Authors: Joanna Rees
Storm was wearing a fluorescent-pink one-piece ski suit with designer glasses and fur ear-muffs, and several empty bottles littered her crowded table. As was usual for Storm and her
ever-changing entourage, there were only one or two faces whom Thea recognized. Griffin Maddox was nowhere to be seen.
‘Tom, this is my stepmom, Storm Maddox,’ Thea said, watching as Storm outstretched her manicured hand. Her fingers glinted with diamonds in the sunshine.
‘So you must be Thea’s college hunk,’ Storm drawled, her heavily made-up eyes raking over Tom’s features. She looked as if she wanted to eat him. From the ripple of
laughter around the table, Thea knew that she and Tom had been a recent topic of conversation.
But all Thea could do was stare at Storm. What had she done to her face? Since last summer Storm’s lips had changed shape again, and the skin over her cheekbones was taut. Had she had
another
facelift already?
Thea watched Storm’s white teeth gleaming in the sun, amazed once again that her father could ever have chosen her. Or that anyone could find someone who was so brazen attractive. As she
and Tom joined them for a drink, the conversation progressed. Storm declared herself to be too hot and, fully aware of what she was doing, undid her front zipper to reveal some new assets. Thea
blushed, disappointed to see that Tom had noticed them too. But the conversation quickly moved on, as one of Storm’s friends noticed a girl on the next table.
She was unusually tall, with striking black hair, but from where they were sitting it was clear that she had a black eye beneath her designer shades. Tom winked at Thea, as if Thea should know
who the girl was. But Thea just shrugged.
‘Tia Blanche,’ Tom whispered, ‘The model.’ The name meant nothing to Thea. ‘She was all over the tabloids last week,’ he explained. ‘She had a massive
fight with another model in Paris.’
Thea smiled despite herself. Tom’s time at the bar in Oxford where he worked had given him a keen ear for gossip, and time to read the papers. Whereas the only papers Thea had been reading
recently were economic migration trends in twentieth-century Europe.
Storm had clearly overheard Tom’s explanation, because she leant in now, slipped her arm around Tom’s waist and pulled him close. ‘Well, at least
one
of you knows about
the real world.’
But instead of defending her, Tom just laughed. ‘The way I heard it,’ he said, ‘it was the bitch-fight of the century. The other girl – Romy-something – she totally
kicked her arse.’
‘Oh, I do like a man with his finger on the pulse,’ Storm said, pulling Tom in even tighter, flashing her green eyes at him. Her hint that she wouldn’t mind Tom putting his
finger on her pulse was implicit, and Thea noticed him blushing.
At the first chance she had, Thea made an excuse and dragged him away. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck with Storm and her friends all afternoon, despite their protestations that they
wanted Tom to stay and chat. Besides, there would be a big dinner later, when there would be plenty of time.
‘Storm seems nice,’ Tom said, as they skied to the lift, but Thea was mortified.
‘Stop it. She’s awful. Just say it.’
‘You’re jealous of her,’ Tom said. ‘It’s a dominant-female thing.’
‘Jealous? Of all that hair and those new boobs of hers . . . ’
‘Yeah, those things are something else,’ he said, blowing his hair upwards, as if he was too hot.
Thea hit him on the arm, but Tom grabbed her and kissed her.
‘Don’t worry,’ he grinned. ‘She’s not really my type. I prefer someone smart as well as beautiful. Someone real. Someone exactly like you.’
They left it to the last possible moment to get back for supper, Thea having persuaded Tom to go all the way up the mountain in the gondola. By the time they arrived at the
chalet, lights were blazing from every room and the guests had gathered for dinner.
As Thea had suspected, her intimate family weekend had expanded to include at least twenty strangers who made up Storm’s current inner circle. Thea had no doubt that, by the end of the
season, Storm would have jettisoned at least half of them and they would join the ranks of the countless others who had briefly found favour with the powerful first lady of the media-set in New
York.
Thea felt her face tight with sunburn, as she quickly changed into her baggy jeans and a polo neck and joined the others in the main sitting room, realizing too late that all the other women
were dressed up. She’d thought the smart dinner would be tomorrow night. But it was too late to change now.
‘About time,’ her father said.
Thea kissed him and apologized, but she noticed that he looked more stressed than he had done for a while, and his dark hair was much greyer than she remembered.
Feeling nervous, she introduced Tom to her father, biting her lip and smiling as they shook hands. She’d expected him to be pleased that Tom’s mother and Alyssa Maddox had once been
friends. It was a trump-card that she’d been looking forward to playing face-to-face. After all, he was the one who always talked so much about the importance of networking. Wasn’t the
fact that she and Tom were linked by a past family friendship important to him?
But Griffin Maddox hardly paid any attention at all. Instead he was abrupt with Tom, almost to the point of rudeness, and Thea was left baffled. She’d painted a picture to Tom of her
charming father, but now she felt ashamed of him for being so dismissive. Worse, when the staff led them through to the dining room and showed each guest their allotted seat, far from putting Tom
in any position of honour – beside him, Thea or even Storm – Thea saw that he’d been seated amongst some of Storm’s cronies whom Thea had never laid eyes on before.
She was trying to think of a way to politely complain when Storm did some quick reshuffling of her own, slipping in beside Tom and turning the full beam of her attention on him. ‘Now tell
me all about your Princess Diana,’ she said loudly, laying her hands on Tom’s arm. ‘I just can’t believe she’s gonna split with Charles . . .’
Thea couldn’t help noticing how low-cut her black dress was, but after his comment earlier, Thea was determined to show Tom that she absolutely wasn’t jealous of Storm in any way.
Besides, she thought, glancing up for what she was determined would be the last time, it was no bad thing if Tom got to know the real Storm. New boobs or no new boobs, he’d soon grow weary of
her after that.
Thea sat next to her father, who was deep in conversation with Justin Ennestein, his lawyer, about his contribution to the Clinton campaign – determined as he was that his friend from
Arkansas should oust Bush from the White House.
She wished they would stop talking, or at least include her; and, as the meal progressed, Thea couldn’t help looking down the table to where Tom was surrounded by women, each of them
seemingly leaning further across the table to be in earshot of whatever he said. She loved the fact that he was handsome and could make people laugh. But she loved it more when she alone was the
subject of that attention. Watching him now, she felt strangely that he was no longer just hers.
‘Thea?’ Griffin Maddox asked, eventually putting his knife and fork together. ‘What’s got into you? You’re miles away. You’ve hardly joined in at
all.’
She wanted to protest that he’d hardly given her the chance, but she knew he’d only see that as weakness. He spent so much of his energy and time talking business these days that
sometimes she felt he treated her like a business associate too. Sometimes – like now, on the eve of her twenty-first birthday – she just wanted him to treat her like his only daughter
again.
‘Yes, Thea. I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s it all going at Oxford?’ Justin asked.
‘Fine . . . thanks.’
‘There are plenty of good universities in the States,’ Griffin Maddox said.
‘It’s history you’re studying, right?’ Justin checked, ignoring him.
‘Modern European History.’
‘Why study Europe’s past? The future is America,’ her father muttered.
Thea felt his words like a slap. She caught Justin’s eye.
‘Oh, come on, Griff. Don’t be so inflammatory,’ he said.
Griffin Maddox sighed. ‘I just wish you were closer to home, Thea. That’s all. I hardly see you these days.’
The only home I ever had was the one you sold
, Thea thought. But she forced a smile instead. That was an old argument now. One she’d never even been consulted on.
But his attention was now drawn to Storm. ‘It’s true isn’t it, Griff?’ she trilled. ‘Tom doesn’t believe me that Thea was a fat teenager.’
There was a ripple of laughter. Griffin pulled a face to show that he was simultaneously irked by Storm and nevertheless duty-bound to indulge her.
‘Puppy-fat,’ he said patting Thea’s hand. ‘She was always a beauty underneath.’
But despite his kind words Thea felt ice in her stomach as she saw the glint in Storm’s eye. She saw Tom pick up his napkin and wipe his mouth. Over the top of it he caught Thea’s
eye, and she knew that he might be down there at the mercy of Storm and her friends, but he clearly saw through Storm’s barbed comments. His eyes gently smiled at Thea and she knew that he
loved her. Nothing Storm could say could alter that. Soon she’d graduate from Oxford with a first, and she’d leave Storm and her warped childhood far behind her.
‘She’s only teasing,’ Thea heard her father say.
‘I think she’s had one glass of wine too many,’ Thea said, just loud enough, she hoped, for Storm to hear.
‘So . . . what are you planning to do with all these qualifications of yours?’ Justin Ennestein said, getting their conversation back on track.
Thea took a breath. This was her moment. The conversation she’d been waiting for. How perfect that Justin should bring it up, when he and her father were the very people she needed to
speak to about her plans.
But just as she was about to start her pitch there was a commotion in the hall and Brett walked in, fresh from the airport, snow in his hair, a bag over his shoulder. There was an immediate
round of applause. Thea watched, horrified, as her father stood up, smiling broadly for the first time since Thea had got there.
‘Ah . . . there he is,’ Griffin Maddox said, beaming at Brett and clapping him on the back as they hugged. ‘You made it.’
‘Hey, Thea,’ Brett said, ‘birthday surprise.’
His look of triumph sent shivers down her spine. He playfully punched her shoulder, as if they were the best of buddies.
She watched as Brett put his bag down, and Storm engulfed him in a hug and he twirled her round, as if he were some prodigal son returning from the war.
‘This is my Brett,’ Storm told Tom, kissing Brett lavishly, her bright-red talons against his cheek.
‘Her brother,’ Brett said, nodding towards Thea.
Tom smiled at him, before glancing at Thea as if to say:
Who
? Thea winced as they shook hands. Her father had told her that Brett wouldn’t be here, so she hadn’t told Tom she
had a stepbrother, assuming that he must have heard of Brett through the press. Whenever the subject of her family had come up, Thea had concentrated the facts on her father, and had taken
Tom’s lack of questions about Brett as lack of interest. But now she could see that Tom had questions. Lots of questions. Like why Thea had never mentioned this obviously important family
member.
She felt soiled, as if he could already sense her guilt.
‘Nice to meet you, man,’ Brett said, all charm. ‘Tom, right? Come and have a drink with me, buddy.’
And as Brett led Tom away, Thea felt tears of impotence pricking her eyes. Was this how Bridget had felt when Thea had fallen for Tom? she now wondered, suddenly understanding. She stared down
at her glass, then drained the contents. When she looked up again she saw her father standing by the glass doors onto the balcony.
‘Fancy some air?’ he called to her, and she followed him out into the darkness.
The view from the chalet was breathtaking. The full moon was bathing everything in silver and the snow twinkled like a vast diamanté cloak. Her father had lit a cigar
and, as he blew smoke out into the liquid black air, it felt to Thea like a filmset and that she should have rehearsed this.
‘So I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re in love with this Lawson guy?’ Griffin Maddox asked, as they leant against the wooden balustrade. The question startled Thea.
She was still smarting about Brett turning up, uninvited and unannounced.
‘Yes.’ Thea stared at him, already feeling defensive.
‘First love never lasts,’ he said. ‘It’s just one of those mistakes young people keep on making.’
How dare he be so patronizing? Thea smarted. Love was love.
‘You were young when you met Mom. You loved each other.’
‘That was different,’ he said firmly.
‘How? What’s wrong with Tom?’ she demanded.
‘I don’t trust him.’
Thea took a breath and forced herself to stay calm. ‘Well, I don’t see why you should say that,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even.
Why are you talking like this
?
she wanted to scream. ‘You’re wrong. I’ll prove it.’
Griffin sighed, his great wide shoulders sagging. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
He put his strong arm around her. She was still trying hard not to cry. Was he drunk? she wondered. Is that why he was being like this?
‘I just want to protect you, that’s all,’ he said. ‘I won’t say any more.’
Thea softened. Such an admission of fatherly emotion, coming from him, stunned her. They were silent for a moment, looking up at the stars.
‘So . . . you never answered Justin. What
are
you intending to do with all these fancy qualifications of yours?’ he asked.
Thea steeled herself. She’d been ready a few minutes ago, but Brett had unnerved her and now she felt lacking in confidence.
‘Do you remember how you always used to tell me that one day you’d teach me everything you knew?’ she said.
And that everything that is mine will be yours
, she wanted to add, remembering his familiar mantra. But she stopped herself.