CHAPTER 27
Ana
Ana lay on the bed in a post-orgasm coma. Her limbs felt like lead, and her mind was filled with Zen-like calm. Satisfied. For now.
Harry had matched her, led her, whereas Percy had always followed. Harry was skilled, anticipating what she wanted—needed—with uncanny accuracy.
The unwelcome thought that Merry had paved the way intruded on her bliss, but she flicked it away. What had she expected? Harry had history. Rather that than an inexperienced guy with no imagination. She couldn’t have it both ways.
She sighed with pleasure, remembering every detail of the night before, from the most sexually charged dance of her life, to the kiss in Leicester Square, the taxi ride, and the long, long night of passion. She’d never felt so alive.
It was Saturday, and the weekend stretched ahead, full of promise. They would do all those things people did on first weekends. Breakfast in bed, sex, walks in the park, more sex, more food.
She slid out of bed, feeling the life return to her limbs, and put Harry’s shirt back on, walking through to the kitchen.
“No. This time I’m cooking the eggs,” said Harry. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet bare. “I need to replenish my energy. Currently running on empty.”
How could a man look so beautiful on zero sleep? She slid her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his back. “Eggs would be lovely. How good are you at cooking eggs? Our future together depends on your answer.”
“I’m the boss. At eggs too.”
Later Harry showed her around the penthouse. “Shall we keep it, then?”
“You want us to move in together already?”
“Would you rather go on sharing with Megan and Charles? Don’t you feel like a gooseberry?”
She’d miss those two. But she wouldn’t miss the sound of Megan’s moans in the night, when Ana had been so full of longing for Harry.
“I wonder when they’ll get married?” she said. “I suppose Charles’s divorce will take a while.”
“Cassandra will be only too glad to divest herself of the negative energy she hasn’t purged via coffee enemas, or whatever it is they offer at Welshness.”
“At what?”
“Her retreat in Wales, for losers in leather sandals. I’m worried they’ll turn Maria into a witch.”
“I thought Katie was Catholic. How does the New Age stuff fit in with her beliefs?”
“God only knows,” said Harry.
“Funny.”
“I don’t care what Katie does. I just don’t want Maria to turn against me.”
“I might be her stepmother, one day.”
“Jumping the gun, aren’t you? We’ve got to make it through years of living in sin first.”
“Sounds delicious. Lovely, lovely sin.”
“Indeed. So, you want to come live in sin with me, then?”
“I do.”
On Monday, as Ana made her way to her desk, heads swiveled, some surreptitiously; others, like Terri’s, overtly.
Nate was the first to drop by. “Good party, wasn’t it?”
“Yes . . . and yes.”
“What’s the second yes for?”
“Yes I confirm I’m having a proper thing with Harry.”
“That wasn’t my actual question, but thanks for telling me.”
Why was he looking uncomfortable? He’d seen them together at the party.
He pulled up a chair. Why was he pulling up a chair?
“Ana. A bit awkward, but—”
“What is it, Nate?” She regarded him coolly.
“You know I’ve taken a personal interest in your career. You’re the best designer I’ve ever worked with.”
So far, so warm glow.
“Don’t blow it by shagging the boss. A married man with a kid.”
What the hell?
“Nate, it’s not like that. He’s left his wife and I’m moving in with him.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Yeah, it is right.”
“What . . . really?”
“Really.”
“Well, bugger me. I don’t know what to say.”
“How about congratulations?”
“OK. That. Sorry, I’m a bit gobsmacked. The first I knew there was anything going on was Friday night. Although, I did notice him hanging around your office. And you did get promoted unfeasibly quickly.”
Ana frowned. “That was before there was anything between us. Never question that.”
“Sorry. OK, then. I’d better . . .” He sidled out of her office.
She felt uncomfortable. She had such respect for Nate, and he’d never look at her in the same way again. Before, she’d been his star designer. Now, she was the boss’s . . . what was she? Girlfriend? Live-in lover? Had “coming out” at the Christmas party been such a good idea after all?
Terri was the next to drop by. “Ana. That photo shoot at the Tower of London in Feb. You booked Randi to do the makeup, but I need her for Kate Moss. OK if we find you someone else?”
“Fine.”
“So, um . . .”
“Yes?” Her tone didn’t invite confidences. She hated to be the subject of office gossip.
“You’d rather I got to the point.”
“I’d rather you didn’t say anything about it.”
“I’m a journalist. That’s not going to happen. I’m in charge of the Rack, I’ll torture it out of you if I have to.”
“Yes, we’re together. End of story.”
Terri said nothing.
“You’re still here.”
“I don’t know why I care, because you’re a cold fish. But I do mind what happens to you.”
“I don’t need you to. I can look after myself.”
“Hm. You and Harry, then. What’s the story?”
“Why would I share it with you?”
“You might need me to deal with the office gossips, for one. If no one knows what’s going on, they’ll just make it up. As far as they know, he’s a happily married man and you could be a home-wrecker. Everyone loves Harry. They’ll think you seduced him. Let’s face it, that dress wasn’t the last word in subtlety.”
Ana turned to face Terri. “I didn’t seduce him. We’ve been friends for a while. He’s been having marriage problems for years. Finally he and Katie have split up. She’s gone to Wales and he’s divorcing her as soon as he can, which is ages away because she’s Catholic and won’t agree to it. In the meantime he’s moved to a flat in town, and I’m going to be living there with him. Soon.”
“Holy fuck, that was quick. Out with the old, in with the new, eh?”
“Not that quick. We’ve waited ages. We’ve done everything properly. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get on with all this.” She waved her hand at the pile of work on her desk.
“OK. Well. That’s all quite surprising, but I wish you luck. Hope it doesn’t come crashing down, for your sake.”
She left.
Why were Nate and Terri worried about her future? Did they honestly think she couldn’t look after herself?
The King Henry VIII was heaving with villagers. The noise level was deafening, as Christmas Eve revelers sang along with Slade’s “Merry Xmas Everybody” blasting from the jukebox. Tinsel was strung across the oak beams, and the delicious cinnamon-spiced aroma of mulled wine filled the pub.
“Let’s have two of those,” Ana shouted to Merry, pointing to a blackboard. On it was a chalk drawing of a glass of steaming red wine and the words King Henry VIII’s Favorite Wassail! Only £2:50 per glass.
Why was this pub named after the tyrant who’d beheaded Anne Boleyn, the locality’s most famous historical figure? That didn’t seem terribly supportive.
“I’ll get them,” called Merry. “See if you can find us a square foot of space.”
Ana saw faces from her childhood—people she’d been at junior school with. She wondered whether to join two girls she remembered who were standing at the bar. It would be preferable to being alone with Merry, who was full of nervous energy, like a coiled spring.
Her sister had arrived home yesterday. Ana had caught today’s four o’clock from Victoria and had spent the train journey (not to mention the past few weeks) wondering what to say to her, rehearsing it in her mind. She’d wondered—would Merry be back to her old self?
As soon as Ana had dumped her case on the hall floor, the answer became clear. Merry had appeared and wrapped her in a hug, then burst into tears. Her hair was back to its old shade of honey blond. Or at least, the top half of it was. The rest was grown-out bleached, and the soft curls had gone limp and straggly. She’d lost weight, and there were dark rings beneath her eyes.
“How do you think Merry’s looking?” her mother said, her voice worried, when they’d had a moment alone after dinner. “It’s so sad, what’s happened to her, losing Will.”
“It’ll take time.”
“At least you seem to be doing fine, Ana, considering you were meant to be getting married about now.”
“It was for the best, Mum. Like I said on the phone, the holiday romance didn’t really work in real life.”
“Yes, well. Let that be a lesson to you. Think carefully before you commit yourself again.”
Perhaps now wasn’t the time for an update.
“Why don’t you two go to the pub later? You don’t want to be stuck here with us on Christmas Eve.”
No, she wanted to be with Harry. But he was spending Christmas with Megan and Charles, then driving over to Wales to see his daughter.
Ana elbowed her way to a space near the fireplace and, while she waited for Merry, thought back to the night before. Harry had taken her for dinner at the Ivy, and it was their first proper “date” together. Although aware Harry was well known, she’d been taken aback at the level of interest as people whispered behind their hands, pretending not to gawp. And dining with a person of such influence had been a revelation. Under the attentive eye of the maître d’, waiters had hovered like personal slaves, ready to top up their glasses or brush a crumb off the tablecloth.
The home secretary had stopped by their table, and Harry had exchanged a backslapping bear hug with Kenneth Branagh and an air-kiss with Emma Thompson. This all seemed to be business as usual for Harry.
As the evening progressed, however, she’d forgotten about the others in the restaurant as Harry told her what the past week had meant to him, how she made him feel. Then he’d taken her hand, stroking her palm, sending waves of heat racing through her body . . . and dropped something into it. She’d looked down to see a little box wrapped in gold paper. “Merry Christmas,” he’d said, the flame between them reflected in his eyes, flickering, playing on those long, dark gold lashes. “Go on, open it.”
The ring sparkled in the candlelight, an enormous ruby set in two circles of diamonds.
“It’s bloody difficult, choosing for a style icon, but—”
“Harry, it’s perfect . . .”
Ana wrenched her mind back to the present and craned her head toward the bar. Merry was still waiting to be served. Not so long ago, the crowds would have parted like the Red Sea, and some hopeful man would have asked her what she was drinking. But Merry’s flame had gone out, and now she was just another girl fighting to be noticed.
Finally she arrived with the drinks, and they clinked their glasses together. It felt nice to be out of London. Ana felt Harry’s absence as an ache, but the breathing space was probably good for her, and the Merry situation needed sorting.
“Bloody hell, that was a mission,” said Merry. “So, dear sister, let’s skip straight past my train wreck of a life and ask what’s going on with yours. I was sorry to hear you dumped Percy. He seemed nice. Unlike a certain shit I was stupid enough to get involved with.” She spat out the word.
“Pretty busy at work.” Should she say something now? Or would that ruin Christmas for everyone? She didn’t want to be responsible for familial drama.
“How long are you going to stay in Scotland?”
“For a while. I’ll have to come down occasionally, for board meetings, but the McCarey’s team doesn’t need me and I was only ever interested in the wine part.”
“Won’t you go a bit mad, stuck up there?”
“Truth? I can’t face coming back to London yet. Too many memories. I will eventually, when I’m ready for Operation Destroy Harry Rose. But that’s going to be major drama, so I’ve got to make sure I’m strong enough. Oh, by the way, I know he’s your boss, so that’s obviously between us. We’re family, so I can rely on you, right?”
A sense of impending doom crept over Ana. “What do you mean, Operation Destroy Harry Rose? You mustn’t do anything rash, Merry. Just put it all behind you and move on.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never had your heart broken by a coldhearted bastard. And don’t forget, ‘Hell hath no fury.’ We must be deserving of our scorned-woman reputations.” Her eyes were glittering, and she gnawed at the side of her thumbnail.
“Stop it, Merry. You know he’s a powerful man. You don’t want to make an enemy out of Harry Rose. Get over him.”
“I’ll never get over him, Ana. He’s ruined my life. Yes, it started as a fling, but I fell in love with him, and he said he loved me too.”
Did he?
“Truth is, he loved blonde sex-bomb me, but when I turned into sad me with a dying husband, he didn’t want to know. He needs to pay for the way he cast me aside like a—a used tissue. Maybe in the News of the World.”
“You’re not serious. It’d hurt you more than Harry. Think of your reputation. You were married too.”
“There speaks the perfect loyal employee. Just watch me, Ana. I can see it now: Love Rat Harry Dumps Tragic Widow. They’d love it. The broken promises, the sleaze, the lies. The press like nothing more than bringing down a hypocrite, a whiter-than-white good bloke.”
Ana felt nauseated. “You mustn’t, Merry.” It came out as a croak.
“Oh, but I must! It’s the only thing keeping me going at the moment. Like you say, one’s at risk of mental illness, being cooped up in a castle.”
Right now, she did indeed look like the madwoman in the attic.
“Please, Merry, for my sake, then. Harry might sack me, especially if he found out I knew what you were planning.”
“Who’d tell him? Not me.”
“Just . . . don’t!”
“Sorry. My mind’s made up. He’s going to pay for what he’s done.”
Ana snapped. “For god’s sake, Merry. Have some self-respect! You seduced Harry. It was you who instigated the affair. Then you hooked him with your blonde-bimbo routine and your special French . . . things. You were the classic bit on the side. It was never going to be anything more. As if someone like Harry would marry someone like you! Just let it go. Harry doesn’t deserve that.”
“Why are you defending him? Oh, of course. That ambition of yours. Suck up to the bloody boss rather than defend your own sister. Whatever happened to blood being thicker than water? You’re a cold, calculating cow. I’d hate to be you.”
“You can’t expose Harry. You just can’t.” Her voice was pleading.
Merry went still as understanding dawned in her eyes. She turned white.
“No. You wouldn’t do that to me. You . . . and Harry?”
Ana hadn’t meant it to be like this. Her anger evaporated, and she reached out to touch her sister.
Merry quickly raised her arm, hitting Ana’s out of the way.
Heads turned.
“Merry, please. I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right moment, I didn’t want to spoil Christmas.”
Ana saw the fight leave Merry and despair take its place. Her sister’s eyes filled with tears, and she slumped against the fireplace.
“Merry . . .”
“Go away. Just leave me alone.”
“You won’t go to the press, though . . .”
“Is that all you care about, Ana? What’s happened to you?”