Season of Desire: Complete Edition (36 page)

Just then Jane-Elizabeth says, ‘Oh, I thought you might be interested to know that your bodyguard is coming back here. Miles Murray. He was on a few days’ unpaid leave, but Pierre told me he’s returning tonight. I think there was a question mark over whether he would stay or not, but apparently he wants to.’

My whole being thrills to the sound of Miles’s name and the knowledge that tonight we’ll be sleeping under the same roof again. Not in quite the same way as we did at the chalet but even so, I’ll be comforted knowing that he’s near me.

‘Oh,’ I say casually. ‘That’s interesting. I’m glad he didn’t leave.’

‘Yes, after what he did. We’re all in his debt, aren’t we? Now, dinner’s at eight, as usual,’ Jane-Elizabeth says as I head for the stairs. ‘Your father will be so pleased to see you.’

My father is pleased to see me, as Jane-Elizabeth predicted, but even so most of his attention is reserved for Estella, who claims to have a bad headache and whose every moan and groan extracts my father’s solicitous attention, as he gets her water, moves the flowers further away from her, calls for her soup to be taken away and replaced with plain crackers, and whatever else she demands. In between he asks me questions and I answer, trying to feel grateful to Estella for at least taking some of my father’s attention away from me and the lies I have to tell him about my trip away. I paint a picture of Lola and me relaxing on our own, shut away in our spa most of the time, indulging ourselves with treatments.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re back,’ Dad says. ‘Is that better, darling?’ He’s talking to Estella now. ‘More water? Sparkling this time? Of course.’ He turns back to me. ‘Flora’s gone to Paris, I expect you know.’ He shakes his head. ‘Ridiculous. I don’t approve.’

‘We have to do something with our lives, Dad,’ I say, ‘and Flora’s got a passion for acting. It’s the perfect thing for her. Especially as she doesn’t have to worry about how she’ll survive from job to job like most actors.’

‘I don’t like her drawing attention to herself,’ Dad says frowning.

‘I want Badoit!’ says Estella imperiously, pushing away the glass Dad has given her. ‘Not this awful muck. Badoit only.’

‘Yes, my darling, I forgot.’ He calls for Badoit and the maid goes rushing off to get it.

‘I envy her sense of purpose. I need to do something with my life,’ I say, and then wish I hadn’t as Estella turns to me with a kind of smirk.

‘Yes, you must,’ she says in a honeyed voice. ‘Let me see . . . what could it be? Charity work, perhaps . . .? Very suitable for a girl like Freya.’

I feel a rush of fury. I don’t want Estella involved in my life at all, and I can’t help feeling that she doesn’t wish me well.

Dad says, ‘Yes, that would be very suitable. Perhaps you could set up your own charity, Freya. Help some good causes.’

I don’t say anything but fidget a little. We already have a family foundation dedicated to charitable causes and I suppose I could get more involved with that. It would give me a worthwhile role in the world. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I say, reluctant to seem enthusiastic about Estella’s suggestion, even if it is a good one.

‘Perhaps you could help fallen women,’ says Estelle sweetly. ‘All the Mandys in the world who’ve had to turn to prostitution to make ends meet. Give them a chance in life.’

I look at her with a stony expression, wondering why she should say such an odd thing.

‘Or,’ she adds with a strange little smile, ‘you could save the rhino.’

‘Whatever you choose, I’m sure it will be an excellent cause,’ says my father. ‘Now – Estella, my love, shall I ask the kitchen to make you some plain steamed fish? I know you like that.’

Later that night, I’m lying in my huge bed, more aware than ever of the great yawning space around me. Was it really only this morning that I woke with Miles’s arms around me? It seems like a lifetime. I close my eyes and try to conjure up the sensation of his embrace and the pleasure of his warm body against mine, but it’s no good. I can’t make it feel real.

I sigh with longing.
Oh Miles. When am I going to see you again?

Just then, my phone beeps with a new text. I pick it up. There is a text from Miles.

Winter. I’m back. I’m downstairs in my old room and I’m thinking of you x

My stomach clenches in delight. He’s here! And he’s thinking about me!

I’m thinking about you too, Miles.

Suddenly I feel comforted and for a moment, I remember with such clarity how it was to have his arms wrapped round me that I’m cheered by a burst of happiness.

Tomorrow I might see him.

I imagine how it will be: the two of us pretending that nothing has happened, that we’re simply employer and staff. Perhaps Miles will be detailed to drive me around. Perhaps we’ll drive out somewhere deserted and have mad sex on the back seat of the Mercedes. The thought excites me, and I dream of it happily as I fall asleep.

But nothing about my dreams will come true.

The next day, all hell breaks loose.

Chapter Nineteen

I’m enjoying a leisurely breakfast alone in the dining room, wondering what Miles is doing and whether I’ll see him today or not, when Jane-Elizabeth comes into the room. She looks just the same as usual, with her black jeans, velvet slipper shoes and oversized black tunic top, but her face is pale and strained, her brown eyes anxious.

‘Oh, there you are, Freya,’ she says breathlessly as she sees me. ‘I’ve just been to your room.’

‘Well, I’m here,’ I say, sipping my coffee. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh dear.’

The look in her eyes suddenly makes me nervous and I put my cup down on it’s saucer with a loud clink, some of the coffee spilling over the edge. ‘What is it? Tell me.’

‘Freya . . .’ To my astonishment, she looks hurt as well as worried. ‘How could you?’

‘How could I what?’ I’m getting really anxious now.

She doesn’t answer but says, ‘Your father wants to see you. Right now. He’s in his study.’

‘Jane-Elizabeth!’ I stand up, feeling slightly sick. ‘Tell me what it is.’

But she just shakes her head sadly and says, ‘Right now, Freya. Go at once.’

I stride along the corridor, my heart pounding and my stomach churning with a horrible nauseous feeling. All I want now is to get this over with and find out whatever it is that’s making Jane-Elizabeth look so grim. Am I being blackmailed again? Has the whole nasty episode with Jacob raised its nasty head once more?

My hands are trembling slightly as I reach the study door and rap on its smooth surface.

‘Come in!’ calls my father from inside.

I turn the knob and push the door open. I can see my father behind his desk, which sits opposite the doorway across the room. He’s looking at me with a stern expression and cold eyes. Then I see that there are two other men in the room with him. One is Pierre, looking as dark and menacing as ever in his black suit, the shoulders stretched across his meaty back. He turns to look at me with a cool expression. Then I gasp. The other man is Miles.

I am flooded by mixed emotions: joy at seeing him, and the delightful somersault in my stomach that I always experience when I see him after a break. But also a kind of horror. Why have I been summoned like this, only to find Miles here? After what he said to me, it can’t be good news. It just can’t. I look away immediately, knowing I mustn’t betray myself.

‘Ah, Freya,’ says Dad, and I realise he’s been watching my reactions very carefully. ‘You’re here. That’s good. You’ve got some explaining to do, my girl.’

‘What do you mean?’ I say as boldly as I can, advancing into the room and trying to hide the tremor in my fingers. I need to brazen out whatever this is until I can find out more.
Innocent until proven guilty, right?

My father picks up a newspaper that’s on his desk and tosses it towards me. ‘I mean –
this.
’

The paper lands on the floor at my feet and I look down at it. There’s a huge picture on the front – a couple on a snow-covered slope, dressed in ski gear. They’re kissing passionately and the dark headline is stamped across it:
LE KISS!!
Under that in smaller letters it says
THE HEIRESS AND THE BODYGUARD – THEIR SECRET PASSION
and I see that there are lots of pictures of the couple laughing, staring at each other, embracing, and more of that kiss. It’s us, of course: Miles and me, together, on the slopes at Klosters, in shots taken only two days ago.

I stare at the front page, stunned, my mouth open. I simply do not know what to say. I had planned to answer my father with a denial, to lie my head off if I had to, in order to make sure that Miles and I remained a secret. But I can hardly lie when the proof is all over the front page.

‘That’s not all,’ says my father in a grim voice. ‘It’s been picked up somehow. That rag has the exclusive – the best shots. But it’s everywhere.’

My gaze moves involuntarily to Miles but he’s staring stonily at my father, his body completely still. I look back at Dad, and I know that my expression is far from defiant now. I can tell that the blood has drained from my face and my eyes are wide and scared. If I could have picked the very worst way for my father to find out about Miles, this would have been it. I blink, as though I can get rid of the images on the front of the paper that way, but when I look again, they’re still there.

LE KISS!! LE KISS!! LE—

‘Freya!’ Dad’s voice is cold. ‘Explain, please. Murray refuses to say a word.’

‘I . . . I . . .’

Pierre is staring at me, and I think I can see a kind of sneer in the set of his lips.

‘Spit it out!’ shouts my father. He leaps to his feet and bellows, ‘What the hell have you been playing at?’ He picks up another newspaper from the pile on his desk and throws that one at me too. ‘A lovely trip with Lola? You
lied
to me, Freya! You’ve been with
him.
’ He shoots a look of pure hatred at Miles, who stares back, his gaze still hard as granite.

‘I . . . Yes, I was with him!’

‘How could you lie to me?’ shouts my father. ‘How?’

‘Because . . .’ I feel fury building now. My fear is beginning to turn into rage as I wonder why I felt the need to lie to my father and the answer comes rushing into my mind. The words suddenly flow from me in an angry flood. ‘Can’t you see why, Dad? Because of this! Because of the way you’re treating me like a criminal for living my life! I’ve done nothing wrong. You force me to lie to you because of the way you treat me! I don’t live in a home, I live in a fortress! It’s been like this for so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to live without the feeling of being watched. You wonder why we flit across the world, always on the move, never able to settle. I’ll tell you why! It’s because we don’t have a home – not a real one, where we can be ourselves. And it’s to escape your control, because all you want to do is make us live our lives on your terms. Why shouldn’t I be with a man I like? Why shouldn’t I have some fun and love and laughter in my life? I’m young! I want to live, not just to exist in this god-awful house shut away on the top of a mountain!’

I run out of breath and come to a stop, my breath coming fast and my eyes blazing.

My father looks furious. My tirade has obviously done no good at all – he hasn’t listened to me, he hasn’t understood. ‘You ungrateful child!’ he yells. ‘With everything you have, you’re still unhappy! I grew up with nothing, and you have everything!’

‘No!’ I yell back. ‘You had your freedom! Don’t you see? That’s the one thing you won’t let me have!’

‘Freedom?’ Dad snaps. His eyes are narrow now, bright with his anger. ‘You’ve got your freedom! All I want to do is protect you, and keep you safe!’

‘Then why are you so furious that I’ve been with Miles? He’s a bodyguard! He’ll keep me safer than anyone!’

‘Because . . .!’ my father splutters. ‘Because . . .!’ He shoots another vitriolic look at Miles, who is watching proceedings with an impassive expression. ‘Because he can’t be trusted!’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I retort. ‘Of course he can! You and Pierre hired him, you must have trusted him.’

‘That was before your accident,’ says my father, stressing the word ‘accident’ as though he means something entirely the opposite.

Pierre suddenly speaks up, his harsh voice crackling through the air. ‘We’ve investigated Murray since that event,’ he says in his strong French accent, ‘and other things have come to light. Things that cause to us to wonder if our initial trust in him was misplaced.’

‘What things?’ I demand.

Pierre looks over at Miles and says nothing. Miles slowly turns and looks at Pierre with an expression of utter contempt. ‘What things?’ I demand, louder.

‘Think before you repeat your baseless allegations,’ Miles says in an icy voice.

I stare at them both, puzzled, and then my father says, ‘You don’t understand, Freya. I’m angry with you because you lied, because you’ve let yourself become a target of the paparazzi. Of course you want to live your life – I’m offended that you should think I would want to stop you, or your sisters, from doing so.’