Friends & Rivals (29 page)

‘Cat!'

Jack Messenger's was the first face she saw when she emerged into the Arrivals hall. He looked blond and tanned, a little more lined around the eyes than the last time she'd seen him, but still preposterously handsome in that awkward, professorial way of his.

‘Hi, Jack, darling.' She hugged him, then pulled back, suddenly realising that her breath was probably off after eleven hours on an aeroplane. ‘I can't tell you how sorry I am for all this trouble.'

‘What trouble?' beamed Jack. She'd forgotten what an incredible smile he had. Since Sonya died she'd seen it so rarely, but when he turned it on it was like a lighthouse beacon. ‘Your son is an absolute riot. I haven't had so much fun in years.'

Catriona tried to equate the sullen, embittered teenager she'd lived with for the past two years with the word ‘fun' and failed utterly.

‘
And
I get to see you, here in LA of all places. How many years have I been trying to drag you out here, huh? The way I see it, Hector did me a favour.'

‘How is he?' Cat asked warily. ‘Is he waiting at home?'

‘No, he's out. I thought you and I should talk privately before he got back. I'll fill you in in the car.'

They drove to Jack's home, Catriona fighting back her tiredness to focus on what Jack was telling her. Not that any of it was news. Hector resented Ivan and in particular his relationship with Kendall. He felt his father had been ‘stolen' from him, and was angry because he felt powerless to stop the break-up of his family. ‘A lot of the anger and acting out he projects onto you is really aimed at himself. He feels like he's a disappointment.'

‘Well he is, when he pulls stunts like this,' said Catriona, exasperated.

Jack reached over and put a comforting hand on her knee. ‘I know you've been through hell. But I don't think he's trying to hurt you. This stuff with Ivan is complicated. Part of him still looks up to his father hugely, but there's a resentment there. Like ‘how come Dad's so successful; how come he gets the career and the fame and the money and the beautiful girl, and I get nothing?' At least some of Hector's obsessive hatred of Kendall is down to straightforward sexual jealousy, in my opinion. The kid fancies her, and he hates himself for it.'

Catriona winced as if someone had just squirted lemon juice in her eyes. Jack was probably right, but it was hardly the most tactful thing to say, to her of all people. If Kendall was ‘the beautiful girl', what did that make her? Then again, Jack had never been one for soft-soaping things. In many ways his honesty was part of his charm.

At last they pulled in to the driveway. Catriona gasped with pleasure. ‘Oh, Jack, it's gorgeous. It's not what I imagined at all. Just look at the
garden!
It's almost like the countryside.'

‘Sonya designed the garden,' he smiled proudly. ‘The house is all her too. You'll see when you get inside. I'm just the lucky bastard who gets to live here.'

The house was indeed stunning, and very feminine, with all its white wood and light and soft, floral accents. As for the guest room where Catriona would be sleeping, it was like something out of a fairytale, complete with its own wisteria-covered terrace and a wildly romantic four-poster bed. Throwing open the French windows, she was entranced to see a bright orange and blue hummingbird hovering over a honeysuckle flower.

‘Oh, Jack,' she sighed, drinking in the sunlight and the deep lapis blue of the sky. ‘This is heaven. No wonder Hector wants to stay.'

Jack left her to unpack. Cat hung her meagre collection of baggy, shapeless clothes in the closet and lay back on the bed for a moment's rest.

When she woke it was dark. The windows were still open, and there was a distinct chill in the air. For a second she felt completely disoriented, with no idea where she was. Then the shadowy forms of the room reasserted themselves and she remembered.
Jack. LA. Hector.

She came downstairs to the sound of whoops and yells coming from the sitting room. Jack and Hector both had their backs to her and were leaping around in front of the television screen, waving their arms around like a couple of lunatics.

‘No way! You jammy git,' said Hector, elbowing his godfather to one side. ‘I can't believe you made that jump.'

‘Watch and learn, kid,' said Jack. ‘Watch and learn.'

‘What on earth are you doing?'

Catriona's voice made them both spin around.

‘PlayStation Kinect,' said Hector, a huge smile plastered across his face. ‘It's awesome. It's like Wii but way better. D'you want to play?'

‘Me? Oh no. No no no. I'm not … no.'

‘Come on,' said Jack, taking her hand and pulling her over. ‘You can take my spot. I'm too good for him anyway.'

‘As if!' snorted Hector.

‘You use your body as the controller,' explained Jack. ‘The icon on the screen will follow your movements.'

‘What's an icon?'

Hector rolled his eyes. ‘It's the little man on the screen, Mummy. You're that guy, on the raft on the right. I'm the guy on the left. You're racing me down the rapids and trying to stay afloat, OK? Go!'

The next thing Catriona knew, she too was hopping around as if she had St Vitus's dance, and flailing her arms like a deranged air-traffic controller. But within a few minutes she found her embarrassment fading. Hector was right. This
was
fun. Best of all, it was fun he was willing to share with her, fun they were having together. A few minutes here, in Jack's house, had brought them closer together than two years of begging and pleading at home.

After the game, the three of them had supper together. Catriona had already agreed with Jack not to bring up the question of her and Hector's return tonight, or to read him the riot act about his sudden disappearance. As a result it was a pleasant evening, the first pleasant evening that Catriona had spent with her son in a very long time.

After Hector went to bed, she and Jack sat outside on the verandah for a drink. Jack cut to the chase. ‘I think you should consider letting him stay here. At least for a few months.'

Catriona shook her head. ‘I can't. It's a very generous offer, Jack, but it's not practical.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because! He has school back home—'

‘Which he never shows up for.'

‘True, but he's only thirteen, he can't just drop out.'

‘We do have schools in the States, you know,' Jack chuckled. ‘We're not all walking around in loincloths and living in caves.'

‘I couldn't possibly afford to educate him here,' said Catriona. ‘Ivan would have to pay and it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens. If he even knew I was having this conversation with you, he'd hit the roof.'

For the first time all evening, Jack's face darkened. ‘Why do you still care what Ivan thinks? He left. You're the one who's still here, picking up the pieces.'

‘He's still Hector's father,' Catriona sighed.

‘Only in name,' said Jack.

By the moonlight, Catriona could see the bitterness in Jack's face. Ivan had hurt him too. No wonder he empathized so much with Hector. Her own feelings about Ivan were more confused now than at any time since the early days of their divorce. In the days after Hector's disappearance, Ivan had been her rock, the one person who truly understood what she was going through. Although he'd gone back to Kendall and to London, and she'd flown out here, Catriona felt certain that something had changed between them. That a connection she thought had died had somehow been re-established, a new bond had begun to spring forth from the ashes of the old. Of course, part of her still agreed with Jack, that Ivan had forfeited his right to decide the children's future. But another part feared cutting him out completely.

‘Anyway, it's not just about Ivan,' she said eventually. ‘Actions are supposed to have consequences. This evening was all very nice, but what sort of message does it send to Hector if he gets to run away like that and instead of being punished, he's rewarded?'

‘I'm not saying there shouldn't be consequences,' said Jack. ‘If he comes to work for me at JSM he'll be working like a dog, believe me – he won't know what's hit him. I just think that being here is helping him. I think it could help you too.'

‘Me?'

‘Sure. You need a break, Cat. When was the last time you had a real holiday?'

‘A long time ago,' she admitted. ‘But I can't just up sticks and leave. For one thing there's Rosie.'

‘You said yourself Rosie's staying with friends for a bit,” said Jack. Look, I'm not talking about for ever. Just a couple of weeks, for you and Hector to reconnect, away from Burford and Ivan and all the stresses of home.'

Gazing out across Jack's beautiful, moonlit garden, sipping an ice-cold gin and tonic (another slip, but it had been a long, stressful day), it suddenly felt like a wonderful idea. Why
not
stay for a week or two? What harm could it do, other than irritating Ivan? And Jack was right, she had to start making her own decisions and putting herself first.

‘All right,' she said. ‘I'll stay. Just for a little while. I'll call Rosie's friend's parents in the morning and let them know.'

She was touched by how delighted this seemed to make Jack. It occurred to her, belatedly, that perhaps he, too, was lonely. That he might welcome the company of an old friend as much as she did.

Catriona went to bed that night excited and with a renewed sense of hope for the future. The last two weeks had been a living hell, but perhaps the old saying was right, and it really was darkest before the dawn?

Los Angeles was a revelation for Catriona. Rarely had her preconceptions about a place been so wrong. She'd imagined a sprawling, urban metropolis, clogged with pollution and gangs and glittering with the sort of vulgar fakery that always made her feel depressed. Instead she found a place bursting with natural beauty, from the white sand beaches and hidden coves of Malibu, to the wild craggy canyons that looked like the sets of an old-fashioned Western, to the suburban gardens bursting with ginger flowers and lemon trees and roses and lavender and agapanthus, a glorious riot of colour and scent.

Catriona had never been much of a sun-worshipper. Beach holidays bored her, and if she didn't wear a big hat and slather on icing-thick layers of factor 50, she had a hideous tendency to turn as pink as a rare lamb chop. But the constant sunshine in Los Angeles also meant constant light, and she had to admit she found that uplifting. Like walking out each morning into a bath of happiness.

There were other advantages too. Hector, who was temporarily working at JSM as Lex Abrahams's bag carrier, among many other things, was like a boy transformed. Not once did Catriona hear him complain about the fourteen-hour days, or the minimum-wage pay. He practically skipped into the car with Jack every morning, heading for the Sunset Plaza offices despite the fact that he often didn't make it home till after ten and was usually so tired he barely had the energy to make himself a peanut-butter sandwich before collapsing into bed. Having never shown the slightest interest in the music business growing up, he drank it in now like a bee gorging itself on nectar, ceaselessly rabbiting on about Frankie B and Martina Munoz and the rumour that Willow and Jaden Smith might be thinking of moving to JSM from their long-term management company.

‘It would be a serious coup to get the Smith kids,' Hector told his mother earnestly. ‘JSM really needs to develop a younger demographic.'

‘A month ago he couldn't spell “demographic”,' Catriona told Jack, relating the story over dinner at Nagao, a sushi joint in Brentwood.

‘I doubt he can spell it now,' laughed Jack. ‘But it's great that he's enthused about it. Kids need an interest, a focus. It keeps them out of trouble.'

‘Oh really?' Catriona raised an eyebrow teasingly. ‘That's your conclusion, is it, after all your long years of parenting?'

‘Sorry,' Jack smiled, passing Catriona a delicious crab-and-salmon no-rice roll smothered in roe. ‘I'm teaching my grandmother to suck fish eggs.'

It had been such a delight spending time with Jack. In a few days, Catriona would have to go home, and was shocked by how sad the thought of leaving him made her. They'd agreed that Hector would stay on for another month hanging out at JSM, then come back to England to repeat Year Nine. If he worked hard, kept out of trouble and did well in his exams, he could come back to Los Angeles the following summer and perhaps even get a job on Maria Munoz's US tour.

Suddenly depressed by the thought of her imminent departure, Catriona ordered a third glass of red wine. Jack put his hand over hers. ‘Feel free to tell me to fuck off and mind my own business,' he said. ‘But don't you think you've had enough?'

‘Oh.' Catriona withdrew her hand, embarrassed. ‘Yes, probably. Why, have I been slurring my words or something?' She giggled nervously.

‘No,' said Jack. ‘But I've noticed you drink a lot more than you used to. And it worries me that you do it because you're sad.'

It was such a perceptive comment, and so kindly and gently delivered, that Catriona found herself on the brink of tears. ‘No wonder you think I'm a drunk,' she laughed, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. ‘I'm so bloody overemotional.'

‘I don't think you're a drunk,' said Jack. ‘I never said that.'

‘Well, I am,' said Catriona. She told him about the day that Hector went missing, how she'd been so far gone she hadn't made it out of bed that morning. ‘Imagine if something really
had
happened to him? I'd never have forgiven myself. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I hate what I've become. A sad, fat, middle-aged lush. No wonder Ivan left me.'

Jack took both her hands. ‘That is one fucked-up mirror. When
I
look at you I see an amazing, strong, loving mother. Not to mention a very sexy woman.'