Lucy knew something was wrong the moment she walked into the office.
Genevieve was clearly halfway through talking about her when she walked past her desk.
‘Oh hi, Lucy. Are you OK?’
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘Are you sure?’
Lucy looked at the gaggle of girls gathered round Genevieve. She was an hour later than normal – having first picked up clothes for a shoot in the West End.
Tentatively and slowly, Lucy replied: ‘Yes. Has something happened?’
‘You haven’t seen the Daily Mail?’
Lucy felt faint. ‘No.’ It was as if they were speaking to her in a foreign tongue and all she could do was answer yes or no.
Practically leaping out of her seat, Genevieve marched over to Lucy’s desk and laid a double-page spread before her. Lucy was almost too scared to look at it but knew she had to. Looking down, she took in the headline: Earl’s Ex Hides Humble Beginnings.
Her mouth went dry as she read on. My God, her poor mother – she sounded like some bed-hopping hippy. And Max…
By the third paragraph, the words had blurred into one giant ink blob.
Looking up, she saw the huddle of girls gawping at her, waiting for her reaction – like scavengers circling a carcass. Christ, where was Carlos when she needed him? She couldn’t see him anywhere. They would have liked tears best, she thought – that would have sounded most dramatic as they retold the story to friends over cocktails. Or a tantrum; that would have gone down well too. Lucy had no idea where the strength came from as she rose to her feet. Inside she felt numb. She clenched her fists as tightly as she could to stop them shaking with shock.
Lucy could hear Max as clearly as if she was standing beside her. Head up, chest out, paint on the smile.
‘Come on, ladies, you should know by now not to believe anything you read in the papers.’
And with that, Lucy picked up her bag and waltzed out of the office. She could feel their eyes burning into her as she left. She didn’t care about them. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if they thought less of her for having the words ‘working class’ linked to her family. That said far more about them than it did her. All she cared about was her mum and Max. The two people she loved and admired most had had their names tarnished for the world to see. It was bad enough that her name was dirt in certain London circles after the incident in Scotland, but how dare anyone drag Marj and Max through the mud.
Lucy took her mobile out of her bag. Shit! She’d missed seven calls from Max because it had been on silent. She punched Max’s number into her phone.
‘Have you seen it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Revenge is a dish best served cold.’ Max knew her sister didn’t have enemies, with one notable exception. ‘It’s time for Bridget to get what’s coming to her.’