Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Next morning I feel a bit dazed. Charleston music is ringing in my ears and I keep having flashbacks to being The Great Lara. The whole thing feels like a dream.
Except it’s not a dream, because Clare Fortescue’s résumé is already in my in-box when I arrive at work. Result!
Kate’s eyes are like saucers as I print out the email.
“Who on earth’s this?” she says, poring over the résumé. “Look, she’s got an MBA! She’s won a prize!”
“I know,” I say nonchalantly. “She’s a top, award-winning marketing director. We networked last night. She’s going on the Leonidas Sports short list.”
“And does she know she’s going on the short list?” says Kate in excitement.
“Yes!” I snap, flushing slightly. “Of course she does.”
By ten o’clock the list has been finalized and sent off to Janet Grady. I flop back in my chair and grin at Kate, who’s staring intently at her computer screen.
“I’ve found a picture of you!” she says. “From the dinner last night. Lara Lington and Ed Harrison arrive at the Business People dinner.” She hesitates, looking puzzled. “Who’s he? I thought you were back with Josh.”
“Oh, I am,” I say at once. “Ed is just…a business contact.”
“Oh, right.” Kate is gazing at her computer screen, a little dreamily. “He’s quite good-looking, isn’t he? I mean, Josh is too,” she amends hastily. “In a different way.”
Honestly, she has no taste. Josh is a million times better-looking than Ed. Which reminds me, I haven’t heard from him for a while. I’d better call, just in case his phone has gone wrong and he’s been sending texts and wondering why I haven’t been answering.
I wait until Kate has gone to the bathroom so I have a little privacy, then dial his office.
“Josh Barrett.”
“It’s me,” I say lovingly. “How was the trip?”
“Oh, hi. It was great.”
“Missed you!”
There’s a pause. I’m pretty sure Josh says something in response, but I can’t quite hear.
“I was wondering if your phone was going wrong?” I add. “Because I haven’t received any texts from you since yesterday morning. Are mine getting through OK?”
There’s another indistinct mumble. What’s wrong with this line?
“Josh?” I tap the receiver.
“Hi.” His voice suddenly breaks through more clearly. “Yeah. I’ll look into it.”
“So, shall I come over tonight?”
“You can’t go tonight!” Sadie appears out of nowhere. “It’s the fashion show! We’re getting the necklace!”
“I know,” I mutter, putting my hand over the receiver. “Afterward. I have a thing first,” I continue to Josh. “But I could come around ten?”
“Great.” Josh sounds distracted. “Thing is, I’ve got a work bash tonight.”
More work? He’s turning into a workaholic.
“OK,” I say understandingly. “Well, how about lunch tomorrow? And we can take it from there.”
“Sure,” he says after a pause. “Great.”
“Love you,” I say tenderly. “Can’t wait to see you.”
There’s silence.
“Josh?”
“Er…yeah. Me too. Bye, Lara.”
I put down the phone and sit back. I feel a bit dissatisfied, but I don’t know why. Everything’s fine. Everything’s good. So why does it feel like there’s something missing?
I want to call Josh back and say, “Is everything OK, do you want to talk?” But I mustn’t. He’ll think I’m obsessing, which I’m not; I’m just thinking. People are allowed to think, aren’t they?
Anyway. Whatever. Move on.
Briskly, I log on to my computer and find an email waiting in my in-box from Ed. Wow, that was quick off the mark.
Hi, twenties girl. Great evening last night. Re: your corporate travel insurance. Might want to look at this link. I’ve heard they’re good. Ed
I click on it and find a site offering reduced insurance rates for small companies. That’s just like him: I mention a problem once, and he instantly finds a solution. Feeling touched, I click Reply and briskly type an email:
Thanks, twenties guy. I appreciate it. Hope you’re dusting off your London guide. PS: have you demonstrated the Charleston to your staff yet?
Immediately an answer pops back.
Is this your idea of blackmail?
I giggle and start browsing online to find a picture of a dancing couple to send him.
“What’s funny?” says Sadie.
“Nothing.” I close down the window. I won’t tell Sadie I’m emailing Ed. She’s so possessive, she might take it the wrong way. Or, even worse, start dictating endless emails full of stupid twenties slang.
She starts reading the Grazia that’s lying open on my desk and after a few moments orders me: “Turn.” This is her new habit. It’s quite annoying, in fact. I’ve become her page-turning slave.
“Hey, Lara!” Kate comes rushing into the office. “You’ve got a special delivery!”
She hands me a bright pink envelope printed with butterflies and ladybugs, with Tutus and Pearls emblazoned across the top. I rip it open, to find a note from Diamanté’s assistant.
Diamanté thought you might like this. We look forward to seeing you later!
It’s a printed sheet with details about the fashion show, together with a laminated card on a chain, reading VIP Backstage Pass. Wow. I’ve never been a VIP before. I’ve never even been an IP.
I turn the card over in my fingers, thinking ahead to this evening. Finally we’ll get the necklace! After all this time. And then—
My thoughts stop abruptly. Then…what? Sadie said she couldn’t rest until she got her necklace. That’s why she’s haunting me. That’s why she’s here. So when she gets it, what will happen? She can’t…
I mean, she won’t just…
She wouldn’t just…go?
I stare at her, suddenly feeling a bit weird. This whole time, I’ve only been focused on getting the necklace. I’ve lost sight of what might happen beyond the necklace.
“Turn,” says Sadie impatiently, her eyes avidly fixed on an article about Katie Holmes. “Turn!”
—
In any case, I’m resolved: I’m not letting Sadie down this time.
The minute I see this bloody necklace, I’m grabbing it.
Even if it’s around someone’s neck. Even if I have to rugby-tackle them to the floor.
I approach the Sanderstead Hotel feeling all hyped up.
My feet are springy and my hands are ready to snatch.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” I mutter to Sadie as we walk through the bare white lobby. Ahead of us, two skinny girls in miniskirts and heels are heading toward a pair of double doors decorated with swags of pink silk and butterfly helium balloons. That must be it.
Nearing the room, I see a babble of well-dressed girls milling around, knocking back glasses of champagne while music thuds gently. There’s a catwalk running through the center of the room, with a net of silver balloons strung above it, and rows of silk-swagged chairs.
I wait patiently as the girls ahead of me are ticked off, then I step forward to a blond girl in a pink prom dress. She’s holding a clipboard and gives me a chilly smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I’m here for the fashion show.”
She scans my top-to-toe black outfit dubiously. (Pencil trousers, camisole, little cropped jacket. I chose it especially because all fashionistas wear black, don’t they?) “Are you on the list?”
“Yes.” I reach for my invitation. “I’m Diamanté’s cousin.”
“Oh, her cousin.” Her smile becomes even more frozen. “Lovely.”
“In fact, I need to talk to her before the show; do you know where she is?”
“I’m afraid Diamanté’s tied up—” the girl begins smoothly.
“It’s urgent. I really, really do need to see her. I’ve got this, by the way.” I brandish my VIP backstage pass at her. “I could just go hunting. But if you could locate her it would help….”
“OK,” the girl says after a pause. She reaches for her teeny jewel-encrusted phone and dials a number.
“Some cousin wants to see Diamanté; is she around?” She adds in a barely concealed murmur, “No. Never saw her before. Well, if you say so…” She puts her phone away.
“Diamanté says she’ll meet you backstage.
Through there?” She points down the corridor to another door.
“Go ahead!” I instruct Sadie in a whisper. “See if you can find the necklace backstage! It must be easy to spot!” I follow a guy with a crate of Moet down the carpeted corridor and am flashing my VIP backstage pass at a bouncer when Sadie reappears.
“Easy to spot?” she says, her voice trembling. “You must be joking! We’re never going to find it! Never!”
“What do you mean?” I say anxiously as I walk in. “What are you—”
Oh no. Oh bloody hell.
I’m standing in a large area filled with mirrors and chairs and hair dryers blasting and the chatter of makeup artists and about thirty models.
They’re all tall and skinny, slouching on their chairs or milling around talking on their mobile phones.
They’re all wearing skimpy diaphanous dresses.
And they’re all wearing at least twenty necklaces piled high around their necks.
Chains, pearls, pendants…Everywhere I look there are necklaces. It’s a necklace haystack.
I’m exchanging horrified looks with Sadie when I hear a drawling voice.
“Lara! You came!”
I wheel around to see Diamanté teetering toward me. She’s wearing a tiny skirt covered in love hearts, a skinny vest, a studded silver belt, and patent stiletto shoe boots. She’s holding two glasses of champagne, and she offers one to me.
“Hi, Diamanté. Congratulations! Thanks so much for inviting me. This is amazing!” I gesture around the room, then take a deep breath.
The important thing is not to seem too desperate or needy.
“So, anyway.” I aim for a light, casual tone.
“I have this huge favor to ask you. You know that dragonfly necklace that your father was after? The old one with the glass beads?”
Diamanté blinks at me in surprise. “How d’you know about that?”
“Er…long story. Anyway, it was originally Great-Aunt Sadie’s, and my mum always loved it and I wanted to surprise her with it.” My fingers are crossed tightly behind my back. “So, maybe after the show I could…er…have it? Possibly? If you didn’t need it anymore?”
Diamanté stares back at me for a few moments, her blond hair streaming down her back and her eyes glazed.
“My dad’s a fuckhead,” she says at last, with emphasis.