Sophie Weston - The Accidental Mistress

‘How?’

‘If they want to go to the nightclub reception this evening, they have to pick up a ticket. From the table in the foyer. All I have to do is go in there and murmur in a few ears and there’ll be a stampede.’

He was amused. ‘You’re good at this, aren’t you?’

‘I seem to be,’ Izzy agreed, after a moment. She sounded surprised.

‘That’s not all you’re good at,’ he said, licking the sugar off the top of his bun. ‘That was a real coup de theatre you got going with the lights and the stars and all. You ever want to work in the theatre, you give me a call.’

She was embarrassed. ‘Oh, this was just a one-off. I wasn’t even sure it would work.’

‘It worked,’ he said without emphasis. ‘You’re a natural. You’ve got my number. Call me. Maybe next time I’ll be employing you, rather than the other way round. Oh, well, action stations.’

He finished his bun, gave her a friendly punch in the shoulder and went to round up his team.

Izzy went back to start the whispering campaign. It cleared the room. In ten minutes the only people who had not moved were Jemima and the woman from the PR company. Izzy waved in her team to start the dismantling operation and still they stayed locked in serious conversation. She sighed and went over to them.

‘…off my back,’ Jemima was saying with heat.

‘But you can do it. Today proves that.’ Molly di Peretti sounded impatient.

‘Today was family.’

‘Is that what you want? Are you saying that we have to take your sister onto the pay roll for you to honour your obligations?’

‘My sister wouldn’t look at you,’ flashed Jemima. ‘She’s got a great job.’

‘Then what will it take?’

‘Just get off my back.’ It was a wail.

Molly said crisply, ‘Jemima, no one else will tell you the truth, but I will. You’re walking a tightrope. Go on like this and you’ll fall off. Nobody’s indispensable.’

Hey! thought Izzy. She increased her pace. ‘Sorry to break this up, guys. But we have to be out of here in twenty minutes flat. Can you transfer your chat to the bar?’

She put a protective arm round her sister’s shoulders. They were as rigid as iron.

Jemima looked round. Her face was hard. She did not look as if she needed anyone’s protection.

‘Chat over,’ she said curtly.

Molly di Peretti shrugged. ‘I’ll see you in ten days then. If you make it, of course.’

Jemima’s expression darkened. ‘I’ll make it.’

Molly nodded. ‘I’ll go and round up the spare press packs.’

She went. Jemima glared after her.

‘What was that about?’ asked Izzy, gathering up some silky tops that had got scattered and bundling them into an open chest.

‘Nothing.’ Jemima folded a couple of scarves and slapped them down on top of the nearest cabin trunk. ‘I hate PR,’ she burst out. ‘Of all the pointless things. They make you do stuff you hate. And you’ve got to pretend it’s all terrific fun all the time. It’s worse than gym at bloody school.’

Izzy was startled. ‘Jemima—’ she began in concern.

But one of the boys was coming over with one of the tea trays on wheels that served as removal trolleys and they had to help him load the furniture.

‘We’ll talk about the principles of public relations later,’ Izzy promised.

Jemima gave a laugh that sounded more like a shriek. ‘One day when all this is over,’ she agreed.

But then the car was at the door to take her to the airport and there was no time to talk. ‘I’ll call you,’ she said, giving Izzy a swift, hard hug.

It stayed with her all the rest of the day. It had felt like desperation.

‘I hope she’s all right,’ said Izzy, almost to herself.

‘She’s fine,’ said Pepper, overhearing. ‘She’s the face of Belinda. She’s got a diary full of top jobs. And she’s through adolescent spots. What can go wrong?’

Izzy could not put her finger on it. ‘I—just have a feeling…’

‘Quit worrying,’ said Pepper, not without sympathy. ‘Okay, you’ve known her since she was minus nine months. But she’s all grown-up now, and she knows what she wants. Heck, it’s success that most people only dream about. She’s feeling great.’

Izzy thought of the conversation she had overheard. ‘I’m not sure that’s true.’

‘I am.’

A lifetime of being the heir to a multi-million-dollar retail empire had given Pepper total confidence in her judgement, Izzy thought. Not a shimmer of doubt there.

She said slowly, ‘But this success is very big, very sudden. I’m not sure Jemima really knows how to deal with it.’

‘Then she’ll learn.’ Pepper was impatient. ‘I did. You did. You’re the most together woman I know. You can deal with anything.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘In fact, if anyone did try to attack you in the park, I just bet you’d talk him right out of it. No contest.’ And she went back to work.

Caught unawares, Izzy felt her head go back as if her cousin had hit her. It was the first time in ages, and it took her right back to two years ago and a small border town in the Andes. Shaken, she watched Pepper walk away.

If only you knew, she thought. If only you knew.

DOMINIC TEMPLETON-BURKE was sitting in the oak-panelled library of the Explorers’ Reading Room when his cellphone gave a discreet cough. It was so discreet it was almost inaudible, in fact. Even so, three assorted explorers looked up and glared.

‘Sorry,’ Dom mouthed.

He went out into the corridor. Tall windows looked down onto a rustic garden, incongruous in the centre of London. He settled himself into a window seat and put the phone to his ear. Below him, late roses were golden in the September sun.

‘Yes, Jay?’

‘My staff tell me you were perfectly bloody.’ Jay Christopher sounded mildly amused.

Dom shifted uncomfortably. Jay was an old friend. ‘Not my scene,’ he said excusingly.

Jay was unsurprised. ‘I warned you. Why don’t you just take the book deal? That would sort out all the funding problems at a shot.’

‘I keep telling you. I’m a doer, not a writer.’

Jay sighed. ‘Okay. Well, Molly has got an idea.’

‘What sort of idea?’ said Dom suspiciously.

‘Oh, some celebrity bash she thinks you should go to. It will get plenty of coverage. Not inspired. But it’s a start. She’ll call you. Do what she says, Dom,’ he ended warningly. ‘She knows what’s she’s doing.’

Molly had obviously been waiting for Jay to finish the softening up process. She rang as soon as he’d put the phone down.

‘Hi, Dom. Party tonight. The Flamingo Pool,’ she said briskly. ‘Wear something tasty.’

Dom blinked. ‘Tasty?’

‘Something that will get you noticed. We need those photographs in the papers tomorrow.’

Dominic could not resist it. ‘You mean like a parka and goggles and no knickers?’

Molly choked on a laugh in spite of herself. ‘You can be a real pain in the ass,’ she informed him. ‘But you’re worth it for the cabaret. Go and rent yourself some designer togs and have a session on the sunbed. We’re talking serious crumpet for the thinking woman, here.’

Dominic’s heart sank. ‘Whose party?’ he said gloomily.

‘Pepper Calhoun. For her new business. Basically the fashion crowd,’ said Molly hardily. ‘I know it’s not your scene, but tough. Where there are frocks there are photographers. Where there are photographers there are celebrities. And where there are celebrities there are columnists. Write yourself two appealing sentences, learn them off by heart, then say them to everyone you meet.’

‘Sounds like a fun evening.’