‘Oh
please
! Can’t you see why she told you?’ shouted Karin, losing all control, her grief turning to anger. ‘The woman is a troublemaker. You’re her next victim and she doesn’t want me in the way to stop it.’
As soon as the words came out of Karin’s mouth, she knew she had made a huge mistake. She cursed herself. Had she learnt nothing over the years? Women like Molly were cunning and clever and they pushed all the right buttons, while men were always completely blind to their scheming. But striking back at her only served to make Karin look bitchy and paranoid. She could see she was right; Adam was shaking his head, a disappointed look on his face.
‘I’m gonna take a shower,’ he said.
Karin sat on the bed and nodded, looking out at the sunset again, which was now draining to dark. Suddenly her hold on this fabulous life didn’t seem quite so strong.
Molly and Sarah were getting on famously. Lying back on the top deck of
The Pledge
, they were drinking cocktails and giggling like old friends.
‘Tell me again about that time you met Rod Stewart,’ laughed Sarah, knocking back her fourth Martini which, she had to admit, did taste so much better with a twist of lemon; Molly knew so much good stuff. Molly was also having a great time, having found an audience for all the anecdotes about the rich and famous she had accumulated over the years, but which impressed nobody in her circle of friends. She also found Sarah spunky and great fun; she wished her own daughter could be more like her.
‘Oh, Molly, I need a rich man,’ moaned Sarah, throwing
her arms in the air dramatically. ‘I’m sexy, I’m available, where are they all?’
‘Well, you’re not going to find one like that,’ laughed Molly.
‘How do you mean?’ said Sarah, sitting up and paying attention.
‘Think rich, get rich, my dear,’ she smiled knowingly, raising her glass for emphasis.
‘Okay, so how do I do that? In fact, how do I know who’s even rich?’ asked Sarah, swivelling her head to gaze up and down the rows of yachts sandwiched together along the quayside.
‘Everybody’s rich here, darling,’ smiled Molly. She was beginning to feel drunk and a bit frisky. Having ensured that every last detail for the party was in place, Molly had finally passed the hands-on organizational duties to one of the junior members of the Midas events team. Having worked hard, Molly felt it was definitely time to play hard, and from where she was sitting she could see ten of the world’s top thirty biggest motor yachts. It was the world’s greatest playground.
‘But who’s everyone?’ insisted Sarah, her words a little slurred.
‘Oh, Eddie Jordan, Flavio Briatore,’ began Molly, pointing to their yachts and quickly pointing out a dozen more from her impressive database of wealth. ‘See the big ones at the end?’ she said, pointing to the far end of the marina. ‘They will belong to people like Paul Allen, the Microsoft billionaire: he has one of the biggest yachts in the world – and one of the biggest bank balances, of course. And the others –’ she swept her arm back down the harbour ‘– well, they’re all still pretty rich. Darling, Monaco is just one of the biggest melting pots of rich men in the world. Americans, Russians, Greeks, they all come.’
‘And who’s the best?’ asked Sarah eagerly.
Molly laughed. ‘I prefer the oilmen.’
‘Oilmen?’
‘O-I-L,’ smiled Molly. ‘Old, ill and loaded.’
Sarah pulled a face. ‘Ooh, I don’t think I could manage an old man,’ she said, shivering. ‘What about the real oilmen, all the Russians and Arabs?’
‘Well, Russians tend to go for other Russians – models usually. Plus they almost always have wives because they marry young. The oil sheiks from Brunei, Saudi, the Emirates and so on are generous but don’t expect a relationship. Plus, they usually have five or six wives. Americans? Well, take your pick. Movie types are either sexually uptight or kinky. Miami guys are total druggies or total playboys. New Yorkers – they’re fun but, baby, you’d better take good care of yourself.’
Sarah was waving her hand in the air for another Martini. ‘What do you mean, “take good care of yourself”?’
Molly leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Gary, an investment banker I once dated, used to check my bikini line every time we made love. He loved me clean-shaven and if it was beginning to look a bit chicken-plucked down there, he would run a mile.’
Sarah brayed with laughter, spilling her cocktail. ‘So what did you do?’
‘Got a waxer on speed dial.’
Sarah sighed heavily. ‘It’s time I met some decent men. London is shit for it.’
‘Well, maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,’ smiled Molly.
‘How about you show me the right places to look then?’
The older woman laughed. ‘You’re on. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Sarah looked up as she heard a clatter of flip-flops moving along the top deck towards them.
‘Summer,’ she squealed, ‘come and join the party. Your mum is just about to take me yacht-hopping.’
Summer looked at them and felt a little stab of jealousy. Sarah had her hair long, blonde and loose like Molly’s; they were both in tiny dresses that skimmed mid-thigh, drinking and giggling. They looked like sisters.
‘Come on, sweetheart,’ said Molly, standing up and slipping on her silver flip-flops. ‘We’re going to go across to Abdul’s first. He always has the best caviar.’
Summer turned to her friend. ‘Sarah, shouldn’t you be getting back to your shoot? It’s almost eight o’clock already.’
Sarah waved a hand in the air, then had to quickly put it down again to steady herself. ‘Oh don’t fuss, Sum. I’m only going to be half an hour. Anyway, I’m scouting locations. They’ll understand.’
‘Are you coming?’ Molly asked Summer, a hint of impatience in her voice.
Summer could see Molly was coked-up, she knew those eyes well, and she shook her head. She knew where this night was going. Molly responded with a narrowing of the eyes, a look that said ‘killjoy’.
‘Well, if you must stay here, don’t spend all night giggling with that frump Erin. Go and find yourself a man; there’re some loaded bankers down the front. No point in wasting the whole trip.’
As Molly and Sarah staggered off arm in arm, Summer called after them, ‘What should I tell Marcus if he asks where you are?’
‘As Sarah says, we’re going to be half an hour. Don’t wait up!’
Summer rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.
‘Look at us, gambling widows,’ smiled Diana, settling back into a chair in Le Bar Américain in the Hôtel De Paris. Karin
picked a pistachio nut from the table in front of her and offered a thin smile. After the scene with Adam on the yacht, she had felt glad to retreat to the De Paris, opposite the casino, for drinks with Diana and Christina.
‘This is exactly why I hate grand prix weekend,’ sniffed Christina. ‘Not only does the noise of those cars zooming round the track give me tinnitus, the men just turn into total bores. I tell you, Ari used to say he was popping into the casino, and fifty grand later he’d still be there. Deaf and poor: that’s where grand prix weekend leaves you.’
‘So who was that blonde at the tables?’ asked Diana, sipping her Bloody Mary.
Karin pulled a sour face. She didn’t want to be reminded; her day was going from bad to worse. After their spat, she and Adam had hardly said two words to one another during the cocktail reception on board
The Pledge.
When one of the party of bankers had suggested a trip to the casino, Adam had pointedly asked Claudia Falcon to accompany them to the leather-lined salon privé of the casino. With everyone watching, Karin had had to ask for a lift to the casino bar. It had been humiliating.
‘It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?’ said Christina. ‘I’ve never seen them let a woman join the table before. It’s usually all boys together.’
‘Well, she’s practically a man,’ sniffed Karin. ‘She’s MD of some investment bank. Real ball-breaker by the sounds of it. Helping Midas finance some brownfield site or something.’
‘Well, watch it,’ warned Christina. ‘You don’t want Adam to … Shit.’ Christina’s face had suddenly turned as white as paper.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Diana, twisting around to follow her gaze.
‘Emily Kent has just walked into the bar.’
The name didn’t sound familiar to either Karin or Diana.
‘Joshua’s maths tutor,’ murmured Christina distractedly. ‘Joshua was falling behind with his schoolwork so I got someone to help him out. What on earth is
she
doing here?’
Karin looked around to see a slim, nondescript brunette standing at the entrance of the bar as if she was looking for someone. She didn’t look anything like the average De Paris guest. Mid-twenties, a floral summer dress hovering at her knee, her face freshly scrubbed and free of make-up, her light brown bobbed hair pushed back off her face. She looked more like a librarian than a grand prix goer – and her face fell as she spotted Christina rising and walking towards her.
‘Emily. What a surprise!’ said Christina, kissing the air lightly in the direction of her cheeks.
‘Likewise,’ replied Emily, her eyes still scanning the room. ‘I thought you gave the grand prix a wide berth.’
‘Yes, well, here I am.’ She paused. ‘And who told you that? Ari?’
Emily nodded awkwardly as a thought popped into Christina’s mind.
But surely not
, she thought,
that’s just not possible
.
‘So who are you here with?’ asked Christina, trying hard to sound casual.
‘Just a friend,’ stammered Emily. ‘And how’s Joshua? I haven’t seen him in a little while.’
‘Really? I wasn’t aware that Ari had stopped tuition.’
Over Emily’s shoulder, Christina could see through the glass door of the bar and into the foyer of the hotel where, at that moment, she saw Ari walk in through the revolving doors towards reception.
‘If you’re looking for my husband, sweetie, he’s just walking in,’ said Christina. Emily had the look of a rabbit caught in a trap.
‘Christina. Look, I … I’m sorry. I thought he had told you. We didn’t realize you’d be here this weekend.’
‘Why would he tell me, you stupid bitch?’ hissed Christina. ‘That bastard’s filing for divorce on the grounds that
I
have been unfaithful, and all the while he’s fucking the maths tutor.’
Guests in the bar were beginning to look round. Karin leapt from her chair and put her hand on Christina’s shoulder. ‘Tina, it’s not worth it,’ she muttered as Christina shook her hand away.
‘You little whore!’ growled Christina. ‘What right have you got to parade yourself in front of everyone, in front of my friends?’
Emily moved for the door. ‘I think I had better go,’ she said quietly.
Christina laughed cruelly. ‘The fucking maths tutor? This is more of a mystery than Pythagoras’s theorem. What on earth does he see in you?’
Emily turned back and looked at Christina with surprisingly cold eyes. ‘I’m not you,’ she whispered.
Christina laughed again. ‘That’s right. And don’t think a mousy frump like you is going to replace me, sweetheart!’ she shouted.
Emily casually held her wrist up and jangled a string of diamonds.
Christina stopped cold. She immediately recognized it: a Tiffany tennis bracelet worth at least £30,000.
‘Christina,’ smiled Emily as she turned from the room, ‘I think I already have.’
Erin had been expecting to hate Molly’s daughter. After all, Summer was younger than Molly, considerably more beautiful and, having spent twenty-something years in Molly’s shallow world, she was bound to have the same expectant arrogance, the same hard-faced ambition. But when Summer arrived on
The Pledge
earlier that evening, Erin had liked
Summer immediately. She was modest, funny, polite, and had a smile that was warm and genuine. Plus, unlike most people she had encountered in Adam’s world, Summer spoke and listened to Erin as an equal.
Summer had a body made for sin, that much was obvious, the simple white jersey dress she was wearing could not disguise her spectacular figure. But even though she looked like every man’s fantasy, she was quite clearly a girl’s girl, chattering to Erin about shoes and ice cream and rom-coms. It was just like going down the pub with one of her best friends. In Summer’s company, Erin felt herself properly relaxing for the first time in months.
‘I expect you come here every year, don’t you?’ asked Erin. The two girls had retreated to the top deck for cocktails as Adam had joked that Erin was only ‘half on duty’. He wanted to her to relax and enjoy the party, but to be there to sort out any complications. And Erin was glad Adam had been so generous as they had a spectacular view of the harbour.
‘Oh no, this is my first time,’ said Summer, ‘My mother always wants to drag me to these sorts of places, but thankfully I’ve been out of harm’s way in Japan for the last four years.’
‘
Dragged
to these sorts of places? What’s there not to like about yachts and champagne?’ laughed Erin at Summer’s objections.
Summer gave a half-smile and put her flute of Krug down on the walnut deck. ‘Hang on,’ she said distractedly, ‘my mobile is going.’ She looked at the screen. It was Sarah.
‘Summer! You’ll never guess where I am!’ gushed Sarah as Summer made a face to Erin. ‘I’m on Larry Nelson’s yacht! It’s that white and blue one right at the end of the dock. It’s
so
big. And the men here are lovely! Why don’t you come over?’