The Last Kiss Goodbye (28 page)

‘Which would be a kick in the teeth for Elliot.’

Nick looked slightly gleeful at her remark. She wondered if he had guessed. Guessed what had gone on between them.

‘So take it elsewhere,’ he said simply. ‘Take it to the BBC. Take it to the
Times
or Sky News.’

‘I can’t,’ she said softly. She heard the old Abby creep back into her voice. The Abby who thought her place was to stay in the archives and hide away from everything.

‘Do you want to?’ asked Nick.

She nodded. ‘If Soames betrayed Dominic, I want to prove that. Not just for Dominic or for Ros, but for me,’ she said honestly. ‘You know, I really felt kicked to the floor when you were unfaithful, Nick. You were my world, the only family I’ve got, the one person I trusted. Writing this story helped me through that. It made me think about other people, not just myself. It taught me I could be a little bolder, in life, in love.’

She thought about Elliot Hall and looked away.

‘Then do it,’ said Nick simply.

‘How on earth do I do that after so many years?’

‘Ask him.’

‘Ros has already threatened to go round and have it out with him but I persuaded her to bide her time. As if he’d tell her anything anyway. I’ve already interviewed him for the
Chronicle
piece, and he didn’t give anything away.’

‘He wouldn’t. Not unless he had to,’ replied Nick, not taking his eyes off hers.

‘But how am I going to make him? Wheel out the thumbscrews?’

‘Flush him out.’

‘Flush him out?’

‘Don’t you ever watch spy movies?’ he grinned.

‘No, I was always upstairs in the bath.’

The waiter came over to clear away their plates, and Nick ordered a coffee.

‘Speak to him again. Accuse him of everything you’ve just told me. He’ll deny it. Then you wait, watch, listen. See what he does next.’

‘Wait, watch, listen . . . What are you suggesting, Nick? That I put on a flasher mac and follow him?’

‘You’d look good in a flasher mac.’

‘Nick, please . . .’

‘I could help you.’

He said it slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be.

‘Abby, what do you think I do for a living?’

‘You’re in IT.’

She felt a pang of guilt that she didn’t know the specifics. She didn’t really understand IT and Nick didn’t talk about it much. Who would? It wasn’t a job like Elliot Hall’s, where you flew around the world, met celebrities and attended international summits about important global issues, and then wrote about it.

Nick gave a wry smile.

‘You think I spend all day playing computer games, don’t you?’

‘You’re an IT consultant. A hi-tech troubleshooter. You fix people’s servers. You are the technology fairy.’

She smiled, but Nick remained serious.

‘Abby, I break into companies’ computer and telecommunication systems.’

Her expression faded as she took it in.

‘You’re a hacker?’ she said incredulously.

‘No. I am not a hacker or a criminal. I am an IT security consultant.’

‘I thought you had a legitimate business,’ said Abby, aghast.

‘Of course it’s bloody legitimate,’ he said fiercely. ‘Cyber-crime is big business. Every company in the world wants secure technology. To test out how safe their systems are, I get people to try and hack into them. It’s proactive security.’

‘It’s hacking, Nick. You’re a hacker!’

‘No. I break into their systems with their permission. But for that, I have to know and employ people who do know how to hack.’

They were both silent. They could hear the roar of traffic and the grumble of a train.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as she blinked back tears.

‘With everything that’s happened, there have been times when I really feel as if I don’t know you, Nick. And do you know what has felt far worse than being cheated and lied to? It’s being made to feel utterly stupid, naïve and foolish. Right now is one of those times.’

He leant in to look at her.

‘It’s not my dream job, Abby. I’d rather be a surf instructor, a photographer, something that gets me outside with the sun on my face. But what I do pays well, I’m good at it, and I provide a service that people need. If you want to write this story, if Jonathon Soames is KGB or a Soviet asset and helped destroy his friend, and if you want to nail him, then I think I can help you. Because from the moment I saw you, all I have wanted to do is be by your side and do just that.’

It took a few moments for Abby to realise she was crying. She blinked hard and took a sip from her glass of tap water.

‘So what do you say?’

She didn’t know what to say. All she knew was that she wanted to try and make things right.

Finally she nodded.

‘Is that a yes?’ he smiled.

‘My very own James Bond,’ she said quietly.

Nick’s expression turned sad.

‘We let it go, didn’t we? The fun, the excitement, the adventure. When did we let it all get so difficult?’

The waiter came over with the bill on a tiny silver platter. Nick took out his wallet and put three ten-pound notes under the money clip.

‘He’s the one, isn’t he?’ he said before they stood up to leave. ‘You said you’d met someone and it’s him, isn’t it? Elliot Hall.’

‘It’s over,’ she said quietly.

‘Is it?’

When it came to affairs of the heart, Abby wasn’t sure if she knew anything any more.

Chapter Thirty-One

‘Anna, this place is amazing,’ said Abby as her friend’s hen party posse arrived at the hotel suite on the South Bank. She ran over to the window, from where she could see all the way down the dark ribbon of the Thames: the London Eye with its egg-shaped pods glowing blue against the night sky; the bright lights of the City.

‘Matt’s treat,’ smiled Anna as a bare-chested butler appeared out of nowhere with ten glasses of champagne on a silver platter.

‘It must have cost him a flipping fortune. Did he even throw in the butler?’ said Abby, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘If he did, that’s what I call a modern marriage,’ she giggled.

‘Actually Matt’s dad, Larry, knows the owners and got it at a very good rate. And I hired the butler. You can never have too much of a good view,’ Anna said, eyeing his rippling torso.

Abby flopped back on to the bus-sized sofa feeling very, very tired. It had been a long day. They’d had spa treatments at the Aveda Institute, taken a Thames boat cruise from Westminster to Tower Bridge and had afternoon tea at the Shard. Anna was still dressed in a pink tutu, which she claimed made her look more like Peppa Pig than Sarah Jessica Parker, and except when she’d been having the deep moisturising facial, Abby didn’t think she’d stopped laughing all day.

She’d managed to forget all about Nick and their separation, forgotten about Rosamund, Dominic and Elliot Hall, and had spent the day having fun with her friends.

‘What’s for dinner?’ asked Suze, popping a Parma-ham-wrapped fig into her mouth. ‘Will Sophie be cooking?’ Sophie was Anna’s famous TV chef sister.

‘No, she’s got her assistant to cater for us,’ replied Anna diplomatically. It was common knowledge that Anna had a difficult relationship with her sister, after Sophie had had an affair with and subsequently married Anna’s ex-boyfriend.

Suze rolled her eyes. ‘Assistant does cooking shocker. Does Sophie ever do anything for that show of hers? I’ve heard of a dumbwaiter, but she’s like telly’s dummy chef.’

‘Ssh, she’ll hear you,’ said Anna, stifling a giggle.

‘You’d better get out of that tutu, Anna Kennedy,’ grinned Abby, popping open a tube of Pringles.

‘We should probably all change,’ she agreed. ‘There are two bathrooms, one over there, another on the far side, if anyone wants to freshen up. Dinner should be in about half an hour.’

‘Drink, madam?’ said the butler, offering Abby a glass of champagne.

‘Don’t mind if I do.’

‘So,’ said Suze, curling her feet up on the sofa. ‘How’s it going with sexy Elliot Hall?’

‘How’s what going? We filed the story. End of story,’ Abby said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

‘I know you said nothing happened after his party, but Will told me you went round to his house for dinner the other night. He seemed to think there was something going on.’

‘I thought men only talked about beer, work and football,’ said Abby.

‘Come on, Abs,’ said Suze, nudging her. ‘I’ve told you everything about Will.’

‘I didn’t realise it was a competition.’

‘There is something going on, I can tell,’ grinned Suze.

Abby took a deep breath. She hadn’t told anyone about the night with Elliot in St Petersburg. It seemed too personal, and far too confusing to discuss it before she had decided what she felt about it herself. But she also knew that Suze was unlikely to let the matter drop.

‘Okay, okay,’ she hissed quietly. ‘I slept with him, all right? We went to St Petersburg for the story and I slept with him. Are you happy now?’

She wasn’t expecting Suze to be judgemental, but nor was she expecting her to respond with such enthusiasm. Suze clapped her hands with glee.

‘St Petersburg. How romantic! So when are you seeing him again?’

‘There’s no plan,’ she whispered, hoping her friend would simmer down.

‘Text him. Text him now,’ said Suze excitedly. ‘Arrange brunch for tomorrow.’

‘I can’t. We had a row at dinner.’

‘You see, you’re like a couple already!’

The sound of a doorbell disturbed their conversation.

‘I hope nobody has ordered strippers,’ said Abby, glad of the distraction.

Suze winced. ‘I had one of those when I left my last job. He had one ball hanging out of his posing pouch.’

‘Someone must have thought you liked that kind of thing,’ Abby giggled.

Suze slapped her playfully.

The bare-chested butler went to open the door and Ginny came in holding two big pink parcels.

‘Ginny!’ called Anna from the bedroom door.

Abby felt her back stiffen. She had been glad that her sister-in-law had such a high-flying job that she’d had to miss the bulk of Anna’s hen do, as uncharitable as that felt even thinking about it. But she didn’t want a confrontation with Ginny tonight. It was Anna’s special day and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.

She slipped out on to the balcony and breathed in the cool evening air, letting the sights and distant sounds of London calm her. By the time she came back inside, everyone was seated around the long dining table in the middle of the room.

Thankfully, the only space was nowhere near Ginny, but she blew Abby a kiss from the other end of the table.

Abby sat quietly as Ginny told the girls about her work trip to New York, and how she was sorry to have missed most of the hen night fun but had brought two big boxes of Magnolia Bakery cupcakes to make up for it. They polished off their dinner quickly, and moved on to the cupcakes, while Suze whipped a pack of cards from her handbag.

‘Right. Showtime,’ she announced. ‘I found this game in Ann Summers.’

Everyone groaned.

‘It will be fun,’ she laughed, flicking through the cards. ‘We’ll start with this: how often do you have sex? Anna, you go first.’

Anna pulled a napkin up to her face and giggled.

‘No! This is private stuff!’ she protested.

‘This is tame,’ replied Suze. ‘You should read some of the questions on these cards.’

‘Suze, please.’

‘Come on. Chop, chop. We’ve got a whole pack to get through.’ She was drunk, and the volume of her voice had gone up several decibels.

‘All right. Once.’

‘Once?’ said Suze at the top of her voice.

‘Once last week, but Matt’s been away. Usually it’s three or four times a week.’

‘Ooh! You pair of goers,’ smiled Suze, satisfied with her answer.

‘Is that normal? I thought that was normal,’ said Anna, looking for reassurance.

‘Three times a year, more like,’ laughed Caroline, one of Anna’s married friends from work.

They went round the table.

‘Abby. Your turn,’ said Suze mischievously.

‘Come on. I think we should have coffee to sober up,’ said Anna, flashing Suze a warning look.

‘No, I think Abby’s got something to say. Come on, Abs. Tell us about St Petersburg,’ pressed Suze, taking a sip of her mojito and looking mischievously over the rim of the glass.

‘Suze, please,’ she said, desperately regretting telling her friend about her night with Elliot.

‘Abby had a romantic interlude with one of London’s sexiest men the other day,’ announced Suze. ‘In Russia, no less.’

‘You shagged a Russian?’ said Sophie, Anna’s sister.

‘No,’ said Abby with exasperation.

‘Abby is seeing Elliot Hall,’ explained Suze expansively. ‘Gorgeous journalist. Blond. Rupert Penry-Jones lookalike.’

‘I know the one,’ said Caroline approvingly. ‘The bloke you wrote that spy story with. His photo is always in the
Chronicle
. No wonder. He’s hot.’

‘And loaded. You should see his house.’

‘Money isn’t everything,’ muttered Abby.

‘Abby, I am so pleased for you. Glad you’re back in the saddle, so to speak,’ said Sophie.

The only person who looked more furious than Anna at the way the conversation was going was Ginny.

‘Right, coffee,’ said Anna.

The bare-chested butler stopped adjusting his dickie bow and ran to the Nespresso machine.

‘And let’s not forget this,’ laughed Suze. ‘Anna Kennedy. This is Your Life . . .’

‘What on earth . . . ?’ Anna smiled, untying the white ribbon, then gave a peal of delight. ‘A photo book! Look at this,’ she said, leafing through the pages. ‘Where on earth did you get all these pictures?’

‘Your mum and dad came up with loads, and we tracked down some school friends. Cath supplied those debauched university years . . .’

Abby was still aware of Ginny glaring at her. She excused herself under the pretext of getting some fresh air, and had only been on the balcony a few moments when she heard footsteps behind her.

‘Anna seems to be enjoying herself,’ said Ginny.

‘I think we’re all a bit knackered, though. Spa treatments, afternoon tea, river cruises, it’s thirsty work.’

‘It’s all one big laugh,’ said Ginny pointedly.

They were both silent, and Abby looked out at the view. It was dark now, and London was lit up like a celestial map in front of her.

‘Everybody in that room knows Nick, Abby. I think you should have kept your love life out of the hen night fun and games. At least until you’re divorced.’

‘Suze shouldn’t have said anything. She’s off her head on mojitos.’

‘Yes, Suze was wrong, but perhaps you could have been a bit more discreet and not told her about your celebrity screw in the first place.’

‘Celebrity screw? Thanks for that.’

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

‘You know, you’re still married.’

‘No thanks to you,’ muttered Abby.

Ginny paled.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I think you know,’ she said quietly.

Ginny turned to go back inside, but Abby did not want to let her escape.

‘Why did you lie to Nick?’ she asked as a cool breeze slapped her face.

‘What about?’

‘You said I didn’t want to be married to him if we couldn’t have children.’

‘I never said that.’

‘Nick told me you did.’

‘And now you trust him?’

Abby did not believe for one second that Nick would have lied to her.

‘What
did
you say, Ginny?’

She looked guilty, caught out.

‘I was only repeating what you said.’

Abby gripped the stem of her glass so hard she thought it was going to crack.

‘Ever since Nick told me, it’s been going round and round in my head. In a low moment I might have asked you if it was a sign that we shouldn’t be married, and boy, did I think that sometimes, but I loved him. I wanted children with Nick precisely because I loved him so much. I would never say I didn’t want to be married to him.’

For a minute Ginny said nothing. Abby glanced across. Her sister-in-law’s gaze was fixed on the London Eye, turning slowly in the dark night sky.

‘All my parents want is grandchildren, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to get them from me,’ she said at last. ‘My brother would be a brilliant dad. He’s from a happy, secure family and that’s what he has always wanted for himself. But you and him together . . . it’s not going to happen, is it? You can’t have children.’

‘So you stirred up trouble,’ said Abby.

‘I made Nick think about what it is he really wants. You, or a family,’ she replied more fiercely.

‘So you think we should split up? You think Nick should find someone new, someone who could give him children? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘What I want is for my brother to be happy,’ she said vehemently.

‘We
were
happy.’

‘Were you? You had a funny way of showing it.’

Ginny turned and looked at her friend directly.

‘Do you know how long I’ve been single, Abby? Ten years. And for half of that time, I liked it. I loved it. It was my
choice. I was independent, my own woman. I could have dinner with friends in Soho every evening, and every night out was full of possibility. And then I woke up one day and realised that I was lonely. I had the job and the flat and the money in the bank to go on holiday with, but all I wanted was to find someone to share it all with. And I’ve not been able to. Whereas you and Nick . . .’ She shook her head. ‘You had what everyone wants. But you were constantly sniping at each other, you never seemed to appreciate one another.’

Abby had to admit she had a point.

‘Things got difficult when we had fertility problems,’ she said more quietly.

‘Or is that just an excuse to cover up the fact that you got married too young and you’d just grown apart?’

‘I love Nick,’ Abby said, clenching her hand into a fist. ‘I love him more than anything. I would do anything,
anything
for him.’

‘Then why are you getting divorced?’ said Ginny simply.