Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 41

Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 41

Alex felt his neck flush with embarra.s.sment. 'I proposed to Melissa tonight.'

'Congratulations,' she said warmly, clasping his hand. 'That's fantastic news.'

Alex surprised himself by feeling disappointment at her reaction. What did you expect? What did you expect? he thought angrily. he thought angrily. That she would break down and weep? That she would break down and weep?

'I mean we've only been going out five months; in fact it all kind of happened by accident,' he said nervously.

'You proposed by accident accident?'




'Don't ask. But it feels like the right thing to do, you know? She's good for me. Even the booze ban, and the mung beans and s.h.i.t. It's good for me. Everyone needs someone who's good for them.'

She sighed. 'Tell me about it.'

'No men on the horizon for you, then?'

He'd already looked at her left hand, but her wedding ring was still on her right hand as it had been in Ibiza and there were no new rings there. With a sinking feeling, Alex realised he hadn't even thought of getting a ring for Melissa. Must get down to De Beers tomorrow first thing Must get down to De Beers tomorrow first thing, he reminded himself.

'Well, I met Julian Adler at the bar,' said Grace. 'He invited me to an exhibition at the White Cube. Does that count as going to see his etchings?'

'Are you going to go?'

She shrugged.

'Well if you do, wear that dress,' he said, nodding at her inky-blue c.o.c.ktail dress. 'You look lovely in it.'

'Maybe,' she said, glancing at her watch.

'Sorry, I didn't mean ...' said Alex quickly, hoping he hadn't said anything stupid or egotistical.

'No, no, it's just I've got to get back to London. The kids are with a friend and I said I'd be back by midnight.'

Alex stood up and offered his hand. 'Come on then, Cinderella,' he said, leading her back towards the party. 'Let me give you my cell number. And let's stay in touch this time, shall we?'

'Of course. I don't want to miss out on a big Hollywood wedding.'

'It's going to be the party of the century!' he cried and she giggled.

'No mung beans, though.'

'No, no mung beans. Maybe that's what I'll call the alb.u.m.'

He gave her his best smile, but when she turned to walk away, he could feel it slowly slipping from his face. And he stood there, not wanting to go back to the party, wondering why he felt so sad.

44

When she woke up the next morning, Sasha was disappointed to find she didn't feel any different, even if it was her thirtieth birthday. For many people she supposed three-zero was a big milestone, the end of youth or something equally traumatic, but she had felt grown up for a long time. She had her own multi-million-pound company and her picture was in glossy magazines all around the world. People knew who Sasha Sinclair was; in fact they wanted to be be her. Still, she felt disappointed. Unfulfilled. But why? She had everything she could ever want. Lazily stretching her arms out, she realised what it was: there was no one next to her. She was alone. her. Still, she felt disappointed. Unfulfilled. But why? She had everything she could ever want. Lazily stretching her arms out, she realised what it was: there was no one next to her. She was alone.

Her bedside phone rang and she s.n.a.t.c.hed it up.

'Happy birthday,' said a voice.

'Good morning, Robert,' she replied, smiling as she swung her legs out of bed and scrunched her toes in the deep cream carpet. 'Where are you?'

'I'm on Sloane Street, heading your way.'

Her heart gave a little jump; he was almost there. 'Just give me five minutes,' she said. 'I'll see you downstairs.'

She leapt in the shower, taking care not to wet her blow-dried hair, then pulled on the outfit she had carefully selected the previous afternoon before leaving for the party. Grabbing her leather overnight bag, she blew the apartment a kiss and ran out of the door. She knew she shouldn't be running down the steps, giddy with excitement that a man was coming to take her on a romantic day out. She was Sasha Sinclair, ball-breaking businesswoman and style icon. She didn't chase after men. And yet here she was, skipping across the road, swinging her bag, her day brightened by the man sitting in a silver 1960s Aston Martin. Remember Remember, she thought. You're calling the shots now You're calling the shots now.

'Nice car, mister,' she said, climbing inside.

'Only forty of these ever made,' said Robert proudly. 'I like to take her out on special occasions.'

She touched his leg gently; he took his left hand off the steering wheel and squeezed her fingers.

G.o.d, what am I doing, falling head over heels with a married man? she thought to herself. She was thirty, after all. She didn't want to wake up alone every morning. she thought to herself. She was thirty, after all. She didn't want to wake up alone every morning. Not now Not now, she scolded herself. Just enjoy your birthday Just enjoy your birthday.

'So where are we going?' she asked.

He flashed her a smile. 'The coast.'

'I thought you were strictly a Cote d'Azur man.'

Robert shook his head. 'Today it's all about long pebbly beaches, ice cream and crabbing.'

'Crabbing?' She laughed. 'What do you know about crabbing?'

'I wasn't always an international playboy, you know,' he said. 'I went on horrible family seaside outings like everyone else.'

'You'll be taking me on a donkey ride next.' She grinned.

'Oh, I've got plans for that too,' he said with a wolfish smile.

On the open roads of Hampshire, Sasha wound the window down and let the breeze bring in the aromas of gra.s.s, flowers and wood smoke. It was a bright winter's day and the sky was the soft blue of a robin's egg. She wanted every weekend to be like this, not stolen afternoons in hotels. She wanted to wake up with him and kiss him in the street and sit on the sofa listening to music while he ma.s.saged her feet. But for now, on this lovely afternoon, all she wanted was what she had: Robert and her together, an adventure in front of them.

'You know what?' she said. 'I'm really ...'

She never got to finish her sentence. At that moment, time seemed to slow and she could feel herself moving but could do nothing about it, as if she was floating above, tied to the windscreen like a child's balloon. She watched helplessly as the front of the car turned abruptly, swerving off the road, Robert desperately wrestling with the wheel. She could see the tension in his arms, the tendons standing out, the sudden left and right movements of his hands as they mounted an embankment. She saw the line of trees looming in front of them. And then she saw nothing.When her eyes opened, blinking at the harsh fluorescent light, she was looking up at chipped polystyrene ceiling tiles. She felt a flutter of fear as she immediately realised she was in a hospital bed. She tried to move her arms, to sit up, but she felt pain in her chest and her head and her legs everywhere.

'Don't try and move, darling.' She turned her head slightly to see her mother leaning over her, stroking her head. Her first thought was how she hated Carole seeing her like this.

'What happened?' asked Sasha weakly. 'The car ...'

'Yes, you were in a car crash,' said Carole. 'But the doctors say you'll be fine. Just concussion, a couple of cracked ribs, a broken wrist and lots of bruising. You might have to be kept in overnight, but only for observation.'

'Where's Robert?'

Carole didn't say anything for a moment.

'I didn't know that you and he ...'

'Where is he?' Sasha repeated.

Carole's eyes dipped to the floor and Sasha felt a flutter of dread.

'Robert has some very serious injuries,' she said.'They don't think he was wearing his seat belt.'

Fragments of the morning came back into focus. Getting into the car, putting her belt on. Robert getting out of the car at a petrol station. Did he put his seat belt on? She couldn't remember. Why can't I remember? Why can't I remember? she thought angrily. Then: she thought angrily. Then: I've got to go to him, be with him I've got to go to him, be with him.

She pulled her weak, bruised body up. 'Where is he?'

'Sasha, I'm not sure that's a good idea,' said Carole, putting a hand on her arm. 'His wife is here.'

She stopped and looked at her mother sharply.

'I guess you messed up again, Sasha.'

'What?' She felt like she had been slapped. 'I messed up messed up?' she repeated.

'Well, it didn't work out with Miles, did it?' said Carole with a smug expression. 'And now you've been caught out with his father. You never could close the deal, could you?'

'Deals?' she hissed. 'Relationships are not deals, Mother.'

Carole laughed cynically. 'Well, perhaps you take after me more than I thought.'

At this moment, the idea of inheriting anything from her mother was a revolting thought. 'How on earth can you think we share anything?' she spat.

'Three years ago I was going to leave your father,' said Carole, a wistful look in her eyes. 'I met someone at the tennis club. Eddie owns Kingly Haulage and he has a beautiful house on the St George's Hill estate. He kept asking me to leave your father, but I put it off. First it was his birthday, then it was Christmas. And then he had the stroke. And of course I can't leave him now.'

Sasha snorted. 'I wouldn't put anything past you.'

She shuffled around the bed, heading towards the door.

'I only hope he's provided for you,' said Carole.

Sasha stopped. 'What do you mean "provided"?'

'In his will, of course.'

Sasha shook her head in disbelief. 'Just go, Mother.'

She walked down the corridor, feeling the aching in her chest and her legs. There was a livid green bruise on the back of her right hand and her wrist was in plaster. She desperately tried to remember what had happened, but all she could see was an image of a line of trees coming towards her. She turned a corner and at once she knew that Robert was in the room in front of her. A man in a grey suit was sitting in a chair outside reading a magazine. She had no idea who he was. An exec from Ash Corp. waiting for a meeting? Connie Ashford's driver? Her heart beat faster was she still in there? The man stood up and walked towards her, his hands held up to stop her.

'I'm sorry, Ms Sinclair, you can't go in there.'

Sasha tried to dodge around him, but she was in no shape to get very far. 'I have have to see him,' she said desperately, craning her neck to see in the window, but the blinds were down. 'Please, you don't understand,' she said. 'I was with him in the car. I have to see him.' to see him,' she said desperately, craning her neck to see in the window, but the blinds were down. 'Please, you don't understand,' she said. 'I was with him in the car. I have to see him.'

The man looked sympathetic, but he still shook his head and turned her around. 'His family don't want anyone near him. Especially you.'

'I'll be back,' she said defiantly, but allowed herself to be taken back to her bed. She lay down, feeling weak and shaky, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent the tears coming out. I won't cry, I won't cry, she thought to herself. She couldn't let them get to her, they couldn't keep her away from him for ever. she thought to herself. She couldn't let them get to her, they couldn't keep her away from him for ever.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped. Miles was standing at her door.

'Don't you think you've done enough?' he said, his eyes cold.

Shame and fear rushed over her and she shivered. 'I love him,' she said quietly, only now daring to say the words she had never admitted to herself or Robert.

'Like you loved me?' he sneered. 'You were only interested in the money. You're just a cheap social-climbing wh.o.r.e.'

'I care for him!' she said, sticking her chin out. 'And he looked after me!'

'Oh, I'll bet he did,' said Miles, his tone mocking. 'But don't pretend you cared for him, you little s.l.u.t. You have only ever cared about yourself.' He moved towards her, his hands curled into fists.

Terrified, Sasha leant over and grabbed the emergency alert b.u.t.ton, yanking it out of the wall. An alarm began to sound.

'Help!' she shouted. 'Nurse!'

Miles smiled, his face full of cruel fury. 'Don't think this is over,' he said as he backed towards the door. 'You can kiss that precious little business of yours goodbye.'

'Get out!' screamed Sasha. 'Get out before I have you thrown out!'

Two male nurses came running in, but Miles had already gone.

'Are you OK?' asked one of them.

'Fine,' said Sasha, the tears finally rolling down her face. 'I'm just fine.'Grace arrived at the hospital late. She had been in the air, flying back to Ibiza, when her mother had called her, leaving a message about the accident. She picked it up in the arrivals hall and headed straight for the booking desks to get a flight back to Heathrow.

'This is stupid, Mum!' whined Joseph. 'We just got off the plane!'

'Grandad Ashford isn't well, honey,' said Grace firmly, hastily writing fresh luggage labels for them all. 'We have to go back.'

Joe remained irritated rather than alarmed the whole flight back and Grace felt a stab of guilt at how remote from her parents the twins had become. She knew that it was a choice she had made for them and suddenly it felt very wrong.

It was eleven o'clock by the time Grace had dropped the children with friends and raced to the hospital. The corridors were eerily quiet as her heels clacked along them. Her father was lying motionless in his room, ghostly and wan in the weak light of the single lamp above his bed. It was only then that Grace could see how serious it was. All the way over she had been telling herself that he'd come away with cuts and bruises, maybe a fracture or two, but now ... now she could see her father was critical.

His mouth was covered by a plastic mask attached to a machine by a long rubber tube. A series of drips hung from a rack beside the bed. His arms, lying both sides of his body on the blue acrylic blanket, looked pale and old. Connie Ashford was sitting on a plastic chair by the bed. She looked tiny in the semi-darkness, her face in half-shadow. She stood up and gave Grace a sad embrace.

'He's going to be OK,' said Grace. 'He's going to be fine.'

But Connie's silence suggested otherwise.

'Do we know any more about what happened?'