Season of Desire: Complete Edition (39 page)

‘I need to put some space between me and everything’s that happened,’ I explain. ‘If I’m going to move on with my life.’

‘Yes,’ my father says.

‘And as the Foundation’s headquarters are in Paris, I might drop in and see if there’s a role I can play,’ I say, as the idea occurs to me.

‘Even better,’ says my father.

‘And you’ll stay with Flora?’ puts in Estella, who’s been listening carefully, her good mood a little deflated by the way my father is relenting towards me.

‘Yes, for now,’ I say airily. ‘It depends on how long I end up staying there.’

Estella nods.

‘Shall I make the arrangements?’ asks Jane-Elizabeth. ‘When would you like to go?’

‘First thing in the morning,’ I reply.

‘Of course. I’ll get on to it,’ she says, without batting an eyelid. Impulsive travel is part of what my family does.

‘Thanks, Jane-Elizabeth.’ I smile gratefully as I stand up. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pack and turn in. I want to be up bright and early for my flight.’

Thierry doesn’t say anything in particular but I can tell that he’s keeping an especial eye on me from the way he keeps glancing over his shoulder at me as I sit in the back seat.

Another guard drives us to the airport, and then Thierry carries my bags from the car to the small private plane that will take me to Paris Charles de Gaulle. On board, Thierry sits at the back while I relax into a large cream leather seat and refuse the champagne I’m offered.

I’m keyed up and excited, delighted at the thought that I might be seeing Miles again very soon. How will he react when he sees me? I imagine us rushing into one another’s arms, and him sweeping me up with a laugh of happiness and a kiss as he vows we’ll never be parted again. My imagination soon begins to take me to more fevered places than that, and try as I might, I can’t stop myself thinking beautiful thoughts of making love to him with all the need that has built up over the last few days.

One of the cabin crew comes over to me and says politely, ‘Can I offer you a paper, madam?’

‘Thank you,’ I say as she puts it down on the table in front of me. ‘Could I also have some water, please?’

‘Certainly,’ she replies with a smile. ‘And we’ll be taking off in approximately ten minutes.’

I hardly hear her. I’m looking at the front page of the newspaper. To my horror, there’s a large photograph of me and next to me – not Miles, as I might have expected, but a picture of Jacob, my ex. The headline screams at me:
Freya boyfriend HIV shock!!!

I’m gasping and confused as I try to take in what the newsprint is saying, but it swims in front of my eyes.

HIV? What . . .? How?

I force myself to calm down and read the article that’s under the pictures. And there it is, in cold, hard print: the whole story of Jacob’s dalliance with prostitutes, the fact that he was filmed and how I was then blackmailed to buy the film and hush the sordid business up. The HIV reference comes from the fact that I had to be tested for all the known STDs once we found out what Jacob had been up to. To my huge relief, the story is not claiming that Jacob has HIV which he’s passed to me – although the attention-grabbing headline is obviously meant to imply that – but only that it was a possibility. Still, the article takes great pleasure in describing Jacob’s predilections and detailing what he got up to with the girls he hired.

I realise my hands are shaking as the stewardess sets down a bottle of water and a glass beside me, pretending not to notice that my face is staring up at her from the newspaper. As she leaves me, I slump back in my seat. The plane is beginning its taxi to the runway for departure but I’m barely aware of it. I’m aghast. How has this happened? Who on earth has let the cat out of this particular bag? Surely not Jacob, who has nothing to gain from all this . . . In fact his father, a very strict and morally upright man, will be appalled by the scandal, I’m certain of that. I feel sorry, suddenly, for Jacob – not an emotion I ever expected to feel. It’s bad enough for me, but at least I’m the injured party. For Jacob, it’s deeply humiliating.

I pick up my phone to text him and then put it down again. I expect I’m the last person he wants to hear from right now.

Just then the little plane takes up its position and a moment later, we’re roaring along the runway and up into the air, towards Paris.

By the time we arrive just over an hour later, the messages are pouring into my phone. My life is turning into a very amusing soap opera for the entertainment of my friends – at least, that’s how it feels. There’s a general expression of astonishment as those not in the know suddenly understand why Jacob and I broke up, and an outpouring of sympathy from those who knew why we didn’t want the circumstances to get out. Lola wants to know if she can find out tomorrow’s splash first, so she doesn’t spill her coffee at breakfast, like she did this morning. At least that makes me laugh, even if a little ruefully.

All of this is only going to fan the flames of the media attention, and make it harder to get about without attracting the press. I remember that Paris is where Jacob’s parents have their main home, and suddenly wonder if coming here was such a good idea.

But I only heard from Beth yesterday evening. I had no idea then that Paris might be tricky.

It’s too late now, I think, as we land smoothly at Charles de Gaulle and Thierry ushers me from the plane to a waiting car. There are paps with long-range lenses trained on the plane and they start snapping the minute I step out.

How the hell do they know?
If I weren’t too old and wise for such stories, I might start to believe in witchcraft, with the way they anticipate my every move.

I’m in the car quickly and as fast as we can get out of the airport, we’re on our way to the city centre.

‘This is madness!’ I say to Thierry, who’s sitting in the front besides the driver.

‘I know,’ he says grimly. ‘Crazy.’

We’ve got a couple of pap outriders for a while, chasing us on their little buzzy mopeds, but we lose them quickly. I know it won’t do any good. They’ll be phoning contacts in Paris, telling them we’re on our way and which road we’re on. They’ll pick us up close to the city centre and then stay on our tails until they find out where I’m staying. I call Flora.

‘Hi!’ she says, sounding a little dozy. ‘Are you here already?’

‘Flora, it’s almost nine o’clock. Are you still in bed? We’ve just left the airport. The thing is, I’m on the front pages again today.’

‘What for? More gossip about the bodyguard?’

‘Not this time. It’s about Jacob. I’ll explain when I see you but I’ve got photographers on my tail and I don’t want to lead them straight to you. I’ll be there as soon as I can but I might have to take a roundabout route.’

‘No hurry,’ says Flora. ‘I need to get up anyway.’

‘You students! Shouldn’t you be at your course?’

‘No lessons today,’ Flora says with a laugh. ‘Call me when you arrive.’

‘I will.’

I click off the call. ‘Thierry, we can’t take these guys to my sister’s house. We’re going to have to come up with a plan. You need to let me out early, before the paps pick us up again.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Thierry says uncertainly. ‘That’s not in the schedule.’

‘Thierry, it’s much more unsafe to lead the press straight to my sister’s flat. Listen, I’ll get out and go to Flora’s by public transport. I can easily slip onto the train or metro somewhere. You take the car to the Ritz – I’ll call there and make a booking. Go to the back as though we’re going in privately. They might see I’m not in the car, but by then, they’ll be good and confused. Okay?’

‘My orders are to accompany you at all times—’

‘Your orders have changed,’ I say crisply. We’re on the outskirts of the city now. There isn’t much time. I see that we’re approaching a red light and the car is slowing to a halt. This is my chance. Just then the light turns green and the driver makes to speed up again. Before he can, I open the door and jump out. ‘Stay at the Ritz till I contact you,’ I cry as I hit the road and slam the door shut behind me. The car has to move off and I’m forced to dive between the traffic, before I’m caught in a rush of moving cars. With a dash and an apology to the barrage of horns, I make it to the pavement in time to see my car taking Thierry away into town.

I’m free!

I’ll go to Flora’s but not yet. Thierry knows her address, I’ll be easy to find there. I need to use my freedom while I have it.

Two hours later, I’m strolling into a pretty café in the Marais district of Paris. It’s a chic place that looks more like a sophisticated sitting room than a coffee shop, with book-lined walls and velvet sofas.

I found a station without too much difficulty using my phone, and as the train took me into the city, I called Beth to arrange a meeting. From the station, I took the métro but got out early so that I could enjoy my walk through Paris, a city I’ve always loved. The weather is cold but bright, and I’m perfectly equipped for a city walk, with my flat biker boots, jeans and belted quilted jacket with a fur-edged hood. Over my shoulder is my bag – my luggage is still in the car with Thierry – and I feel as though I could go anywhere and be anyone. Except, that is, for whenever I pass a newsstand and see my face and Jacob’s staring out at me. Then I’m glad for my cashmere beret and the big pair of dark glasses I’m wearing.

I spot Beth as soon as I go into the warmth of the café. She’s engrossed in something on her tablet, her fair head bent over it. I feel a rush of affection as I see her, as though I’m meeting an old friend, which is odd because we’ve only met once before.

‘Hi!’ I say, taking a chair at her table.

She looks up and beams at me. ‘Freya, you made it. Lovely to see you.’

We drop kisses on each other’s cheeks in greeting and Beth orders me a coffee.

‘You seem very occupied,’ I say, nodding to the tablet.

She flushes happily. ‘Wedding plans,’ she explains. ‘It’s easy to spend hours looking at all the different options. But I have a good idea of what we want, so it’s just a question of locating it.’

‘You’re not wasting any time,’ I say, smiling.

‘No – we don’t want to. We want to get married as soon as we can, now we’ve decided. I’d love to have a Christmas wedding.’

‘Very romantic – but Christmas isn’t that far away. Can you really plan everything so fast?’ I think about the enormous parties my father has held, or the ones I’ve attended all over the world, ones that are months in the planning. ‘What about your dress? It can’t be made in time, can it?’

She laughs merrily. ‘Your face is funny! You look really worried! I’m not expecting to wear haute couture, handmade in an atelier in the rue Cambon. I’ll be happy with something beautiful that I find in some quirky little shop somewhere. And I could organize it all for next week if I had to – we don’t want a huge wedding, just our closest friends and family.’ Beth looks thoughtful. ‘That’s why getting married here in Paris may be best.’

‘Can you just decide that?’

‘Well, we have to be resident in this country for a while but as Dominic keeps a flat here, that’s fine. There’s a bit of official documentation we have to sort out – medical certificates, birth certificates and a legal affidavit, but nothing we can’t arrange fairly fast.’

I look at her, impressed. She seems completely unfazed by the idea of marrying in a city she doesn’t know well at very short notice. ‘Let me know if I can help,’ I say.

‘Maybe we can go wedding dress shopping together,’ she replies with a smile, as the waiter brings my coffee.

‘That sounds fun,’ I say, meaning it. ‘I’d love to.’

Beth sips at her own coffee before she says, ‘But you haven’t come here for that, have you?’

It’s my turn to flush now. The question has been burning in my mind. ‘Is Miles in Paris yet?’

‘He’s arriving at the flat today,’ she says. I can see sympathy in her eyes: she must know what it’s like to feel the way I do – mad about someone but somehow not able to be with him.

‘Where’s he been?’

‘I have no idea. I know that he’s been footloose for a few years while he’s been a bodyguard. Since he returned from Afghanistan and left the army, he hasn’t settled, according to Dominic. I think he has a place somewhere in Scotland but he never goes there.’

I lean towards her, eager to learn all I can about Miles. We’ve experienced such amazing intimacy together and yet I know so little about him. ‘What happened in Afghanistan? Dominic hinted about something that took place there.’

‘I really don’t know, I’m afraid,’ Beth says apologetically. ‘Miles is an old friend of Dominic, but he hasn’t talked about him much and we’ve barely seen him together. But now you mention it, I think I have heard Dominic say something about it all . . .’

‘What?’ I stare at her, willing her to remember. She thinks hard but still looks blank.

‘I’m sorry – I really don’t know. I can ask Dominic if you like, but I have a feeling that he won’t tell me.’ She gives me a sideways look. ‘You and Miles – this is all very new, isn’t it?’

I nod. ‘It’s crazy, the way it happened.’

Beth leans towards me, now, her eyes bright. ‘Tell me the whole thing. I love a good romance.’