“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” Riya looked into the living room where Lottie was curled up on the sofa wrapped in a blanket. “How about some cheese on toast? You should try to eat something.” The blanket covered up most of Lottie’s body, but her face was gaunt and pale, from days spent staring out of the window, and not eating a bite.
“No thanks, I’m fine,” she replied.
Riya padded over to the sofa in her bare feet and sat down. “I’m worried about you, Lots,” she said, softly. “You haven’t eaten since … since it happened. And that was five days ago. You’re going to waste away.”
Lottie shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”
“Would it help to talk about it? You’ve hardly said a word and it’s not good to keep things bottled up.”
“What is there to talk about?” Lottie replied, her voice cracking slightly. “It’s not as though you don’t know the story; the papers have dug up literally everything they can find on me. It’s all there, just read the press.” She looked away again, casting her eyes back to the window.
“That’s not what I meant,” Riya said. “I don’t care what the papers have said. I just care about you. I mean, it’s hard enough being dumped by someone you cared so deeply about, without it being plastered all over the press, along with an utterly appalling level of intrusion into your personal life.”
Riya had read all the papers. It hadn’t made for easy reading. They’d ripped Lottie apart, exposed her as a serial car theft who’d supposedly spent too short a time in a secure home before disappearing to fabricate a fake identity and con one of London’s top finance firms into her hiring her under false pretences. She’d then gone on to commit fraud, using her powers of seduction to pull the wool over the eyes of her lover and victim Marcus Armstrong. And in the process, threatening the collapse of one of Britain’s most-loved couples.
They’d managed to dig up photos of her mum’s ex-boyfriend Shane, Lottie’s so-called partner in crime, and police mug shots of them both. They’d tracked down a family friend, Jacob Kavanagh, and interviewed him extensively. They’d somehow obtained evidence of her signature on an unauthorised document confirming the £300,000 loan that, together, Lottie and Riya had given to Arizona Mackintosh. The gossip mags had run article after article about Annabel’s heartbreak; almost every society darling worth her salt had provided comment berating Lottie for her treacherous behaviour. Marcus received barely a mention, as though he hadn’t even been there.
And there had been no word from him. The moment Lottie fled the hotel room was the last time she’d seen or heard from him. Riya had kept her ear to the ground in the office – of course, gossip about the affair was rife. Fortunately, although it was common knowledge Riya and Lottie were friends, no-one knew Lottie had been staying with her since the story broke. Besides, gossip was gossip, and Riya’s colleagues didn’t give her friendship with Lottie a second thought as they relayed titbit after titbit to her.
Riya knew exactly what the sentiment was towards her friend. I always thought there was something strange about her. She never seemed to have any other friends. She was always hanging around Marcus’s office. How could she go after someone else’s man? Why did Marcus give in to her when he’s never shown interest in anyone in the office before?
The men in the office stayed quiet, for the most part. It so easily could have been them. Each of them at one time or another had lusted after Lottie; they could hardly blame Marcus for following his desire. But for the women it was open season on Lottie Matheson.
The initial hunger for details about the affair gave way to a curiosity about who’d exposed it to the press. There were rumours it had been someone senior in the business, probably one of the VPs or a junior director who’d been denied a promotion one time too many. No-one knew who. Lottie had her own suspicions that whoever it was had been helped by Beatrice. Bea had barely disguised her annoyance at Lottie getting the opportunity to work with Skilld, not her, and she’d been behaving oddly in the weeks leading up the story breaking. But there was no way Lottie could have proven anything and even if she could, it wouldn’t have made any difference to her situation.
While Marcus had escaped criticism in the gossip mags, he hadn’t been left completely unscathed. One by one, stories emerged in the business press about in-fighting amongst the Falcon board. According to Riya, Marcus hadn’t returned to the office since the story broke; rumour had it he was still holed up in Norfolk trying to patch things up with Annabel. More than one reporter had speculated on Marcus’s absence being unwise given the nature of the reports and the implication of bad management within one of the City’s biggest investment firms.
“Why don’t I ring for a takeaway?” Riya suggested. She was determined to shake Lottie out of her cloud of depression. She knew her friend was heartbroken and devastated, but she needed to eat. It wasn’t normal for someone to fall so low, to stop eating completely, to hardly breathe a word.
“If you want,” Lottie replied.
Riya gave a sigh of relief. She reached for the phone and dialled their local Chinese restaurant, ordering herself Kung Po prawns and Lottie’s favourite, chicken in oyster sauce. Then she flicked on the TV; there’d be more time for talking once Riya had got some food inside Lottie.
Marcus Armstrong’s face filled the screen. Stunned, Riya stared at it, convinced she was seeing things. Trying to shield himself from the surrounding hoards of paparazzi, Marcus was walking quickly, weaving past the photographers, his face taut with anger. The camera panned out to show his arm held out behind him, pulling something, or someone, along. It was Annabel. Riya looked quickly over at Lottie whose eyes were now focused on the screen, her expression completely blank.
“I’ll turn it off …” Riya said, hurriedly.
“Leave it,” Lottie whispered, putting her hand over the remote.
Riya turned back to look at the screen, horrified at what she’d done. Why couldn’t she have left Lottie alone? Why did she have to turn on the damn TV? Cries of Over Here! Annabel – are you staying with him? Marcus – what’s going to happen to Falcon? Are you still in touch with Charlie Matheson? could be heard raining down on the pair as they made their way along the pavement, almost drowning out the sound of the main news reporter.
“City financier Marcus Armstrong and heir to the Drapers fortune Annabel Gainsborough have emerged today for the first time since news broke of Marcus’s affair with his disgraced employee Charlotte Matheson …”
Riya watched them closely. Marcus looked strained but in control. He’d lost weight, his eyes were tired, and his hair was peppered with grey strands that Riya was convinced weren’t there the last time she’d seen him. Annabel ran along behind him, half-heartedly trying to shield her eyes from the glare of the lenses but giving the cameras an occasional glimpse of her perfectly made-up face, her innocent features and almost timid expression. Her outfit had been selected for maximum impact. A knee-length black velvet Alexander McQueen dress with buttons up to the neckline; demure, classic, almost mournful. An Oscar-worthy vision, thought Riya. Known more for playing with jet-setting billionaires than for playing coy, it was a surprise to see Annabel Gainsborough embracing the role of scorned girlfriend so whole-heartedly. A small flicker of her expensively styled eyelashes at the camera and Riya was sure any viewer would have melted, and undoubtedly hated Charlotte Matheson more than they already did.
Why is she staying with him? Riya thought to herself. Annabel Gainsborough could have had any billionaire bachelor she wanted; she was gorgeous, obscenely rich herself, with enviable royal connections. Riya couldn’t understand why she’d want to stay with someone who’d cheated on her for so long and now so publicly. Had Marcus played down the extent of his affair with Lottie? Did she really love him despite everything he’d done?
“The City will be relieved to see Marcus Armstrong back in the saddle at Falcon Investments. While still a privately-owned business, analysts have speculated that his absence has been damaging to Falcon. Friends and relatives of Annabel Gainsborough are delighted to see her returning to London with Mr Armstrong, confirming their intention to work through their issues together.” The camera followed Marcus and Annabel as they were bundled by a security guard into a blacked-out Mercedes, then cut back to the reporter in the studio. “Time will tell if Marcus has returned in time to save his business. And it’s good to see Annabel Gainsborough in good health following what must have been a devastating shock.”
Lottie took the TV remote from Riya’s grasp and switched the TV off.
“Are you okay?” Riya asked, tentatively. Lottie stared at the screen as though she dared not blink.
“Yes,” she replied, firmly. “I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry, I … wouldn’t have turned it on if …”
“Why?” Lottie turned to Riya, finally. She looked tired and resigned. “I’ve got to face it at some point.”
Riya wrung her hands together, almost too afraid to ask any further questions. But, like an itch that wouldn’t go away, she couldn’t help herself.
“Does it upset you … seeing him?”
“No, not really. He looks like shit to be honest.”
Riya failed to stifle a laugh. “He does, doesn’t he?” They both fell silent again, knowing the next question would have to be about the woman standing by him.
“And, what about …”
“Annabel?” Lottie sighed heavily. “Well, she looked bloody gorgeous, as always.”
“But,” Riya chose her words carefully. “Don’t you think she looks a bit too … unaffected?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, it looked to me as though she was using this as a photo opp. She didn’t look terribly upset and you know, if that had happened to me …”
Lottie lowered her eyes.
“I think I’d feel more upset than she appeared to be.”
“She’s used to being photographed though, isn’t she? And she always looks perfect. It doesn’t mean she’s not upset …”
“No, you’re probably right,” Riya conceded. It wasn’t the right time to have a debate. She was just thankful Lottie was talking again. The buzzer rang, signalling the arrival of the food.
“Great, I’m starving!” Riya announced, jumping up. “I’ll be back in a sec. If you eat this Lottie Matheson, I’ll let you have all the prawn crackers. Does that sound like a deal?”
Lottie smiled weakly. “I’ll see what I can manage.”
She watched as Riya pulled on a pair of ballet flats and bounded out of the door and down the stairs. As soon as she was alone, Lottie clutched her stomach and gritted her teeth. The sight of Marcus had sent shockwaves through her system and now her insides felt as though they were caving in. Her eyes threatened to explode like burst reservoirs, but that would have to wait, she told herself firmly. She’d force herself to stay up another hour. She didn’t want to disappoint Riya; she’d been trying so hard to help Lottie. But then she’d take herself off to bed. And there, as she’d done every night since her last moment with Marcus, she’d howl herself silently to sleep, clutching her knees to her chest, drenching her pillow in tears.