Izzy shrugged, her dark eyes enormous but mercifully dry. ‘Lucky, I suppose, to be out of it in one piece. Angry, gullible . . . oh, Sam, how could I have been so
stupid
? When I first met Tash I really thought he was a nice person.’
‘That’s because he wanted you to think he was.’
She sniffed. ‘God, I’m a lousy judge of character. Imagine the damage I could do if I was ever called for jury service.’
Easing his long legs up on to the coffee table and tearing open the packet of biscuits, Sam said evenly, ‘Anyone can make a mistake.’
‘You never do.’
‘I let Vivienne move in with me.’
The signs of Vivienne’s occupation were strewn around them. Having absently helped herself to a biscuit she didn’t want, the chocolate now melted between her fingers as Izzy gazed at a pair of black-and-gold stilettos occupying a chair, and at the CDs littered like playing cards on the floor beside the stereo. The system had been left switched on, with a half-empty wineglass balanced precariously on top of it. In a small way, it was comforting to know how much Vivienne’s untidiness irritated Sam. Maybe he was right, after all.
‘But she isn’t . . . scary, like Tash. She doesn’t get out of her brains on drugs. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything . . . he’s practically psychopathic. You can’t compare them, Sam. Vivienne’s only unhappy because you aren’t paying her enough attention.’
She was speaking more calmly now, and her teeth had stopped chattering. Lifting a semi-damp tendril of hair from her neck and breathing in the chlorine, Sam shrugged.
‘That just proves my point. If I hadn’t made the mistake of letting her stay here in the first place, she wouldn’t be unhappy now. If Vivienne and I were genuinely happy together, I’d
be
paying attention.’
‘It doesn’t bother you that she didn’t come home tonight?’ Izzy still found it hard to believe. In her own mind, they were such a
good
couple.
‘I’m relieved.’ He paused, then added drily, ‘It’s easier this way. She can make her own decision, and her pride will still be intact. As you may have noticed, Vivienne has more than her share of pride.’
Izzy was finding it hard not to notice his warm fingers at the base of her neck, idly smoothing back her hair. She shivered uncontrollably and gazed down at the chocolatey mess in her hand.
‘What you need is a hot bath and plenty of sleep,’ he continued gently and for the first time her eyes filled with tears. What she
most
needed was a real hug, and someone to tell her she wasn’t an all-time prize idiot.
To her utter dismay she heard herself saying in a small, pathetic voice, ‘You’re such a nice person.You used to like me, didn’t you, Sam? I wish you hadn’t stopped liking me. I . . . I wish you didn’t hate me now.’
She didn’t get her hug. Taking a deep breath and giving her shoulder a brief, meant-to-be reassuring squeeze, he said, ‘Don’t be silly, of course I don’t hate you,’ and rose to his feet.
‘I’m sorry,’ mumbled Izzy, wiping her eyes and feeling more idiotic than ever.
Sam, continuing to exert almost superhuman self-control, dismissed the apology with a brisk gesture. She was vulnerable, exhausted and deeply upset about Tash. Now was hardly the time to tell Izzy how he really felt about her.
‘You’ve had a traumatic night,’ he said with a taut half-smile. ‘I’ll run you that bath, and then you’re going to bed.’
In a hopeless attempt to redeem herself, Izzy said weakly, ‘Will you do me a big favour?’
This, thought Sam, was precisely what he was struggling so hard not to do. ‘What?’
‘Can I have Badedas in it?’
Chapter 41
It wasn’t as if they were doing anything
lewd
, but it was still kind of embarrassing being caught on the sofa with the new love of your life, particularly when the person doing the catching was your new love’s grown-up son.
‘Well, well,’ he declared in arch tones, dumping a tartan overnight case on the living-room floor and surveying the cosy scene. Vivienne, whose bare feet had been resting in Terry’s lap, leapt guiltily into a sitting position and tried to make her cleavage less prominent.
‘Theo, for heaven’s sake.’ Terry was looking equally discomfited. ‘I thought you were working this weekend.’
‘Somebody wanted to swap shifts,’ replied Theo easily, ‘so I thought I’d drop in on my old man, make sure he was OK.’ He winked at Vivienne. ‘I thought he might be lonely . . . in need of a bit of company . . .’
Theo Pleydell-Pearce, sandy-haired and built like an American football player, had his father’s blue eyes and endearing freckles. Deciding to brazen it out - since Terry was clearly too embarrassed to say much at all - Vivienne grinned at him and replied, ‘I had exactly the same idea.’
‘So, you aren’t a patient.’ The blue eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘For a moment I thought I might be interrupting a reverse housecall.’
‘Theo, this is Vivienne Bresnick. We met at a party last night . . .’ Floundering for an explanation, Terry pushed his fingers agitatedly through his hair. ‘We came back here for coffee . . . we’ve been talking all night . . .’
‘What your father is trying to say,’ Vivienne intercepted kindly, ‘is that our relationship has not been consummated. Yet.’
Since morning surgery started at nine, Theo drove Vivienne back to Kensington. Above the roar of the ancient MG’s engine, as they careered along narrow country lanes with the hood down and the cassette player blaring out Bruce Springsteen, he yelled, ‘So, tell me, what exactly
is
going on here?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Between you and Dad. It would be simpler if you just told me the truth. Was it a drunken one-off or do you really intend seeing him again?’
Leaning across, she switched off the music. Theo obligingly reduced his speed so that she could speak without shouting.
‘Your father is one of the nicest men I’ve ever met,’ said Vivienne carefully. ‘And more than anything else in the world, I’d like to continue seeing him.’
He nodded. ‘OK. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but you must understand why I needed to ask. Since my mother died, he’s had his share of women interested in him, but you aren’t exactly...’
‘I know, I know.’ Vivienne had spent the entire night listening to this argument. ‘I’m not a country lady in twin set and brogues, with a Labrador at my heels and a shooting-stick up my bum. I’ve never baked a “scone” - whatever the hell that might be - in my life. But the moment I set eyes on your dad, something . . . clicked. I really like him,’ she concluded with a simple gesture. ‘And I think he likes me.’
With a sideways glance, Theo took in the clinging, shell-pink satin dress, the expanse of tanned thigh, the astonishing bosom and cascading blonde hair. ‘I’m not surprised.’
Vivienne smiled. ‘I have a great personality, as well.’
‘So I’m beginning to realise,’ he admitted wryly. ‘What I really can’t wait to see are the faces of all those tweedy county ladies, when they find out what kind of competition they’re up against.’
Sam, in white cotton trousers and a grey sweatshirt, was stretched out on the sofa surrounded by paperwork when she let herself into the apartment. Vivienne, who hadn’t expected him to be up at this time of the morning, hesitated in the doorway before kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag into a chair. Despite the exhilaration of the last twelve hours, she was now gripped by a spasm of self-doubt. Sam was
so
stunningly handsome, so physically perfect, how could she even think of leaving him? Yet she had adored him and it hadn’t been enough. Nothing she could do would ever make Sam adore her in return. She had done everything in her power, but the necessary spark simply wasn’t there.
He glanced up from his paperwork. ‘Good party?’
‘It had its moments.’ Vivienne pushed her fingers through her tangled, wind-blown hair. Then, with a trace of exasperation, she said, ‘Well? Aren’t you even going to ask me what I’ve been doing?’
It was a last-ditch attempt to force some kind of reaction, some shred of jealousy, but all Sam did was glance across at her opened bag and look faintly amused. After pausing to pencil in an alteration, he replied, ‘Since your bra is hanging out of your handbag, I think I can probably guess.’
So much for jealousy and belated protestations of love. The pale pink bra was new and expensive but a size too small, and Vivienne had merely removed it in the early hours of the morning in order to be comfortable. She hadn’t been unfaithful to Sam, yet he had calmly assumed the opposite and
still
didn’t even have the decency to care . . .
‘How did you ever get to be so
unfeeling
?’ Her voice rose to a wail and at last Sam reacted.
‘Ssshh,’ he said sharply. ‘Izzy’s asleep in the spare room. Don’t make so much noise.’
Despite everything, Vivienne was instantly diverted. ‘
Izzy’s
here? Why?’
‘While you were elsewhere, flinging off your bra and enjoying one of your . . . moments, Izzy realised what a bastard Tash Janssen really is.’ Sam, who hadn’t been to bed, abbreviated the facts. ‘She’s left him.’
‘And she came here?’
‘I brought her back here.’
Vivienne, bewildered, shook her head. ‘You mean she phoned you up?’
‘I thought you might have wanted a lift home,’ said Sam evenly. ‘So I drove out there when I’d finished at the club. But you weren’t around, and Izzy was.’
At that moment her gaze travelled past him and fixed upon the green-and-gold sequinned bodice draped damply over the back of a chair. It was recognizably the top Izzy had been wearing earlier.
Still confused, she frowned and said with a trace of suspicion, ‘Are you and Izzy having an affair?’
‘No.’ Sam, looking not in the least put out by the suggestion, shook his head. ‘We are not.’
‘Hmm.’ Overcome suddenly by fatigue, Vivienne turned and headed for the bedroom. ‘So that makes none of us. No wonder we’re all so bloody fed up.’
‘How do I always manage to make such an incredible mess of everything?’ said Izzy despairingly, over lunch at Langan’s. It was three days since the party, two days since she’d moved back to Kingsley Grove, and the question had been preying on her mind ever since.
‘I don’t know.’ Gina attempted a witticism. ‘I suppose some people are just naturally untidy.’
‘Ha, ha.’ Izzy pulled a face. ‘No, I’m being serious. Look what’s happened to me over the past few months. A spectacularly failed love affair and an alienated daughter. OK, Kat speaks to me - but only just. We used to have such
fun
together . . .’
‘A few months ago,’ said Gina spearing a bite-sized piece of chicken breast in tarragon sauce, ‘you’d never even seen the inside of a recording studio and you worked in a sleazy club for peanuts. Today you’re buying me lunch, having driven me here in your very own Mercedes, and you have a single at Number Two in the charts. All you’ve ever wanted to be is a success and now you
are
one.’
‘Ever heard of sleeping your way to the top?’ Izzy retaliated, taking a slurp of wine. ‘Everyone treats me as Tash Janssen’s sidekick, that’s all. Without him, I’d still be a nobody. And I’m hardly a successful mother, for heaven’s sake.’
It was a tricky subject. Gina still froze every time Katerina’s name was even mentioned. With a shrug, she glanced sideways at the diners at the next table and saw that they were still watching. It was heady stuff, being ogled by two such attractive men, even if most of the attention was going Izzy’s way.
‘Your daughter’s choice of partners is hardly your fault,’ she replied stiffly.
‘But it’s still my concern! Everything’s been spoiled and I simply don’t know where I’ve gone wrong. I’ve never been so miserable in my life. And you,’ she continued in accusing tones, ‘have never looked better. God knows, I’m glad you couldn’t make it to that terrible party, but what’s been
happening
with you? Is Ralph back on the scene . . . ?’