Lucy smiled as she read the invitation that had arrived in the post. She had almost forgotten about the Hogmanay Ball. Her heart had pounded when she first saw it – could it be from Hartley? Reading an accompanying handwritten note, she felt sad and happy at once. It was not from Hartley – how silly of her to even imagine it would have been. It was from Clarissa. Lucy was touched. After not hearing from Clarissa since her Friday-night supper, she’d assumed her friend had ditched her.
As her mobile rang, she saw Clarissa’s name on the screen.
‘I was just thinking of you.’
‘Lucy, darling. Did you get my invitation?’
‘Just got it. Thanks so much.’
‘Listen,’ Clarissa’s tone was urgent, breathless, ‘you must have thought I’d abandoned you. I’ve just heard all the news. Are you OK?’
‘Where have you been? Mars?’ Of all people, Lucy was sure Clarissa would have known every ounce of gossip.
‘Almost,’ Clarissa said. ‘I was trying to keep it a secret – surprise everyone, but you have to know. Otherwise you’ll think me a terrible friend.’
Lucy was intrigued.
‘I’ve been to Thailand. You know that famous spa – the one the stars swear by?’
‘Well, I booked in for a three-month course. Boot camp, if you like. The full works, Lucy – colonic, leeches, you name it. I’m getting married next summer and I didn’t fancy looking like Nelly the Elephant for the big day. I feel like a new woman. I’m a size 10 for the first time since I was ten. I’m terrified I’ll put it all back on, though, so I’ve booked in with a personal trainer and nutritionist to keep me on track.’ Lucy could hear Clarissa inhale, coming up for breath in her excitement. ‘So, they insist on total escapism and that means no phones. It was bliss. But I come home and hear what you’ve been up to, young lady. My, my, I want to hear every single detail… Oh God, I don’t mean that – not with what happened with Hartley. That sounds awful. But Kirk, I mean… Oh. My. God.’
Lucy laughed. She had forgotten how fond she was of Clarissa.
‘I promise I will tell you everything.’ She paused. ‘I was worried you had thought the worst and, well, you know…’
‘Banished you from being my friend? Oh please.’ Clarissa bellowed, ‘It takes more than that to get rid of me.’
Lucy was happy to have Clarissa back in her life.
‘Oh darling, before you go, will you come to the ball?’
Lucy frowned. ‘Clarissa, I’m not sure. It’s so sweet of you but… well…’
‘It’s Hartley’s ball and you’re scared of bumping into him?’
‘Well, yes. I mean, not scared exactly…’
‘You don’t want him to think you are chasing him?’
Lucy had to admit it was the first thing that crossed her mind when she thought about accepting the invitation. He must already think of her as a calculating man-eater; why else would she go to his ball if not to see him? And coming face to face with him again would be so painful.
As if reading her mind, Clarissa cut in. ‘Listen, you are my guest. I would like you to be on my table. My friend is on the committee this year. I’d be going even if the Earl of Balmyle did not exist. It’s nothing to do with him, Lucy. It’s a fabulous way to see in the New Year and help raise money for a good cause. I will not take no for an answer.’
Lucy smiled. ‘OK, OK.’
‘But, Lucy? One more thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘Obviously, Hartley will be there so you must look even more fabulous than normal.’
Lucy must be a distant memory to Hartley now. She had seen him photographed leaving a charity auction at Christie’s with Bridget the other day. Genevieve had relished placing the photo, in a magazine, inches in front of her as she sat at her desk.
‘Dearie me, Lucy, that must hurt. No?’ she had whimpered.
Lucy didn’t have the patience to pretend. ‘A bit,’ she replied, flatly.
Genevieve looked flustered, surprised by Lucy’s honesty.
‘I’ll tell you what hurts, Gen Gen.’ It was Carlos, sweeping her aside as he stood behind Lucy and rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘What hurts is the fact you look like Ugly Betty in those Versace heels and knee-high socks. Kate Moss might pull it off, but not you, girlfriend.’
With a dismissive hand he brushed Genevieve away like a pesky fly while Lucy lowered her head to her desk, trying not to laugh.
Muttering something about how Bridget was wearing the new Stella coat in orange and it looked great on her, Genevieve teetered back to her own desk, as self-conscious now as she had been self-assured just moments before.
The girls in the office had crammed around Lucy’s desk on the Monday after the story had broken about her and Kirk.
Penny, the fashion desk PA, was so excited her glasses (small, rectangular, red Prada to match her Versace red jeans and Aquascutum blazer) steamed up as she elbowed through the little crowd to the front of Lucy’s desk. Sophie, who had grown her hair a little longer and bleached it again, gave up all pretence of work for the morning to badger Lucy with questions, her normal facial expression of serious fashionista replaced by a giddy excitement.
Genevieve had sat quietly at her desk throughout, doing her very best to look busy. After drumming her fingers impatiently on her mouse pad all morning, while the girls crowded round Lucy, she snapped, telling them they were paid to put a magazine together, not gossip about who’d pulled whom.
‘She’s jealous of everything about you, Lucy,’ Carlos told Lucy matter-of-factly, when he arrived later that day. ‘The way you look, the way you dress, your popularity with the other girls. And now you’re centre of attention for pulling the man she has as her screen saver? Ooooo, she’s angry and jealous.’
Now Genevieve was away on a three-week holiday in the Bahamas. The general rule was that no one could take off more than two weeks at a time but, as she told anyone who would listen, she was the boss and so stressed out she needed some ‘me time’. Word had it in the office she’d gone by herself on a freebie from a luxury holiday company. One of the girls had overheard her on the phone promising a write-up in the travel section and asking if the flights could be upgraded to first class. It was odd, Lucy thought, given that they had a travel editor, Liza, who dealt with all such features. She offered writers trips to spas or to tropical locations in return for writing about them in her pages. When lots of editorial staff applied for a plum trip, she pulled a name out of a hat to be fair.
The other girls in the office relished the opportunity to moan about Genevieve’s constant blagging, but Lucy couldn’t care less. She was relieved to be able to get on with her job without an agenda. Genevieve hadn’t left anyone in charge. She’d had three deputies leave within a year and currently had no second-in-command. But Lucy found herself being asked to do most of Genevieve’s tasks by the overall boss of the mag, organizing not only her own shoots and interviews but also the main diary for the other girls, to make sure every important social and fashion event was covered. She had to admit, she enjoyed the responsibility.
Of course, the girls on the floor had been desperate to find out every snippet of information about what had happened with Kirk. Days after the newspaper story they were still grilling her at every opportunity. Lucy blushed furiously, terrified she would look boastful.
How did it happen? What’s he like? Did you sleep with him? Is he hung like a donkey? The questions were fast and furious, her colleagues intrigued at this latest turn of events. Without Genevieve, there was a feeling of fun on the floor that was normally lacking.
Lucy batted the questions off as best she could, assuring them she didn’t sleep with him. A goodnight kiss was all he got. And yes, OK, he was a great kisser.
Indeed he was, Lucy thought as she remembered how he had pulled her head to his, pressing his lips to hers. Then had come the flick of his tongue. She had felt his torso, impossibly solid beneath his top. And yet Lucy had been thinking of Hartley when she’d had Kirk bloody Kelner in her bed. She must need her head read.
She had frozen in horror when she saw the front page that day but Max had made her see the funny side.
Marj had too. She seemed somehow more relaxed than ever before when she visited for the weekend. She had always been the cool mum at school, the envy of pals, who would admire her trendy clothes compared to their head-scarved, Laura Ashley-clad mothers. Their mums visited them at weekends in their brand-new Range Rovers, dripping in diamonds. Then Marj would turn up having caught the train from Dundee, looking fresh and fun next to the Stepford Wives.
Carlos had also helped. Of course, he had demanded the unedited version of what had happened with Kirk.
He had bombarded her with texts demanding all the juicy details.
She agreed to spill the beans over dinner at Cipriani, after coordinating a shoot at Tate Modern. Carlos had choked on his Chianti when Lucy explained why she hadn’t had sex with Kirk.
‘Are you out of your friggin’ mind? Kirk Kelner wants to sleep with you and you say no? Tell me you’re shittin’ me.’
‘Carlos, I couldn’t. I kept thinking of Hartley. I was drunk…’
‘Girlfriend, I could be in a five-year coma and still muster up a twitch of consent if Kelner came knocking.’ Carlos angrily took a bite from a piece of bread. ‘Fuck, you’re driving me to carbs after six o’clock.’
‘Not carbs after six o’clock, Carlos. How will I ever forgive myself?’
‘Very funny. You didn’t ever sleep with Hartley either, did you?’
‘Well, no, but nearly – I mean, I tried.’
Carlos put his hand on top of hers. He had the air of a man who was about to impart solemn words of wisdom.
‘You are in grave danger of sealing up, Lucy. You already qualify for that American cult of reborn virgins – no sex for a year and you get membership.’
Lucy laughed.
‘It’s not funny.’
‘Come on, if I don’t laugh I’ll cry. Most girls regret sleeping with someone – not the other way round.’
Carlos seemed to mull over the thought gravely, popping an olive into his mouth.
‘There’s only one thing for it,’ Lucy told him.
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Make up for it next time I see him.’
Carlos clasped his hands together as if he’d decided on the best path to world peace. ‘Excellent, you’re talking sense at last. Bonk his brains out, girl – it’s Kirk fucking Kelner. But for God’s sake, Lucy,’ his eyes widened, his tone lowered, ‘whatever you do, use a condom. I read he slept with that kiss-and-tell freak, you know the one – all tits and tangerine skin. Who knows where else he’s been.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Good point, Dad. I promise.’
Lucy hadn’t forgotten Kirk’s reputation but, as long as she was careful, what was the harm? And where had being sensible got her so far? If she couldn’t have fun now, she might end up regretting it. And Kirk Kelner was hot. He had a history, that was for sure, but anyone could change and he was always so respectful and gentlemanly towards her.
The friends fell silent as the waiter poured more wine, Carlos catching a pained look in Lucy’s eyes.
‘You really liked him, huh?’ Carlos looked serious, searching Lucy’s face.
‘Hartley? Yes. I do. I mean, I did.’ She felt a lump in her throat. How ridiculous. While Hartley was swanning around with Bridget, not giving Lucy a second thought, she was hankering after him.
Kirk was the fairy tale – impossibly handsome, with a jet-set life of glamour and glitz. Hartley was handsome in his own way but probably a bit like Eddie Izzard in comparison to the Hollywood star. It didn’t matter. Lucy smiled as she thought of the way he always appeared slightly unkempt, with an untucked shirt and those rosy cheeks. She missed the way he sucked in his tummy in front of the mirror when he thought she wasn’t watching. Sometimes she’d wake and he was the first thing she thought of, making her wonder if she’d been dreaming about him. Lucy couldn’t shake the dull ache of longing for him and wondered how the hell something so good could have ended so unexpectedly.
Carlos squeezed her hand.
‘He doesn’t know what he’s missing.’
Lucy smiled. ‘It’s OK, really. Anyway, Kirk texted this morning.’
‘He’s invited me to a party next week. You want to come?’
The debonair, calm and collected Carlos Santiago was suddenly twelve years old, brimming with excitement.
‘Do I? Hell, yeah. But be warned. If I so much as sniff a gay gene, he’s all mine. Raymondo will understand.’
Lucy laughed. She was feeling much better already.
She was looking forward to seeing Kirk again. How could she fail to be flattered?