Fern Britton Summer Collection: New Beginnings, Hidden Treasures, The Holiday Home, The Stolen Weekend

‘Er … thank you. But …’

Go on, she imagined Mel’s voice in her ear. Who needs to know? He’s good-looking, you trust him, and he’s saying he won’t come back for more. Look at it as the first hurdle. Once you’re over it, the next one will be much easier. And, you never know, it might even be quite nice.

She laughed as her inhibitions took flight. What the hell? ‘Why are you standing out there?’ She stepped back, pulling the door open.

‘Really? Are you sure?’ His confidence deserted him. She liked him for that.

‘Let’s have the brandy and see. But if we do, no strings. And no telling Frank. We’d never hear the end of it.’

‘None and absolutely not.’ He came into the room and raised his glass in a toast. ‘Dutch courage.’

*

The next morning Christie woke up alone. Sam had left after they’d had a really very enjoyable time together, giving her a chance to catch some sleep and to get ready for the day ahead. He had been right, she thought, as she took her shower. Some skills don’t go away. They just need a bit of a polish. She had always imagined that she would feel guilty and terribly disloyal to Nick if she slept with someone else. At last she had realised that enjoying herself with another man didn’t mean she would forget him. No one was going to replace him in her heart, but that didn’t mean she had to sign up to the nearest convent. Mel was right. Of course. One slightly drunken night had shown her that she could enjoy herself without being racked with remorse. Before he left her room, Sam had emphasised once again that he didn’t want any ties and she was more than happy with that.

She was second down to breakfast. Frank was already in the dining room, with a cup of coffee and a half-eaten plate of scrambled egg. On her way to the table, she stopped to pour herself some orange juice.

‘Well, look at you!’ The light reflected off the top of his head as he gazed at her over his reading glasses, assessing what he saw.

‘What d’you mean?’ All innocent.

‘Doesn’t take Einstein to work out what happened to you last night. You look as if you’ve had your flue well and truly swept!’

Christie blushed. ‘Frank! For God’s sake, shut up!’

‘You’re glowing, darling. Well, it couldn’t happen to a nicer couple is all I can say.’

‘Get one thing straight, Frank Bolton. We’re not a couple. It was a one-off no-strings number.’

‘No need to bite my head off.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Christie hoped so.

Sam was looking at his watch as he came over. He was slim in a pale grey suit that gave a pleasant hint of what was underneath. He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. She blushed, remembering the pleasure she’d experienced the night before when those lips had been so very intimate, and earned herself another sly squeeze from Frank.

Without bothering to sit down, Sam poured and slugged back a half-cup of black coffee, then grabbed a piece of toast before turning to go. ‘Come on, guys. We’ve got to get down to the town hall for the results. They’re posting them at eight thirty.’

‘I’m ready. Just let me get my things and check out.’ She drank the last of her coffee and stood up. She felt better than she had for ages. Sam had done her a favour and she understood the deal between them. Her radar was being cranked back into working order. She hurried upstairs, feeling quite ready for whatever the day would throw at her.

17 (#ulink_c01f719e-d1e4-5f77-8ccb-939e858a1579)

Julia was late. Very late. Christie had asked for this meeting and had arrived promptly, just as Julia expected her to when she called a meeting. She was naturally aware that she was one among many on her agent’s long list of priorities, but even so, to be kept waiting for almost an hour (so far) bordered on rude. The time had been punctuated with messages saying she was on her way, unavoidably delayed. If it hadn’t been for those, Christie would have left ages ago, happy to arrange another appointment. As it was, the continuing promise of her agent’s imminent arrival had kept her there. A deliberate and well-practised power ploy, she suspected. She sat in Julia’s office, comfy on the black leather sofa, having been shown in by her assistant, Lily. After she’d flicked through the copies of Harper’s, Vogue and Broadcast, Christie fell to wondering what conversations these walls must have heard, how many careers had been made and bank balances improved in this room.

She got up and went to the window behind Julia’s desk. The street below was glistening wet, with the rain bouncing off the roof of a passing bus. She watched a young woman attempt to hail a cab, then shake her feet as a car ran through a puddle and splashed her. Christie turned and looked at Julia’s desk: immaculate, with neither a coffee stain nor an ink smear on the caramel leather. She jumped as Lily put her head round the door with another message.

‘I’m sorry, Christie.’ They had dispensed with the formalities half an hour ago. ‘Julia’s rung in again. She’s ten minutes away. She really won’t be long. Can I get you another tea?’ She crossed the room to take away Christie’s cup.

She was an attractive girl with an unusual face: full lips, quite a large but well-shaped nose, wide-apart eyes that registered interest in everything she heard, and the sort of pale skin that burned with the first hint of sunshine. She wore little makeup apart from a dash of mascara and a pale lip-gloss that she had obviously reapplied since she’d last appeared. Her dark hair was cut short in a funky asymmetric design. An extremely short tartan skirt exposed most of her very long legs down to her flat leopard-print pumps. A variety of droopy Top-Shop-style layers covered her upper half and a silver locket hung next to a cross on a thin chain around her neck. Nothing could be further from the studied and expensive elegance of her employer.

‘I won’t, thanks.’ Christie’s eyes travelled to a photo on the wall of Julia with Ben Chapman, laughing together at some awards ceremony. In one corner was scrawled, ‘To the best agent in the world. The best is yet to come. Love Ben xx.’ She’d studied it on and off during the times she’d been there and now remembered Frank and Sam’s disbelief over the way their friend had died. She stared idly at the presenter’s face, open, friendly, conventionally handsome. ‘I suppose you must have known Ben?’

‘Yes. He was one of Julia’s top clients.’ The cup she was carrying rattled against the saucer as she straightened up.

‘He must have been. I’ve heard so much about him. Whatever happened that night? Do you know?’

‘I only know what we all read in the papers,’ Lily replied, her eyes not meeting Christie’s. ‘You can imagine how devastated Julia was by his death.’

‘Mmm, I can. Someone I know mentioned he had money troubles.’ She said this thoughtfully, surprising herself that she dared to mention it out loud, given where she was sitting. ‘But that couldn’t be true, could it?’

‘I honestly wouldn’t know.’ Lily headed for the door, avoiding catching Christie’s eye again. ‘You’d have to ask Julia.’

She was reaching for the handle when the door opened and in swept Julia, looking abnormally ruffled. She dropped her leather attaché case by the side of her desk. ‘This bloody weather. The moment it rains in London, the traffic’s impossible. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. My breakfast meeting was interminable and I couldn’t get away. Then when I did, it took an age to cross town.’ She handed her fur coat and dripping umbrella to Lily without thanking her, stripped off her gloves and tucked them into her Chloé bag before crossing the room to a round mirror on the wall. She touched her hair, coaxing every flyaway strand into its right place, then smoothed her lips together to even out her deep red lipstick. Happy with what she saw, she turned to Christie, who blushed at being caught behind her desk.

‘But I’m here now. What was it that you wanted to see me about?’ No pleasantries, just straight to the point as she shouldered past Christie and inserted herself behind her desk, straightening her shoulders as she sat down.

As she was obviously in no mood for small-talk, Christie moved to the smaller chair opposite and attempted to be equally direct. ‘I’m a little anxious about money, Julia. We’re coming up to Christmas, and although I did the Drink-a-Vit campaign weeks ago now, I’ve only received the first payment. I’m still owed a second for completing the job.’

Julia’s attention was on her computer screen as she moved the mouse across its mat. ‘Oh dear, Christie. Not this again. You’re money mad at best, greedy at worst. Paranoid.’ She laughed. ‘I explained last time that you shouldn’t worry about it. Lenny, our accountant, is on top of everything. You’ll still have good meat to eat, as my ancestors would have said.’

‘Julia! I’m not mad, greedy or paranoid. And I’m grateful to you for negotiating such a good deal for me. But I’d like to give my family the best Christmas possible since they’ve put up with me being away so much.’

Julia flicked a button on her phone. ‘Lily! Could you bring in Christie’s file? Right away.’

Within seconds, Lily came through the door, clutching a green folder. She put it in front of Julia and left the room again. At the same time, Julia got something up on screen, concentrating as she scrolled down the page.

‘Now, let me see what Lenny’s done. Here we are. Yes. They should have paid you a further twelve and a half thousand pounds. We’ll chase it up right away.’ She smoothed down the sides of her fitted dress, pushing out her bosom as she stretched her back.

‘But that’s only twenty-five thousand altogether! Didn’t you tell me you were trying for thirty-five?’

‘Darling! I don’t know why you pulled that figure out of the air. Wishful thinking, I suppose. I’d never have got that for you. Now, some companies are much slower to pay than others. There’s not much I can do about that but, if we ever do work for Drink-a-Vit again, I shall make sure I send a dispatch rider round for a cheque for the full amount before you even do the job. It’s dreadful how some people do business. I had hoped to get the last payment out before Christmas, but I agree it’s looking tight now.’ She studied her left hand, adjusting the large gold-and-diamond dress ring with her thumb. ‘If things are really tight for you, I’ll ask Lenny if he could advance you two and a half thousand on account. Would that be enough? Maybe you need some advice on how to manage your money. You’re obviously very good at spending it.’

Christie sat still, smarting at the suggestion that she couldn’t handle her finances and angry that she had made herself open to ridicule. She thought for a moment. ‘Julia, I’ve got two kids, a house with emergency repairs being made and bills to pay. I’m not a spendthrift but I am very grateful for your offer. I’ll take the advance on account of the money White Management owes me.’

‘Less twenty per cent, darling.’

‘What?’

‘You really are in a muddle, aren’t you? I did tell you that was the percentage I took for corporate work. If there’s nothing else, I think we’re done.’ Julia pressed a button on her intercom. ‘Christie’s just leaving, Lily. Sorry, darling, but this morning’s a nightmare so I really have to get on. And I know you’ve got to get to the studios.’ They shook hands, air-kissed as usual, and before she knew it, Christie was standing outside under her umbrella, looking for her waiting car.

Through the passenger window, she could see people hurrying along the rain-soaked streets huddled under their umbrellas, while others stood in doorways gazing skyward, hoping for a break in the downpour. The flat grey light made everything look miserable – even the shop windows stuffed with Christmas decorations. But Christie didn’t notice. She picked up the Guardian that Tony, her driver, always left with the other papers on the seat, horribly aware that she hadn’t done as much preparation for that night’s show as she might have. Sitting in Julia’s office had taken care of that. But she couldn’t concentrate. She’d obviously made a mistake over the Drink-a-Vit fee and, after all, she was still being paid an embarrassingly large sum of money for posing with the small bottle and smiling inanely.

She decided to be sensible and put some of the money towards the loan repayments, then began to calculate whose bill to pay first and what to treat the kids to for Christmas. Perhaps she would get Freddie the Wii he wanted so much if he didn’t get the iTouch. And for Libby? One of the silver tabby kittens she had seen advertised in the local paper just days ago. She would phone as soon as she got to the office. For the first time since Nick had died, she had a chance of giving them a Christmas to remember. This year, 25 December was on a Sunday so the timing of everything was perfect. The show would be off air from Friday the twenty-third, and they didn’t go back until ten days later on Tuesday, 4 January: the first proper holiday they’d had since she started. She couldn’t wait. She was going to do her utmost to recapture the magic of those family Christmases, especially the last one they’d shared with Nick, which she still remembered so clearly.

Christmas at the Lynches’ with Maureen and Mel became a tradition. Ma and Pa never left Scotland now. Ma was getting increasingly forgetful and confused and Pa preferred to stay with her.

If Christie had known it was to be their last, would she have spent a bit more on Nick and the children? They were certainly rich in love and Christmas fun, and when she looked back at her own childhood Christmases, it wasn’t the presents she remembered but the games she’d played with her father and the fights she’d shared with her sister. That last Christmas morning, Nick had brought her tea in bed, and in the mug, right at the bottom, there had been a simple diamond eternity ring.

‘We can’t afford this!’ She sucked the tea off it then held it out to look at it properly.