Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin

‘Christ, Cate,’ said Nick anxiously, ‘we’re in a fix. We don’t want to put me on the cover, do we? We’ve got less than ten days! You know that.’

‘Look, just give me a couple of hours,’ Cate said evenly. ‘First thing I need to do is get back in touch with Sybil’s booker. I’m going to tell her that we’re going to invoice her for all the flights and hotels and that I’ve seen pap shots of Sybil in Cannes. Maybe we can change their minds.’

‘Here’s hoping,’ said Nick.

Damn the Cannes film festival, thought Cate, slamming the telephone receiver down for the dozenth time. Hardly anybody seemed to be in the office that Friday afternoon. She’d left countless messages at the film publicist’s offices in Cannes, but nobody seemed to be getting back to her. Well, no wonder, she thought, calming herself a little: it was a frantic time for everyone in the business. Vicky, meanwhile, had drawn a blank with the model agencies. All the top three agencies had said in the nicest way possible that they wanted to wait to see the first issue before they would commit to sending their top girls. It was still too early to ring the LA publicists, thought Cate, checking her watch – only seven in the morning over there. Anyway, she doubted she would pull off any miracles in that direction. LA shoots usually took three or four weeks to organize, and they had hours, not days. Her phone rang again and she picked it up expectantly.

‘Cate, it’s only Nick. D’you wanna pop through a minute? Rebecca’s here.’

Cate groaned and stalked through to Nick’s office. Rebecca was perched on the edge of Nick’s desk in a barely-there sundress, brown leather boots and a big pair of aviator sunglasses, her glossed-up lips glistening.

‘Hi darling!’ she gushed, reaching over to kiss Cate on both cheeks. Cate flinched both times. ‘I just called Nick,’ she explained, waving her hands around in the air for dramatic effect. ‘And he mentioned you were in a bit of a fix. I was only in Covent Garden, so I got a cab straight over, because I think I might be able to help you out. Either way, did you love the jacket or did you love the jacket I sent over?’

Cate looked at her, trying to plaster a smile onto her face. ‘Yes, I really loved the jacket, thank you so much.’

‘Anyway,’ said Rebecca, lifting her sunglasses off and fixing them on top of her head, ‘I’ve just heard what a witch Sybil Down’s been, but I think I’ve got the solution. We’ve only just confirmed it, but we’re taking on someone terribly exciting for the face of one of my clients – Flaubert jewellery – and she just so happens to be in Cannes next week, hosting the party for the client. I’m not totally sure yet, but I think I could get you two or three hours for a shoot as long as she will be wearing some Flaubert jewellery.’

Rebecca grinned triumphantly.

Cate cleared her throat. ‘Sounds great, but who is it?’

‘It’s only Rachel Barnaby!’ gushed Rebecca, turning to fix a dazzling smile on Nick. ‘She’d be perfect! You know she was Vogue’s biggest-selling cover girl of last year, don’t you?’

Cate groaned inwardly. Even though she knew this was the perfect solution to their problems, she felt her heart sink as Nick smiled up gratefully towards Rebecca. In the small confined space of Nick’s office, she felt trapped by Rebecca’s gloating. Cate dug a thumbnail into her palm and tried to stop feeling so uncharitable. After all, Rebecca was helping them out of a hole, wasn’t she? But why did it have to be Rebecca?

Nick stood up and walked over to where Cate was standing. ‘You OK, Cate?’ he asked, putting a concerned hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s great, isn’t it? Rachel Barnaby. She’s good, even I know that!’

Cate smiled weakly. ‘Yes great. She’s perfect. And it doesn’t look like we’re getting very far with Sybil’s people. No, she’ll be perfect. Thanks, Rebecca, thank you.’

As Nick turned to sit back at his desk, Rebecca flashed a look at Cate, one eyebrow raised and the edge of her lip curled up into a slightly malevolent smile. It was the face of a child who had successfully shifted blame for their mischievousness onto a hated sibling, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Cate was instantly filled with suspicion.

Could Rebecca have planned all this? Surely she couldn’t have sabotaged and then saved her cover shoot? But that would just be too … well, insane. She looked up at Rebecca smiling sweetly and pulling her bag over a shoulder ready to leave. No, she was just paranoid, how could that be?

‘Well, I’ll leave you two worker bees to it,’ purred Rebecca as she reached the door. ‘I’d better rush back and get all this sorted for you. Of course my client will be picking up Rachel’s expenses so you’ve no worries there, but I’d better book a flight for myself. The client will definitely want me there to supervise it all. And Nick, sweetie, I can slip into your hotel room, can’t I?’

Cate stared after her, mouth agape, suddenly feeling that she’d had the whole operation snatched from beneath her. And something told her that her conspiracy theory was right.

25 (#ulink_24f7c659-7ab6-53e8-8a23-6d3b4c63f9c5)

From seat 1a, the only seat Serena would consider when travelling by commercial airline, she had a clear view of the Home Counties. She watched the fields of Berkshire drift into view and, beyond them, the sprawling metropolis of London, today looking green and inviting, unobscured by the smoggy drizzle that often hung over the capital whenever she flew in from New York.

‘Ten minutes to landing,’ said an upright British voice over the PA system as Serena drained off the last of her fruit juice, popped her seat into the upright position and moved her cashmere pillow to her lap. She had mixed feelings about coming home, even if it was just a pit stop on her way to the south of France. She was mainly here for business: there was the sale of the Cheyne Walk house to complete and an important meeting to attend – her contract with Jolie Cosmetics was due to be renewed any time now, and she felt she could push up her money if she went to see the British chief executive of the company personally at his Eaton Square home.

It was all pretty tedious stuff, although if she was totally honest with herself she could do with a break from the New York scene anyway. For the past few weeks, her days had been filled by endless trips to the salon; the evenings had been crammed with so many New York parties that they were blending into one. It wasn’t easy being this glamorous. Still, the blur of canapés and air-kissing seemed to be paying off: Serena Balcon was hot again.

The meeting at Ed Charles’s house had gone well, although she still couldn’t believe that she had actually had to sing for the Broadway producer in the basement studio of his brownstone townhouse. She hadn’t had to do that since when she was in the dramatic society at school. But Ed had made all the right noises about her not just getting a role in Fin de Siècle, but the role of Letitia Dupont. It was a killer part in more ways than one: Letitia was a Vegas showgirl with a murderous side, as glamorous as Nicole Kidman’s character in Moulin Rouge and as sassy and spiky as CZJ’s Oscar-winning role in Chicago. And, on top of that, only yesterday her agent had called to tell her she’d been asked to do a screen test for a big action thriller; a big action thriller rumoured to be starring Tom Cruise, no less.

Serena stretched her legs out and wriggled her toes around in her cashmere socks, more than satisfied with her progress. An Oscar nomination could be hers in eighteen months, she smiled smugly. Who needed Tom Archer, anyway?

‘Hi darling, it’s me!’ cooed Serena, wafting through Cate’s front door and looking around with a slightly displeased look on her face when she saw the size of Cate’s mews house. ‘Tell me my luggage has arrived or I will just die!’

Cate, wearing her Saturday-night uniform of Juicy Couture tracksuit and no make-up, came over to give her sister a hug.

‘It’s arrived, but why did you need to FedEx it over? It’s only two small bags,’ she asked, pointing at the two Goyard cases in the corner. ‘Could you not struggle through customs with those?’

‘Darling, everyone pre-sends their luggage these days,’ said Serena. ‘Anyway, those cases might be chic but they’re a little heavy. I don’t want to strain anything.’

Serena wafted past Cate into the living room. Cate’s house was a slender, three-storey mews painted a pale pink and tucked away off the Portobello Road. It wasn’t big, but Cate had turned it into a light, girly space full of cream carpets, neutral walls and huge vases brightening every corner, overflowing with sweet peas and peonies.

‘I’m cooking a roast, hope you’re hungry,’ said Cate, pouring them two big glasses of mineral water. ‘I know you like to sleep rather than eat on the plane.’

‘That’s sweet, Cate, but I really do feel a bit icky,’ said Serena, rooting through her bag to pull out a big box of face cream.

‘There you go,’ she said, thrusting the package into Cate’s hands. ‘Some sort of anti-ageing cream: thought it would be right up your street. Apparently it’s the latest thing; got diamond dust in it, although why on earth anyone would want to send me products for mature skin, I don’t know.’

Serena took a tiny sip of her water and followed Cate into her stylish walnut and marble kitchen.

‘Are you sure you don’t want any of this?’ asked Cate, sticking a knife into the beef.

Serena shook her head and patted her stomach. ‘I’m on a funny diet at the moment.’

‘What is it?’ asked Cate, arching an eyebrow. ‘The Not Eating diet? You’ve gone so thin!’

‘It’s OK for you,’ said Serena, looking her sister up and down, showing off her curves in her velour tracksuit. ‘You don’t work in fashion any more – and anyway, you’ve got your big, happy personality. You don’t need to be a size four.’

Cate smiled and shook her head, reminding herself that, in Serena’s mind, that was a compliment. There was no point in complaining anyway, as her sister had moved on to a more important subject: Serena’s Fabulous Life. According to Stephen Feldman, Serena’s new manager, word was that she wasn’t just going to be the British and European face of Jolie Cosmetics, but was going to become the worldwide face as well. That was, she said, a deal which had to be worth in excess of four to five million. And, she added, it wouldn’t do her Hollywood prospects any harm to be on every billboard and magazine in the known world, either.

As Serena gushed out the gossip, Cate began to notice that Serena hadn’t mentioned Michael Sarkis once. There was the constant referral to ‘we’, as in ‘When “we” went to the Save Venice Ball’, ‘When “we” were invited to Henry Kissinger’s duplex’, or ‘When “we” were scouting real estate in the Hamptons’. But nothing about ‘him’ or ‘them’. And she never referred to Michael by name. Cate was curious, but she knew there was no point in asking. Everything was always glittery and right on Planet Serena; she never bitched about her own Wonderful Life, only other people’s. But Cate couldn’t help thinking it was strange. It had been a long time since Cate herself had been in that position, but she remembered well enough that the first three months of a new relationship were so full of excitement, passion and fun, it just spilled over; you wanted to tell the world.

As if reading Cate’s thoughts, Serena abruptly changed the subject.

‘Anyway,’ she said, kicking off her Stephane Kélian heels and stretching out on the long beige sofa, ‘I want to know what’s happening with you. I’m sure someone told me you had the hots for that Nick Douglas? Don’t get me wrong, honey, he’s very cute. God knows I fell for those rough Northern-boy charms with Tom, but Nick’s really not right for you.’

Cate smiled softly. ‘No, no. We’re just business partners and that’s all. Nick and I get on really well and we’re good as a team. I know he’s Tom’s friend and that’s bound to make you biased towards him, but honestly, Sin, he’s really a good guy.’

‘And Venetia?’ asked Serena, checking her reflection in a gold compact she had taken from her bag. ‘I can’t believe she went to Spain! The first time I’m back in ages, and Venetia’s swanning around in Seville, Camilla’s on some management weekend – and I have to camp out here!’

‘Well, I’m sorry you find my house so distressing,’ said Cate, finally annoyed now. ‘Perhaps you should go to Claridge’s, or somewhere where they understand your special needs!’

Serena looked up from her compact mirror vaguely. ‘Mmm? Sorry darling, I was miles away. What’s Venetia doing again?’

Cate sighed, seeing that her rebuke had not even registered on her sister. ‘Van’s doing a big job renovating some guy’s farmhouse in Andalusia. It sounds wonderful out there and she really needed to get away, what with all the trouble.’

‘Trouble?’ asked Serena, snapping her compact shut. She was faintly aware that her older sister had seemed worried and distracted at her farewell party weeks earlier, but she had thought it was just the pressure of throwing a super bash for Serena.

‘Did she not tell you?’ asked Cate. ‘She’s having a premature menopause or something. It’s really weird.’