Chapter 55
Four months later
From the glass-enclosed fifteenth floor of the publisher’s London headquarters overlooking the Thames, the view was one of the most spectacular in the city. Every building glittered with lights, which were reflected in the surface of the river below. There, across the water and over to the right, was the London Eye. Look left and you were greeted with the sight of the Shard and the Gherkin, whilst directly opposite stood the OXO tower. There was an almost full moon overhead and the sky was faintly speckled with stars. It was seven thirty on a cool evening in late October and Lizzie had come out onto the roof terrace, mentally preparing herself for the party ahead. She’d flown over today, along with her mother, Vivienne, for tonight’s launch party then a hectic seven days of scheduled TV appearances, radio interviews and book signings. For the past sixteen weeks she’d been in LA filming Catch the Cassidys with its ensemble cast of well-regarded actors, and word had rapidly spread that this was a film on course to become a huge success. Similarly, in the last fortnight, her autobiography had been garnering better advance reviews than she’d ever imagined. It was both funny and emotional, early readers had reported, and her honesty and irreverence made for a hugely entertaining read. Similarly, great things were being predicted for her career in the years ahead.
Little did any of them know what she’d planned for herself.
The glass doors slid open behind her and she heard footsteps racing across the rooftop garden towards her.
‘Look at you!’ Overjoyed, she wrapped her arms around Maeve, who was wearing the scent she’d bought her for her birthday. ‘It’s so good to see you again – and you’re looking fantastic!’
Maeve’s eyes were bright, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘I’m loving every minute of uni. The people I’m sharing with in halls are just the best.’
Lizzie already knew this, because she and Matthew and Maeve had a WhatsApp group with messages and little videos zapping back and forth daily.
The moment Carla had got wind via Cami of the tale of the serendipitous connection between Lizzie and Maeve, she had insisted on having it included in the book. Initially doubtful, because she hadn’t wanted to be seen as using the story for her own ends, Lizzie had found herself briskly overruled by Matthew and Maeve, who felt that the story deserved to be told. Cami had promptly sprung into action, and an extra chapter had been written and legalled in under twenty-four hours, literally the day before the autobiography had gone to press.
She gave Maeve another squeezy hug. ‘And your dad’s still doing well. I thought he’d find it so hard, not having you at home with him.’
‘I know, it’s almost insulting! I mean, I didn’t want him to be completely miserable, but I thought he’d miss me more than he is. A couple of weeks ago I was planning to go down for the weekend but he said not to bother because he had so much on.’
Lizzie smiled and nodded, whilst inwardly hoping he hadn’t met the woman of his dreams at some social event or other.
The good news was that they’d remained close friends despite the physical distance between them. She had maintained her cheerfully casual front and so had Matthew, and when he’d flown out to LA for a week in August they’d had a truly memorable time, both in bed and out of it, and had agreed that such occasional visits while they were both single was fine. It had hurt deep down that Matthew had seemed to feel that one visit was enough, but Lizzie reminded herself that it was undoubtedly better than not seeing him at all.
The other good news was that now that Maeve knew her dad wasn’t devastated, she no longer fretted about the relationship.
Through the glass walls of the fifteenth floor, Lizzie saw that the first guests were starting to pile in. The catering staff were bringing out canapés, trays of drinks were being passed around and people were greeting each other with enthusiasm. There were friends and fellow actors she knew, as well as people she didn’t recognise, book bloggers and journalists at a guess. From out here she could also see Jed and Esme, now very much together, and Hugo and Cami, who were still just good friends, but who knew what the future might hold?
Her phone and Maeve’s went ting in unison and they simultaneously looked at the message Matthew had sent them.
Train delayed, should be there by eight. See you soon. Xx
Not what you wanted to hear when you’d been silently counting down the days, then the hours, then the minutes. Lizzie concealed her disappointment. Still, at least he was on his way.
‘Poor Dad, he hates being late. Ooh, there’s Billy – doesn’t he look smart tonight!’ Spotting him through the glass, Maeve waved madly to attract his attention. Two months ago, Lizzie’s home in LA had been filmed for a popular TV series about interior design, and the three paintings she’d bought from Billy had featured prominently, attracting great interest from viewers and celebrities alike. Now he was booked up until next spring with commissions and had been approached by a prestigious gallery in Kensington about a solo exhibition next summer. If clients fell in love with an artist’s work, Billy had been relieved to discover, it wasn’t necessary to have model looks and to be filmed dancing around in front of an easel.
It was years since Lizzie’s mother had last visited London, and since the party wasn’t due to start just yet, she’d made her way down to the ground floor in one of the lifts and explained to the security guy on the door that she was popping out for some fresh air.
It wasn’t true; Vivienne wanted to experience the buzz of the big city at close quarters, to breathe in the traffic fumes and the oily smell of the Thames. After so many years in LA, with its year-round sunshine and pastel perfection, she’d found herself wondering recently if maybe enough was enough. Could it be time to come home and embrace the quirky, rainy, unpredictable joys of Britain?
She watched as a gleaming black cab pulled up at the kerb and a middle-aged man stepped out, then smiled when she saw him glance up at the impressive glass-and-steel frontage of the publishing house, hesitate, check his watch, then hesitate some more. It was a reaction she recognised only too well from her years of half-hearted attempts at attending singles events, because friends had kept telling her to get herself out there if she wanted to find a nice man.
Except the thing about LA, Vivienne had learned long ago, was that the ocean might look enticing but there were precious few decent fish in it. Nice men these days were practically extinct.
This one, smartly dressed in a navy suit and wearing an elegant pink tie, was still looking at the entrance and hesitating. Recognising how he was feeling gave Vivienne the confidence to catch his eye. ‘Always awkward, isn’t it, knowing when to go in? Nothing worse than arriving too early.’
The man nodded in agreement, his own smile wry. ‘The very worst. Hardly knowing anyone and not being the best at small talk. It can be ghastly.’
Ghaarrstly , how intoxicating it was to hear his beautiful Downton -style accent. Delighted, and relaxing still further, Vivienne gave a faux shudder of sympathy. ‘Nightmare. I only know one person up there and she’s going to be too busy to speak to me. I mean, I’m sure everyone’s really lovely, but how are you supposed to start up a conversation with a complete stranger?’
He nodded. ‘I know. I missed the memo when we were taught that lesson. I nearly didn’t come tonight, but when you’ve been invited, it seems churlish not to.’ His tone rueful, he added, ‘I think I’m too polite for my own good.’
‘I once went to a singles party,’ Vivienne confided, ‘and lasted four minutes. I tried to introduce myself to someone and they said, “Sorry,” and walked away.’
‘That’s just plain rude. And it’s their loss.’
She breathed in a faint waft of his aftershave, redolent of orange groves and entirely delicious. ‘I know, but I couldn’t handle it. Everyone was looking at me. So I turned round and went home.’
‘Well, you’re looking very nice tonight. I’m sure that won’t happen and you’ll have people flocking around you. I do like your dress, by the way.’
‘Thank you! I was admiring your pink tie. And your suit . . . and you smell great too! Sorry, I’m sounding a bit deranged now, but it’s true.’
His smile broadened. ‘Seeing as we don’t know other people, maybe we could head up together?’
While they’d been chatting out here on the pavement, more guests had been queuing up to get into the building. ‘I’d love that,’ Vivienne exclaimed with relief. ‘Thank you!’
As he showed his invitation to the woman ticking off names on a clipboard, they heard a man with a willowy blonde companion arguing with the security guy, shouting that he didn’t have an official invite but he knew Lizzie Rafferty and she’d definitely want him to be there.
‘If you aren’t on the list,’ the security man was patiently repeating, ‘I’m afraid we can’t let you in.’
‘Look, just call up and tell her it’s Tristan Peverell down here. My girlfriend really wants to meet her.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said the security guy. ‘The answer’s still no.’
Upstairs, the venue was filling up fast. Vivienne waved at her daughter, who came hurrying over. ‘There you are,’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘I wondered where you’d got to!’ Then she spotted Vivienne’s companion and did a double-take. ‘Oh, hello!’
Surprised, Vivienne turned to him. ‘I thought you didn’t know anyone here.’
‘I don’t. Only Lizzie and her editor. But no one else.’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘And it seems you know Lizzie too?’
‘I’m her mum,’ said Vivienne, and he started to laugh.
‘Really? I’m her nemesis.’
Lizzie stepped forward to greet him with a hug. ‘You were my nemesis,’ she corrected him. ‘We’re friends now. Mum, this is Piers Sanders. He’s the one who wrote the book that Niall’s turning into a film. It’s going into production next week and—’
‘Oh, it’s you .’ Vivienne stared at him. ‘I had no idea! And goodness, how funny, you should have heard the things my daughter said about you back in the spring!’
‘We got off on the wrong foot,’ Piers agreed equably. ‘Neither of us made a great first impression. But that’s all in the past now. Lizzie did a good thing when she got me that film deal and I can’t thank her enough. I’m flying over next Thursday to meet the cast and crew and watch the first scenes being shot, and those are words I never imagined I’d hear myself saying.’
Vivienne’s eyes widened with delight. ‘I’m flying back to LA on Thursday too.’
‘Hello, Piers!’ Lizzie’s editor came up to them. ‘Can I steal you away for just a moment? An actor friend of Lizzie’s would love to meet you.’
When he’d gone, Vivienne clutched her daughter’s arm and whispered, ‘He’s so handsome! And charming!’
What an evening this was turning out to be. Her gaze straying across the room to where Piers was now standing with his back to her, she hoped he wouldn’t be trapped with the actor for too long.
‘Where are you going?’ said Lizzie.
‘Just nipping to the loo, darling. Won’t be long.’ Vivienne had been seized with the sudden urge to redo her lipstick and check that her hair hadn’t been blown about outside. She wanted to make sure she was looking her absolute best.