Guilty Pleasures (30 page)

On the hottest day of the year, Dugdale Court, a two-thousand-acre estate in the heart of Wiltshire, looked stunning. As the location of a two-day music festival it was nothing like Emma had imagined; there were no muddy fields, no bead-wearing hippies and no giant pink drug cloud hanging overhead. In fact it was lovely. Shimmering in the distance, past the swarms of happy people, was an old stately home not unlike Winterfold. Music from some faraway stage wafted through the air, pleasantly muffled as if played through a pillow, whilst a hot-air balloon floated overhead in a cloudless blue sky carrying an advertising slogan that read ‘Smile’. The whole scene was so full of life and fun it was impossible to be in anything but a good mood.

‘Who owns this place? It’s incredible!’ asked Emma, fixing her sunglasses on her head as the four of them – Stella, Johnny, Ruan and Emma – meandered through the crowd.

‘Some rich lord who’s mad about music,’ replied Ruan laughing. ‘Look at all these people. It’s got to be a money-spinner. Maybe you could do a heavy metal festival at Winterfold.’

She tapped him on the arm, happy that she was getting better at being teased.

‘Don’t joke. I’m sure Rob has already thought about it. You’d better keep an eye out for roadies when my back is turned.’

‘Hey, there’s Rob now,’ said Stella, pointing towards the champagne tent.

They wandered over towards him. He was wearing the off-duty rock uniform of jeans, tee-shirt and sunglasses but he looked anything but relaxed as he talked forcefully into his mobile phone. When he saw the group drawing near he hung up and smiled.

‘Sorry, Kowalski are headlining tonight and I’m just checking everything is OK. They have to be closely monitored at all times,’ he said with a half laugh, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

‘Thanks so much for getting everyone tickets,’ said Stella, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘I think it deserves a drink. Or several. Champagne or beer and who’s coming with me?’

‘Shit, one of my old friends is over there,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m just going to say hi.’

‘I’ll get the beers in,’ said Ruan.

‘Then I’ll do the ’poo run,’ smiled Stella. ‘Who wants what?’

‘I have a drink coming,’ said Rob distractedly.

Before Emma could even think about what was happening, Ruan, Stella and Johnny dispersed, leaving her alone with Rob. They looked at each other and then at their feet.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

‘I didn’t know you were coming, I would have got you a ticket,’ said Rob after a moment.

‘Well, here I am anyway,’ she said breezily despite feeling so awkward. The uncomfortable look on Rob’s face when he had seen her told Emma all she needed to know: the tickets Rob had given to Stella weren’t meant to include her.

‘I didn’t think you like rock concerts,’ he said with sly smile, ‘or rock music for that matter.’

‘Well, yes, you’re right, there. I’ve never been to one. Nothing like this anyway.’

‘But you were a student for about a million years. How can you have been a student and not gone to a festival?’

Emma was in no mood for friendly banter, not if he didn’t want her there.

‘Rob, don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,’ she said coldly.

Rob nodded and pulled a face.

‘Well, I think you’ll enjoy it,’ he said gently. ‘Dugdale Court is as nice as a festival gets. Pimm’s, champagne. There’s a jazz tent, world tent, music, comedy.’

Emma relented a little. No reason not to be civil, she thought, he
was
making an effort.

‘Just give me the rock. That’s why I’m here,’ she smiled.

‘Well, that can be arranged,’ he replied. ‘There’s one of our new
signings on in a few minutes. I’ll get you a laminate so you can go backstage; it’ll save you from the mosh pit.’

‘The mosh pit?’

‘I can see I’m going to have to educate you.’

He smiled again and Emma felt a little of the ice between them thaw.

‘Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved at Hildon,’ said Emma. ‘There was a reason why I was so bloody angry and I guess I should have told you that first before I set on you like a rabid dog.’

‘It’s fine, honestly,’ smiled Rob, his dark green eyes crinkling in the sun. ‘It’s all forgotten.’

Emma felt frustrated. She wanted to talk about it but he seemed to want to move on.

‘No really, Rob, I …’

‘Rob! ROB!’

They both turned round as they heard a voice calling him. Emma saw a tall, slender figure waving.

‘Rob! Did you want bubbles or Pimm’s?’ shouted the woman. As Emma’s eyes adjusted to the glare of the sun, she could make out the long mane of dark red hair.

‘Jessica from the wedding,’ said Emma, forcing herself to smile.

‘Yes. Everyone wanted to come this weekend,’ said Rob obtusely.

Suddenly Emma felt stupid for having tried to explain herself to Rob and for a few seconds they didn’t speak. Rob pulled the mobile out of his pocket and looked at it as if he was waiting for it to ring. Emma’s eyes followed Jessica as she moved from the tent towards them holding two flutes of champagne. She was wearing a short, white, wispy kaftan and silver gladiator sandals; even though she must have been pushing thirty Jessica had legs as good as a 19-year-old supermodel.

Jessica handed Rob his glass and slipped her free hand around Rob’s waist possessively.

‘We meet again,’ said Jessica to Emma. ‘Sorry, I can’t remember your name, but it’s lovely to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.’

‘Another person who didn’t,’ muttered Emma, instantly regretting it as she saw Rob look away.

Rob’s mobile started ringing and he answered it. ‘Shit,’ he said, covering the mouthpiece, ‘I have to go backstage. Listen, Emma, do you still want that laminate?’

‘I don’t know, maybe I’ll try the mosh pit,’ said Emma seriously.

Jessica let loose a peel of laughter.

‘Oh honey, no, take the laminate, I’ve got one,’ she said pulling the pass from around her neck.

Emma could feel her cheeks flush.

‘No, no, I’ll get you a laminate,’ said Rob firmly. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

Emma saw his eyes trail between herself and Jessica before he walked away.

Emma looked around for Stella anxiously, but she could see her running giddily towards the main stage where a band were just plugging in. Johnny was signing autographs for a group of pretty teenagers and Ruan had vanished into the beer tent. There was no one left to save her.

‘What a pretty top.’

‘Thank you,’ said Emma feeling extremely uncool in shorts and an embroidered vest she’d found in Faneuil Market in Boston.

‘What happened to you at the wedding?’

‘I was only ever coming to the Friday night party.’

‘Really?’ said Jessica, tilting her head. ‘Rob said you had to rush off for some emergency. Anyway, you missed a fabulous weekend. I was so pleased when I found out you and Rob weren’t
together,’
she said lowering her voice dramatically. ‘I’d clocked him as soon as I got to the party.’

‘Have you seen a lot of each other since Laura and Max’s wedding?’ asked Emma casually.

‘We’re both incredibly busy but we’ve been out a few times, yes. Have you seen his house in Notting Hill? Just incredible.’

‘No. I haven’t.’

‘Working in fashion, you kind of give up hoping to meet someone as great as Rob. Most of the men I meet are gay or total arse-holes.’

Emma just nodded, silently sizing the girl up. Jessica was loud and sexy and confident. Emma wanted to despise her, but she knew her anger was nothing to do with Jessica.

‘Well, you must introduce me to Johnny and Stella,’ said Jessica, ‘I would love to style them both.’

‘I’m not sure Stella needs styling. She does a pretty good job herself.’

‘Well, let me loose on Johnny then,’ she smirked, ‘He is
so
sexy.
Not that I’d want to date him,’ she added quickly. ‘A friend of a friend went out with him for a little while. Screwed around on her something rotten.’

They both turned to look at Johnny who was having his picture taken with a pretty teen in pixie boots and hot pants.

‘You might want to tip Stella off, but if she’s in the first flush of love maybe you should keep it under your hat,’ she smiled.

Jessica squeezed Emma’s hand and drained her glass.

‘Toodle-pips. I’m going to find Rob. And just a word of advice: stay away from the mosh pit.’

In the VIP tent Stella was having her photograph taken yet again and telling a journalist for about the tenth time that day that she was wearing a vintage dress.
Why did they want to know? Who cared that she’d just pulled the old thing from her cupboard this morning?

Ever since the premiere when she and Johnny had been snapped exiting the after-party, there seemed to be a photographer’s lens pointed at her wherever she turned.
This Country of Ours
had been a smash hit and had pushed Johnny into the spotlight, turning his minor son-of-star celebrity into the latest media obsession. There were profiles of him everywhere from
Grazia
to
Heat,
and everybody wanted to know who the stylish blonde was at his side. When word spread that she was not only a fashion designer, but Christopher Chase’s daughter to boot, her profile began to mushroom too. Stella was beginning to realize that the number of genuine UK celebrities on the ground was actually quite thin so the star-hungry press were always eager to create new ones in order to sell their papers.

But while Johnny appeared to be in his element with all the attention, it wasn’t something that she wanted. She had spent four years in LA surrounded by waiters, busboys, pool attendants, barmaids, and personal trainers all of whom were all in Tinseltown chasing the dream of becoming famous. It had never once appealed to Stella. She liked leaving the house in sweatpants and no makeup. She liked being able to visit the local shop or take out her rubbish without being photographed or asked to justify what she was doing, wearing or eating. She had seen the paparazzi at work in LA but in London they seemed to be even more relentless. It was scary and, for Stella, most unwelcome. She looked over at
Johnny who was being interviewed for a local TV station.
Still, it wasn’t all bad,
she thought.
At least I get to go home with him.

The light was seeping out of the sky, but the evening still had a balmy warmth. Stella looked around to see Emma walking over, holding a half-empty glass.

‘There you are,’ said Emma, ‘You’ve been missing in action for hours.’

‘I saw you with Ruan,’ replied Stella, actually feeling a little guilty. ‘I thought you were OK so I went to watch a couple of bands and then I chilled out here for a bit. Why? What’s wrong?’

She looked at Emma and wished her friend would lighten up a bit, maybe relax a little. Emma was a lovely person, she was smart and kind but she seemed to be in a perpetual state of anxiety.

‘Oh, I was just a bit embarrassed earlier on. Rob didn’t know that one of the tickets he gave you was for me.’

‘I kind of assumed he would. You two have been as thick as thieves lately, haven’t you. Why would he mind?’

‘No reason,’ shrugged Emma lamely. She hadn’t told Stella about going to the Hildon wedding, fearing her exuberant, loved-up designer would read too much into it.

‘So what do you think of Jessica?’ asked Stella, sipping her drink thoughtfully.

‘I haven’t given her a great deal of thought.’

‘I wanted to hate her because she’s so pretty, but actually she’s quite nice,’ said Stella. ‘It turns out she styles loads of famous people. She said she’ll get Milford bags onto the arms of as many of the rich and famous as she can.’

‘Oh, that’s nice of her,’ replied Emma mustering up as much enthusiasm as she could.

‘And she’s so slim. Johnny says he’s heard that she’s on these Mexican diet pills. He says she styled an actress friend of his who just couldn’t get into any of the sample sizes so Jessica gave her a bag of these pills just so she could get her into this amazing Dior. Apparently it works; she looked incredible.’

Emma grimaced, wondering why anyone would want to shovel barbiturates down their neck in order to fit into a dress.

‘I used to think he was in love with you,’ said Stella swirling round her mojito.

‘Who?’ said Emma suddenly snapping back to attention.

‘Rob, of course. I mean he’s done so much for us.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Emma. ‘Can you imagine me going out with someone like Rob?’

‘Anyway, that’s why I invited Ruan. To make Rob jealous.’

‘What?!’

‘To make him jealous,’ repeated Stella with an angelic smile. ‘I mean, when was the last time you had a shag? I really think it would be good for you.’

‘Stella!’ said Emma, aghast.

‘Anyway, I think it might be working. Did you see the way Rob was looking at you before? You’d been talking to Ruan for ages and his face was like thunder. Then I got to thinking that maybe you rather fancy Ruan. I mean he is very, very sexy in a sort of Heathcliffe way. And he’s single. Unless he’s gay. Which he very well might be because I’ve never seen him show any interest in women.’

Emma looked at Stella’s glass, convinced that she must be drunk.

‘Stella, Ruan isn’t gay just because he hasn’t got a girlfriend. And the only reason I was talking to him for so long is because he’s practically the only person I know here.’

But Stella wasn’t listening.

‘The more I thought about it the more I thought you’re better suited to Ruan than Rob anyway,’ she continued breezily. ‘I mean, you’re both so serious about work and you told me once you used to have a crush on him. I think you should just shag him.’

Stella giggled at Emma’s blushes. Right then Johnny came over and kissed Stella on the back of her neck.

‘Who’s shagging who?’ asked Johnny, grinning.

‘Emma and Ruan. Possibly,’ declared Stella.

‘Ooh, spicy!’ said Johnny, his grin getting even broader.

‘You two are impossible,’ said Emma, stalking off towards the beer tent.

‘Give Ruan our love!’ called Stella after her.