Authors: Joanna Rees
‘You are incredibly beautiful, Romy.’
Romy stared at him. The way he’d said it, the hushed intimate tone of his voice, cut through all their chitchat. She saw in his eyes an attraction she couldn’t resist. She stepped
forward and tiptoed up to kiss him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I don’t know why I did that.’
But he just smiled. Stroking her cheek, he leant forward and took her in his arms. Slowly and sensually he kissed her again.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to my cabin.’
They hardly spoke as Romy led him through the warren of corridors to the cabin. She felt caught up in something over which she had no control. Her mind was spinning with thoughts – what
all this meant, and what he must think of her. Why this had happened so suddenly?
She unlocked the door, relieved that Donna was out and that the tiny cabin was relatively tidy. She took two steps over to her bottom bunk, tidying up the stack of novels next to it, adding the
Danielle Steel that lay open on the pillow to the top of it, and hurriedly smoothing down the blanket and pillow. She could feel herself trembling all over.
‘Come here,’ he said, coming up behind her. She felt his hardness against her thigh through his trousers as he started to kiss her neck. She turned around in his arms, kissing him
back. Then they moved onto the small bunk and he lay on top of her, but he didn’t squash her, like Jimmy had. Instead he stroked the hair from her face, staring into her eyes, giving his mind
to her.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked her.
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes.’
It was five in the morning and Donna laughed outside the door, drunkenly trying to fit her key in the lock. She’d nipped out of the party in Clark’s room to come
back for her secret bottle of vodka.
She finally opened the door, fell into the small cabin and turned on the light.
Romy was naked and asleep, a soft smile on her face, and she didn’t stir. Neither did the gorgeous naked hunk spooning her tightly.
‘Good on yer, girl,’ Donna whispered, grabbing the bottle and tiptoeing out backwards.
August 1989
‘Thirty-love,’ Thea called with a grin, running back to the baseline, high-fiving Bridget on the way.
Across from them, on the other side of the tennis court, Tom Lawson and his friend Finn made eyes at each other and then Tom threw his arms out wide, looking at the service line, from where Thea
had just served her second ace of the match.
‘It’s not fair,’ he called over the net. ‘Tell her, Bridge.’
‘Stop being a bad sport,’ Bridget called back, before jogging over and picking up a bottle of water by the net and taking a swig.
Thea looked up as she wiped away the sweat from below her visor and peered at the early-morning sun, which was already marinating the court, a shimmer of heat rising up from the baseline. She
rolled her tennis-racket handle in her hands.
‘I thought we’d have beaten it, but it’s getting too hot already,’ Bridget panted, handing her the water bottle. ‘You’ll burn.’
Thea smiled. ‘Just a few more games. We’ve got them licked,’ she said. She was enjoying herself far too much to stop now.
‘You know we can’t put it off any longer. It’s nearly time,’ Bridget said.
‘Put off what?’ Thea asked as she got ready to serve again.
‘
Thea?
’ Bridget squealed, exasperated. ‘The results. We’ve got to ring school.’
‘In a while,’ Thea said, bouncing the yellow ball on the hot court.
The last thing she wanted to think about was school and telephoning the secretary for their A-level results. She wanted to put off reality as long as possible. Or thinking about the future and
what that held.
She wanted to enjoy this moment. Right now.
The last few weeks had been magical. Sailing on the Lawsons’ family friend’s yacht, hopping around the ports of southern Italy. But the best part of all was that, now they were in
the Hotel Amalfi, Bridget’s brother Tom and his friend, Finn, had joined them for the week and she was determined that this, their third game, should end in victory for her and Bridget.
Thea glanced up at Tom now on the other side of the net, his tanned legs wide apart, crouched down, waiting for her serve. He had an incredibly athletic body, but it wasn’t just that. He
radiated the kind of sexual charisma that made women notice him wherever he went. Bridget and Thea teased him about it, but whilst Bridget was genuinely annoyed by him, Thea couldn’t help but
be secretly fascinated. It was as if he had a thirst for girls – all types of girls – that was insatiable. He noticed every single one of them, except Thea.
Each night she went to bed, tossing and turning, going over every single tiny moment of private contact between them, and reading meaning into it. Did he like her? Didn’t he? But then
she’d turn over, furious with herself for having fallen for his charms in the first place.
But maybe she didn’t deserve Tom. She’d been so careful not to send out the wrong signals – Brett’s horrible words still preying on her mind. Just like she couldn’t
shake the memory of Brett pressing against her in the kitchen, violating her as he had. She felt soiled. Unworthy of someone as wonderful as Tom.
And yet at the same time, another thought persisted. It wouldn’t be like that with Tom . . . would it? He’d be sensitive, caring, if anything ever happened.
If.
She was crazy, she knew. She got plenty of attention from other men, or boys at least, so why was she so hung up on the one person she couldn’t have? But somehow that only made her secret
obsession worse.
She stretched up as the ball sailed over her head and smashed it, running forward. Tom desperately tried a passing shot. She watched in delight as it sailed harmlessly over the tramlines and
landed out.
‘I give up,’ Tom said. ‘You’re just too good for me.’
Thea beamed at him. If only that were really true.
On the wrought-iron white swing chair on the terrace Shelley Lawson pretended to read the page proofs of her latest novel. But she couldn’t help staring through the door
into the reception area, where Thea and Bridget were telephoning the school.
She knew how much the exam results meant to both girls. She wasn’t worried so much about Bridget. Shelley knew that Bridget was as tough as she herself was. She had been since she was a
baby. Apart from some of her bolshie behaviour in her early teens, she’d been a doddle.
No, Shelley was more worried about Thea. There was something so fragile about her, and now Shelley felt the enormity of her responsibility. What if Thea didn’t get her results? What if she
couldn’t fulfil her dreams? What if only one of the girls got into Oxford, and not both of them?
Poor Thea. She didn’t have much of a home life to speak of. Shelley couldn’t help but feel it was somehow her own duty to fill the void. She owed it to Lis. Her dear old friend, Lis,
who had loved this little girl. This little girl Thea, who was on the cusp of becoming a beautiful woman.
Alyssa McAdams. Memories of her crashed into Shelley’s mind, making it impossible to concentrate. How strange that the past should come up after all these years. And how bloody infuriating
that she’d been so unprepared to deal with it, Shelley thought. It seemed ironic that she spent her days writing novels about people’s pasts and their secrets, and yet she’d been
totally shocked by Thea’s sudden arrival in her life. Because with her had come all those memories of Lis and everything that had happened.
Poor old Alyssa. Looking back now, Shelley guessed she’d been a little bit in love with Lis McAdams from the start, in the way girls can be. So she’d totally understood that Bridget
had fallen for Thea.
But now Shelley remembered how Lis had turned to her in her hour of need, making her swear to keep her secret. And Shelley had. All these years. Even when Lis had gone to the States and left it
all behind her.
That had hurt, of course – especially when she hadn’t been invited to Lis’s wedding, but Shelley had understood her friend’s need to move on and forget.
And Shelley had forgotten too. She’d never even told her husband, Duke, the thing she’d done for Lis all those years ago.
But now she felt the weight of the secret, like some kind of test. But she wouldn’t break. She’d come so unthinkingly close to making a stupid blunder when she’d told Thea
about her mother and Johnny. She hoped that Thea hadn’t understood or taken it to heart. But it wasn’t a mistake she would ever make again. She’d been lucky that Thea hadn’t
asked her more about it. Perhaps she hadn’t heard what Shelley had said properly. Hopefully enough time had passed for Shelley to feign ignorance or forgetfulness about the slip entirely, if
it ever came up again.
Now she clenched her fists, watching the girls. They were so young. Their whole lives ahead of them. All she prayed for was that nothing unpleasant would ever come between them, as it had
between her and Lis. That they’d never have a test of their friendship. A test that would break them, as it had broken Thea’s poor mother.
Suddenly she stood up, seeing Bridget’s expression, which could only mean one thing.
In the reception area Bridget screamed, flung down the phone to the school office and jumped up and down.
‘Oh my God!’ she gasped.
Thea could feel her heart hammering. ‘Oh my God,’ Thea said back, her mouth wide open with shock. She couldn’t believe it. She wanted to cry, she felt so relieved.
Thea hugged her and they jumped up and down together.
‘You’ve got to call your father,’ Bridget said, retrieving the handset from the loopy chord where she’d dropped it. She dialled an outside line. Then handed the phone to
Thea, her eyes shining.
‘Go on.’
Thea dialled her father’s direct line in the apartment in Maddox Tower, biting her lip as she looked at Bridget.
He’d seemed so far away these past months. She could hardly believe he’d be there. But suddenly there was a click and, one ring later, her father’s voice.
‘It’s me,’ Thea said.
‘Thea? What’s the matter?’ Griffin Maddox asked. She realized it must be very late at night in New York. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she pictured his face.
‘Nothing’s the matter.’ She gripped the receiver and glanced at Bridget. ‘I called because . . . because I’m into Oxford,’ she said.
‘Storm . . . Storm, can you take this dog away. I can’t hear for the yapping.’
‘It’s Oxford, Daddy. You know. England – university. I passed my exams. Straight As.’
‘But I thought you were going to apply to American universities?’ he said. ‘I can get you a place anywhere you want to go.’
She could hear the disapproval in his tone, could picture the frown on his brow. When was the last time she’d seen him smile? When was the last time
she’d
made him smile?
She felt tears tighten her throat. ‘No. I said I wanted to stay in England.’
‘But it’s so far away,’ her father said. ‘Where are you now anyway?’
‘Italy. Remember? Didn’t you get my postcard? I sent it to the office.’
Thea felt Bridget reach out and touch her hand.
‘Ring off,’ Bridget mouthed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
She pointed through the open door to the terrace, where Duke and Shelley were waiting expectantly, a bottle of champagne sweating in a bucket on the table.
‘OK. Well, I’ve got to go,’ Thea said. ‘I’ll call you soon.’ She hastily put down the phone. ‘That went well,’ she said, feeling more emotional
than she wanted to. Griffin Maddox’s decidedly flat reaction felt like a bad omen.
‘Forget it,’ Bridget said, gripping her elbow. ‘Don’t worry. Let’s go and tell Mum and Dad.’
Thea took a breath, trying to steady herself as Bridget ran outside to her parents on the terrace, yelling with delight. She felt jealousy burning through her as Bridget’s parents folded
her in their arms.
Why hadn’t her father reacted better? Why didn’t he care? Thea wondered. He didn’t have a clue how hard she had worked to get those results. All he cared about was business.
Well, she would show him, Thea vowed. She’d take Oxford by storm with Bridget. She’d come out with her own contacts and her own qualifications. He could shove Maddox Inc.
But almost as soon as she thought it, she remembered Brett. She shuddered and forced the thought of him away. But she also knew that if she really did walk away from her father’s business,
everything that was rightly hers would be Brett’s.
Don’t think about it now
, she told herself.
Don’t let them ruin your moment
.
Thea caught up with Bridget. Shelley had a tear on her cheek as she squeezed Bridget, and then broke away to kiss Thea.
‘Hey. What’s all the fuss?’ Tom asked, coming up the steps onto the terrace to join them.
‘The girls have done it,’ Bridget’s father Duke said, winking at Thea. ‘A right clever bunch. They’ve made us very proud.’
Without warning, Tom grabbed Thea and twirled her round. Thea landed breathless in his arms and stared up at him. Her flushed face was reflected in the lenses of his Ray-Bans.
Tom leant in and kissed her cheek. She breathed in his fresh smell and the hint of aftershave and felt her knees weakening in his embrace.
‘Hey, congratulations,’ he said softly.
And right at that moment all the hard work, all the worry, was worth it. Tom Lawson had noticed her at last.
Sitting at the cafe on the harbourside later that night, Thea felt the scene was impossibly glamorous. Tom and Finn had come here because they wanted to
‘people-watch’, but Bridget scoffed that it was they who wanted to be seen themselves. And perhaps she was right. Tom and his friend Finn were sporting a preppy look, both with sweaters
knotted around their polo shirts and both wearing blue and white loafers, and they were sitting at the best table as if they owned the place.
They’d both insisted that Thea and Bridget look out to sea, but Thea suspected that Tom was embarrassed by his sister’s latest ‘look’. Despite the heat, Bridget had
squeezed into a white lace dress, which she wore with Doc Martens and black nail-varnish. Thea had opted for her favourite Laura Ashley dress and Gap pumps, but the skirt was so short that she
tugged at the floral material self-consciously.