector Beck, looking at Emma.
‘I understand you have been involved in an investigation by the Oxford Police about a fire at your home,’ he continued in perfect English. ‘We should let the investigating officers over there know about Ms Grand.’
Julia looked at him in horror.
‘Do you think I set fire to Emma’s home?’ she said in a high-pitched shrill voice. ‘My daughter was in that house. I would never, never, never do a thing to hurt my children.’
‘But you didn’t know she was in there,’ said Emma slowly.
Emma desperately wanted to believe that Julia had also torched the Stables but a nagging voice at the back of her mind told her that not everything was quite sorted, yet.
Cassandra and Tom were walking through Hyde Park, not talking, just trying to enjoy the view and the milky sunshine. The buds on the trees were beginning to burst and the breeze had lost its chill and smelt sweet and fresh. Spring was coming, for all of them. Cassandra had been unsettled when Tom had phoned to suggest they meet. The two of them had barely spoken in a year; even in Gstaad they had kept their distance, and while the whole childish spat seemed slightly ridiculous after everything that had recently happened, Cassandra was still angry that if Tom hadn’t been so stupid and irresponsible then he wouldn’t have got into the debt that had incurred such tragic consequences.
Cassandra puffed her cheeks out in the breeze. Since Ruby’s disappearance, she had spent days examining her life and planning how to make amends, hoping and praying that the nuclear dust of her own personal explosion had all finally settled and she could at last get on with life. Her mother’s ordeal – she had willingly returned to Switzerland to face her charges – weighed heavily on her, but Cassandra was determined to help her by instructing the best Swiss legal team she could, even though she was concerned about the cost.
Cassandra was still hobbling a little and as they crossed the little bridge overlooking the Serpentine, Tom took the arm of her grey Dior coat to steady her. In a past life, she would have glared at him, perhaps summoned a driver in a golf cart. Today, she simply let him.
‘I’m sorry, Cass. I’m sorry for everything. My bar in Ibiza was successful. I just got a bit stitched up. Mum said she had the money.’
‘Let’s hope you’ve learnt a lesson. A painful one.’
‘So do you think Emma will testify?’ asked Tom as they sat on a bench and gazed out over the silvery water.
‘I expect so,’ Cassandra said bitterly. She had such conflicting emotions about her cousin that she felt nauseous just thinking about her. In her more reflective moments after the fire, Cassandra had felt herself soften towards Emma. She could now see she had got some things slightly askew: for years she had blamed Emma’s father for splitting up their family. It wasn’t true, and yet she had hated her cousin passionately on the shakiest of evidence because she had wanted to blame someone for her father leaving them.
But now there was a real reason to blame Emma for ruining her life. In the past weeks, Cassandra had come to terms with many things and one of them was that she loved her mother unconditionally. If Emma testified against Julia, she would rob Cassandra of a parent who loved her dearly, and whom she loved back, just at a time when she needed her mother most. On the other hand Julia had tried to
kill
Emma. However ruthless Cassandra knew she could be, she could never sanction or condone anything like that.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Tom.
For the first time in her life Cassandra couldn’t see the clearest path through.
‘I don’t know,’ she said softly.
‘Whatever it is, let’s do it together,’ said Tom, nudging her gently.
For a moment she let herself enjoy the feeling of her brother standing next to her; it felt reassuring. She did not feel alone.
She looked at him intently.
‘Whatever you do next, you have to promise me that it involves getting a job,’ said Cassandra resolutely.
‘I don’t need to sponge off you any more,’ replied Tom sheepishly. ‘Rob is going to sort me out with an A&R role at Hollander Music’
‘So now you’re sponging off Rob?’ she said, a ghost of a smile on her wide red lips.
‘Watch it, cheeky. No, I’ll be working for a living this time. Rob says I’m going to make him a lot of money. He’s about to sign the Red Comets, that band I discovered in a dingy Camden dive.’
They both felt the mood lighten slightly.
‘Well, how about lunch to celebrate you saving my life and finding a career?’ replied Cassandra.
Tom looked at his sister. So strong, so determined. She was smart, beautiful and she could even be funny when she wanted to be. They were all good qualities that somehow had got lost in the rush for success and power.
‘Listen, big sister. Seeing as I’m the one with the job how about I treat you to Starbucks?’
‘Starbucks?’ said Cassandra in mock horror. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’
They both looked at each other and laughed. Tom threw his arm around her shoulders and they headed off in the direction of the nearest latte.
Emma had been slowly falling apart. She was still losing weight, her skin had become blotchy and pale but she refused to slow down, no matter how often Rob asked her to. The gorgeous, generous woman he’d fallen in love with was becoming more withdrawn every day, despite the fact that the threat of attack had been lifted with Julia’s arrest. In desperation, Rob had taken Emma to Lyme Regis where they’d checked into a boutique hotel by the cliffs. It was out of season and they had taken a coastal walk, through a beautiful wood where the trees would occasionally part to give glimpses of the sea shimmering in the distance, like a long, platinum ribbon.
In the last forty-eight hours things had moved quickly. Julia was being investigated by both the Swiss and UK police who were re-interviewing her in connection with the Stables fire. Walking along the coast with the wind in her hair, one hand stuffed affectionately in Rob’s coat pocket, Emma was determined that she was going to try and put everything behind her and move on with her life.
Rob’s company was definitely helping. It had been the first time in days that they had talked properly about things other than solving the crime. They talked about Rob’s news plans for Hollander Music, about Ste Donahue and how well he was doing in his latest stint in rehab. They talked about Clover Connor who had maintained a dignified silence over the Blake Brinton affair but who had said that she and Ste were planning a commitment ceremony in Thailand as soon as he had finished his treatment. Tired from their climb, they sat down on a fallen tree in a sunny clearing.
‘I wanted to take you to our house in Sag Harbor this weekend,’
said Rob, ‘but I thought we should wait until this has all blown over. It really is going to be all over soon, honey.’
His voice had a calm confidence that reassured Emma, but unconsciously Rob had put his finger on the root of Emma’s anxiety: it
wasn’t
over yet.
‘It just seems like it will never be over,’ she said sadly. ‘I think everyone forgets that Julia is my aunt. What I’m doing is tearing my family apart.’
‘Em, she tried to run you off the road!’ said Rob. ‘It’s not what you’re doing that’s tearing your family apart; it’s what
she’s
done. Never forget that.’
She picked up a leaf and started picking at it.
‘Who burnt down the Stables, Rob?’
‘Bloody Julia,’ said Rob flatly.
‘You know I almost believed her when she said she didn’t do it.’
‘Emma! Listen to yourself. She wanted you dead.’
‘Maybe we’ll never know,’ she said, with a shot of fear.
‘I’m going back into the office on Monday,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘I’ve taken enough time off already.’
‘Emma, you have to chill out.’
She shook her head defiantly.
‘I
have
to. There’s so much to do, so much damage to repair.’
Rob looked at her and sighed.
‘So are you going to buy Roger’s shareholding?’
Emma shrugged.
‘After what’s happened I don’t know if the banks will be on-side enough. Although it might not be a bad idea to get someone like Victor Chen on board in some minority shareholding capacity. I think we need all the credibility we can get.’
‘I could always lend you the money.’
‘Rob. We’re talking millions of pounds.’
‘You know I have it.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, with a grateful look, squeezing his hand. But this was another problem Emma was struggling to come to terms with, one that made her feel as if she was on the edge of a cliff looking down. Rob had to leave for New York permanently in a matter of weeks. She had found someone she loved and cared for and now he was going to leave her. Inevitably Emma had analysed the situation to death and she knew that the chances of their relationship surviving were slim. So no, she could not take money off him
and be bound to him when she could see that there was an inevitable finality about their affair.
‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said looking up at him, her eyes moist.
‘Come,’ he said bluntly. ‘Come and live in New York – what’s the worst that can happen? Let Ruan run things over in England, you expand the US business. I have a great house in the Village. It’s not quite the Oxfordshire countryside but I think you’ll like it.’
She looked at him, her heart desperately wanting to say yes but knowing it was an impractical and reckless suggestion; she had people relying on her.
‘Rob, come on,’ she sighed. ‘We’ve barely got the business started over here. I need to be here.’
Rob nodded.
‘Will you at least think about it? Maybe you could come to New York to mull things over.’
‘When it’s all over,’ she whispered. ‘When it’s all over.’