The Vow (32 page)

‘
So are you going to marry your rich man?’

Lucy hesitated, and before she could reply the mobile phone in Rachael’s shoulder bag began to ring. She fished it out, checked the screen and said apologetically,
‘Sorry, Lucy, but I really do need to answer this, it’s a client.’

Moving out of earshot she leant against the rails onto the lock and took the call. Suddenly as she sat watching Rachael talking animatedly to her client Lucy had a rare moment of complete clarity. The long blonde hair and breathtaking beauty, the red dress and the initials for the cigarette case; Lucy knew with absolute certainty that this woman was Cherry Red. The realisation almost made her gasp out loud. What was she doing here? What did she want? Panic and excitement welled up simultaneously. She willed herself to stay calm, to think. Marcus must have sent her, but why? What did he want to know that he couldn’t ask her himself? At least she hadn’t said anything too revealing yet, but she could have done, this woman was so easy to talk to.

Her brain began to work overtime as she realized that she had the opportunity to make the situation work for her. She could send Marcus a message; use Cherry to let him know how she felt about things she knew he would never discuss with her.

‘
There, he’s happy now. You do have to hold their hands.’

I bet that’s not all your holding for him thought Lucy but asked innocently,
‘What business are you in Rachael?’

‘
Corporate entertaining.’

It was her, it had to be! Lucy was absolutely enthralled. This was someone she had really never expected to meet. Cherry Red, the most infamous courtesan in
London, brothel-keeper, and long time friend of Marcus. Lucy had never met a call-girl before, and was torn between fascination and revulsion at how this lovely creature earned her living. Certainly no one had exaggerated about her looks, she was simply stunning. With her refined voice, elegance and air of sophistication Lucy now understood why she had never heard her labelled as a prostitute. Cherry was a class act. She couldn’t wait to tell Ellen how she had met her and been clever enough, she hoped, to turn it to her advantage.

‘
So where were we?’ Marcus’s spy was straight back to business.

~

Handing him the heavy crystal whisky glass, Cherry asked, ‘Why are you marrying Lucy next month and not me?’

Marcus took the drink, sat down in an armchair and with a short laugh told her,
‘As captivating as you are, I don’t think marrying a whore and brothel-keeper would do much to enhance my reputation, or my chances of a knighthood.’

‘
Then why are you sleeping with me and not her?’ snapped Cherry.

‘
Did she tell you that?’ he demanded.

‘
Not exactly. I may only be a whore, Marcus, but I’m quite capable of reading between the lines.’

Her voice was angry and he regretted his choice of words. That they were having this conversation proved he was spending too much time with her, and the hitherto clear lines of demarcation in their relationship were becoming blurred. He knew this had to be the last time he visited her.

‘Cherry, you are so much more than that and we both know it. It’s not like you to be over-sensitive, but I didn’t mean to offend you.’

Knowing this was as close Marcus ever came to an apology a smile replaced her frown, and she replied lightly,
‘It’s okay, Marcus, I know exactly what and who I am. And don’t worry, I have no desire to marry you anyway. You are manipulative, controlling and devious. Just like me. It would be open warfare.’

He laughed.
‘A match made in heaven! Why don’t you get old Anatole to marry you? He can’t have much longer to go, particularly if he keeps sleeping with you, and you would be a fabulously rich widow.’

‘
He still has his fat Greek wife with her moustache and hairy armpits, but I don’t want to marry anyone. I’m perfectly happy as I am. Anyway, do you want to hear how I got on with your intended?’

Marcus freshened their glasses and listened to Cherry’s report.

‘Well, she is obviously troubled about your relationship. It only took a little encouragement and a sympathetic ear to get her talking. Don’t worry, she was perfectly discreet, but she does seem to be in a quandary. She believes you have changed towards her lately and she feels shut out. She had been confident about the future, but now she’s not so sure.’

Marcus’s face didn’t change and after a moment he asked,
‘What about the Frenchman?’

‘
She was undoubtedly very much in love with him, but she seems to have put that firmly in the past. I asked her if she loved you, but she didn’t really answer me.’

Marcus made no comment and stared into his glass.

Cherry continued, ‘Marcus, I have no idea why you aren’t sleeping with this girl and I don’t suppose for one minute you are going to tell me, but it is something you are going to have to address or you will lose her.’

~

It was the first time Lucy had seen Alicia since the evening she went to her Belgravia house for drinks. Extending her visit to Hong Kong by two extra weeks, Alicia had arrived back in London just days before Lucy flew out to Italy.

She was staying with Ginny for the weekend and Marcus invited both women to join Lucy and him for dinner at the golf club. Marcus was the only one who knew what it was costing his sister to offer her warm congratulations on the engagement and forthcoming wedding. Lucy had no reason not to take the kind words at face value, and if Ginny wondered at her friend’s volte-face, she was much more curious at the muted way in which the happy couple accepted the felicitations and then quickly changed the subject.

She ventured a question. ‘Are you off somewhere hot and exotic for your honeymoon? Or perhaps you’re bored with the sun after this amazing summer.’

Lucy said no
thing, leaving Marcus to answer. ‘The honeymoon may have to wait a while, I’m rather tied up at the moment. Are we all ready to order? I’m famished.’

Ginny looked down at her menu and asked herself if she was imagining it, or were both Marcus and Lucy showing a distinct lack of enthusiasm about their nuptials?

‘Jacintha is doing so well for herself in Hong Kong,’ Alicia told them with such self-satisfaction it may have been supposed she was personally responsible for her goddaughter’s success. ‘She’s awfully well regarded at the bank and is the most senior woman executive. Of course, she’s very ambitious. I don’t see her getting tied down with a husband and children. She really wants to make something of herself.’

Not like me then, thought Lucy. Good for Jacintha. I bet she’s a right bitch, and probably a dyke anyway! She immediately felt guilty. Jacintha was probably perfectly pleasant, and she had no reason to think Alicia had meant her comments to be taken personally. What was wrong with her this evening?

Trying to make conversation she asked, ‘Do you have children, Ginny?’

‘
Yes, Giles is a stockbroker as his father was, and Arabella has an interior design business which she manages to fit around two small children.’

All these girls with their posh, slightly ridiculous names; Jacintha, Arabella and there was Lydia Fanshawe’s daughter Pandora. I shall make sure any daughter of mine isn’t saddled with a mouthful like that decided Lucy. Something pretty but not too fanciful; Grace or Lily perhaps. But then given how she was likely to be conceived perhaps something like Pipette might be more suitable!

‘You look deep in thought, Lucy, are you alright?’ asked Ginny kindly.

Lucy realized she had floated off into her own little world
– away with the fairies as her dad would have put it – and Marcus was not looking pleased. She said the first thing which came into her mind. ‘I was just thinking how hot it was in here. Do you think we could ask for one of the outside doors to be opened?’

‘
Good idea,’ agreed Alicia. ‘Let some air in, if there is any, it feels very stormy to me.’

~

It was a little after midnight when the Aston Martin pulled up outside Graylings and there hadn’t been much in the way of conversation on the journey home. Marcus was surprised when Lucy sprang out of the car and said enthusiastically, ‘Let’s go for a swim!’

‘
What now?’

‘
Yes, it’ll be fun. We had loads of late night dips at the villa, the water is lovely after a day of sun on it. Come on, last one in is a sissy!’

With that, she was off towards the pool laughing as she went. Marcus watched her go with amusement, paused to check the outside lights were on and then followed the trail of clothes she had left in her wake. By the time he reached the pool a naked Lucy was completing her first length.

‘Come on, Marcus, get your kit off!’ she called out happily.

He hesitated for a moment then was out of his clothes and into the water before he had time to think better of it. She had been right, the water was perfect and the long forgotten freedom and pleasure of skinny-dipping came flooding back. He powered up and down several times and then treading water at the deep end he looked around for Lucy.

Swimming underwater she suddenly came up right in front of him and he had taken her in his arms before he could stop himself. She waited for him to release her but he didn’t and instead his embrace became tighter. Their lips met and the kiss spoke of desire long denied. Marcus felt a brief moment of panic as he realized this time there would be no turning back.

Neither noticed the heavy drops of rain as they started to fall at first gently and then with ever increasing velocity into the water around them. The branches of the surrounding trees began to sway in the gathering wind. Huge black clouds scudded across the sky almost but not quite eclipsing a crescent moon, its moody light illuminating the lovers. As they reached the final wave of pleasure their cries were lost amidst a tumultuous clap of thunder.

Chauffeur-driven to the airport, the prerequisite ticket, an enormous diamond on her finger and soon to be married. What a difference five months can make she thought as she walked confidently into the Business Class lounge.

‘
Lucy, sweetie, over here,’ Ellen called softly from where she stood chatting to a young man surrounded by camera cases and two women, so tall, thin and gorgeous they had to be models. Lucy immediately forgot about her new sophisticated image, and with a whoop of joy rushed over to spin the startled Ellen off her feet.

‘
Darling, you look like the cat who got the cream! Can this mean…?’

‘
I’ve got so much to tell you, Ellen!’

~

It hadn’t been until Marcus reminded her that Lucy had remembered the trip he bought for her at the charity ball. Things were going so well she hadn’t really wanted to go away, not even for just four days. Neither of them had tried to put it into words, but the night in the swimming pool two weeks ago had changed everything. Marcus had let down his guard a little and she felt they were finally starting to get to know one another.

The flat had never seemed like home and when Marcus suggested she move into the house she had decided it was the right time. She had been afraid that the lovemaking, the intensity of which had come as rather a shock, would be a one-off but that had not been the case. Whilst she still had her own bedroom they regularly spe
nt the night together in Marcus’s big wooden bed, and there had been the erotic if slightly uncomfortable occasion on the grand piano. He may have been celibate for more than twenty years but Marcus now seemed pretty keen on the pleasures of the flesh. She didn’t ask what had changed for him; she didn’t need to know.

The Paris Fashion Week was enormous fun. Frenetic, bizarre and egocentric, but fun. By day, in the company of Vogue’s amiable fashion editor, Broo Marshall, Lucy watched dozens of catwalk shows each one more fantastical than the last as the designers vied for position. The clothes ranged from ultra tailored, through whimsical to completely outrageous. The lighting, sound effects and use of live animals as props
– puppies, Shetland ponies and a boa constrictor – seemed to be escalating out of control. Each collection was a mini extravaganza.

In her coveted front row seat she was surrounded by some of the world’s most recognisable faces.
Hollywood stars, European royalty, international divas and those famous for simply being famous. Lucy had never seen so many pairs of dark glasses in one room. By night she partied with Ellen and a group of other models in Paris’s most chic restaurants and nightclubs.

Her abiding memory however would be watching Ellen float down the runway in a wedding dress spun from pure fantasy. She looked divine and stole the show, but as the gown left her left breast and right buttock bare it seemed unlikely to be her choice should she finally agree to marry Simon.

This time Lucy was left in no doubt that Marcus was missing her; he had arranged for flowers and Champagne in her hotel room, and rang her each evening. The entire trip would have been perfect in every way had she not eaten something which upset her and left her feeling nauseous on the last day.

~

Cherry was neither surprised nor concerned by Marcus’s desertion. It had been a pleasant interlude, but he rather monopolised her time. The delicious Mercedes Luenga had been in touch and a change of menu was appealing. On balance she thought her relationship with Marcus was best kept platonic in the future.

She had li
ked his nice little fiancée better than she had expected and there was definitely more to that young lady than met the eye. Deciding a second visit was neither necessary nor prudent she had sent Pearl to pick up the cigarette case on the day Lucy had said it would be ready. Opening the prettily wrapped packet she had laughed aloud at the note tucked inside. There were just two words.
Thanks Cherry!

Marcus had not i
ntended to take Cherry’s advice. On the contrary, he had decided to break the engagement that weekend. It had been a mistake and he could not go through with it. He had wanted a son, but not at this price. He was far too old to have his heart broken. But there is no fool like an old fool, and when she wrapped her naked body around his he simply couldn’t help himself. And now he was lost, as he knew he would be. She was in his house, in his bed and in his life for as long as he could keep her.

~

Lucy had decided to re-arrange her workshop. A pleasant place to work during the summer she had forgotten how chilly the old, poorly insulated building could be, and the days were becoming increasingly cooler. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would go on working there, but she didn’t intend sitting in an uncomfortable draught. Meeting Spyder as she crossed reception on her way in she had asked if he would pop up to give her a hand with the heavier things. She was struggling with her workbench, her back to the open door, as the footsteps on the landing came to a halt behind her.

‘
Oh good, you’re here. If you could grab the other end of this, I want it in the space I’ve cleared in the alcove.’

‘
Bien sûr.’

The voice was not Spyder’s, but it was one she knew well. Letting go of the bench Lucy whirled round.

‘Laurent!’

~

When Clive Yates received the tip-off about the French lawyer he was monitoring for Marcus Delacroix he considered what to do for the best. Casteran was on the evening flight from Toulouse into Gatwick, but Yates didn’t know the reason for his trip to London or as yet where he was staying. Given that Delacroix’s interest in the Frenchman was connected with Ms Weston he decided she would be the best place to start. He immediately arranged for her to be tailed and sat back to await any developments. His operative called in the next afternoon to report that a man fitting Casteran’s description had spent two hours with Ms Weston in her workshop that morning. He had left alone and not long after, she had taken a cab back to Delacroix’s house where she had remained since. Yates judged it was time to contact his client.

Marcus was in
Toulouse, the irony of which did not escape him. Casteran had almost certainly travelled to England on the return leg of the flight which had brought him to France the previous evening. He listened to Yates’s report with a heavy heart. There could surely be only one reason for Lucy’s ex-lover to seek her out, and if a reconciliation was what she wanted then there was little he could do to stop it. Having the crap beaten out of his rival was tempting, but unlikely to further his cause. Perhaps later. Cutting short his trip seemed pointless; what would be, would be. He could only wait. Wait, and through Yates, watch.

~

Joyce McFee was surprised to see Lucy back home so early in the day, but it only took one look at her face to know something was wrong.

‘
You do look peaky, Lucy. Are you not feeling well?’

‘
I feel pretty rotten actually. I don’t think I’m completely over the dose of food poisoning I got in Paris.’

Joyce nodded her head knowingly.
‘That’s the trouble with foreign food. I don’t hold with it myself, never have. You get off to bed and I’ll bring you up a nice cup of tea.’

‘
I think I’ll just lie on the sofa, but tea would be nice, thank you,’ Lucy replied gratefully.

She spent the rest of the afternoon and all of that evening snuggled under the soft plaid blanket fetched from the airing cupboard by the solicitous Joyce. Silk sauntered in a couple of times, eyed her unsympathetically and left her to it. She felt sick and her head was spinning as she went over and over what had happened with Laurent.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she had asked in amazement.

‘
I’ve come to take you home,’ he announced.

‘
Home?’ she asked faintly.

‘
With me, back to France, where you belong.’

‘
Just like that?’ She had the feeling that somehow she had missed part of the conversation.

‘
You know we are meant for each other, Lucy. You’ve made your point, it’s time you came home now.’

As he spoke he moved towards her and she knew he would have kissed her if she hadn’t quickly stepped back behind the workbench. His arrogance took her breath away. Who the hell did he think he was?

‘I’m getting married in three weeks,’ she told him with more calm than she felt.

‘
Well you still can. Marry me, Lucy.’

This was new, marriage had never been part of Laurent’s game plan. He stood smiling at her, the smile which had haunted her dreams for so long, and her heart did a little flip. She had loved him so much. Had or did? she asked herself.

‘What’s this all about, Laurent? It’s been nearly six months without a word and now you’re here asking me to marry you. What’s changed?’

‘
Nothing and everything. I’ve had time to think and I know now you are the only woman for me. I’ve missed you. I love you, Lucy, please come home.’

How many times had she longed to hear those words? But was it enough? He held out his hand to her but she did not take it. Turning her back on him she went to stand looking out of the window. When he came up behind her she could feel his body all the way down hers and his warm breath on her neck.

‘Sometimes love just isn’t enough,’ she told him sadly.

‘
It is, of course it is,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘With love we can sort everything else out, they were just misunderstandings.’

‘
The redhead, was she just a misunderstanding?’

‘
Cherie, she was nothing, a client that was all.’

‘
But there has been someone else while I’ve been gone, hasn’t there?’

She turned to face him, to see if he would lie.

He gave a typically Gallic shrug and answered airily, ‘Yes, but she only made me realize how much I wanted you back. She is unimportant, like your businessman.’

‘
He has a name, my businessman, it is Marcus and he is not unimportant. Does she know you’re here, and why?’

He looked uncomfortable. Typical Laurent, she thought, always keep a back-up position.

Ignoring the question, he took her hand. ‘Lucy, can you really tell me you love this man, that you have anything like we had together? Can you put your hand on your heart and tell me that you no longer love me?’

‘
I’m so confused I couldn’t put my hand on my heart and tell you my name is Lucy Weston. I need time to think.’

But the more she thought the more confused she became. She hadn’t been ready for this, how could she be? Over the last few months she had tried so hard to put him out of her mind, to accept that it was over. And it had been working. She had built a new life for herself even if until recently it had seemed to be on shifting sand. But just seeing Laurent again had rocked her newfound confidence in the future she had planned with Marcus. It was just like him to turn up now and remind her how love could feel.

Marcus didn’t ring that evening and she was grateful not to have to pretend that all was well. He was too perceptive, he would have seen straight through her forced cheerful chatter. She went to bed early feeling completely drained and incapable of any further coherent thought. Sleep, deep and dreamless, came mercifully soon.

When Joyce arrived the next morning Lucy was up but not dressed. She sat at the kitchen table looking pale and wan.

‘I think you must have a bug, dear. You’re not going to work today are you?’

‘
No, I don’t feel up to it. I’m going up to wash my hair and have a shower, perhaps that will make me feel a bit more human.’

At that moment Silk hurtled through the back door, jumped up on to the table and dropped something on to the plate Lucy had used for her piece of dry toast. Taking one look at the mouse’s headless corpse she rushed for the bathroom.

When she came back down she spent half an hour in the garden and felt better for the fresh air. The sun was out but it had no heat and a cool breeze rustled the leaves which had begun to fall. Autumn was on its way. She walked through the flowerbeds dead heading here and there until she was called indoors by the ringing of her mobile. It was Amelia but she didn’t have time to chat, she just wanted to update Lucy on the progress of her grandmother’s affairs. As much as she wanted to, Lucy knew she could not discuss her present dilemma with her mother, or with Ellen. It was something she had to sort out for herself. The phone rang again almost immediately, this time it was her precious metals supplier with an invoice query. As she flipped through her diary checking the date of a delivery she noticed something which sent her thoughts in a very different direction.

Just before lunch, as she walked around the local shops, Lucy did not notice the unexceptional fair-haired man sitting on a bench reading the racing section of his newspaper. He kept her in his sights as she visited the newsagent and chemist before returning home.