Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 52

Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 52

'You have to come inside for your medication in a few minutes, Alex.'

He nodded, feeling a terrible sense of loss and disappointment as Grace let go of his hand and stood up.

This isn't how it works, he thought angrily. This isn't how it happens in the movies This isn't how it happens in the movies. He was supposed to take her in his arms and kiss her as a fiery sun set over the lake. But this wasn't An Affair to Remember An Affair to Remember. It wasn't the top of the Empire State Building. It was a psychiatric unit. No one wanted a madman to declare undying love, even if he was Cary Grant.

He tried to compose himself. 'OK, so before you go, tell me some news from the outside world,' he said as they strolled back towards the house.

'Well, believe it or not,' said Grace, 'I'm making a film.'




'Wow.'

'Actually, it's more of a doc.u.mentary, and I tell you, I feel as if I'm making it up as I go along.'

'No negativity, remember?' said Alex. 'I bet it's brilliant. Hey, who's doing the score?'

'We're quite a way off from that yet. Why? Know anyone?' she said with a smile.

'Ah, so that's why you came here today,' he teased.

She looked mortally offended. He nudged her arm.

'I'd do it in a heartbeat, Grace,' he said. 'But something tells me I'd be a liability to any project at the moment.'

'Well when you get out, we can talk about it over Marmite sandwiches, OK?'

They stopped at the front door.

'I'd like that, Grace,' he said, hugging her.

'You know you're going to get well, don't you, Alex?' she said, squeezing his hand one last time.

'I know,' he said. 'I know I am.'

60

December 2009

'G.o.d, I hate Christmas,' said Josh. 'The parties have all been s.h.i.t this year.'

Sasha raised an eyebrow, looking around the palatial Chester Row townhouse belonging to Euro-millionaire Flavio Torres.

'I do believe they're calling it the credit crunch, darling. A lot of people have lost a lot of money the last few months. That's why everyone is serving cava it sends the right message.'

'For G.o.d's sake, it's like swapping your Ferrari for one of those horrible Prius things.'

Sasha didn't say so, but it was actually an appropriate metaphor for Josh's career. For years he'd cashed in on his glamour-boy image on the Formula One circuit. There were always better drivers out there, but the media had conveniently overlooked the lack of podium places when he was twenty-five and as handsome as a movie star. But now he was pushing thirty-five, he simply couldn't compete with the likes of Jenson b.u.t.ton, who had good looks and and a Formula One World Championship. The rumour was that Josh's contract with Alliot Bown, his team, wasn't going to be renewed; and then what? She stole a sideways glance at him. For a second she couldn't believe how long they'd been dating. What had started out as a quick fling had become a four-year on-off relationship. She supposed he was good-looking, but he'd become very snappy recently, resenting her work trips and the increasing attention as the business grew. But he was pretty good between the sheets. a Formula One World Championship. The rumour was that Josh's contract with Alliot Bown, his team, wasn't going to be renewed; and then what? She stole a sideways glance at him. For a second she couldn't believe how long they'd been dating. What had started out as a quick fling had become a four-year on-off relationship. She supposed he was good-looking, but he'd become very snappy recently, resenting her work trips and the increasing attention as the business grew. But he was pretty good between the sheets.

'OK, if you're not feeling festive,' she said, putting her flute on the white marble mantelpiece, 'let's get going.'

'Come on, Sash. It's Christmas.'

'I thought you just said the party was terrible.'

'What's the option? Going home?'

'I'm sorry if that sounds like such an unappealing prospect.'

'Let's at least have a mingle.'

'Ten minutes.' She sighed. 'And if Elton's not here, I'm going home.'

They walked around the ground floor of the house. It was a beautiful place with high ceilings, wonderfully decorated with long gilt mirrors and old oils. Sasha knew Flavio a little and she was sure it was the work of an interior designer; Flavio's taste was slightly more exotic exotic. The house was crowded. Josh was right that the crunch had led to some rather anaemic Christmas parties, so when someone like Flavio did it properly, the beautiful people came in droves.

'I've just seen Steve Darling,' said Josh into her ear.

'That awful sports agent?'

'He's not that bad,' he replied. 'Anyway, he said the party's really happening upstairs. Come on.'

Reluctantly, Sasha followed him up the marble staircase. The disadvantage of dating a sportsman if you could calling driving a car a sport sport was that they tended to flock together: the drivers, the footballers, the boxers. Some were very nice, of course, but many were just plain chavvy. All that gold jewellery and tattoos: she shivered. No, she really needed to start rethinking her relationship with Josh, especially as he'd been badgering her about his idea for a men's clothing line. Like was that they tended to flock together: the drivers, the footballers, the boxers. Some were very nice, of course, but many were just plain chavvy. All that gold jewellery and tattoos: she shivered. No, she really needed to start rethinking her relationship with Josh, especially as he'd been badgering her about his idea for a men's clothing line. Like that that would ever work. would ever work.

'There he is,' said Josh eagerly, taking Sasha's hand and leading her into a darkened bedroom. There were half a dozen people lounging around watching two girls dancing to banging dance music. Steve Darling came over wearing a brown silk shirt and a fixed gla.s.sy smile. Sasha instantly stiffened.

'Hey-hey!' cried Steve, throwing his arms open wide.'The glamour couple are here, now the party can really get started.' He held up a rolled note and gestured towards a bedside table where lines of cocaine were already chopped out. 'Fancy a nose-up? It's Christmas after all.'

Sasha saw the look of interest on Josh's face, but after a glance at her, he shook his head. Sasha never took drugs and he knew she didn't approve. 'Maybe later, eh, mate?'

'Well have a drink then,' said Steve, turning to a blonde girl in a red minidress who was gyrating her hips against a tall man Sasha recognised as Premiership footballer Gary Shute. 'Here, Louise, get Josh and his lady friend a drink, will you?'

The girl flashed Sasha a narrow look as she reached for a bottle chilling in an ice bucket. Sasha almost laughed out loud. Like I'd ever be interested in some footballer, sweetie Like I'd ever be interested in some footballer, sweetie, she thought.

'Not for me,' she said. 'In fact, we've got to be going, haven't we, Josh?'

'Come on, not yet,' said Steve, stroking the shoulder of the blonde. 'Louise here is a dancer and she was just going to put on a show for us.'

Not waiting to hear any more, Sasha turned and walked straight down the stairs. Josh came clattering after her.

'Sash!' he called. 'Hey, where are you going?'

She stopped on the landing and turned to face him. 'I'm getting as far away from your sordid little friends as I can.'

'They're all right,' said Josh defensively. 'Train hard, play hard they're just a bit p.i.s.sed, that's all.'

'If you say so. Either way I'm going home. Are you coming?'

'No, I think I'm going to hang out here for a while.'

'Fine,' said Sasha. And as she stalked towards the front door, she found she was actually very relieved to be leaving Josh behind.Sasha was woken by an insistent ringing.

For a few moments, she tried to ignore it, pulling the warm duvet tighter around her, but it was no use. Moaning, she switched on her bedside light and groped for her watch: 5 a.m.

'What the h.e.l.l?' she whispered. It was still pitch black outside, and as the doorbell kept on ringing, her annoyance quickly turned to fear. She adored her four-storey Chelsea townhouse, but for several months now she had been thinking about moving into an apartment with CCTV and twenty-four-hour concierge, or at least getting her study turned into a panic room. You couldn't pick up a newspaper these days without hearing horror stories leaking out of the smartest enclaves of London. There was Karin Cavendish, the swimwear designer, who had a stalker. Then there was that violent robbery in Chelsea. No, you couldn't be too careful these days. Especially when you were beautiful. Or had money. Or both.

She grabbed her mobile, tapping in 999 ... they could be here in minutes ... but before she could press 'call', the phone began vibrating in her hand. 'Josh' read the LCD display. 'b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' she muttered.

'It's me,' said Josh as soon as she picked up.

'I know,' she hissed. 'And you've just f.u.c.king scared the life out of me.'

'I'm outside. You have to let me in.'

'Strangely enough, I'm not in the mood for a booty call.'

'Please, Sasha. This is important.'

She heard a waver of panic in his voice.

'What's the matter?'

Maha, Sasha's burly Hungarian housekeeper, poked her head round the door. She was carrying a solid-looking torch.

'Is everything OK, Miss Sasha? Shall we call the police?'

'Go back to bed. It's fine.'

Usually she would have let Maha answer the door, but she was curious to know what was making Josh so agitated. Wrapping herself in her silk robe, she padded downstairs and let him in.

'This better be good,' she said, retreating into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and poured herself a gla.s.s of Maha's freshly squeezed orange juice. She didn't offer Josh any. 'Well? What's so b.l.o.o.d.y important?'

Josh looked terrible. Two grey crescents hung under his eyes. There was a stain on the front of the blue shirt that was brand new the night before. He looked like a tramp. If your sponsors could see you now If your sponsors could see you now, thought Sasha, taking a sip of her juice.

'I'm in deep s.h.i.t, Sash,' he said. 'There was a situation at the party. The police want me to go to the station.'

'What sort of situation?'

'I think the News of the World News of the World is going to call it a roasting.' is going to call it a roasting.'

'Roasting?' said Sasha. 'You mean a rape?'

'No,' he said firmly. 'She was up for it.'

Sasha put her gla.s.s down on the distressed oak table and walked back to the door. She put her hand on the lock.

'Out,' she said.

'Sasha, please ...' he began.

'Get out of my house!' she shouted.

Josh came over to her. 'Hear me out, Sasha, please please. It wasn't like that. I wasn't involved.'

She saw the desperation in his eyes. He really was scared. It couldn't hurt to hear what he had to say; she could always call Maha down with her torch.

'All right, start talking,' she said, sitting down at the table and crossing her arms.

'After you'd gone, I stayed in that room,' he said, his voice trembling. 'Steve went off, but there were those footballers ...'

'And those s.l.u.ts,' said Sasha.

Josh looked down and nodded. 'We had some champagne, a bit of c.o.ke. We were all out of it.'

'Then ...'

His face looked pale in the dark of the kitchen. 'Then it all started getting a bit playful. That girl you saw, Louise? She stripped off and Martin started having s.e.x with her on the bed. When he finished, his friend Wayne took over. Then Gary joined in ...'

'And was the girl still up for it up for it?' she said with sarcasm.

He looked away once more and fell silent.

'And what were you doing at this point?' she said.

'I left.'

'You left,' she repeated, letting it hang in the air. 'So why do you look as if you're stepping up to the executioner's block if you're so completely innocent?'

He was looking increasingly uncomfortable under Sasha's direct gaze.

'When she took her top off, I felt her t.i.ts. I mean, she asked me to! She wanted to prove they were real. I just jiggled them for a second. We were just having a laugh.'

'Hilarious, yes,' said Sasha.

'Listen, I'm in trouble, Sash,' he said, his eyes pleading.'It was dark in that room and the girl was out of her head. She didn't know who f.u.c.ked her and who didn't. But I swear to you, I didn't do anything.'

He put his head in his hands.

'Gary called me. She's saying she was raped, and the police have pulled Martin and Kev in. They're all denying it of course, and who knows if she actually said no.'

'Do you really think that would have mattered?' shouted Sasha, thinking of her first few months in London. Men with power, influence, or just the illusion of it, exploiting girls for disposable pleasure.

'So if you're all such great mates, how do the police know you were there?'