Private Lives

71



Anna had never really realised how wealthy Andy’s family were until she went out to Villa Sole for the first time. At the start of their relationship, when Andy had spoken about his family’s summer place in Tuscany, she had imagined a rambling farmhouse with delphinium-blue shutters and broken flowerpots. But Villa Sole was truly magnificent, a whitewashed Italianate stately home with tall windows and pillared gables, at once both grand and chic.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Matt as their stubby Fiat hire car turned on to the arrow-straight drive. ‘It’s like a palace.’ Anna felt her heart give a flutter. Although the summer sun had toasted the surrounding hillsides a deep ochre, the grounds of Villa Sole looked just as luscious as they had when she and Andy had come here to kiss in the poppy fields and swim in the river. It was like seeing an old lover across a room.

‘Are you sure this is his family’s place, not a five-star hotel?’ said Matt as they drew up outside the entrance. ‘No wonder he pulled so many birds at college.’

‘You knew Andy at Cambridge?’ said Anna, her eyes wide. ‘How come you haven’t mentioned this before?’

‘Never really knew him.’ Matt shrugged. ‘He was the year ahead of me. But he certainly had a reputation as a ladies’ man.’

‘Well he never used to boast about this place,’ said Anna, suddenly feeling protective of Andy. Matt gave her a smirk.

‘Not to you, maybe.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Well you’re not the sort of girl to be impressed by fancy trimmings, are you?’

Anna looked at him sideways.

‘Should I take that as a compliment?’

Matt chuckled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Definitely a compliment.’

Anna laughed. She had been surprised at how well she and Matt had got on. She had been nervous about bringing him – in fact she had woken up kicking herself – but away from the office, they had fallen into the sort of flirtatious banter you usually only had with people you’d known for years. They seemed to share a similarly dry sense of humour, and on the two-hour flight over they had giggled constantly, chatting away without mentioning work, Helen or the Amy Hart story once. In fact it had been like a first date: finding out about each other’s lives and interests, swapping funny stories. They had quite a lot in common, mutual friends, and had even lived on the same street when they were at Guildford College of Law, albeit four or five years apart.

‘Anna!’

She turned to see her father running down the steps, his arms open. He scooped her up and hugged her, squashing her face against his shoulder, and any last doubts she had harboured about coming to the wedding immediately evaporated.

‘So you’re pleased to see me, then?’ she said happily when her dad had finally released his grip.

‘When you said you were coming we were thrilled,’ he said quietly. ‘Thank you. Really.’

Anna was moved by the intensity of his words, and she realised with a flush of shame just how important it had been to him. How could she even have considered letting him down?

‘Darling, you’re here!’ cried her mother, giving Anna an uncharacteristically warm embrace.

‘So how are you enjoying Villa Sole?’ asked Anna. ‘Up to your standards?’

‘Oh yes. You should see tonight’s menu,’ said Sue Kennedy, an excited twinkle in her eye. ‘Truffles.’

Anna laughed. It was nice to see her parents both so relaxed, their slightly pink faces shining with pride. Anna had been so wrapped up in her own feelings towards Sophie, it was easy to forget that this must be a huge deal for them, seeing their first daughter tie the knot, and doing it in such grand surroundings too.

‘Oh Mum, this is my friend Matt,’ said Anna.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Matthew, pulling their cases from the car. ‘Where shall I put these?’

‘You’re in the two rooms at the very top of the house,’ said Sue, leading them both inside the house and showing Matt the staircase. ‘Fantastic views in the morning; you can see all the way to Siena.’ She looked over at Anna meaningfully. ‘And if you don’t need two rooms, I think the one overlooking the courtyard is the better one.’

Anna glanced at Matt – was he blushing?

‘I’ll just take these upstairs, then,’ he muttered, lugging the bags over his shoulder and disappearing up the stairs.

‘I want the room with the view,’ shouted Anna after him.

‘Yes, boss . . .’ came the weary reply, and Anna’s mother smiled.

‘Good-looking boy,’ she said.

‘Boy? He’s pushing thirty-five.’

‘Practically a geriatric,’ said her father.

Anna looked back and forth between her parents.

‘Now just because we’re at a wedding, don’t go getting any ideas,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s just a friend, okay?’

‘Whatever you say, darling,’ said her mother, turning to her husband and giving him a deliberate wink.

The sun was beginning to vanish over the scorched hillside and Anna gazed out at the carpet of wild flowers stretching across the meadow, scenting the evening air like cologne. Her mother was right. The view was spectacular from up here. In the dusky lavender light, the Chianti hills and vineyards folded and disappeared into one another, while just faintly she really could see the dark skyline of the great old town of Siena. Anna had spent many nights at Villa Sole but never in the eaves of the house, which were usually reserved for nannies or children – Sophie and her parents would be in the grand master suites on the lower floors.

Next door, she could hear Matt singing over the rushing sound of the shower at full blast. Was that ‘Karma Chameleon’? She giggled; Matthew Donovan really was full of surprises. She walked into her own bathroom and turned on the gold taps of her claw-foot bath, tipping in some lime-scented oil. When it was full, she peeled off her travelling clothes and sank gratefully down into the bath until the foam tickled her nose. Closing her eyes, she let the events of the past week float through her mind. Where was Helen Pierce this evening? she wondered. Matthew had called Larry from the airport, and apparently Helen had formally resigned from the firm that morning. And what would become of Peter Rees and his so-called friends, each of them equally marked and sullied by the affair? Would any of them ever pay for what they did? The Chronicle were putting pressure on the police to launch an inquiry into Amy’s death, but Anna knew there was no certainty of justice being done. And was there really such a thing as justice when you had money and a team of nimble lawyers at your disposal? She gave a crooked smile, remembering the argument she’d had with Matt that first day at Donovan Pierce, when she had so staunchly defended the legal system and a rich man’s right to use the law any way he pleased. She wasn’t at all sure she felt the same way now, not after having seen the Swann set hiding behind their millions. So where did that leave her? She knew she still believed in the law – you couldn’t give up on it just because the bad guys kept winning, otherwise who would protect people like Amy Hart? There had to be another way; a fair, honest way. Anna just supposed she’d have to find it.

Wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel, she unpacked her bag and laid the meagre contents on the bed. With everything that had happened, she hadn’t had time to go shopping for her sister’s wedding. She picked up the turquoise silk tunic dress she’d worn in Kerala, remembering the way Sam had smiled at her that night on the longboat.

She felt a knot in her chest just thinking about Sam and Jessica and that horrible scene on the drive outside Copley Manor. She took a deep breath and let it out. That was over now, she had to move on. And anyway, she looked hot in the dress, so why not?

She was just pinning her hair up on top of her head, exposing her long neck, when there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ she muttered through the grips in her mouth. Matthew appeared at the door, looking relaxed in a pair of cream trousers and a pale blue shirt, open at the neck.

‘Look at George Clooney,’ she said appreciatively. She had never seen him in anything but a work suit, and casual looked good on him.

‘Well I know you like the screen-idol type,’ he joked.

‘Hey, cheeky,’ she scolded.

‘You’re not looking too bad yourself,’ he said as she finished her hair and turned around.

‘So why do I feel so nervous?’ she asked.

‘Nothing a glass of Chianti won’t sort out,’ he said, offering her his arm. ‘What’s the betting Villa Sole have their own vineyard?’

‘Actually they do.’ She smiled, enjoying the feel of him against her hip, enjoying the sense of feeling protected. They descended the staircase and went into the main hall, where Sophie and Andy were greeting guests.

Damn, she looks lovely, thought Anna. Sophie’s gown was floor length and the colour of a Bellini, a peach shade so soft it almost made her tanned skin glow.

‘She looks incredible, doesn’t she?’ said Anna, without a trace of envy or bitterness, feelings that had somehow seemed irrelevant once she had got to Villa Sole.

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and from where I’m standing, she comes a poor second.’

‘Don’t be nice to me just because you feel sorry for me,’ she teased.

‘You’re beautiful and smart,’ replied Matt quietly.

‘Tell that to Andy,’ she said, without any resentment.

Matt hesitated.

‘The truth of it is that some men just can’t handle women like you, Anna.’

She turned to him with a mock frown.

‘Be gentle with me,’ she said, her expression softening.

‘You know, I spoke to my dad the other night,’ Matt continued. ‘He told me why he left my mother, a very smart and clever lady if ever there was one. The thing about the other woman, the one he left my mother for, wasn’t that he liked her more. He just preferred the way she made him feel.’

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better about being rejected by the groom? Because it’s working.’

Matt touched her arm.

‘What I’m trying to say is if the groom couldn’t see that he had the prize in his hands, then he doesn’t deserve to win it. Now go on, go and speak to her. Tell her you’re happy for her, even if it’s not true.’

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and gently pushed her forward.

‘Big sis!’ cried Sophie dramatically, stretching her arms out to Anna.

‘It’s going to be a beautiful wedding, Soph,’ said Anna, kissing her on the cheek.

Sophie glanced across at Andy.

‘So you give us your blessing?’ she said anxiously.

Anna nodded. Over the past year, she had built her sister up into some sort of wicked fairy-tale queen, but standing here, she just looked like an insecure six-year-old again, desperate for her big sister’s approval, all her pretensions stripped away.

‘I’m happy for you, Soph,’ said Anna. ‘I really am.’

She wasn’t sure she would ever be entirely comfortable with the way it had happened – there had been too many tears, too much history between them – but she could see how much it meant to Sophie, so she was determined to rise above it, to let her little sister have her perfect day. Growing up, the two of them had been as thick as thieves; they had shared secrets, almost spoken a secret language. And maybe in time, they would get that back, maybe the wound could heal completely, who knew? But for today, Anna was happy to put a brave face on it – for her sister.

‘Andy loves you,’ she said. ‘That’s all that matters. And you’re a far better match than he and I ever were.’

Sophie nodded, her eyes sparkling.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.

Anna squeezed her arm.

‘Be happy, okay?’

Sophie produced a handkerchief from her cleavage and dabbed at her eyes.

‘Anyway,’ she sniffed, ‘is it true you were going to bring Sam Charles to the wedding?’

‘How did you know?’

Sophie rolled her eyes.

‘Mum told me, of course. So where is he?’

‘Oh, he’s filming,’ said Anna vaguely. ‘Anyway, he’s just a friend.’

‘I assumed so,’ said Sophie with a touch of bitchiness. ‘Especially now that he’s back with Jessica.’

Anna was surprised that she could already think of Sam and Jessica with detachment; as if they were characters in a glossy soap opera, which she supposed, now that they were out of her life, they actually were.

‘Still, you have brought a rather good-looking date with you,’ said Sophie. ‘Almost Sam Charles handsome, if you like that Mr Darcy broody thing.’

‘Matt? He’s just a friend too,’ Anna said honestly.

‘My, you have been busy, haven’t you?’ said Sophie, slipping her arm through her sister’s and taking her to one side. ‘I’m so glad we’ve put all this behind us,’ she said, ‘because I want you to be the first person to know my news.’

Anna’s hand flew to her mouth.

‘You’re pregnant?’ she gasped.

‘God, no,’ said Sophie with distaste. ‘Much better than that. I spoke to my agent this morning, and Dorset Kitchen has been green-lit for a CBS pilot in the States – isn’t that brilliant? Obviously they don’t want it to be called Dorset Kitchen; maybe Sophie’s Choice or something like that, because I really need to start extending my brand Stateside, don’t you think? My agent says I can be the new Martha Stewart.’

‘So you’ll move to the States?’

Sophie nodded, the little-girl excitement back.

‘New York. Isn’t it fabulous?’

Sophie took a sip of champagne and pointed her finger in the direction of the crowd, where she could just see Matthew talking animatedly to her father.

‘I think you should go out with him,’ she said, with the slight slur of someone on her fifth cocktail.

‘Matthew?’ Anna smiled.

‘He’s gorgeous. If I wasn’t an about-to-be-married woman, I might be interested in him myself.’

Anna felt her back suddenly stiffen.

‘I told you he’s just a friend.’

‘You like him,’ purred Sophie theatrically, as if she was licking butterscotch sauce off a spoon.

Matt had moved on from Brian Kennedy and was now sitting on a low stone wall beneath a cypress tree. Anna had to admit her sister was right: he was pretty handsome. Bloody handsome, in fact. Perhaps not as beautiful as Sam, of course, more rugged, less perfect. But then maybe that was a good thing; perfection hadn’t exactly worked out for her, had it? Somewhere inside her she felt a flutter, which she dismissed as alcohol. Their eyes connected through the crowd, and as he smiled at her, she knew it was too late to turn away. But she didn’t want to turn away.

She grabbed a flute of champagne and took a long swig to fortify herself as she weaved through the sea of people towards him.

‘And what’s so funny?’ she asked, perching on the wall next to him.

‘Oh, nothing. I was just watching the joyful reconciliation of two sisters. How was it?’

Anna shrugged lightly.

‘Sophie is Sophie. She’s not going to change.’

They sat silently for a moment, watching the blue-green ripples on the swimming pool opposite them. Anna liked this, just sitting, being together. Some people could make you feel happy and comfortable just being in their company. With Matt, she didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to try and impress him. He seemed to like her just as she was.

‘So what have you been telling everyone about us?’ he asked after a while.

She glanced at him.

‘That you’re a friend. Why?’

‘Because everyone keeps asking when we’re going to tie the knot too.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She winced. ‘I guess it’s because it’s a wedding; everyone wants to play matchmaker.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve told anyone that asks that we’re not dating. It’s just sex. It seems to shut them up.’

‘You haven’t,’ she gasped, although the thought secretly thrilled her.

‘I told Andrew’s mum it’s a good job she put us up in the attic, what with all the noise you make when you get excited.’

‘Please tell me you’re joking . . .?’

‘Okay, I’m joking.’

They were both laughing when Anna felt a tap on her shoulder.

‘Hey, guys, I’ve been looking for you.’

Anna composed herself.

‘Andy, how are you? I thought you might still be stuck in the office.’

He smiled. ‘I escaped just in time. Sophie wasn’t too happy I didn’t arrive in Italy until yesterday, though.’

‘When duty calls . . .’

‘I just wanted to say thank you for the story. I was talking to Charles, my editor, before we came out here, and he thinks his deputy is about to move on to the Sunday paper. He says the job’s mine if I want it.’

‘That’s brilliant news, Andy,’ said Anna. ‘You deserve it.’

‘I know. It’s what I’ve been working my arse off for nearly fifteen years for.’

A jazz band struck up and Andy cocked his head.

‘Sounds like my cue. I’d better get back to my bride.’ He looked at Anna as he turned away. ‘And thanks again,’ he said. ‘I mean it.’

Anna sat silently as he crossed the courtyard. Matthew touched her on the shoulder.

‘Don’t let him get to you,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Andy. You’re too good for him. You always were.’

‘Oh, I know that.’ She smiled. ‘I wasn’t thinking about that anyway. I was thinking about what he said, the job on the paper.’

‘What about it?’

‘Well Sophie just told me she’s been offered a job in New York.’

‘Ah,’ said Matt. ‘So she’s not going to take it?’

‘Of course she is,’ laughed Anna. ‘Sophie always does what she wants to; you should have grasped that by now.’

Matt frowned.

‘But what about that little speech Andy just gave us?’

Anna shook her head.

‘He doesn’t know.’

Matt let out a laugh.

‘Is she going to tell him before they get married that she’s got his life mapped out on the other side of the Atlantic?’

‘Probably not.’

They gave each other a conspiratorial little smile. The courtyard was filling with couples dancing now, surrounded by a happy crowd laughing and clinking glasses in the balmy almond-scented air. Anna could feel Matt’s warm leg against hers, her skin tingling at his touch, and suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to kiss him.

‘Dance?’ he said, seconds before she was about to ask him. He looked at her nervously, as if he thought he’d overstepped the mark, wondering what her reaction would be.

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

He pulled her to him, palm against palm, hips moving together, his arm circling her waist. She knew he had come here as a friend, possibly because he felt sorry for her, probably because he had nothing better to do, and yet still, when he pressed his body against her, when his cheek brushed hers, she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

‘What’s your view on professional ethics?’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Is this about Helen?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t even want to think about her,’ she said softly.

‘So what ethics?’ he asked.

She paused for a moment, feeling her throat become dry and her pulse quicken. Just say it, she told herself.

‘I mean, as my boss. What would you do if I kissed you?’

He smiled and pulled her towards him.

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ he said, as his lips brushed softly against hers, tender and soft. He pulled away, then kissed her again, harder. And as she kissed him back, their mouths joined, bodies entwined, she felt every nerve ending shiver with both desire and belonging. Finally the music stopped and she opened her eyes. Her hands were trembling between Matt’s big palms.

‘Shall we go somewhere a little quieter?’ he said as they reluctantly pulled apart.

She nodded, and they walked out of the courtyard hand in hand, following a path down towards the gardens.

‘I think I’ve been wanting to do that since about the first day I saw you,’ said Matt.

‘The day of the lunch?’

He shook his head, smiling.

‘At the lunch I wanted to kill you.’

‘I wasn’t that impressed with you either.’ Anna smiled.

‘Well, I hope you’ve changed your mind.’

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Probably.’

They walked away from the party until they found a stone bench hidden in an alcove.

‘So why didn’t you?’ asked Anna. ‘Kiss me, I mean.’

He laughed.

‘Where should we start? My ex-wife back in the picture, your Hollywood romance, the fact that when I joined Donovan Pierce I was ever-so-slightly aware that the last Mr Donovan at the firm had been a terrible lech.’

Anna pulled a face.

‘Good point. Although what are we going to do now? I mean, you’re still my boss. Are you going to call me in to sit on your knee?’

Matthew grinned. ‘That doesn’t sound too bad, actually.’

‘You are your father’s son,’ said Anna playfully.

His expression turned tender. He reached out his hand and touched her face.

‘Are you ready for this? Working together? Being together?’

Anna slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

She’d never been more ready for anything in her life. Ever.





Acknowledgements



Continued thanks go to all the team at Headline for their sterling work: Sherise Hobbs (a wonderful editor with great taste in biscuits), Lucy Foley, Jane Morpeth, Jo Liddiard, Vicky Cowell, Emily Furniss, Aslan Byrne and his fantastic sales team, plus Patrick and Yeti in the design department and to the copyeditor and proofreaders.

To the brilliant Eugenie Furniss and Cathryn Summerhayes – it’s such a pleasure working with you. And Dorian Karchmar and Matt Hudson in New York make me feel as if I can take on the world! Thanks also to the lovely Claudia Webb.

To everyone else who has helped with the research of Private Lives – thank you so much for the nuggets of information you let me take away. The complex area of privacy law is one that takes place behind closed doors so I’m particularly grateful to those who let me have a peep behind the curtain. This book couldn’t have been written without you.

It’s been a tricky year so my heartfelt gratitude goes to those who have made it easier. To all those at Kingston Hospital and RMH, including Alan Thompson, Mr Khan and Hannah Petty – thank you so much for all the incredible work you do. To my friends, especially Kay for the writers’ villa and the hill walks. And much, much love to my wonderful family for all their support, especially my mum, and John, my rock-and-roll rock, my hero, the best husband a girl could ever ask for.