Tasmina Perry - Original Sin

Brooke took a deep breath through her nose and willed herself not to get upset. It’s only a venue , she reminded herself. It doesn’t mean anything. But suddenly she thought of the shooting star in Paris, only this time the glittering orb was obscured by a big grey cloud.

Wendell took a step forward and rubbed Brooke’s arm kindly. ‘Perhaps you should reconsider our place in Newport?’ he said.

Brooke had a sudden flutter of panic, feeling the wedding getting further and further from the vision she had always had of her perfect day: a relaxed, happy, perfect occasion with the barefoot bride saying her vows next to lapping water. Yes, Cliffpoint, the Billingtons’ summer ‘cottage’, as David liked to call it, was majestic, but it was like a museum, so manicured and painstakingly tended. Brooke wanted wildness, rawness, the romance of nature. She didn’t want Cliffpoint, or Lily Salter as her bridesmaid. Wasn’t planning your wedding supposed to be fun?

‘Surely Cliffpoint would be perfect for a spring wedding, don’t you agree, Meredith?’ continued Wendell. ‘We have to make sure we’re sending out the right signals. Family values are important to us.’

Meredith looked conflicted, although she was disguising it well.

‘Thank you for your suggestion, Wendell,’ said a deep voice, ‘but it’s all under control.’

Just then Brooke felt two warm hands on her shoulders and turned to see a handsome older man smiling down at her. It was her Uncle Leonard. Leonard was Meredith’s brother, younger by a couple of years, and he had taken on a fatherly role since the death of Brooke’s own father. Brooke smiled back at him gratefully; his was just the friendly face she needed when she was feeling under such pressure.

‘I’ve offered Brooke and David Jewel Cay,’ said Leonard smoothly. ‘We think it will be perfect. Keeps it in the family too. Didn’t you tell them Brooke? David and I have just been discussing it.’

Brooke caught Leonard’s lightning-fast wink, then took a slow, deliberate sip of champagne to cover her grin. David walked over and gave her a reassuring nod.

‘Jewel Cay? What’s that?’ said Alessandro, clearly searching his mental database for a mention of the venue.

‘It’s my house in the Florida Keys,’ replied Leonard. ‘I didn’t want to offer it before; didn’t want to butt in on the bride’s big day.’

‘Oh but it’s gorgeous,’ gushed Brooke, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it before. ‘It’s a beautiful big white conch house on its own little island, a few miles from Islamorada. We used to go every winter. It would be ideal, Uncle Leonard!’

David nodded. ‘And the weather is perfect from late November,’ he said, smiling at Brooke’s delight. ‘The hurricane season will be over. It won’t be too hot.’

‘A winter wedding,’ smiled Brooke, grabbing David’s arm and squeezing.

‘What about New Year’s Eve?’ he asked.

Alessandro raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the party. ‘Impossible. Half this crowd will be in St Barts or Palm Beach.’

‘Well, if they’ve got better things to do, then we’ll uninvite them,’ said Brooke happily.

‘Thinking about security,’ said Wendell, stroking his chin, ‘it might be a good thing if the world thinks it’s going to be at Hudson Lodge sometime next summer. I’ll speak to my contacts in Dubai. Get in touch with the new owner. See if they’ll be in on it.’

‘It couldn’t have worked out better,’ said Brooke, throwing her arms around Leonard’s neck. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’

Leonard picked her up and laughed. ‘I take it that’s a yes, then?’

All her life, Tess had wanted money. Not in the way Dom liked money: to keep up with or show off to his coterie of privileged public-school friends. Tess wanted money because she had never had it growing up. The bankruptcy of her father’s business had not only destroyed the family, it had destroyed his self-worth because the bank – and your fellow men – judged you on your ability to pay your bills. Her father had died unhappy because he felt he had failed his family, failed as a man. Tess never wanted anybody to make her feel inferior, and it had fed her ambition like petrol on a bonfire. The red soles on her Louboutin shoes were a statement that she could afford nice things, but also that she could take care of herself. She loved ticking the ‘Over seventy-five thousand pounds’ income bracket on magazine questionnaires, and was one of the few people who actually enjoyed getting accosted by the charity muggers on the high street, as when she signed the direct debit form, she felt she was in control. So, if she was honest, when Meredith Asgill had offered her the job of family publicist, the only thing that had really stopped Tess taking the job immediately was that niggling feeling that the job was a mirage. After all, this was a clever, influential family who had no qualms about offering Tess a large bribe to make a story disappear. QED, there was a strong chance that the high-paying job in New York – a city that every ambitious twenty-something wanted to work in – was simply a more acceptable bribe.

During dinner at the Connaught the previous evening, Meredith had certainly spun some wonderful tales about life in Manhattan that were clearly designed to whet a young girl’s appetite for the glamorous excesses of living in New York. But Tess was still concerned that the ‘job’ was the equivalent of the ‘project development’ room at the Globe , the sideways promotion given to troublesome or failing executives. It was not a proper job, just a well-paid purgatory to keep the marked person busy until the CEO and their team of lawyers had worked out an inexpensive way to fire them.

But now, after Charles Devine’s revelations, it looked as if Tess had been mistaken about Meredith’s offer. There really was a job to be done protecting the Asgills. There were secrets. Plenty of secrets. And Tess’s gut feeling – a reliable instinct honed on the tabloid frontlines – was that there were plenty more skeletons still rattling away in the cupboard.

Tess looked out over the crowd and spotted Meredith on the other side of the ballroom. Catching her eye, Meredith began to walk across the dance floor towards her, gliding like a peacock, her chin lifted, her back straight, the silk skirt of her gown rustling as she walked. She looked like a czarina, the most refined sixty-something Tess had ever seen.

‘Tess. Are you having a good time?’

Meredith looked composed as she played with the stem of her martini glass, but her eyes had the jubilant look of a lottery winner.

‘Incredible party,’ nodded Tess. ‘I heard someone say that David’s mum pulled this all together in a fortnight?’

‘She’s very experienced at get-togethers,’ said Meredith gracefully. ‘I only wish she could have persuaded David to say a few words. He’s such a wonderful speaker. But the pair of them wanted to keep things as informal as possible.’

Tess smiled crookedly. ‘If they wanted informal, they shouldn’t have had it at Belcourt. Buckingham Palace would have been more low-key.’

Meredith just nodded.

‘So is Sean here?’ asked Tess.

‘He’s in Minnesota,’ said Meredith evenly, holding Tess’s gaze. ‘Rehabilitating.’

‘Good. I’m glad to hear he’s getting better.’

Meredith nodded over towards Dom, who was laughing with a group of young girls and waving a bottle of champagne about in illustration of some story he was telling. ‘Is your boyfriend enjoying himself?’

‘He likes it here,’ said Tess, carefully covering her annoyance at the jibe. ‘He was wondering – if I took the job – whether a visa could be sorted out for him too?’