Deep Blue Sea (28 page)

When it was almost time to leave, Liam excused himself to go to the gents’. While he was gone, Alicia laid a hand on Rachel’s arm and told her to take care of him. Rachel didn’t like to correct her. Liam didn’t want or need her protection, but it was interesting that she too thought they were together.

‘He’s one of the good ones,’ said Alicia with a note of regret. ‘Sometimes I can’t even remember why we decided to break up. Here, let me give you my card, and I’ll take your details in case I hear any more about Rheladrex.’

Liam helped them both on with their coats, a minor tussle for who should have his attention first, and they began to leave the restaurant.

‘Rachel. Rachel Miller. Is that you?’

For a minute she couldn’t place the loud shriek above the clattering plates and the conversation of the diners. Then she froze. The face was familiar. ‘Becky Moore? Crikey, I didn’t recognise you.’

‘Rebecca Mitchell now,’ she said, holding up a glittering wedding ring. Becky had been an intern on the showbiz desk when Rachel had first joined the
Post
and had been her wing man on all those nights hanging around in clubs trying to catch a story they could sell. She had spent some time on the entertainment pages at the paper, then moved sideways into celebrity magazines, where, if Rachel was up to date, she was now editor of one of the more popular titles.

‘Should I see you outside?’ asked Liam.

Rachel was loath to leave him alone with Alicia, but there was no way she could ignore Becky, so she nodded.

‘So how the hell are you?’ said Becky, looking Rachel up and down. ‘Looking very tanned and yummy.’

‘Well, I’m living in Thailand now,’ smiled Rachel. ‘I have a diving school. That’s my partner over there,’ she added, pointing out Liam. Becky’s jaw almost hit the floor.

‘Gorgeous!’ She slapped Rachel’s arm. ‘Where did you find him? I want one too!’

‘Business partner,’ she smiled, correcting her. ‘We’re opening a hotel, too.’ Rachel had never been boastful – in fact she hated the sort of people who exaggerated everything – but she wanted to impress Becky, wanted her to see that she hadn’t crashed and burned after the hacking debacle.

‘Well, it’s good to see that you’ve made a go of things. You’re better off out of newspapers,’ said Becky, waving her hand. ‘It’s changing; the media as we knew it has gone. There’s no advertising, circulations are dropping and everyone’s reading everything they want to on the internet or their phones. Newspapers are a dying breed, magazines aren’t that much better. I think I might just go and open a chocolate shop.’

It was good seeing her old colleague; it brought back so many fun memories of a time when they were both hungry and driven. They’d had some brilliant times together.

‘Come on then,’ urged Rachel. ‘Tell me some news. I’ve been on the other side of the world for the last three years. Who’s doing what?’

Becky rattled off a few names, a few snippets of gossip that meant very little to her. ‘And do you remember Lydia on the picture desk? Big girl with bad eyebrows? She’s moved to France.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ said Rachel. ‘To open a chocolate shop?’

‘Nope. To get away from that shit of a husband.’

Rachel frowned and shook her head. ‘Mild-mannered Stuart? He was the blandest man I ever met.’

‘Yes, well bland, old mild-mannered Stuart was a bigamist.’

Rachel almost choked. ‘A bigamist?’

‘Well, almost. For the last three years he’s had a girlfriend tucked away in Reading. Bought her a flat, went down on one knee, got her in the family way, the whole nine yards.’

‘Incredible.’

A waitress tapped Becky on the shoulder to indicate that her table was ready. ‘I should go,’ she said quickly. ‘How long are you in town for? How about a nice long boozy lunch?’

‘Not sure yet. But that would be lovely.’

‘I’ll Facebook you,’ she said, already moving away from her.

Liam was standing on the pavement under a street lamp.

‘Where’s Alicia?’

‘She had to go,’ he said as they started walking off in the direction of the tube.

‘She’s pretty,’ said Rachel after a minute.

‘Yes, she is.’

‘And clever.’

‘That too.’

‘Why did it finish between you two?’

‘Just because she’s pretty and clever doesn’t mean that we were right for each other,’ he said without looking at her.

‘Is she why you came to Thailand?’

‘Not really.’

‘Not really?’ said Rachel with a jolt. ‘That’s a change from “I wanted out of the rat race”, as you’ve always insisted.’

Liam glanced up and frowned. ‘No one thing made me change course. It was a few things. I hated my job, I looked at the partners above me and I knew I didn’t want to be that person, sitting it out till sixty-five, waiting for retirement before I could actually start living. Yes – Alicia and I ended our relationship, but it was just another excuse to leave, not the whole reason.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘About what?’

‘About Alicia.’

‘Does it matter?’

She folded her arms across her chest and fell silent.

‘So what did your friend have to say?’

‘She was telling me about a friend whose husband turned out to be a bigamist.’

‘Double life, eh?’

She nodded, and as she did, it was as if a penny dropped. Suddenly she could hear Julian’s voice in her head. It was that hot night in Italy. His lips were on her neck, and he was whispering in her ear. She had tried so hard to block that evening out of her memory, but fragments of it were crystal clear

‘I want you, Rachel.’ That was what he had said. ‘I know you want me too. No one needs to know.’ He had whispered it urgently, his hands on her, his breath coming quickly. ‘We can do this all the time,’ he’d said. ‘I have a place we can go.’

‘
I have a place we can go
,’
she repeated softly.

Liam turned to face her. ‘What did you say?’

‘I have a place we can go,’ she said again. It didn’t even occur to her that Liam might misinterpret her words.

She didn’t want to confess Julian’s attempted seduction to him. Not yet. ‘Yesterday, Diana was wondering why Julian didn’t have any printouts, details, information about Rheladrex,’ she said quickly.

‘Because he wasn’t arsed about Rheladrex and he was just after a shag?’ said Liam cynically.

‘Perhaps he
was
collecting information about it – he just didn’t keep it at work or in the house.’

‘So if it existed, where would he keep it? You’ve checked his office, both houses.’

‘Julian had mistresses,’ she said quickly. ‘When you’re a billionaire adulterer, how do you keep them under the radar? You’re not going to want to check into hotels. You probably have a little pied-à-terre somewhere for your extracurricular activity.’

‘Not being a billionaire adulterer, I wouldn’t know the form, but it’s possible. But how do you track down his mistresses to find out? We’re only aware of one of them, and she’s dead.’

‘I certainly know of one other. Susie McCormack. The lover who was exposed by my paper. Perhaps it’s about time we revisited old news.’

39

Olga Shapiro seemed concerned that it was only Diana’s second visit in three weeks. This was not apparently the sign of a committed patient and she could not be helped, really helped, unless she devoted more time and energy to therapy.

Diana squirmed on the soft grey felt sofa as she spoke, feeling compelled to make her excuses. She did not enjoy being a bad pupil. At school, she was never anywhere near the top of the class, but she always tried hard enough not to get into trouble, getting Rachel or clever friends to help her with homework, never disrupting any lessons, never breaking the rules.

‘I live in Oxfordshire. Sometimes it’s not easy to get into town,’ she explained, stroking a thick strand of brown hair between her fingers.

‘If it’s a problem, I could recommend somebody closer,’ said Olga, folding her slim hands on to her lap.

Diana shook her head. She liked Olga. In another life she could have been a third Miller sister, someone more sensible and serious than Rachel, someone smarter than herself. She wondered what had gone wrong with her life that she had no one with whom she could share her innermost secrets. The secret she was keeping about Adam Denver.

‘So how are you feeling?’

‘Well some days I can’t even get up in the morning. But other days have been much better. I’ve even had fun,’ she said, feeling a spark of guilt.

Olga nodded, as if she was pleased with her progress. ‘Tell me about them.’

Her question took Diana by surprise. She had always thought that she would be in control of her sessions with a therapist, that she could drip-feed someone only the information that she wanted to reveal. But the intensity of Olga’s gaze had backed her into a corner.

‘I’ve been spending time with my brother-in-law. I’ve enjoyed his company.’

A flashback. Adam’s warm naked body, his mouth on her nipple, his tongue inside her, their sweat on the sheets. She felt her cheeks betray her, burning hot, glowing pink.

‘Do you want to tell me more about that?’ pressed Olga.

Diana could only look down at her feet.

‘It’s natural to enjoy the company of those closest to your husband,’ said Olga, encouraging her to say more.

Meeting Olga’s gaze, Diana wondered how much her therapist had worked out. If she was as clever as she thought, it was probably obvious to her.

‘I have feelings for him.’ She felt a huge wave of release just saying the words.

She waited for Olga to say something, but when the therapist remained quiet, Diana knew that she had fallen into a trap. A silent confessional booth, where once you had entered, you were expected to admit everything.

‘We had sex.’

She knew what Olga Shapiro was thinking.
I told you to go fly a kite with a friend, you silly woman, not jump into bed with your brother-in-law
.

‘How did it happen?’ she asked.

Diana wanted to tell her everything, as if she was single and carefree and gossiping with friends or some glamorous character on
Sex and the City
. She wanted to tell her about the rooftop in Brooklyn. How beautiful and sexy he made her feel. How she finally understood what all the fuss about orgasms was about. How she had stopped feeling sad and lonely.

‘We met up in New York and it was wonderful,’ she said simply. She glanced up, expecting another smile of encouragement. Instead, Olga Shapiro’s face had a stern, disapproving blankness.

‘You and your brother-in-law are joined in grief. You have experienced loss and you each represent Julian to one another. You have an emotional attachment and sometimes that can spill over into a temporary physical connection.’

Diana frowned. ‘I don’t think you understand. I didn’t think it was Julian that night. I didn’t want it to be Julian. I felt like a woman again. It felt like a fresh start. I felt reborn. As if I could carry on living.’ She could feel herself gushing, but it was impossible to hold back her emotions. She wanted to defend their night together, defend her relationship with Adam.

Olga appeared unmoved. ‘Loss creates a need for affection. You miss a sex life. You miss the support of someone who cares for you. Your brother-in-law has stepped into that role . . .’

Diana could feel her eyes narrowing. The woman didn’t understand. Sex had never been important to Diana. It was something that she associated with failure – she didn’t need a therapist to tell her that. She could remember very little about Charlie’s father; she couldn’t even picture his face, beyond a vague recollection that he had been cool and good-looking. They had met in a club in Ibiza and had sex on a little fisherman’s boat that had been moored in the harbour. She had been drunk and high on vodka cocktails, a couple of Ecstasy tablets and a holiday recklessness that made girls like her do things they shouldn’t. He was going home the next day, so they hadn’t even exchanged numbers. That was what he had told her anyway, but maybe she hadn’t been a good enough screw. Failure.

She had always had irregular periods and didn’t realise she was pregnant until she was almost three months in. She had made an appointment at the abortion clinic, the date in her diary there like a big scary full-stop, but before she went, she had spoken to a girl who’d terminated her pregnancy a few weeks earlier. The girl had talked about the searing cramps, the clotting and bleeding afterwards, and when she had described what a baby looked like at eleven weeks, Diana hadn’t been able to go through with it. Of course she was glad of that decision now. Charlie was the most precious thing in her life.

After Charlie had been born, after she moved to London, she had avoided sexual relationships because of the fear of where they might lead. Men thought she was frigid and casual boyfriends gave up on her before it became anything more serious; no matter how beautiful they thought she was, she wasn’t worth the effort. Until she met Julian. Julian changed everything. She went on the pill a week after they started dating. They made love in hotels, in deluxe villas, under the stars. They made love everywhere, and this time she wasn’t scared where it all might lead. She was aware that she was not a practised lover, and this was often a source of much concern. She had no real idea whether what they were doing in their sex life was too much, or not enough. Was she being slutty allowing him to do certain things to her, or was it all too vanilla?

She had got her answer soon enough when she had found out that Julian was unfaithful. It had been easy to blame it on herself, easy to believe that she simply hadn’t satisfied him sexually. And the existence of Madison Kopek had only reinforced that sense of failure. But that night in New York Adam Denver had made her feel anything but a failure.

‘Have you spoken to your brother-in-law about your feelings?’ asked Olga.

‘Not yet.’

‘Then you should. Perhaps you should encourage him to speak to someone in the way that we are talking,’ said Olga efficiently.

Diana almost laughed out loud. Adam was the least likely person to seek solace in a shrink’s chair.

‘When someone leaves us, dies, it can feel like a betrayal,’ continued Olga. ‘Sexual contact with your brother-in-law is a way of compensating for your loss.’

‘Why does this all have to be about Julian?’ said Diana, feeling her temper fray. ‘Why can’t it be about two people who like each other? I know the circumstances aren’t ideal, but this man feels right for me.’

Olga Shapiro twisted her silver pen between her fingertips.

‘I am not here to tell you who is the right man for you. I’m not here to tell you when is the right time to start dating again. What I can say is that your brother-in-law might feel like a safe option right now, but what has happened between you two might not be helpful. It’s not going to heal your pain.’

Diana fought the urge to shake her head. There was nothing safe about Adam Denver. He was exciting, unpredictable and she knew what people would say if word of their romance got out. But she couldn’t help the way she felt about him or the way he made her feel.

‘So what are you saying?’ she asked, feeling tears well. She had come to see Olga Shapiro to find answers, get solutions. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted from therapy? She wanted Olga to approve of her relationship with Adam. After all, it had been the therapist’s suggestion to seek out the people that made her happy; it was why she had gone to Dorset that day with him. It was why they had flown a kite.

‘I am saying that when people are at difficult points in their life, it doesn’t help to add more issues, more problems, more challenges . . .’

‘Adam isn’t an issue,’ said Diana, more sharply than she’d anticipated. ‘I didn’t choose for this to happen. I didn’t want it to. But I care about him and I think he cares for me. I think we make each other happy and how can that be a bad thing? Can’t you see we make each other happy?’

Her pale hands were trembling and she couldn’t stay in this claustrophobic room a second longer.

‘I should go,’ she said quickly.

‘We need to talk this through, Diana.’ Olga’s voice was firm and commanding, but Diana had already blocked it out and left the room.