Chapter 20
20
POPPY
‘And, Poppy, we’ll conclude with your update on the Kate Whitaker revenge case.’
I don’t like it being labelled a ‘revenge case’, but at least Ursula hasn’t insisted on naming it after a fairy tale, like she usually does. Anyway, it’s a minor quibble, so I smile serenely, then address my colleagues.
‘All aspects of the case are progressing well. The persona I’ve created – Penny Mullings – is engaging with Dunn daily via text messages and’ – I take a steeling breath – ‘we have a video call scheduled for tonight.’
Fellow agent Nasrin sends me a commiserating grimace across the table.
‘I know,’ I say to her. ‘I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s designed to progress the relationship with “Penny”. The aim is to prod Dunn into making a sizeable donation to our chosen not-for-profit. He has a track record of flashing his wealth about, so we have reason to be confident.’
‘Importantly,’ Ursula says to the others, ‘we’re not only hitting Dunn in his hip pocket, but also his ego. When it emerges that he’s donated to an arts’ education program – and we plan to make his donation as visible as possible – he will have to grin and bear it.’
‘Or suck it up, as we’d say in Australia,’ I add with a smile.
‘A charming expression, as always, Poppy,’ says Ursula with a sideways glance in my direction.
‘The other update,’ I continue, ‘is that Kate and the second fiancée’s brother, Willem de Vries, are off to Verona this afternoon where they will approach Lucia Rossi and inform her that Dunn isn’t who he says he is. They’re racing the clock, however, as there is every indication Dunn plans to propose to Rossi tomorrow evening.’
George, also an agent, raises his hand. To keep staff meetings running to time, we’re encouraged – rather, expected – not to interrupt another agent’s update, but I call on him. ‘Yes, George.’
‘Why isn’t the second fiancée going to Verona with your client? Why is it the brother?’
‘Well, if we were to ask them, I reckon they’d all have different reasons. The second fiancée – Adriana de Vries – is all for retribution and she’ll be here for the finale but, till then, her brother will act as her proxy. From what Kate tells me, she’s still processing the news about Dunn.’
‘And what about the brother?’ asks Nasrin. ‘Is he the vigilante type? He’s not gonna go all John Wick on this bloke, is he?’
There are sniggers around the table. ‘Er, not to my knowledge, no,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Marie Maillot has vouched for him, so we should be safe on that front.’
George raises his hand again.
‘That’s enough for now,’ says Paloma. ‘If you have follow-up questions for Poppy, talk to her afterwards. Thank you, everyone.’
Most of my colleagues disperse, but George stays back and so does Freya, my closest friend at the agency.
‘You want the goss, don’t you?’ I ask them.
‘Well, obvs,’ George replies with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
‘I do too, Poppy,’ says Freya. ‘I mean, don’t you think it’s a little…’
She trails off, leaving the rest of her thought unsaid, one of her endearing foibles, and George seamlessly finishes her thought with, ‘ Suspect? ’
‘The entire case is suspect – which part are you referring to?’ I ask, looking between them.
They exchange a glance, which tells me they’ve already discussed this.
‘Well?’ I press.
‘Your client and the brother,’ George states, hands on his hips.
How did I not see that coming? Maybe having to sully my Friday night by talking to Dunn has distracted me.
‘Agreed,’ I reply. ‘I’m suss about that part too.’
George’s eyes light up. ‘I did wonder. So, are they… you know?’ He waggles his brows.
‘George, you’re a grown man. Just ask if they’re sleeping together instead of talking like a self-conscious teenager.’
‘Are they?’ Freya asks.
‘Actually, I’m not sure.’
‘Oh,’ they sigh in disappointed unison.
‘Because de Vries is hot , Poppy,’ says George. ‘If it were me – if I were in your client’s position – I’d have climbed him like a tree by now.’
‘Setting aside that rather graphic imagery, how do you know anything about him? I’ve barely mentioned him in my briefings.’
He tips his head to one side. ‘Poppy, how many times do I have to tell you? I have excellent hearing – there’s nothing happening in this office that I’m not aware of. And I was curious.’ He shrugs, as if that excuses him snooping around my case.
‘Well, as you’ve so astutely guessed, I’m concerned that Kate is unwittingly transferring her feelings from Dunn to de Vries. Although…’ My gaze unfocuses as I sift through my concerns, still unsure where to land.
‘ Poppy ,’ says Freya, and my attention returns to the conference room.
‘Sorry.’
‘Although what ?’ George prods.
‘It could be that Willem de Vries is actually Kate’s perfect match. Every time she mentions him, her cheeks flush, but underneath the outward display, there’s this calm contentedness about her. It’s a vast contrast to when we’re discussing Jon Dunn.’
Freya grins, clapping her hands softly beneath her chin. She’s a die-hard romantic and even in a case that’s ostensibly ‘a revenge case’ (no matter how unpleasant it is to admit that), she’ll want an HEA for our client. And if anyone deserves a happily ever after, it’s Kate Whitaker.
‘So, how are you going to help make that happen?’ George asks – a timely reminder of my actual role at Ever After.
‘That’s a good question,’ I reply. ‘Hmm.’
‘Well, you said they’re going to Verona together…’ says George. ‘What if there was an issue with their accommodation and they had to – I don’t know – share a hotel room?’
I give him a sceptical, oh-come-on look. ‘The one-bed thing? That only works in romcoms, George.’
‘That’s not true,’ he retorts. ‘My friends, Luca and Alistair, got together because of a room mix-up. A group of us rented a chateau in the south of France and we thought it had enough bedrooms for each of us to have our own. It didn’t and guess who volunteered to share? They’ve been together two years now.’
‘Could Marie help?’ Freya asks. ‘With the hotel reservations?’
‘Probably,’ I reply, looking at them in turn. ‘Do you really think this could work?’
‘If they’re not into it – or each other – they’ll go somewhere else, make other arrangements,’ says George. ‘And if they are… they’ll make it work – even if they pretend to be put out by the inconvenience.’
‘Hmm.’ Am I really considering playing matchmaker in the middle of this complicated case?
Freya, who seems to understand my hesitation, places a hand on my shoulder. ‘I suppose you just need to decide, Poppy. Do you think it’s too soon for Kate to be pursuing romance with someone else, or is this exactly what she needs to move on with her life?’
This is one of the most difficult aspects of matchmaking – having to make a call on behalf of the client, particularly a call they might disagree with.
‘Look,’ says George, ‘if you do nothing, it could eventuate anyway. They could get together on their own.’
‘Yes, but what you said just now, Frey… about Kate moving on with her life. Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe Kate spending time with Willem de Vries is exactly what she needs – especially as he’s such a vast contrast to Dunn.’
‘Most people are,’ says George, and I nod in agreement.
‘So, where are you landing?’ asks Freya. ‘See how things go on their own, or give them a little nudge so they fall madly in love?’
I snigger. ‘That’s quite the binary view, Frey.’
She shrugs unapologetically.
‘I suppose it can’t hurt to meddle,’ I say, making them both wince. Fair – because in our line of work, the word ‘meddle’ has particularly negative connotations. We prefer ‘intervening’.
‘Sorry, it can’t hurt to create a situation in which my client might fall madly in love,’ I say, and they both smile. ‘As you said, George, if I’ve misread the situation – or if one of them isn’t into the other – they’ll simply make other arrangements.’
‘Oh, they won’t do that,’ says Freya, and I let it slide, even though she clearly considers it a sure thing. We can hope for an outcome but expecting it can lead to disappointment.
‘I’ll give Marie a call,’ I say, trusting that for Marie, this latest request will be a piece of cake. ‘And thanks – both of you. It’s been really helpful talking it through.’
‘You’re welcome,’ they reply together.
‘And, Poppy,’ says Freya, ‘good luck tonight. Freddie and I are having a night in, so if you need to debrief afterwards, give me a call.’
‘Thanks, Frey,’ I reply, my stomach clenching with nerves.
Now that we’ve got a course of action for progressing Kate towards an HEA, the focus is back on me and Penny.
Ugh, how did I ever agree to this?
* * *
When I emerge from the guest room after my call with Jon Dunn, wearing pyjamas to give the illusion of it being morning in Melbourne, Tristan looks up from the book he’s reading and inverts it on the sofa.
‘How was it?’ he asks.
I squirm from top to toe, then shake out my hands.
‘That good, eh?’
‘I feel disgusting. He’s so awful , Tris.’
‘Well, you are comparing him to me,’ he says, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
I give him a lipless smile.
‘Come here, darling.’ Tristan pats the sofa and I go to him, accepting the offered hug. Eventually, I gently ease away and face him, rocking back on my heels.
‘You know, on the one hand, I can understand how he manages to charm these women, but on the other…’ I shudder, revolted, and Tristan reaches for my hand.
‘Do you think your reaction is because you’re privy to who he really is?’
‘Oh, absolutely. And that’s the thing – if I were in Kate’s situation, I’m not sure I’d see past his charm offensive – not at first anyway. He’s just so… calculating .’
‘Where did you leave it?’ he asks.
‘Well, that seed I planted – him having to front up with a donation to get me back to London – it seems to be germinating. Especially ’cause I laid it on extra thick: I can’t stop thinking about him… I want to return to London as soon as possible… Maybe I’m better at role playing than I thought.’
‘Mmm,’ he murmurs; it’s clear how much this bothers him. ‘And there’s one more thing I’m curious about,’ he says.
‘What’s that?’
‘You want him to donate to the Creative Futures Foundation, but won’t that become obvious to him at some point – that it’s an arts’ program?’
‘Ah, well Marie did some digging, and it turns out to be a subsidiary. If Dunn does agree to cut a cheque, it will be to the parent organisation, which deals in broader educational objectives – likely far more palatable to Dunn. And Saskia has agreed to don her solicitor’s hat again to draw up the contract. She’s confident we’ll be able to cover the paper trail until it’s time to reveal where the money’s really gone.’
‘Is that legal?’ he asks, giving me the side-eye.
‘It’s Saskia, not Marie. If she’s overseeing it then, yes, it will be legal. Now,’ I say, getting up from the sofa, ‘I’m going to shower.’
‘Any chance that’s an invitation?’
If anything can wash away the residue of talking to that ghastly man, it’s a romp in the shower with my handsome hubby. I reach for his hand, and he grins.
* * *
Kate
It’s like déjà vu being back in the airport lounge on a Friday night, waiting to fly to Europe. Only this time, I’m going straight to Verona and Willem is meeting me at the hotel.
Willem. The man has dominated my thoughts all week.
When I first wake up. As I’m getting ready for work. On my commute to the office. Between meetings. During lunch. At my desk when I should be working. On my commute home. And when I lay my head on my pillow at night… Willem, Willem, Willem.
I’m like a teenager with a crush on the cute boy at school – moments away from scribbling his name on my folder in loopy lettering, then drawing a heart around it.
Though, Willem hasn’t been the only thing on my mind. There’s also what Poppy said to me on Sunday and Margot’s warning from Monday night.
It can take time to heal… Meaning: don’t rush into anything.
Be careful with your heart … Meaning: don’t rush into anything.
Is that what I’m doing, monkey-barring from one man to the next before I’ve properly recovered from Jon’s betrayal?
Before he and I started seeing each other, I was ‘chronically single’, as Margot liked to say. I’d gone years without being in a serious relationship. Have I now become the type of woman who struggles with being single?
As I sip my pint of beer, I scrutinise the question. No , I tell myself. If Willem weren’t a part of the equation, I would happily move on from Jon, content to be on my own until I got up the nerve to ‘get back out there’ – another of Margot’s favourite soundbites, even though she doesn’t follow her own advice.
Willem’s on my mind because it’s him , not because I’m desperate to be with someone and he just happens to be around.
Right?
I let out a lazy sigh. Maybe I won’t know for sure until I see him again.
I picture his blue eyes… How they’re framed with lashes so thick, he could star in a mascara advert… How that shirt he wore to dinner in Amsterdam matched their shade exactly… How they crinkle slightly at the corners when he’s trying not to let on he’s amused, betraying him… How they linger on mine when he’s mulling over what to say next…
My phone rings, cutting through my romantic musings, and I answer it without checking who’s calling, expecting it to be Margot.
‘Hiya,’ I chirrup.
‘Hello, Kate.’
I plummet back to reality with a thud.
‘Jon,’ I say, my mouth suddenly dry.
I take a swig of beer – as much for the Dutch courage as to quench my thirst. I cannot let on that this call is anything but a welcome surprise.
‘I’ve missed you, darling. I so wish I could have seen you this week,’ he says.
Has his voice always had that whiny quality? I wonder.
‘It’s a shame,’ I reply.
He’ll take that at face value, no doubt, even though I’ve internally imbued it with a different meaning. It’s a shame you’re such a lying, conniving, spineless snake, Arseface.
‘Indeed.’
An idea pops into my mind, and I act on it before I can second-guess myself. ‘What about this weekend?’ I ask cheerfully. ‘I’m as free as a bird tomorrow – and Sunday.’
My heart is in my throat as I wait for him to respond.
‘Oh, darling, I wish , but I’ve got to be in Frankfurt first thing to pick up the Tokyo route.’
‘ Oh, no ,’ I whine, doing a brilliant job of sounding devastated (if I do say so myself). ‘That’s such a pity. I haven’t seen you in an age .’
‘I know , darling,’ he says in the most patronising tone. If he tosses in a ‘there, there’ I won’t be surprised. ‘That’s why the phone call,’ he adds. ‘I’ve missed your voice.’
‘Aww, how lovely,’ I say, sounding as if I mean it.
I glance at my half-drunk beer. Either it has magical properties, or I’m in a far better place than I thought I was when it comes to Jon. I’m actually enjoying this, stringing him along.
‘Look, I best be getting on – flight preparation.’
‘Oh, right. Very important.’
‘I’ll let you know when I’m back in London. Hopefully sooner rather than later.’
Trotting out the typical bog-standard vagueness, I see. Jon has rarely ever committed to a specific date more than a few days out, something I only realised recently when combing over our entire relationship.
‘Of course,’ I say reassuringly.
‘Bye, darling. Love you.’
‘Byeeee,’ I sing-song.
I will happily lie to Jon about most things, but he will never get another ‘I love you’ from my lips. I’d sooner lick a public toilet seat.