Chapter Three
The next day, after a late breakfast Paddy was finally on the road. Clem had flown back up to Scotland shortly after Nick had returned to London, so there was just Aster to say goodbye to. Hugging each other, Paddy had asked what Aster was going to do all by herself in the house and had to be satisfied with Aster’s raised eyebrow and one word answer. Indeed, what else would Aster do but study? But over the years, the sisters had all discovered that Aster studying meant a lot more than just reading books. God knows what she was going to discover.
Paddy hadn’t been to Cornwall before and was looking forward to it. Once her school had gone on a week to Devon but the family couldn’t afford it so her folks had taken them on a day trip to Brighton instead. She remembered jumping over the waves on the stony beach and screaming with delight. When her school friends came back full of gossip and tall tales, she was a little envious, but kept it hidden, focussing on how much fun she’d had with her family.
Smiling, Paddy had settled into her car and set off. Her MGB was her pride and joy and her sole extravagance. It was British racing green and she had taken it to a local garage to have lots of modern comforts fitted, including a system whereby she could hook her phone in and bring the vintage sports car right up to the twenty-first century. She had set up the satnav and had been surprised by her late arrival time; dismissing that as ridiculously overcautious, she dialled up some Vivaldi and hit the open roads.
As she joined the M25 two hours later, her phone rang and she tapped the clever talk pad that had been added to her steering wheel.
‘Hi Paddy, where are you?’
‘M25 – just got on.’ In the background Paddy could hear Ari relaying this information to Seb.
‘Were you delayed? Is the traffic bad?’
‘No, it’s all good. Aster and I had a late breakfast is all.’
‘You won’t get there till late. Shall I call the land agent for you?’
Paddy rolled her eyes. ‘Stop fussing and enjoy your honeymoon. I’m quite capable of calling the agent myself. Send my love to everyone. Got to go, roadworks.’
Hanging up, she felt a bit put out. The drive was boring and it would have been nice to have had someone to chat to for a bit, but not if they were going to fuss over her. The phone rang again and Paddy was immediately suspicious: had Ari hung up and called one of the others?
‘Clem! How lovely, how’s Scotland?’
‘Oh you know, same old nightmare. Look Paddy,’ said Clem, straight to the point. ‘Ari says you set off late. Seriously you don’t want to arrive at the house in the dark, it will be tough to find your way around.’
‘Stop it. This is ridiculous. When my flight to the Milan fashion show was cancelled, I had to catch trains all across Europe to get there on time; I arrived in the early hours and managed to get to the hotel, and then get to the morning rehearsals on time.’
‘But you speak Italian.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Clem! I speak bloody English. So what if I arrive late? The world won’t end, and if I can’t find the house I’ll sleep in the car.’
Clem swore down the line. ‘You’re five feet ten, how the hell will you sleep in the car? Plus you’ll freeze to death. You should break up the journey. Book into a Travelodge or something. Where are you now, I can find some—’
‘Seriously, Clem, I’m fine. Tell Ari I’m fine and leave me alone.’
Tapping the phone with more energy than was necessary she ended the conversation. This was ridiculous, they were dampening her mood. She was half expecting Nick to call next, it was no good, this was ruining her concentration. She switched on Radio 2 for a bit of company and distracted herself listening to a spirited conversation on whether the Royals were good for the country. Checking the satnav, she noticed that it hadn’t recalibrated much and it did indeed look like she was going to arrive after office hours. She pulled into the services and grabbed some fruit and water and then called their land agent in Cornwall. When she explained where she was, the agent agreed that she wouldn’t be there for hours. He suggested that he wait at the house for her, but she wouldn’t hear a word of it.
‘You leave the key under the mat, or wherever. Then in the morning, come over for coffee. You might need to bring the coffee though.’
She could tell that the agent wasn’t happy with that suggestion as he tried to push the point.
‘Lady Patricia, it won’t be too much trouble at all. We have taken care of the estate for your family for decades. It doesn’t feel right leaving the new heir to stumble around in the dark.’
‘Ah but I’m not the new heir, Mr Chadwell, I’m just her kid sister. Honestly, at the end of today go home, then tomorrow you can show me around properly.’
It took a bit more wrangling but finally she got him to give her detailed instructions regarding the last few miles of the journey. He told her he would leave the gates open and the front door key would be tucked behind the left-hand lion in front of the main door. It all sounded rather grand but then she was beginning to get used to that. Her mother’s family seemed to relish being grand. Driving on, the discussion had given way to the news and she switched over to Radio 3 and began directing the orchestra as the car sped on along the M4. She began to run through her head all the things that needed doing and tutted when she remembered that she hadn’t called Duncan back. Her agent had needed her forwarding address and she had promised to send it straightaway, but then Leo and Wills had come in with a beetle they had discovered, and she had become completely engrossed in playing with them. She loved her little nephews and was going to miss them terribly, stuck down in the wilds of Cornwall.
Calling Duncan up, she smiled as she heard his enthusiastic voice fill the car.
‘Have you changed your mind? Are you coming back? Please say you are coming back?’
As always, she felt a bit guilty that he was hungrier for her success than she was. He had convinced himself that she was just burnt out and that she would soon return to the industry, but since her change in fortunes he knew he was probably flogging a dead horse. He had never once questioned her work ethic but her heart just wasn’t in it; he knew she was working for her sisters, to support the family. To be a supermodel you needed to be doing it for yourself.
‘No, no and no.’ She laughed, happy to be chatting. Unlike her sisters, Duncan didn’t treat her as a child; he treated her as a serious professional. ‘Sorry Duncan, I’m still running off to the godforsaken ends of the universe, but you wanted the address? I think the Royal Mail extends to Cornwall?’
Like a lot of Londoners, Duncan couldn’t perceive an existence outside of his beloved city. Milan, New York, Tokyo were nothing but tolerable shadows. He had a house in Hampstead, which he considered the countryside. Or at least the only bit of countryside that he was interested in.
‘Very well, I’ll send them forward, I hope you have a letterbox large enough to go with that fancy address. There are a few contracts, and a couple of gorgeous photos for your model book but it’s mostly just presents. Bon Voyage gifts and the like. Stella has sent you a blanket and some sheepskin slippers, says you’re to find a rock on a beach to sit on and stare out to sea looking like a stranded mermaid, your hair dancing in the wind. John sent you a blouse from his Forbidden collection; not sure where the hell you will be able to wear that in public. Don’t they still stone witches down there?’
‘Duncan! Don’t be so rude, you think Hampshire is still in the dark ages.’
‘Hampshire is still in the dark ages. We went out to a weekend house party, last month, not a single parking meter accepted contactless!’
‘Shocking. I advise you never return,’ said Paddy with a twist to her lips.
‘I shan’t. Anyway, there’s lots of other bits and bobs. The divine Victoria sent you some trousers, and Carlotto sent you a framed photograph of himself. You know the one, where he’s staring into the lens like a raptor.’
‘Good grief, why on earth does he like that so much?’
‘I think he thinks it makes him look mean and manly.’
‘But he’s a teddy bear!’
‘Yes,’ Duncan drawled, ‘I rather think that’s the image he’s trying to distance himself from. Anyway, he said he wanted him to be the first person you think of when you decide to come back.’
Paddy frowned. If she hadn’t been driving, she’d have thrown her hands in the air in exasperation.
‘You have made it clear to everyone that I’m retiring, haven’t you?’
‘Be fair, you haven’t categorically said that. You said you were going to the country for a few months to consider your future options.’
Paddy could picture Duncan looking down the phone with a raised eyebrow. If she listened closely, she could probably hear his finger tapping on the desk.
‘Hmm. I suppose you’re right.’
‘Of course I’m right, plus it makes you even more attractive. That and the title.’
Now it was Paddy’s turn to raise her eyebrow.
‘Ah, come on now, Duncan, I don’t want anyone to be led on; I don’t want anyone to think I’m pulling a stunt to raise my profile.’
‘No one who knows you would ever think that. Trust me, you are straight as the day is long. That’s why everyone likes working with you so much.’
Changing the subject, they chatted for a while and caught up on some of the recent gossip. She was delighted to hear how everyone was doing but didn’t feel the slightest bit tempted to get back on the horse. They then discussed a few of her contracts and how they had been settled. Paddy had worked out every last contract preferring not to let anyone down and had a few ongoing campaigns that would still feature her. She may have stepped back for a bit but it was important to wind her brand down carefully, just in case she wanted to come back. Finally, the call came to an end as Duncan regretfully had to answer his other phone that had rung at least twice during their conversation.
The motorway continued and Paddy wondered if her day would ever end. The traffic was slow and tiresome. It was only four o’clock but she felt like she had been driving forever. Pulling in at Bristol services she was thrilled to arrive in what was considered to be the West Country. Surely it wouldn’t be much further now. Calling the land agent she told him where she was and was surprised when he laughed. Apparently, she was still several hours away. Sighing, she decided to stop for a bit to stretch her legs.
As she headed towards the services she was caught out by a squally shower and she pulled her bomber jacket over her head, sprinting along with others towards the front door. In an explosion of laughs and exclamations the crowd poured into the services shaking the water off their clothes, grinning at each other. For a moment they were all united in the need to escape the weather and then they separated back into their little groups in search of food, a quick coffee or simply a loo break. Paddy headed off towards the little shop, unaware or immune to the looks and double takes as she walked past people. She was wearing trainers, jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair was scrapped back and she had no make-up on but there was no mistaking the fact that she simply caught the eye. She was tall, striking and always smiling, it was a rare day when Paddy didn’t turn heads.
Grabbing some salads, snacks and a large coffee, she was distracted by her phone buzzing and she saw a text from Aster. It was a video clip of Lori, a model who had always caused Paddy trouble. In fairness, Lori caused all models trouble; she was vain, capricious and unkind and was incapable of playing nicely with others. Now, in the video, she was walking along the catwalk and appeared to upstage another model but got caught in her own outfit and stumbled, falling into the audience. Paddy tried not to laugh, but it was impossible, especially when the video stopped on her snarling face and exposed backside.
She tapped an emoji laugh back to Aster and decided to head off again. Her phone rang and expecting Aster, was delighted to see Nick’s details instead.
‘Hello, you, how’s it going? Conquered the Nikkei yet? Is the Dow Jones playing to your tune?’
‘Give them time.’ Nick was clearly calling from work; her voice had that brisk tone that meant her mind was whirring away on several problems at the same time. ‘Now look, Clem told me you set off late and won’t get to the house in the daylight. Where are you now?’
‘Bristol, but I—’
‘Jesus, is that all? You are definitely going to arrive in the dark. Make sure you call the land agent and tell him to wait on.’
‘I’ve already contacted him and told him to go home. He’s leaving the key for me and we will sort things in the morning.’
‘That’s outrageous. I’m going to call him. What the hell does he think he’s playing at?’
‘Nicki! Stop it. Stop overreacting. I’m quite capable of sorting things out. All I’ve had the whole drive is you three picking holes. Look I’m going to hang up. I love you all but you are doing my head in.’
The next ten minutes were a flurry of phone calls from various sisters and a deeply apologetic land agent. Having made him swear on his life that he was not to wait for her, she then sent out a group text to Ari, Clem and Nick telling them in no uncertain terms that they were to stop treating her like a child and to get off her back. Within a second her phone beeped and Aster had been added to the conversation. Followed by a text from Nick.
-You forgot to add Aster to the conversation so I’ve done it for you.
Paddy looked at her phone with incredulity. No one could make her as mad as her sisters. No one else in the world treated her like a child except for those three; she understood they were doing it out of love and they fully respected her as a model, never interfering in that, but in her everyday life, in her basic ability to function as a human being? They were all over that. She started to type and hit send.
-Ididn’t forget her. I didn’t include her because she hasn’t been a total bear’s arse. I am going to arrive in the dark, in the Cornish countryside ffs. Not Colombia. There are no drug lords, no terrorists, no volcanoes, no poisonous insects. I am twenty-four and have been working for the past eight years. I am not a baby, GET OFF MY SODDING BACK!’