Picnics in Hyde Park

Finally allowed to see her living quarters, she had been horrified to find Melody’s things shoved into black bin liners and left carelessly in a pile in one of the upstairs hallways, the contents overflowing and getting trodden on every time Jasper ran past. Which he invariably did, as his default speed setting appeared to be supersonic. The lack of respect for her sister’s stuff had her fuming, never mind the health and safety hazard to the kids if they tripped over the bags.

‘This is really dangerous,’ she’d raised an eyebrow at Matt. ‘You must have storage space. It needs to be put away.’

‘Dangerous?’ he’d answered her without lifting his head, typing something into his iPad.

‘For your children. They could fall over the bags and down the stairs?’ She pointed out exasperated, before realising she had to watch her tone. She couldn’t be bolshy. He was about to become her boss and she wanted to earn his trust, so she had to play nice. ‘I’m just concerned. I have a duty of care towards them, remember?’ Like he did as their parent.

He swiped the tablet screen to lock it and looked up, shaking his head as if bringing himself back to planet earth. ‘You’re right. Sorry. I hadn’t even noticed. I’ll get our cleaner Roberta to move them tomorrow.’

‘Or we could do it now?’ she suggested, not giving him much chance to disagree, scooping up two bags and running downstairs. ‘Where shall we put them?’ her voice echoed up the spiral white staircase.

A loud, resigned sigh sounded on the landing above her. She bit the inside of her cheeks to stop from smiling as she heard the rustle of plastic bags, followed a moment later by the beat of approaching footsteps. It was satisfying knowing she’d annoyed him, just a little bit.

‘There’s a double garage, and I only use one of them when Stephen’s away because I always have one car on the drive. We can put these in the empty side.’

‘Is it clean and dry?’ she prompted. ‘We wouldn’t want it all getting ruined. I’m guessing your old nanny might come back for them at some point?’ The last was uttered through gritted teeth. Sweetness and light Zoe, she reminded herself.

He looked troubled by the thought. ‘It’s possible,’ he turned around, ‘garage is this way.’ After twenty minutes of traipsing up and down, everything was safely stowed away and Zoe felt like she’d scored a victory. The garage was easily accessible from both the front and side of the house, so at some point she’d make plans with Melody to collect her stuff with Ruth. Or perhaps she’d smuggle it out a bit at a time, she mused, like illegal contraband.

The fact that, as well as failing to check on her sister’s welfare, Matt also had no respect for her belongings reinforced Zoe’s feeling that he didn’t give a crap. Well, she thought grimly, he needed to be taught to care.

So here she was, in the enemy’s house surrounded by her clothes, shoes and other belongings. The original idea had been to sling a few suitcases in the car and live out of them, but she’d realised it would look suspicious if she brought hardly anything with her after accepting a permanent position. So she’d called the storage company and asked them to deliver some of the boxes shipped over from New York and phoned Rayne, who’d been letting Zoe use the loft in her attic flat for some of her old stuff, pre-America.

‘It’s so great to see you,’ Rayne had hugged her earlier, before stepping back to study her appraisingly. ‘I know coming back to Blighty now isn’t what you’d planned,’ she paused as they looked bleakly at each other, knowing what had been planned, ‘but I’m still glad you’re here. I’m not that pleased to see how skinny you are though, Zo.’ Squeezing her friend’s narrow waist. ‘Tell me the truth, how are you doing?’ She swept her black fringe out of her eyes, Cleopatra sharp bob falling back around her face, multiple cocktail rings glinting in the early morning sun.

‘It’s good to see you too.’ Zoe smiled tightly. ‘And, yeah, okay,’ her throat closed up, and she realised she’d barely thought about her own heartbreak because of dealing with the fallout of her sister’s. Maybe that made it easier. ‘You know what it’s like after a break up. The weight falls off, doesn’t it? Best diet around,’ she joked weakly.

‘Hmm. Well, just don’t lose too much will you? I don’t want to let that bastard make you ill. I still can’t believe he—’

‘Can we not talk about it?’ Zoe touched Rayne’s arm. ‘Another time, all right?’ She wasn’t ready to deal with the implosion of her life yet.

‘Sure,’ her friend looked worried but nodded, turning to gaze up at Matt’s house. ‘Wow, it’s really something. You’ve landed on your feet haven’t you? I know you’re here for less than savoury reasons, but still.’

‘Thanks.’ Zoe replied dryly. If there was one thing you could count on, it was Rayne being honest to the point of bluntness. Less than savoury. Her plan wasn’t going to cover her in glory, but it was justifiable in the circumstances. ‘You’re going to help me, right?’

Rayne hesitated. ‘If you’re sure this is what he deserves, and you’re not going to get hurt.’

‘I’m one hundred per cent sure,’ Zoe said firmly. ‘This is what I need to do. I mean,’ she said hastily, ‘what Melody needs me to do.’

‘All right then, I’m in,’ Rayne nodded, ‘you know you’ve always got my support. If he’s as much of a bastard as you say he is, let’s go for it. When the time is right, I’ll put you in touch with some of the celebrity reporters I know.’

‘Thanks.’ Zoe moved the conversation on. ‘And what about you and Adam? How’s it going?’ The question choked her a bit. It was hard being newly single when the rest of the world seemed to be coupled up, but she couldn’t begrudge her friend’s happiness. Rayne had run into her uni ex-boyfriend at Wimbledon a few weeks before and after nearly five years apart they’d ended up giving it another go.

‘Amazing so far,’ Rayne grinned, practically glowing, ‘the way it was back then, but even better. He’s still lovely, and so much hotter too. You remember he had that preppy handsome look going on at uni? Well he’s got a few rough edges now, cut his hair, got a tattoo and he’s much more relaxed. You’d love him. But not too much,’ she teased.

‘I do like bad boys,’ Zoe mused, wondering how the heck she’d ever ended up with Greg, who was polished Kennedy-American uptight, ‘but I draw the line at body art.’

‘Fair enough, each to their own,’ Rayne smiled easily. ‘Adam would like to see you again. We’ve been going on double dates with Lily and his intern Flynn, but it would be nice to get more of the old gang back together.’

‘Sounds great, how about we do something in a few weeks’ time, once this is over,’ Zoe gestured at the property behind them, ‘and I’m settled somewhere else?’

‘Cool, but if you end up needing to escape the madness with a girlie night out sooner, let me know. We can try and get your sister involved; Adam has plenty of spare rooms in his place in Islington she could stop in. We might be able to convince Frankie to put Zack down for a minute and join us too. It would be good to get the dark trinity together again.’

Zoe laughed at Rayne’s description of how madly in love their other best friend was with her boyfriend, and the name Adam had given the three of them at uni because they all had black hair. ‘Yeah, thanks. I will. I don’t really feel like going out at the moment though.’

‘Fine, but don’t lock yourself away for too long.’ Rayne ordered. ‘You need to keep busy, not mope over that deaf, blind and dumb idiot, which he totally is to do what he did as well as letting you go so easily. Besides, I don’t want you turning into some sad old spinster who’s going to get chewed on by her cats. Especially as you’re such an oldie.’ Referring to the fact Zoe was two years older than her.

‘Gee, thanks for the sympathy.’ Zoe stuck out her tongue, playing along, knowing Rayne was trying to cheer her up. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave the fortress of solitude,’ she smiled, ‘but nothing too wild, for gawd’s sakes.’

‘Nooo,’ Rayne said, backing away, holding her fingers out in front of her in a cross sign, ‘she’s turned American on us! Quick, call the Queen!’

‘Ha ha. I probably have picked up some bad habits. I was over there for long enough. You can be in charge of my conversion back to British citizen if you want.’

‘It’s a plan.’ Rayne saluted, clicking her heels together. ‘I’d better run. I’ve got a story to finish and a meeting with my editor. Sorry I can’t help you move your crap upstairs,’ she finished cheekily, her turquoise blouse bringing out her navy blue eyes, which flashed with humour.

‘Sod off, it’s not crap!’ Zoe replied automatically, reverting back to their uni days. ‘And it’s fine. You’re a star for getting it down from your loft and dropping it over. Thanks so much.’ Zoe leaned in for a quick hug before shooing Rayne away. ‘Go. Speak soon.’ She shook her head as her friend roared away in her sporty black Mini, a Union Jack design on its roof. The girl certainly had personality.

God, she’d missed her. Had missed all her friends. She’d given so much up when she’d moved to the States. Pretty much everything in fact. And all she had to show for it was a bare left hand, a few extra laughter lines and a dress she’d never wear hanging in her closet.

By the time she’d heaved all the boxes and bags up to her top floor living quarters, she was hot, sweaty and swearing. She was also grateful her new boss and his kids weren’t around to see what a complete mess she was; damp dark hair coming loose from its high ponytail and sticking to her slippery face, denim shorts creased and the straps of her dust-smudged white vest top falling off her shoulders. It was a scorchingly hot day and although the lower floors of the house were cool and spacious, the upper floor was carpeted, more compact and suffered from heat rising upwards. Throwing open the skylight windows hadn’t helped much, there was no wind outside to offer any relief.

Thankfully Matt wasn’t due back for hours as he was holed up in his studio with some new talent he’d discovered and both kids were visiting with their grandma, his late wife’s mum. It was his way of giving her time to settle in, which she should be grateful for, but instead of abandoning her maybe he could have stuck around to see if she could do with a hand?

She shook her head. It wasn’t his job to help her move in. Why on earth should he? Looking at all the stuff spread out over the length and breadth of the bedroom, a mixture of old and new, cases and boxes of clothes, shoes and her beloved books, knowing there were more in the lounge area, she blew out another long breath. It was strange to think that this set of rooms had been her sister’s home for three years. She felt uncomfortable, like an impostor. It was going to take hours to unpack too. Mind you, there was no bookcase so her books could stay packed away for now, which would save some time.

As she opened the first crate from America and a long black and white Marc Jacobs gown slithered to the floor, her addiction to clothes caught hold and she forgot how uncomfortable she was. Leaping up, she unpacked everything else in delight, rediscovering old friends from before she’d left, including the ancient Alaia chain-link leather sandals she’d saved up a month for when living at Ruth’s. Haphazardly laying clothes, shoes, belts and handbags across the bed and every available surface, she stroked them lovingly, holding the soft, luxurious fabrics against her face. God, she adored all this, and given enough money would shop every single day. New York had been a revelation. She’d fallen in love with the stores as much as the loud, straight-talking people. She’d also been lucky that even though Liberty had been bossy and occasionally unreasonable about her children, she was generous and had fallen into the habit of gifting her collections to Zoe after every season. She was going to sorely miss that perk of the job, along with her charges Ava and Grace, and a hundred other tiny little things she’d come to love about NY.

As well as the life she’d had planned. One that Greg had robbed her of with his stupid, selfish behaviour.

All of a sudden it flowed over her.

Bastard! How could he do that to her? After everything they’d been to each other…Friends, lovers, partners. But clearly she’d been fooling herself, because if that was really the case, he could never have done what he’d done. For god’s sakes, it was the oldest story in the book, sleeping with someone else. Couldn’t he have at least been a bit original? Or ducked out of their relationship if he wasn’t happy? She wanted to punch him, yell at him, tell him all the ways she’d like to make him suffer, how much she hated what he’d done, how three and a half thousand miles between them would never ever be enough.

She ground her teeth. Watching him hurt would give her satisfaction, definitely. But she wasn’t sure it would make her feel any better, and there was no way she was going to give up her dignity by losing control. Sometimes all a girl had left was her pride, along with her instinct for survival. The best thing was to cut him off completely, forget he even existed, until she could speak to him without having a total meltdown.

Picking up a hot pink, strapless dress she’d worn to a party not long before leaving for New York, she shook her head. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t imagine wearing it again. Her mum, if still alive, would have probably told her to put it in the bin or give it away, that once things became useless, you should just get rid of them. But Zoe was feeling sentimental, so she tucked the dress into the back of the massive built-in wardrobe in her new bedroom and hung up a beautiful sequinned blue top. Spying her favourite black Manolo Blahniks she slipped them on, mood instantly lifting. She’d saved up her bonuses to buy them and they were totally impractical, but boy, did they make her feel great.

Grabbing a cropped jacket she’d once worn to a rock concert, she stroked it before hanging it up, smiling at the memories of the blaring music and sweaty, jumping crowd. Unpacking her old things, marvelling over them and remembering the girl she used to be, along with the good times in New York, might be the closest she’d been to happiness in a while.

That, and the thought of Matt’s face when he was plastered all over the weekend papers, his precious privacy blown sky high. There might be a confidentiality clause in her contract, but she had absolutely no fear of breaching it. He’d hardly want the publicity of a big court case, and she would do whatever it took to do right by her sister.

4 (#ulink_b962b61c-4d04-57eb-a2be-2afbd5eeb57e)

Matt crashed his car keys into a bowl on the expensive white sideboard, kicking the heavy black front door shut behind him.

He hissed out a swear word. The studio had been a nightmare. For some unknown reason the singer with the incredibly rich, adaptable voice who’d seemed so passionate, enthusiastic and energetic when he’d offered her a contract after weeks of sound tests and negotiations with her agent had today been listless and disinterested. It was like working with a different person. He could only hope the chance he’d taken on her wasn’t going to backfire. The fact it might frustrated him, made irritation burn inside. She had it in her to be amazing, world-class. So what the hell had happened to change her so radically? To make her avoid his gaze and mutter that she was fine, when she quite clearly wasn’t? He would never get women. Why did they always do that? Not that he’d been thinking of her as a woman, despite her fragile blonde beauty. He only saw her as a gifted artist. The talent was always off limits, at least in his code of practice.

He pulled a hand through his dark hair, itching for a cool, calming shower and a strong black coffee before going to his office and dealing with the tedious mass of emails he was behind with because his assistant Sadie was still recovering from her procedure. He supposed he should do the polite thing and find his new nanny first though. Say hello, ask if she needed anything.