TREACHEROUS
Barbara Taylor Bradford
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2014
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2014
Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com
Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers 2014
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © August 2014 ISBN: 9780007503414
Version: 2017-10-25
‘How easy it is, treachery. You just slide into it.’
Margaret Atwood
The Year of the Flood
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Keep Reading – Cavendon Hall
Keep Reading – Cavendon Women
Keep Reading – Hidden
About the Author
Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
About the Publisher
It was in the fifth grade, when they were ten, that Fiona Chambers crossed the soccer field to stand with, and up for, the new girl. Skinny, awkward, out of place at the posh prep school in New York, Hayley Martin had become a target for the establishment’s well-heeled bullies.
She was taunted about everything: her clothes, an unruly tangle of auburn curls, her status as a scholarship student, and the street slang that popped out of her mouth at inopportune times.
After an essay Hayley wrote about her time living in a homeless shelter was deemed best in the English class, and published in the school paper, the torment became almost intolerable.
Then one day Fiona walked over to the embattled girl, put an arm around her, and asked if they could sit together at lunch. That act of compassion changed everything for Hayley.
Fiona Chambers was a superstar. It wasn’t simply her classic blonde beauty, or her sense of humour, or the fact that she was very smart that drew people to her. Fiona had an inborn shimmer that could not be counterfeited. It was called charisma.
From that day forward, if anyone wanted to hang out with Fiona, they had to put up with this ‘rescue’ girl of hers. And just like that, Hayley was part of the in-crowd. In exchange, Fiona garnered the lifelong devotion of her new friend.
Well, lifelong is perhaps an overstatement. There would come a time when Hayley Martin’s raison d’être would be the complete and utter destruction of her former friend.
The transformation from acolyte to enemy was complicated. And perhaps it was inevitable.
‘I just don’t see how we can do it, Hayley,’ Fiona said. ‘We have the Met Costume Gala that Saturday, Cancer the following week, and the Whitney wedding two days later.’
‘For Luke Thompson, we’ll find a way. And could you say Cancer Benefit , please.’ Hayley wrinkled her nose. ‘Cancer next week doesn’t sound that festive. Just the opposite.’
Fiona laughed. ‘Point well taken.’
‘Listen, I’d set my hair on fire if Luke asked me to. He wants us to do this party, so we do it. And that’s that.’
Still shy as a fawn in public, Hayley was a different person when she and Fiona were alone. Smart, accomplished and irreverent. The two girls had become inseparable at Miss Porter’s School, and beyond. They were roommates in college, had backpacked around Europe after graduation, and eventually landed in a tiny apartment in St Mark’s Place on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
It was an ancient railroad flat, which meant that in 1910 three rooms were lined up in a row, like train carriages, and the bathtub was in the kitchen. It was a quirky little place but the girls loved it. The combination of Fiona’s creative ideas, and Hayley’s uncanny ability to transform dreams into reality, had changed an eyesore into a charming little gem. That rare blend of skills was to prove invaluable, when later they launched their joint venture from the fifth-floor walkup. They started an event planning company which they called Celebration.
Outsiders wondered what kind of glue made these two disparate personalities into such a cohesive team. It was simple really. Fiona admired Hayley’s grit and determination to overcome a background Dickensian in its bleakness. She took hard work and perseverance to a new level.
Hayley, on the other hand, was in awe of Fiona’s seemingly effortless ability to accomplish whatever she set out to do. And instead of being full of herself because of it, Fiona had a huge heart. She was capable of acts of profound compassion, such as taking a lonely young girl under her wing and changing her life.
This morning, twenty years after that event, the two women were sitting at the cluttered round table that served as an operations centre for Celebration . It was the spring of 2013, and they had a burgeoning business.
‘Could you not set your hair on fire, no matter who requests it,’ Fiona begged. ‘That blue tint you thought was so cool has almost grown out.’
‘If we do this for Luke, I promise I’ll only dye it colours found in nature,’ Hayley answered. ‘He’s family, Fiona. We taught each other how to kiss, underneath the stairs at that shelter on 86th Street.’
‘You never told me you were romantically involved with the hunkiest newsman on the air!’
Hayley laughed dismissively. ‘Hardly. I was eight, he was nine. And it wasn’t romance, it was a science experiment. When I was sent to Miss Porter’s, we swore to be friends for life, and we have been. Plus he looked after Mikey the best he could, after I’d gone.’
Fiona stiffened at the mention of Hayley’s younger brother. Mikey was trouble. But Hayley, who usually had an infallible radar about people, could not see it. She had practically raised the boy, in the absence of their will-o’-the-wisp mother, and in Hayley’s eyes he could do no wrong.
Fiona had an urge to say that Luke Thompson would have done better to watch out for the people Mikey conned, but she thought better of it. It would only upset Hayley. Instead, she said, ‘When am I going to get to meet this wonder?’
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