Barbara Taylor Bradford - Treacherous

The investigative reporter was a household name, and Fiona admired him for the work he did. And he was a champion of the underdog, which made him extra special to her.

‘He’s hard to pin down. He’s always flying around the globe, covering disasters. Or exposing corruption,’ Hayley replied. ‘But when we plan this party for him, which we absolutely, positively must , you’ll finally meet him.’ Although she was usually indifferent about such things, she was growing agitated. ‘His television team is getting the Edward R. Murrow Award for their reporting on human trafficking.’

‘Talk about festive,’ Fiona murmured, raising a brow.

‘Figure it out, Fiona. Please.’

Fiona studied her friend. ‘You’re practically shaking, Hayley. Are you sure you don’t have strong feelings for Luke?’

‘Of course I have feelings for him. But not the kind you’re thinking. He’s like a brother. Romance would be like incest! Ick.’ She made a face, grimacing.

‘Okay, okay. Got it,’ Fiona said, examining the huge calendar that was displayed on the wall opposite. It was covered with neat printing which denoted events scheduled well into the next year. It hadn’t always been that way.

For the first few years, Celebration’ s calendar was practically blank. A small wedding, a party on election night. They had even agreed to do a child’s birthday party. Anything to get them noticed by the people who gave the glittering events for which New York was famous.

The girls had supported themselves, and the fledgling business, by taking on any job they could get, sometimes two jobs at a time. They did telemarketing, dog walking, were even cocktail waitresses in a club that catered to ‘gentlemen in the sanitation removal business’. More precisely, wise guys connected to the mob.

No one had told them this, but it took Hayley, with her street background, only a few seconds to make that call. But even though the guys were connected to the Mafia, they were good tippers, and treated the girls with their version of respect. So they stayed and worked at the club.

There was one job Fiona had taken which was never, ever discussed, even by the two friends who shared everything. At one moment in time, Hayley stumbled on the truth of what Fiona had been doing on weekends, and it staggered her. ‘Why, Fiona? Why would you , of all people, do something like that?’ She had sounded horrified.

Fiona’s response had been dramatic. She had walked out of the apartment and disappeared for two days. The subject was never broached again. Some things, Hayley knew from experience, were best not spoken about.

There was no need for second jobs to pay the rent these days. When someone was planning a grand event in New York City, Celebration more often than not received the first call. They had even been able to move their company uptown, to a building with an elevator in the more socially acceptable East Sixties.

Oddly enough, it was the birthday party for a ten-year-old that had put them on the map. The child’s grandmother was a well-known socialite. She had a wonderful time playing the old-fashioned carnival games the girls had rented and, with a word from her, the bookings started to come pouring in.

‘If it’s so important to you, Hayley, that we do Luke’s party, I’ll make it work.’ Fiona was moving things around on the calendar. ‘Who do I speak with to confirm?’

‘Oh, I already told them we’d do it.’ Hayley smiled innocently at Fiona. ‘I knew you’d make it happen.’

‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘So I’ve been told. Anyway, all you have to do is meet with Luke, and find out what sort of evening he’ll be comfortable with. He doesn’t like a lot of fuss.’

‘Hayley, he’s your friend. You should meet with him.’

The colour drained from Hayley’s face. ‘You know I can’t do that! I don’t do meetings. That’s your department.’

Hayley and Fiona were equal partners in their business, but the roles carved out in that school yard long ago never changed. It seemed natural that Fiona, with her inventiveness and easy way with people, would be the face of the business. She was the one who met with potential clients to plan the event, was photographed accepting thanks from socialites, senators and honorees for a perfectly planned occasion.

It was Hayley who, by choice, laboured in the background, executing that perfect planning. While Fiona escorted the guest of honour to his seat, Hayley was in the kitchen making sure the caterer remembered which of the guests was lactose intolerant or had other food issues.

Fiona never meant to steal the spotlight. Like most truly magnetic people, she just walked into a room and dazzled. Hayley, on the other hand, walked into a room and disappeared. And she was content with that arrangement. Until one day she wasn’t. And then everything changed.

‘All right, don’t panic,’ Fiona now said. ‘I’ll meet with the great man. Who knows, maybe he’ll teach me how to kiss, too. I could use a little help in that regard. I haven’t had a date in three months.’

Fiona had turned away, studying the calendar, and didn’t see the stricken look settle on Hayley’s face.

It was late when Hayley let herself into her apartment on East 86th Street. The building was a luxury high-rise with a doorman. It was a far cry from the shelter down the street where she, Mikey and Luke had spent far too much time as children. She always shrivelled inside when she thought of that place.

Once Celebration started making money, she and Fiona had decided to have separate apartments. When they lived together they would come home from the office and talk business until it was time to go to bed.

Even now they’d spend half the evening on the phone, going over details of whatever event they were planning. But this new living arrangement allowed them to think about something else, at least for a few hours every day.

There was another reason Hayley wanted her own place, but she would never admit it to Fiona. She needed to have somewhere for her brother to crash when he got into one of his scrapes, as he called them. Like getting evicted, or beaten up for not paying a debt to the wrong people. She knew Mikey was a mess, but he was her mess. And she wasn’t about to run away from her responsibilities, like their mother had done.

Fiona was well aware that Hayley was constantly rescuing her brother, and Hayley knew she knew, but it was another one of those things they never discussed.

Hayley poured a glass of wine, clicked on the television and curled up in her favourite spot. It was an enormous wing chair, more suitable for a wrestler than a slender slip of a girl who was all of five foot two with shoes on. She had paid thirty-two dollars for the chair at one of the many charity thrift shops that dotted First Avenue, and managed to get it home tied on top of a yellow cab. She had reupholstered it herself in rich emerald-green velvet, the colour of her eyes. When she had lived at the shelter down the street, she had dreamed of having a real home one day, and a special chair. Now she had both.

She was later than usual, and Luke’s news show was almost over. She watched him every night. At the end of every broadcast, he looked into the camera and said, ‘I’m Luke Thompson and I wish you a goodnight.’ She liked to fantasize that he was talking only to her.

‘I wish you goodnight too, Luke,’ she said to the screen.

She froze the frame and studied his face. His dark hair was prematurely greying at the temples, but it only served to make him look sexier, if that was possible. He had grey eyes with thick lashes, but he was all man, cut from the same cloth as old-time movie stars like Clark Gable. She tried to fathom what his home was like, who he would have dinner with tonight, and who he loved.