Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 39

Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 39

'So why are we at her wedding if she used to do that?' said Joseph, bristling.

'I was joking joking, darling.' Grace smiled. She loved how Joseph was so protective of her, but she worried that the divorce had affected the kids more than they let on. Gabriel didn't visit very often and was formal and distant when he did. He had aged visibly since they had left Parador: the party's fortunes hadn't improved much and the strain of keeping the movement alive was taking its toll. The children rarely mentioned their father when he wasn't there and had taken diametrically opposed positions on marriage: Joseph was staunchly against any sort of relationship, saying it was 'stupid' while Olivia had romanticised it to the extent that she believed in Disney-style happy endings. So Joe would snarl at any man who came near his mother, while Liv would scare them even more by immediately grilling them on their preference for summer or winter weddings. Not that Grace had the time or inclination for a relationship; she was still licking her wounds from the last one.

'Can we meet the Countess, Mummy?' said Olivia, tugging at Grace's hand as they moved into the huge vaulted hall of Kalcraig Castle.

'Of course, Livvy, it's traditional to greet the bride and groom when you arrive at the reception.'

They joined the line crowding to give their congratulations to the happy couple. Ahead of her, Grace recognised a BAFTA-WINNING actor, several famous authors and a Vogue Vogue cover girl, but no friends or acquaintances of her own. She supposed the real reason she had accepted Freya's invitation was because she had been hoping to meet up with old friends from Danehurst and Bristol, almost all of whom had dropped off her radar. Lately she had found herself becoming quite nostalgic; she certainly regretted cutting herself off so ruthlessly after that 1990 summer. Time and maturity made it easier for her to admit that she had been both rash and dramatic, and she had spent many hours on the internet lately, particularly on a site called Friends Reunited, looking up people from the past. cover girl, but no friends or acquaintances of her own. She supposed the real reason she had accepted Freya's invitation was because she had been hoping to meet up with old friends from Danehurst and Bristol, almost all of whom had dropped off her radar. Lately she had found herself becoming quite nostalgic; she certainly regretted cutting herself off so ruthlessly after that 1990 summer. Time and maturity made it easier for her to admit that she had been both rash and dramatic, and she had spent many hours on the internet lately, particularly on a site called Friends Reunited, looking up people from the past.




'Gracie!' squealed Freya as they shuffled up, clasping her to her breast, smothering her in silk. 'It's so amazing to see you.'

'Congratulations, you look stunning,' said Grace, suddenly feeling frumpy and old next to her friend.

'I ought to, I've been working towards today for five months. I swear I haven't eaten anything solid since New Year.' She lowered her head towards Grace's ear. 'I think you're going to love the table plan. Guess who you're sitting next to?'

Grace held her breath, half expecting her to say Alex Doyle. She wouldn't have put it past Freya to reacquaint herself with Alex especially now that he was a Grammy-winning musician.

'Sasha Sinclair.' She giggled.

Grace tried not to show her dismay. 'I didn't know you were in touch with Sasha,' she said.

'We weren't, but then I met her at a party a few months ago. You know she runs Rivera? Absolutely divine. I told her I was getting married and how US Vogue Vogue wanted to do something on the wedding, so she offered to do my gown at cost. And isn't it wanted to do something on the wedding, so she offered to do my gown at cost. And isn't it fabulous fabulous?'

'Beautiful,' said Grace distractedly, glancing around for the face she had seen so many times in style magazines; and there she was, already seated at table nine. Calm down, Grace, Calm down, Grace, she thought to herself. she thought to herself. It It's only Sasha Sinclair, not Freddy Krueger. After all, she had seen Alex in Ibiza and there had only been a flicker of discomfort. And she saw Miles too, perhaps once a year, and they managed to be civil to each other at least. After all, she had seen Alex in Ibiza and there had only been a flicker of discomfort. And she saw Miles too, perhaps once a year, and they managed to be civil to each other at least.

'h.e.l.lo, Grace,' said Sasha stiffly, standing to give Grace a brittle embrace. 'I wondered if you might be here.'

'Freya's been talking about marrying a rich, powerful man for nearly twenty years; I couldn't miss it now it's happened,' said Grace.

'Are we sitting together?' asked Sasha, looking down at the place cards.

'You are now,' said Joseph, moving around the table to put Grace and Sasha's cards together.

'Joe, I don't think you should ...'

'No, he's right, Mum,' said Olivia, moving another card around. 'And I'll sit on the other side of Sasha. I've seen you in Vogue Vogue,' she said eagerly, climbing into her new seat. 'I want to be a fashion designer too.'

'Do you now?' said Sasha with an imperious smile. 'Well I'll have to see what you know, won't I?' adding in mock-confession, 'Although strictly speaking I'm not a fashion designer.'

Grace smiled. She was not surprised that the self-confident eighteen-year-old had grown up into the slightly intimidating, successful beauty in front of her. They were joined at the table by the groom's unmarried cousin, his former nanny and her septuagenarian brother, plus a braying friend from Cambridge who monopolised the first half of the meal regaling them with highly inappropriate stories of the groom's s.e.xual adventures at university.

'I think we can safely say we got the duff table,' whispered Sasha as the dessert was brought around. 'And to think I practically gave gave her wedding dress to her.' her wedding dress to her.'

'Don't let my father know you're giving dresses away at cost.'

Grace detected something in Sasha's expression. Discomfort? Discomfort? For a moment she entertained the idea that Sasha had spent the last decade being plagued by memories of the island too, then dismissed the thought. For a moment she entertained the idea that Sasha had spent the last decade being plagued by memories of the island too, then dismissed the thought. Stupid Stupid, she scolded herself. If that was the case she would hardly have taken Robert Ashford's investment in her company, would she?

'You should come into the Bond Street store yourself while you're in the UK,' said Sasha quickly. 'Our silk jersey wrap dresses will look incredible on you. You have an amazing figure now.'

Now? Is that a backhanded compliment I hear? thought Grace. 'Well, I'd recommend a divorce and an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt to anyone as a diet plan,' she said. thought Grace. 'Well, I'd recommend a divorce and an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt to anyone as a diet plan,' she said.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' said Sasha, touching her hand. 'I had heard; I didn't think ...'

'Don't be silly, I'm kidding. I'd love to come and try a few things on, but my mum's convinced me to stay with her in Oxfordshire for the week.'

'Then you must come to my thirtieth,' said Sasha with enthusiasm. 'It's at my friend Iftaka's house in Berkshire and I think your mum and dad are coming anyway.'

'It's lovely of you to offer, but ...'

'Alex Doyle will be there,' said Sasha with a sly smile.

'You mean Al Al Doyle,' said Grace. She actually hadn't seen Alex since his visit to Ibiza. It didn't surprise her, given the way his career had taken off. Every now and then she would get a postcard sent to the farmhouse, postmarked Las Vegas, Sydney or Tokyo, with some sweet or cryptic message. Olivia was always very impressed. Doyle,' said Grace. She actually hadn't seen Alex since his visit to Ibiza. It didn't surprise her, given the way his career had taken off. Every now and then she would get a postcard sent to the farmhouse, postmarked Las Vegas, Sydney or Tokyo, with some sweet or cryptic message. Olivia was always very impressed.

'I didn't know you and Alex were friends,' said Grace.

'Darling, in my business I have to touch base with everyone. This party is an excuse to see everyone important in one fell swoop.'

'Mummy, Mummy! Come and dance!' said Olivia and Joseph in unison, bouncing up and down and pulling at her hand as the ceilidh band began to play.

'I'd better go and strut my stuff,' she said, excusing herself. 'And then I'd better get these two to bed before they have any more sugar.'

Sasha nodded and touched her on the arm. 'You know, we should have spoken earlier,' she said softly.

'Yes, I know,' replied Grace.

'And you will come to the party?'

Part of her desperately wanted to say yes. Twelve years of being haunted by the memory of what happened on Angel Cay was far too long; she wanted to move on. But she still wasn't sure if she could handle all four of them being in the same place at one time.

'Is Miles going to be there?'

Sasha shook her head. 'I don't see him. And I don't think he'd want to come, to be honest.'

There was a look of understanding between them. A secret nod of support from woman to woman.

'Sure, I'd love to come,' said Grace. 'Thirty, eh?' she added as she was hauled towards the dance floor. 'We're almost grown-ups now.'

And it was time to start acting like one.

43

February 2002

Alex wasn't entirely sure where he had heard the phrase, but in the world of celebrity, it was certainly true that one and one made eleven. Before his relationship with Melissa had finally leaked in a three-page National Enquirer National Enquirer story called 'Beauty and the Beat', the tabloid press had only a pa.s.sing interest in him. Yes, he was a platinum-selling artist, but he was a serious musician, not a red-carpet regular. Interesting to music geeks and teenage girls, but not the sort of star who could shift millions of newspapers. Melissa was a bigger celebrity, of course, but she was not in the same league as Catherine, Julia or Jennifer. Together, however, Alex and Melissa created a strange alchemy that had sent the paparazzi crazy and turned their world upside down. Wherever they went, photographers were there. Leaving the house, at the airport, visiting a restaurant; they were mobbed going in and coming out and the paps would crowd around the windows trying to take pictures of them shock! eating noodles or hold the front-page! popping to the loo. Not a week went by without front-page splashes about their relationship in love, splitting up, sometimes both in the same paper or speculation about an imminent elopement or secret love-child. story called 'Beauty and the Beat', the tabloid press had only a pa.s.sing interest in him. Yes, he was a platinum-selling artist, but he was a serious musician, not a red-carpet regular. Interesting to music geeks and teenage girls, but not the sort of star who could shift millions of newspapers. Melissa was a bigger celebrity, of course, but she was not in the same league as Catherine, Julia or Jennifer. Together, however, Alex and Melissa created a strange alchemy that had sent the paparazzi crazy and turned their world upside down. Wherever they went, photographers were there. Leaving the house, at the airport, visiting a restaurant; they were mobbed going in and coming out and the paps would crowd around the windows trying to take pictures of them shock! eating noodles or hold the front-page! popping to the loo. Not a week went by without front-page splashes about their relationship in love, splitting up, sometimes both in the same paper or speculation about an imminent elopement or secret love-child.

Alex was still struggling to make the adjustment, both to his new relationship and to his new mega-stardom. Some days were good, some days horrible, but today had been one of the good ones one of the best, in fact. Alex lay back on the four-poster bed in his favourite London hotel, Blakes, feeling happy and relaxed. For once, he and Melissa had managed to spend the entire day together, doing exactly what they wanted; no interviews, no phone calls, just them. Melissa was in London waiting to start filming at Pinewood Studios. Alex had just finished recording at Abbey Road. At his suggestion, they'd spent the day doing all the touristy things Alex never did when he lived there. Suitably disguised in sungla.s.ses and baseball caps, they had strolled around London Zoo, gone boating in Regent's Park, then taken a black cab out to Hampton Court, where they'd gone for a long walk down the Thames towpath all the way to Richmond. Alex didn't know when he'd felt happier.

'You know what's great?' he said, watching Melissa strip out of her jeans and sweater. In the low light, with the cream voile drapes fluttering behind her, she looked like an angel.

'I don't know, tell me,' she smiled, crawling up the bed towards him. As she leant over to kiss him, he could smell her; a delicate blend of raspberries and vanilla he had always loved.

'Feeling together,' said Alex. 'Feeling settled.'

Melissa laughed. 'You say it like it's this strange and crazy thing.'

In a way, it was. Even when he was with Emma, there was always something that made him feel displaced or anxious: his insecurities about Jez Harrison or the worry of failure. But with Melissa, he felt safe and confident. All the pressure seemed to lift when she was around.

'Well, how do you feel about being Mrs Alex Doyle?' he asked.

Her hand covered her mouth, her blue eyes wide. She looked shocked.

'What?' he asked.

'Al, you're not proposing to me, are you?'

It was his turn to look surprised. Actually he had simply been asking if she was feeling as contented and fuzzy as he was; did she like being seen as 'Mrs Alex Doyle', his missus missus. But still ... It wasn't such a mad idea, was it? In idle moments, he'd been toying with the notion of growing old together, having a tribe of beautiful mini-Melissas and retiring to a ranch in Wyoming or somewhere. And G.o.d, she was beautiful, he thought, gazing into her perfect, beaming face, breathless with antic.i.p.ation. What the f.u.c.k are you waiting for? What the f.u.c.k are you waiting for? he asked himself. he asked himself.

'Yes, I am,' he said.

'In that case yes, yes, yes,' she squealed, straddling him and covering his face with kisses. Laughing, he rolled over on top of her, but she was squirming so much that they slipped off the bed with a thump. There was a moment's delay, then they both burst out laughing. Scrambling to his feet, Alex grabbed the bedside phone. 'OK, this calls for a celebration,' he said, dialling room service. 'I'll get them to send up their biggest bottle of champagne. One of those Necubanezzers or whatever they're called.'

'No, don't,' she said, taking the receiver from him. 'Let's go out to celebrate.'

'Out where?'

'I promised a friend of mine we'd go to her party.'

Alex pulled a face. 'Can't we just stay in bed and pour Dom Perignon all over each other?'

She put her hands on her hips and pouted. 'The s.e.xiest man in the world has just proposed to me. I want to tell the world!' she said.

'Well, if you put it that way ...' He smiled. 'So where is it?'

'It's at this amazing house in Berkshire. Belongs to some Middle Eastern gazillionaire. Plus it's my friend's thirtieth birthday.'

'OK,' said Alex.'But only if I can help you dress,' he added, sliding his hand inside her lacy panties.

'Please!' Melissa giggled. 'I'm an engaged woman, what would my fiance say?'

'I think he'd say I was a very lucky man,' he growled, pushing her back on the bed.It took over an hour to get to the party, but pulling through the gates of Chambrey Park estate, a huge, wildly romantic Jacobean manor house set in extensive grounds, Alex knew it was going to be a lavish affair: the perfect place to celebrate.

'You've not even told me who your friend is,' said Alex. He had spent the entire journey happily listening to Melissa debate whether the Santa Ynez ranch or the Post Ranch Inn would be the perfect place to have the ceremony.

'Oh, she owns a fashion company, I wear a lot their stuff on the red carpet. Rivera, they're just amazing.'

'You don't mean Sasha Sinclair Sinclair?' he said incredulously. Alex didn't know much about women's fashion, but it would be hard to live in LA and not be aware of Sasha's incredible rise as a style icon.

'Do you know her? I guess she's British too, so you would, right?'

'We went to school together actually,' he said, feeling suddenly nervy. 'On holiday too.'

'You didn't sleep with her, did you?' Melissa said, narrowing her eyes.

'Of course not,' he said defensively. 'She went out with my best friend. I haven't seen her in over ten years.'

'Well in that case,' said Melissa, brightening, 'you can have a little reunion, can't you? It'll be a double celebration.'

'Yeah,' said Alex. 'Smashing.'

Flashbulbs popped as they went into the party. 'Oi, Melissa, one of you on your own, eh love?' shouted a photographer and Alex stepped to the side as she posed alone. It had happened before, of course for some reason Alex's music hadn't taken off in the UK in the same way as it had in the States but tonight it annoyed him more than usual. We We're supposed to be together, tonight of all nights, he thought. Finally, they went inside and Alex immediately approached a waiter holding a tray of drinks.

'Champagne, please,' he said.

'Oh no, can you fix us two Virgin Bellinis?' interrupted Melissa.

'But we're celebrating, aren't we?' frowned Alex.

'Al, we don't need to get wasted to celebrate, you know.'

He was just about to argue when a face across the room caught his attention. Grace was here! Grace was here! He looked up and waved. He looked up and waved.

'Who's that?' said Melissa.

'Who?' he said distractedly.

'The fat one in the blue dress.'

He turned on her. 'Hey, that's an old friend of mine.'

Melissa pouted. 'Someone else you've slept with, then.'

'No! I haven't slept with her, she's just an old friend. And a lovely person.'

Melissa's face softened. 'Sorry, honey,' she said, slipping a hand around his waist. 'It's just I don't want you getting away from me now I've snared you.'

Snared me? thought Alex. 'I'm not going anywhere, you know that.' thought Alex. 'I'm not going anywhere, you know that.'

'Well, great, let's go and tell your friend the news.'

'What news?'